[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/Jxwk7L6.png[/img]

[h3][b][u][color=Goldenrod]The Heir to Thunder[/color][/u][/b][/h3]
[sub][color=DarkGreen][i]Prince Faen Lokison[/i][/color][/sub][/center][hr][hr]

	The Prince of Lies hadn’t actually gotten very far from the Sanctum Sanctorum when his afternoon amble was disturbed. Disturbed here being a very mild way of describing how his stroll was interrupted by the sky above going from a calm summer blue to sullen winter grey in the space of a heartbeat, foreboding black storm clouds gathering above New York in a roiling tempest, threatening the mother of all monsoons. Rain did not come, thank God, but the clouds lit up with jagged streaks of lighting, and seconds later the firmaments exploded with an eardrum shattering [i][b]kra-cooom![/b][/i] Nearby New-Yorkers threw their hands over their ears, squealing in pain or shock, while simultaneously running for cover from the deluge they were sure was to come. None kept the wherewithal about them to spot the small black dot emerge from the cloud cover and fall from the heavens. 

	None except Faen.

	He watched the object fall faster and faster, realising with sudden clarity that it was going to come down somewhere nearby, no more than a block away. Without wasting anymore time he took off in the direction of where he estimated it was going to come down, his chest tight with excitement. He had a pretty good idea of just what, or more specifically who, the visitor from the skies was, and he wanted to be the first to say [i]‘welcome back’[/i] when they touched down.

	It seemed the storm-rider was going to land in an alleyway, and Faen was just around the corner when he heard the thump of impact. Not the most auspicious of places for the Thunderer’s grand return, but then, who was Faen to complain, he was living in a motel under a freeway that was so filthy that even roaches thought twice about staying overnight.

	He turned the corner at breakneck pace, words spilling from him before he’d even gotten a good look at the God of Thunder.

	[color=DarkGreen]“THOR! YOU’VE FINALLY – hold on a moment, you’re not Thor …”[/color] His race came to a screeching halt in the face of the strange-looking interloper he had taken for Earth’s absentee Asgardian guardian. The beast certainly wore Asgardian inspired armour, though it seemed to have been designed by an arts student who had watched far too much Tron, and it carried a golden hammer, though that was the sum total of similarities between it and Thor. It’s face was long and equine, clearly alien, though it had the body of a man, just much, much larger. It took Faen a moment to realize who he was looking at, remembering the horse-man from decades old vids from the Avengers early adventures. [color=DarkGreen]“Wait, I know who you are. You’re Beta Ray Bill. What on earth are you doing here?”[/color]

	On closer inspection Faen realised that someone had put Bill through the ringer. His armour was shattered in places, and his fine cape was torn into tatters. His hammer still looked undamaged, though it was coated in a red-brown substance that looked suspiciously like dried blood. There was one uncomfortably large looking wound in the alien’s side that was leaking blood, and another across his jawline. The look of him made the Lokison incredibly nervous. Bill was supposed to be as tough as Thor, maybe even tougher. Whoever did this to him must have been an unbelievably powerful individual, and if they were anywhere nearby Faen might be in some serious trouble.

	Bill’s injuries were obviously making him sluggish, slow even, and it took him a long moment to realize he wasn’t alone, even longer for him to focus in on the half-breed Jotun. Though when he did his eyes narrowed and he raised his hammer high, not quite the reaction Faen had been hoping for. 

	“Loki!” the hammer-wielder growled, his voice husky and low, “I may be laid low, but I still have mettle enough to deal with a snake such as you!” Before Faen could say a word in his defence the alien took a lurching step forward, stumbled, fell onto his face, and straight into unconsciousness. Only then did Faen see the massive wound on his back, the normally brown flesh burnt near black, looking more like an overly charred steak than someone’s healthy skin. Something had hit Bill, and hit him hard.

	The Lokison stood in silence for a moment, before stepping forward and kicking Bill in the side, none to gently, to see if he really was out. He was.

	[color=DarkGreen]“Well … Fuck.”[/color]