The Sun's Always Shining in Arizona
It was a stupidly normal day. You woke up at the same time as usual, made yourself a light breakfast, and got some work done. It was eighty-something degrees outside by two o-clock and the sun was shining–when wasn’t it, in Arizona? There was nothing other than sunshine on the forecast for the entire week.
You were finishing up an article on some festival coming into Phoenix when you felt it: a shift in the atmosphere. The hair on your arm raised to a point, and a chill ran up your spine as what seemed like static electricity crawled over you.
It was a familiar sensation, and you instantly knew the source. Shooting up and out of your desk chair, you reached the window just as a blinding flash of lightning hit the pavement in front of your apartment building.
You could feel his footsteps move the earth—he was getting close. Did he know which apartment you lived in? Was he even there for you?
“Shit.” You groaned, panic washing over you as he grew nearer. His electromagnetic energy was practically radiating off of him, rolling towards you in waves like those of a radar.
Two knocks sounded at your door, loud and firm, and you jumped at the sudden noise. You inched closer to the door, not even bothering to look through the peephole.
“I know you’re in there, (Y/N).” Came a gruff voice that belonged to Thor, the God of Thunder.
“Real smooth,” you heard someone else retort. It sounded like Tony.
What the hell did they want?
“You said you would stay away,” You said through the door, your voice wavering, “You swore it. You said—you saidthat if I helped you, you would leave me alone.”
“Believe me when I say that I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. We need your help once more, if you would just let us in—“
You heaved a sigh and unlocked the door, yanking it open with a scowl. “Fucking liars,” you muttered, turning for the living room and leaving them to let themselves in.
“Your apartment is lovely,” Thor called out, to which you held out your middle finger.
Still quite temperamental, are we? Sang a low, sly voice in your head. It sent a chill to your core and a wave of ice cold fear to your chest.
You clenched your shaking hands as you slowly looked over your shoulder. Sure enough, standing just behind Thor and Tony—toying with the decorations on your table—was the God of Mischief himself.
Loki.
Tony must have noticed the deathly expression written into your features, because he held his hands out in defense and stared at you cautiously. “Wait, just wait,” He began, “He’s with us, as much as it pains me to say it.”
“Get him out.” You gritted, wincing as your fingernails dug deeper into your palms.
Thor looked from you to Loki, who was now glancing around with his nose turned up and a permanent scowl on his face. “(Y/N), I have something to ask of you.”
In your peripheral vision, you saw Tony reach into his coat pocket and pull something out. It wasn’t a gun, but you didn’t know what the hell it was—just that it was now pointing at you.
You heard Tony pull the trigger, and the sound seemed to echo in your head as you reacted too slowly. Whatever it was shot straight into your shoulder, a dull pain blossoming throughout your entire body and making you weaker by the second.
“What the hell?” You cried out, reaching up to pull out the blinking mechanism stuck in your arm.
“I thought we agreed to bring her back peacefully!” Thor said indignantly.
You struggled to remove the dart—or whatever it was—and you were almost entirely out on energy. Your eyelids began to fall closed, and your legs refused to support you any longer.
“I’m terribly sorry about this,” You heard Thor say, just before strong arms effortlessly scooped you up and you fell out of consciousness.