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Soundtrack Playlist - Chapter 1

Rocketman - Elton John

Brass in Pocket - The Pretenders

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Boston, Massachusetts

March 18th, 1990 12:30 a.m.

The footsteps of the young security guard echoed off the walls in the darkness as he directed the beam of his flashlight around the room, illuminating the artwork hanging in their ornate frames. Everything appeared to be as it should be, as it was any other night he walked his beat through the large brown brick building constructed almost a century ago in the style of a 15th century Venetian palace to display the collection of art amassed by the eccentric Isabella Stewart Gardner. However, the young guard could not help but feel off kilter that evening, as if he were being watched. He attempted to shake off the peculiar sensation.

The guard startled as fire alarms broke the eerie silence as they began to blare though there was no sign of smoke or flames. Rushing from the room to check the others he found nothing amiss. As the alarms continued to sound, he made his way to the security office.

"What's going on?" an equally young second security guard seated at a desk, a magazine featuring photographs of scantily clad women open in front of him, asked his colleague as he entered the office.

"Hell if I know. Fire alarms started going off. I checked it out, no smoke or anything," the first guard said as he walked over to the alarm panel, examining it.

"Maybe the place is haunted."

"Don't tell me you believe in that shit."

"No...of course not."

"Good. You won't last long on the night shift otherwise. It's an old building. Can't have you getting spooked at every noise," the first guard said, disengaging the alarms.

"Has that happened before?" the second guard inquired.

"First time since I've been here. Probably just a short or something."

"My luck, something weird happens on my first night," the second guard commented, picking up the magazine.

"It's usually pretty quiet. Every so often you get a wino climbing over the wall, sometimes they'll bang on the door. That's about it."

"What do you do if that happens?" the second guard asked looking up from the magazine.

"Just hit the call button under the desk for the police. They'll come pick 'em up and toss 'em in the drunk tank. I'm headed back out," the first guard said, exiting the security office.

As the guard reached the side door of the museum he stopped, pushing it open, staring out into the chill dark night, watching a group of drunken St. Patrick's Day revelers stumble down the sidewalk, wishing he was among them, before closing it and continuing on to complete his rounds.

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The dark green hatchback sat parked along the curb about a hundred feet from the imposing brick building. Two mustached men sporting police uniforms and hats sat inside, the taller man in the driver's seat staring out of the windshield, watching as the side door of the museum opened, the uniformed guard watching the same inebriated people who had passed by their vehicle a few moments previously. After they had passed, the guard closed the door.

"You're listening to Sensational Sounds of the 70′s on Boston's home of the best classic rock!" an exuberant voice announced through the car's radio before Elton John's 'Rocket Man' began to play.

"How much longer?" the man in the passenger seat asked as he turned his head to look at the other man in the driver's seat who sat staring unblinking through the windshield.

"Not long now."

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this. When are you going to learn not to make ridiculous wagers with your brother?"

"You always said you'd like to visit Midgard. What do you think of it?"

"Very little to be honest. It's loud...crowded...chaotic…everything Asgard is not."

"Precisely," the man in the driver's seat said with a satisfied smirk.

"I don't understand why you're so enamored with it...actually I do. That's it, isn't it? That's why you do it."

"What in the realms are you babbling about, Arvid?"

"That's why you keep making bets that you know you'll lose."

"I'm enjoying myself more than my brother, I assure you. Who would you say is the loser?"

"Myself, as usual," Arvid replied.

"There are others I could have asked to accompany me."

"Of that I'm well aware," Arvid said glumly, looking down at his feet, silence falling between the two men.

"And I think it's gonna be a long, long time till touchdown brings me round again to find I'm not the man they think I am at home…" Elton John's voice sang through the speakers as the man in the driver's seat returned to staring out of the windshield.

"I thought we'd come to an understanding," the driver said after a few moments.

"I suppose I should be pleased you thought of me first."

"As I said, I recalled your previous interest in Midgard," replied the driver.

"It wasn't so much Midgard I was interested in as it was hearing you speak of it, all of your stories," Arvid explained.

"We're about to write another one, the two of us."

"Rocket Man burning out his fuse up here alone…" Elton John continued singing over the radio, the man in the driver's seat looking over at the dials before reaching out and turning it off.

"No one will be harmed?" asked Arvid.

"I give you my word."

"I'm not sure that means much coming from you."

"If you truly think so little of me, why are you here?" asked the driver, the tone of his voice reflecting his annoyance.

"Because despite all that's passed between us I care for you, though I know that matters little to you."

"It does matter to me," the man in the driver's seat replied quietly after a moment of silence.

"Then why do you behave as if it doesn't?"

"Now isn't the time. This is a discussion for another day."

"Another day...when? A century from now?" Arvid asked, exasperated.

"Do you remember what you're to do?" the driver asked, ignoring Arvid's question.

"I believe so," Arvid said, a touch of nervousness in his voice, the man in the driver's seat taking note of it.

"There's nothing to fear. They're only mortals," the driver said, turning the key in the ignition, starting the car's engine.

"Loki..."

"What is it?" Loki said, turning his head as the other man reached out, placing both hands on either side of Loki's head, pressing his lips to the God of Mischief's own.

Ending the kiss, Arvid stared into Loki's eyes, his one feature he hadn't altered.

"May fortune favor us."

"Midgardians simply say 'good luck," Loki replied before putting the car in gear, pulling away from the curb.

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The two guards had traded positions, the first guard now seated at the desk as the second walked through the rooms of the museum. The first guard, flipping through the pages of the same magazine the second guard had been perusing earlier, sat it aside as a buzzer rang. Looking over at the screen of the closed circuit television system he saw two men in police uniforms standing outside the door. Reaching over, he hit the button of the intercom.

"Can I help you?"

"Police. We're investigating a report of a disturbance," Loki said authoritatively, altering his voice to speak with an American Bostonian accent.

"No one here called you. Everything's quiet as usual, other than the fire alarms acting wonky earlier," the guard responded through the intercom.

"We'll need to have a look around, just to be certain," Loki said.

"Yeah, sure," the guard said, surmising that perhaps a St. Patrick's Day reveler had jumped the fence as he had told his partner occasionally happened and someone had seen them and called it in.

The guard remotely disengaged the lock of the door, Loki and Arvid in their guises entering and approaching the security desk as the guard stood up from his chair behind it.

"Is there anyone else here?" Loki asked.

"There's two of us on duty on the night shift. One of us mans the desk while the other does rounds."

"Would you ask him to join us?" Loki asked.

The guard picked up the walkie talkie from the desk, speaking into it.

"Hey, Randy...I need you to come back to the office."

"What now?" the second guard's voice asked through the walkie.

"Not sure. The police are here. Someone called them about a disturbance."

"I'll be there in a minute."

The first guard sat the walkie down on the desk, noticing the shorter of the two officers eyeing him suspiciously.

"You look familiar. I think we may have a warrant for your arrest," Arvid said to the guard, altering his voice as well.

"What? That's crazy. You have me confused with someone else," the guard responded incredulously.

"We'll need to see some ID," Loki told him.

"Alright…" the guard said, reaching for his wallet.

"If you wouldn't mind stepping out from behind the desk…" Loki said, the guard complying.

Before the guard realized what was happening, Arvid swiftly grabbed him, pushing him roughly face first against the wall, wrenching his arms behind his back and cuffing him. Loki moved to stand beside the door that led into the museum. After a moment it opened, the second guard entering, Loki grabbing him and quickly subduing him in the same manner before producing a roll of duct tape in his hand.

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The two guards, their heads wrapped in duct tape over their mouths and eyes, sat handcuffed, one to a steam pipe, the other to a workbench in the basement of the museum. Loki held their wallets in his hand.

"Don't try anything funny and no harm will come to you. We know where you live. If you keep your mouths shut you'll receive a reward in a year," Loki said, tossing the wallets onto the floor in front of each of their owners before turning and ascending the stairs, Arvid following.

"Reward? What reward? You didn't say anything about-" Arvid asked.

"Shut up!" hissed Loki.

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Loki and Arvid entered a room of the museum holding the flashlights they'd taken from the guards, shining them around, examining the contents.

"So what now?" Arvid asked.

Loki produced a dagger in his free hand, holding it out to the other Asgardian who took it from him.

"Choose a few, it doesn't matter which. Whatever strikes your fancy," Loki instructed him.

Loki, moving the flashlight to his other hand, produced another dagger before exiting the room.

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Arvid awaited Loki outside the security office door, rolled canvases in his arms. Loki approached him, canvases in his own.

"I told you it would be all too easy," said Loki.

"What about them?" Arvid asked, referring to the guards subdued in the basement.

"What do they matter?"

"You said no one would be harmed. I want to be sure they're alright before we go," said Arvid, Loki sighing as he rolled his eyes.

"If you insist. Take these, wait for me in there," Loki replied transferring the canvases in his arms into Arvid's.

As Loki walked past a room neither Asgardian had entered, he stopped, turning and shining his flashlight around, resting the beam on one particular painting of a mustached man in a black Victorian era suit and top hat seated at a table, a glass of beer in front of him. Loki held out his free hand, the framed painting flying across the room into his grip.

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Loki entered the security office where his companion awaited him, holding up the framed painting.

"Who does this remind you of?" Loki asked with a grin.

"Fandral?"

"I thought so too. I believe I'll gift it to him, not that he deserves it. What he deserves is a flogging for his insolence," Loki said, proceeding to cut the painting from its frame.

"Is he...one of the others?" Arvid asked.

"You must be joking," Loki said disgustedly.

As Loki laid the painting on the desk to roll it up he caught sight of the open magazine with its photographs of women in lingerie in suggestive poses. Picking it up he turned to Arvid.

"Ah, now this is art," Loki said with a grin, holding it up, Arvid rolling his eyes, "You don't agree?"

"You know I don't," Arvid replied cantankerously.

"As I always say, variety is the spice of life," Loki replied, rolling the magazine up with the painting, adding it to the collection gathered in Arvid's arms.

"How are they?" the other Asgardian asked, gesturing with his head towards the door into the museum.

"Our friends are quite comfortable, they assured me. They'll be discovered and released come morning. I believe we're finished here," Loki said, making his way to the door, Arvid following, arms full of rolled canvas.

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Loki pulled the car off to the side of the road, forest on either side, shutting off the engine and headlights, looking around for a sign of mortals' presence. Seeing none, he opened the driver's side door, Arvid exiting from the passenger side. A green glow enveloped both men, the police officer guises replaced with their actual forms, Arvid revealed to be a younger man with a lean physique sporting a head of wavy auburn hair and a goatee of the same hue. Loki walked a few yards down the road away from the car, Arvid following, the rolled canvases in his arms.

"You may summon Heimdall to send the Bifrost from here," Loki said.

"You're not returning?"

"I have other business to attend to."

"What do I do with these?"

"Present them to my brother as proof I fulfilled my end of the bargain. The one that resembles Fandral you can leave in my chambers. Do what you wish with the others. Hang them as souvenirs of your great adventure to Midgard."

"I took something...for you," Loki's companion said, setting the canvases down on the road and reaching into his tunic pocket, removing an eagle shaped finial, approaching Loki and holding it out to him, "It was attached to a flag. I was going to take it as well but I couldn't remove it. It said it belonged to Napoleon's army. I remembered you mentioned him once in one of your stories."

"He was one of the few interesting and intelligent mortals I've met during my sojourns," Loki said, taking the finial and examining it, "Thank you."

"I thought maybe...that maybe we could meet... for a drink when you return...to celebrate our success."

"Yes…of course," Loki said absently, still focused on the finial.

Loki's companion gathered the canvases in his arms once again, walking a few yards further down the road before turning to face Loki.

"Until then…"

"Until then," Loki repeated, the finial disappearing from his hand as he looked up at the departing Asgardian.

"Heimdall, bring me home!" Arvid called out, a moment later the bright light of the Bifrost descending over him and just as swiftly ascending, leaving Loki standing alone on the road in the darkness.

Loki turned, walking back to the car and entering it, starting the engine and turning on the headlights, driving forward over the markings the Bifrost had left in the road.

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Loki, having disguised his Asgardian clothing to appear as a black button down shirt and slacks, approached the door to the tavern, the neon lights in the window off though he could still see light within and hear the sound of music. After using his magic to disengage the lock, he stepped inside.

The interior of the tavern was decorated for St. Patrick's day with green shamrocks, crepe paper and banners. A woman with honey blond hair arranged in a bun sat on a stool behind the bar, an almost empty drink in a tumbler in front of her. She looked up as Loki entered, the door closing behind him, the lock reengaging, the Pretenders song 'Brass In Pocket' playing through the speakers on the wall.

"How did it go? I was starting to worry."

"Everything went precisely as planned," Loki replied.

"Would you like a drink?" asked the woman.

"I would, actually."

The woman poured beer into a mug from the tap and sat it on the bar as Loki seated himself on a stool across from her.

"Thank you," Loki said, taking a drink, a silence falling over the two.

"Cause I'm gonna make you see, there's nobody else here, no one like me. I'm special, so special. I gotta have some of your attention, give it to me…" Chrissie Hynde's voice sang confidently.

"I believe I've heard this one before," said Loki, breaking the silence.

"It's a favorite of mine. It reminds me of someone," the woman replied.

"Who would that be?" asked Loki, though from his tone it was clear he already knew the answer.

"Someone I knew a long time ago. I thought I knew him," the woman said, finishing the last drink in her glass.

"What is it with everyone feeling the need to tread over the same ground? I never intended-" Loki began.

"No, you never do, do you?"

"Boda-"

"That isn't my name, not anymore."

"Anne…" Loki said, taking another drink from his mug, now almost empty.

"Can I get you another? I thought I'd ask before you smash it, seeing as I already cleaned up for the night."

"If you wouldn't mind."

The woman took Loki's mug, refilling it and setting it in front of him.

"You have it?" Boda asked.

Loki took a drink from his freshly filled mug before setting it down and holding out his hand, a brass Gu, an ancient drinking vessel somewhat similar to a martini glass, appearing in his grip before he sat it on the bar.

"I suppose you'll be returning home. Can I give you a ride somewhere?" asked Boda.

"Are you in a rush to be rid of me?" Loki replied, feigning hurt.

"No, but I should be."