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….
Even if there was no "throat" here, it seemed to me that between death and an offer to work for another set of vivisectionists, the woman would prefer the former.
"Absolutely nothing," I bestowed a disarming smile on the woman. "And before you start arguing, allow me to introduce myself properly. My name is Loki. I am the God of Magic," I created a phantom next to me, through whose lips I continued the speech: "Intrigue," another one appeared with a new switch, simultaneously wiggling eyebrows.
"And what is called 'trolling' on the modern internet. And so you don't think too much," I spoke now with three voices, "I ended up here completely by accident. Was busy with totally different things," the first phantom shrugged.
"But, as it happened, learned about this place and decided to drop in," the second added. "Not for profit, but for the soul," I finished with the main body, slightly rocking Laura in my arms.
"That's hard to believe," the woman muttered detachedly, continuously shifting her gaze from one of my faces to another.
"And yet it is true."
"And that you turned into a mare and gave birth to an eight-legged horse for Odin from another horse belonging to some giant?"
Have I mentioned I hate Vikings with their interpretations of Loki's life? I double… no, triple that statement! Why, just why in Midgard do they only remember stories like that about me?
"N-no," I couldn't completely hide my emotions, "I assembled his genetic code on the Soul Forge and then grew him in a test tube. But my dim-witted brother blabbed about it during another drinking bout on Earth, and stupid Scandinavian savages understood everything in their own way."
"…" I think I broke her. "A-and… how are you going to remove me from the employers' radars?" the scientist decided to change the subject.
"We-e-ell…" I looked her over, "let's say I know a school where a biology teacher wouldn't hurt."
"Biology?" I love that misunderstanding on the faces of my interlocutors.
"Yes, you see, a couple of months ago World War III almost happened here. And since I can't allow people to destroy their civilization, I had to sort that business out. Since then, I landed in a private school for mutants and periodically teach history lessons."
"But our teaching staff is small, and there are many superpowered rugrats, so I won't be scolded too much for revealing a conspiratorial address to you if you take on some of the work."
"World War III? Teaching staff?.. That is," Sarah covered her eyes with her hand, gathering her thoughts, "if you are a god… why couldn't you allow people to destroy civilization?" It seems she herself doesn't know what she wants to ask more.
"Potatoes," I answered exhaustively.
"What about potatoes?" her eyes climbed onto her forehead. And for once, she suspected not me of madness, but her own perception of reality.
"I love potatoes very much, and it's an Earth plant. It isn't cultivated in Asgard, or Vanaheim, or Nidavellir, in short, it grows nowhere else in the immediate vicinity."
"Thus, if human civilization ceases to exist, I will lose the opportunity to eat my favorite dishes deliciously… or I'll have to personally gather mutated tubers on radioactive wastelands, and that's very stressful. Saving you is much simpler."
"…How did it come to this?" shaking herself, but not really coming to her senses, the scientist asked helplessly into space.
"The truth is very heavy; one must be prepared for it," I nodded sympathetically with the left phantom's head. "And you are asking questions of the God of Intrigue. I'm holding back, of course, but you are completely unprepared."
"But…" Kinney's hands moved to her forehead, trying either to squeeze it or massage it. "God-teacher?!"
"What? Even if I am a God, everyone needs a side job! You understand yourself: crisis of faith, Christianity, Islam, Flying Spaghetti Monster… one has to manage somehow."
"…"
"Fine," I sighed, "you can consider me a slightly eccentric mutant who really didn't like what was happening here. Having interrogated your former colleagues, I decided that, unlike them, you are almost a prisoner here yourself. Besides, as I understand it, this girl has warm feelings for you," I tossed X-23 up slightly in my arms, as if demonstrating which girl I was talking about, "and I don't want to offend cute little girls. Therefore, I offer a job. Plus, the child really needs psychological help."
"My psyche is absolutely stable, sir," the subject of discussion corrected.
"I believe you, but socialization is completely absent. Humans are social creatures and can't do without society after all," I explained to this combat hamster with an instructive intonation, smiling involuntarily.
I mean, I smile often, but keeping a serious face here was definitely beyond my power, she knits her eyebrows so cutely!
"So," the right phantom returned Sarah's attention to himself, "what do you say to my offer? Not that I'm in a hurry, but I'm getting a bit fed up with these dungeons."
"I agree," the woman closed her eyes.
She clearly didn't trust me for a penny, but understood she had only three exits, go with me or, in case of refusal, either die by my hand or remain alone in a complex filled with corpses, with a stolen "project" and no ability to hide anywhere.
So-so prospect.
As for trust and such, that will come with time. And even if not, let Xavier's head hurt, he's our director, let him take the rap.
"Excellent. Then I have two questions left."
"Which ones?"
"Do you need to take anything from here? I mean personal items. Don't worry about money, documents, clothes, and other tinsel; I'll provide that. But there shouldn't be any evidence left here that you escaped."
"Then no," the woman shook her head.
"Excellent. And the second, what is this miracle's name after all?" I lifted the girl. "'Callsign: X-23' is clearly unsuitable for a child."
"Laura," Sarah answered after a brief moment of thought, "her name is Laura."
….
Bonus Chapter on every 500 power stones;
If you want to read ahead by 20+ chapters from here you can visit my Patre-on.
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