The Heir to Thunder
Prince Faen Lokison
Faen watched the other man stagger out of the alley, gamely trying to hide the fact that his insides had gotten churned up something rotten during the fracas. He was failing miserably, of course – you’d need to be the Hulk to just walk off a punch from the now bound Behemoth – but the mere fact that he was trying to act tough instead of just, you know, dying, said to Faen that this Anders was a lot harder than his pretty boy façade would give him credit for.
Come to think of it, the blonde had showed off some pretty snappy moves back there. Those grenade things he had been hucking looked like they’d packed a Hel of a punch, and Faen wasn’t sure what he’d done to the bird-skeleton-thing, but that cryptologists nightmare was still down for the count.
Guy like that, might come in handy, especially in regard to the oncoming invasion of a certain super-god turned villainous conqueror. As a meatshield, if nothing else.
His mind made up, Faen followed Anders out of the alley, leaving the badguys bundled up where they where for now. This wasn’t going to take long, and it wasn’t like they were going anywhere. The Prince of Lies caught up with the injured blonde quickly. Not hard, considering Ander’s current top speed was
‘hobble’.
“Hey, Blondie, wait up!” Faen called, jogging slightly to catch level with Anders.
“I didn’t introduce myself. Prince Faen Lokison, heir to the throne of Asgard, how do you do?” He thrust his hand at the other man with a smirk.
“I must say, we made a good team back there. Not great, but good. Real potential though. Real, visible potential. Me and you, we could go places. With just a bit of work, why we could be the biggest super duo to hit this side of Manhattan. Cloak and Dagger who, amirite? Be a shame to throw all that potential away, yeah? So, in the interests of our future fame and fortunes, I have got a devil of a proposal for you!”
“Interested?”