Chapter 335: Loki — "Ethan's a Liar, and He's Fooled All of You!"
"You're free to leave anytime — nobody's stopping you. Just make sure you say goodbye to Grandma Lin first," America said, and left the room.
Loki got up off the bed at that, though the pain still wracking his body slowed him to a careful shuffle.
He glanced down at the ill-fitting shirt he'd been dressed in — some coarse Earth fabric, nothing like the rich, regal garments he was accustomed to.
He couldn't help but frown. The great God of Mischief, reduced to this. The irony wasn't lost on him.
Still — these people had saved his life. Being the God of Mischief didn't mean he was above basic manners. He'd at least go say his thanks properly before leaving.
Loki still had that much decency in him.
With that in mind, he stepped out of the room — and immediately his frown deepened.
What waited for him outside was even more shocking.
The building looked decrepit, as though it had weathered countless storms without ever once being repaired. Moss crept up the railings, and the air hung thick with damp and mildew.
Loki had never imagined Earth could contain a place this filthy and rundown.
He made his way down the stairs, each step deliberate, careful not to fall.
When he reached the ground floor, he found a pack of raggedly-dressed children chasing each other, playing.
They had no money for a proper ball, so they were kicking around an old soda can instead — but they were having the time of their lives regardless, faces lit up with pure, unguarded joy.
Loki watched them, thoroughly confused.
Why was this place so run-down, and yet home to so many children?
And how, despite it all, could they still look this happy?
The questions circled endlessly in his mind, refusing to resolve.
Growing up in Asgard, he simply couldn't wrap his head around it. Back home, children wore fine silks and lived in sprawling palaces, every need met without a second thought.
If he were king, he'd never let Asgardian children live somewhere like this.
Or — if it came down to him ruling Earth someday — he'd never allow children to live in conditions like these either.
"So Ethan isn't quite as impressive as advertised, then, if he lets a corner of his own territory rot like this," Loki muttered, still under the impression he was standing somewhere within Ethan's own domain.
Some part of him had simply assumed that anywhere on Earth this powerful, Ethan naturally controlled — a bitter little assumption he mulled over.
Loki stood there, gaze lingering on the orphaned children at play.
Their bright laughter, their unrestrained running — it all seemed to speak to some unspoken purity and yearning he couldn't quite name.
America noticed him watching and drifted over, explaining quietly. "These kids — they're all orphans. Like you. Abandoned by the roadside, once.
Lucky for them, Grandma Lin took them in. Gave them a home."
Just then, a soda can rolled to a stop right at Loki's feet.
He looked up to find a small crowd of children had trotted over, faces bright with innocent hope, eyes wide and expectant.
"Big brother, are you new here? Will you be our big brother?" one child asked, in a small, sweet voice.
Loki froze at the sudden question. He'd never once imagined himself as anyone's "big brother."
His first instinct was to shake his head and refuse — after all, he was the mighty God of Mischief. Why would he waste his time playing house with a pack of children? He had godly power to reclaim and an entire planet to rule!
But something in those hopeful eyes struck a quiet chord somewhere inside him.
America scooped up the can at Loki's feet and tossed it back, sending the children scattering off to play again.
"Don't mind them. They're all around the same age, and they've always wanted a big brother. They figure if they have one, no one out there would dare pick on them," she said, and walked on toward the house.
Her words made Loki think of his own brother, Thor — though in his view, Thor had always just been a loud, reckless troublemaker.
Me? Playing "big brother"? The thought lodged itself somewhere in Loki's mind and refused to leave.
He said nothing, though, and simply followed America inside to finally meet the woman who'd saved his life — Grandma Lin.
The kitchen could only be described as falling apart at the seams — walls stained and peeling, tiles missing, the stove crusted with grease and dust.
Loki looked around and realized there wasn't a single modern piece of kitchen equipment in sight — just a collection of worn-out pots and bowls, and one aging electric stove.
Something bitter and unexpected welled up in his chest. He'd never in his life seen a kitchen this bare, and could hardly imagine this was actually where an entire orphanage's food came from.
While he was still lost in thought, his attention caught on an old woman standing across the room.
She stood bent slightly at the waist, hair gone entirely white, working a large ladle around the contents of a simmering pot.
Loki stepped closer and saw the pot held a simmering porridge.
The porridge looked thin and watery, mostly white, with only the occasional scrap of vegetable floating in it. There wasn't a hint of meat to be found anywhere.
Loki frowned. He knew next to nothing about Earth cuisine, but even he could tell this porridge had almost no nutritional value to speak of. A doubt crept into his mind — could a meal this thin possibly be enough to feed all these children and an elderly woman?
He couldn't help but ask America directly. "Do the children and the old woman eat food like this every single day?"
America nodded, sighing wearily. "Not much choice about it. Around here, having anything to eat counts as lucky. Grandma's got all these kids to look after — I pick up under-the-table work myself when I can, and sometimes I bring back whatever leftovers a restaurant's willing to give me. This year's actually been a good one, honestly. Before this, some days we just went hungry."
"This Ethan character's really dropping the ball, isn't he — this many children, and an elderly grandmother, and this is all they get to eat?" Loki hadn't even noticed the quiet flicker of sympathy that had started building in him, on behalf of these orphans and their grandmother.
His comment, though, drew an immediate, sharp rebuke from America.
"Don't you dare talk about the Lord of Hell's Kitchen like that. It's because of him that we get porridge every single day at all.
All this food comes from a relief station Grandma walks to in Hell's Kitchen — the only one left that's still actually giving anything out. Every other relief station around here's been taken over by the gangs."
"Couldn't you just go talk to Ethan about it directly? Wouldn't it make sense for him to just take these kids in himself?" Loki said, dismissive.
America's expression turned almost reverent as she explained. "Believe me, I wish the Lord of Hell's Kitchen ran this whole area. We're right on the border between Brooklyn and Hell's Kitchen — technically speaking, this neighborhood isn't part of his territory.
If we were actually Hell's Kitchen residents, these kids could go to school for free, have food and water guaranteed. The benefits of being one of Ethan's people are unbelievable. And the people there are so nice, too.
Problem is, the Lord of Hell's Kitchen doesn't have any authority here. This food's the only thing we get from Hell's Kitchen at all — and it's the one thing even the gangs don't dare touch."
America's explanation left Loki more confused than ever. This place wasn't even part of Ethan's territory? With Ethan's kind of power, shouldn't he be able to claim any territory he wanted, the moment he wanted it?
And the benefits for Hell's Kitchen residents were supposedly that good — better than Ethan himself?
How exactly was any of that "good," if it was true? If it really were as good as she claimed, he certainly wouldn't have ended up reduced to this!
This girl had clearly been deceived by Ethan somehow.
Loki was going to expose Ethan's true face if it was the last thing he did.
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