3A/N: Hello and welcome to our story! Yes, there are two of us on this account! (Check out our bio for more info.)
About this story: It's not gonna be canon, though the beginning and ending will be mostly the same. There are two main characters, both OC's. They alternate every other chapter.
We will try to update frequently, and hopefully we'll stick to that!
Criticism is accepted as long as it isn't mindless trolling.
Now enough blabbering, and on with the story!
Chapter 1
The girl dropped down from the fire escape and landed hard on two feet. She winced. The resounding clang wasn't nearly as quiet as she wanted it to be. She desperately hoped no one had heard her. Not wasting any more time, though, she turned and sprinted off.
She reached her destination quickly. As she sat silently in the shadows, she observed the scene. A man dressed in all black held up his hands, as he was backed up against a wall by three police officers.
The girl smiled slightly, recognizing the criminal. Without any further ado, she pulled out her makeshift blowgun - a length of PVC pipe, which was crude, but effective - and shot three darts in quick succession. The officers dropped like felled trees.
She stepped out from the shadows. The criminal mopped his brow.
"Thanks, Houdini. Got me out of a tight one there."
"Houdini" smiled wryly, despite the black mask covering the bottom half of her face.
"Anytime, Dragon," she said.
"But seriously, a blowgun? What are you, some tribal warrior?" He guffawed at his own joke.
The girl sighed silently. No wonder he had gotten himself caught. The man really was an idiot. Just what you'd expect from someone who chooses the code name "Dragon."
"So are they dead?" Dragon asked after a brief awkward silence.
She almost scoffed. "Of course they're not dead," she said. "They're just unconscious. Do you take me for a barbarian?"
"Um... what?" said Dragon.
She rolled her eyes. "Exactly. See ya." And with that, she turned on her heel and sprinted back up the alleyway, jumping nimbly over the prostrate bodies of the three police officers.
A few minutes later found her pulling herself through the window of her New York apartment. She barely had time to strip off her black body suit -revealing a neat school uniform underneath- and throw herself onto her bed before her mother opened the door.
"Harriet?"
She looked up from her school textbook innocently.
"Yeah, Mom?"
"There's someone here to see you. He says he wants to talk to you. I warn you, though. He's sort of... eccentric."
Harriet hopped up from her bed and smiled at her mom.
"He can't be that bad, can he?" she said as she strolled out of her room.
She smiled a little as she walked away. It was almost amusing how little her parents knew about her.
She strode down the hall into the living room, her red converses tapping against the vinyl. In the living room, she found a tall, thin man standing there with his back turned. He was looking at the bookshelf with moderate interest, but he turned around when Harriet cleared her throat.
"Ah, yes. Good day," he said with a slight accent - maybe British, maybe something else.
Harriet took in his appearance. He was wearing a suit and a tie and his long black hair was neatly combed back. Despite his elegant appearance, he gave off a sense of distinct malevolence.
"And your name is?" he said, smiling slightly at her.
She straightened her back and said confidently, "I'm Sara Walker."
He laughed quietly. "Your real name, please."
"I don't think that's necessary," said Harriet, staring him down.
"Oh, but it really is, miss," the man said, staring back at her. "I know they call you Houdini on the streets. A good name, fitting. He was a clever man for a human."
The way he threw around the word made Harriet stiffen nervously. It was almost as if he was implying that wasn't human himself.
"Harriet Dumas," she said reluctantly, staring him down. "And you are?"
The corner of his mouth curled up slightly. "I don't think that's necessary." Harriet couldn't help but glare at him.
"What are you here for?" she asked harshly.
"I need an army."
Harriet raised her eyebrows. "An army," she repeated dubiously.
"You're a trained assassin who isn't afraid to fight for the winning side. You're young- eighteen, to be exact- too young and small to seem to be a threat. We need that on our side."
"And who's on the other side?" asked Harriet cautiously.
"You'll find out in time. Now, I just need to know: are you willing to sacrifice the comfortable life you know for a life of danger, fighting, and power? Are you ready for the ultimate reward of eternal glory? Do you want to be honored beyond all you have ever known?"
Harriet took a deep breath. Eternal glory... No, it was too much. She should just stick with her average criminal life. Being unknown was good. Being unknown was better.
She opened her mouth to tell the mysterious man to go back to the nuthouse and leave her out of this.
What came out was something totally different.
"I'll do it," she said.
The tall man smiled. "Excellent," he said. "Now come with me."
With that, he grabbed onto Harriet's arm and jumped quite literally out the window. Harriet couldn't help but scream as she fell through open air. Luckily, she landed on the top of some sort of vehicle. She went to stand up, but just then the doors below her opened and she tumbled into the cockpit of the high-tech jet.
She scrambled to her feet, breathless. She turned around, swinging her fist at the strange man. He grabbed her, taking her by surprise, and pulled her close to him.
"In case you were wondering," he said, his face inches away from Harriet's, "you can call me Loki, god of mischief."