A/N: This is my first uploaded story in a long while, so please be gentle with me! I saw Thor: Ragnarok yesterday and somehow this came to life. I have a few ideas for the first few chapters, but I'm not really sure where this is going/how it's going to end. Anyways, the prologue was inspired by the fact that Odin was originally supposed to be a hobo hobbling around New York predicting the end of the world in Ragnarok, and as terrible as that is I thought it was kind of hilarious. Enjoy!

A bit of moonlight shone through the office window, and after a moment, was the only source of light in the room. On the opposite side of the office, a woman began frantically waving her arms to trigger the motion sensors, grunting in exasperation. Marley looked up from her computer as Janice, the office secretary, snorted herself awake and sat up with a start. If Marley weren't so damn tired herself, she would have smirked at the confused expression on her face, but unfortunately, she was still here too, and her mind was too fried to appreciate humor right now.

"Wha- Marley, what the hell are you still doing here?" Janice rubbed her eyes, looking around for her keys.

"I'm almost done with this." Marley droned, not looking away from her computer. She was almost positive she would be seeing the maimed corpse on the screen in her sleep; she always did after a long project.

"Alright, psycho; I'm going home." Janice declared, standing up. When Marley did not acknowledge this, she stomped her foot a little. "You know, that person will still be dead tomorrow, right? There's no real reason to be doing this all night, it's kinda spooky, ya know."

"I know, but I'm really close to finishing." The secretary walked over to Marley's computer and cringed when she saw what was on the screen. Part of her job as a forensic artist involved looking at remains like these and making a sort of model of what they would look like if they were still alive. It had been a little gross to her at first, but after two years, it had become just a part of the job. Definitely not her favorite part, though.

"Okay, it's," Janice checked her watch, "one thirty-two AM, and I'm going home. If you're just going to be wasting away up here, I need you to lock up or I'm going to lock you inside. Just as well though, work starts in like six hours. Although, you can't borrow any of my makeup when you're trying to get rid of the bags under your eyes tomorrow. And I know for a fact that John will be clocking in tomorrow-"

Marley looked up with a small smile. "Janice, are you going home or not?"

The woman huffed something under her breath that Marley didn't hear, then started marching towards the elevator. This left Marley to turn back to her work, occasionally throwing something across the room to reactivate the motion sensors. Around thirty minutes later, she was done, and a model of what those remains might have looked like was complete. Satisfied, Marley looked up from her computer, but when she did she let out a shriek of surprise. A homeless-looking old man was staring back at her. Even stranger given the fact that he only had one eye.

"I am sorry child, I had not wished to frighten you." he rasped, and Marley internally cursed Janice for not locking up like she had threatened to. She looked him over for any visible weapons, but she did not find any. If she was being honest with herself, he didn't look very threatening, despite the fact that he had gotten onto the floor she was working on. Although, if he had some sort of weird vendetta or was a murderer, he did a good job of concealing it.

"Sir, you're going to have to come back during business hours, I was just about to leave." Marley said as pleasantly as she dared, but to her annoyance, the old man sat down in the chair opposite her desk. "Really, I can't help you right now. I can call someone for you if you need me to, but I really need to get home." When she stood up, he gestured for her to sit back down, and a spark of fury flared up inside of Marley; not because he had told her what to do, but because something inside her wanted to obey. And something about the way his one eye seemed to see right through her put her on edge. "Who are you?"

"A sentimental old fool in need of an artist's help."

As much as Marley wanted to ignore him and go back to her apartment, she couldn't. "What is it that you want?"

"I want you to draw my two sons."

"Are they missing?"

"No."

Marley narrowed her eyes. Maybe this man wasn't perceptive and he was just crazy. "Sir, I do forensic sketches, I don't know what you had in mind or what it is that you-"

"Please." A flash of vulnerability, then it was gone. "I may never see them again."

"Don't you have any pictures of them?"

"I'm afraid not."

Marley let out a sigh before plopping back down in her seat, deciding not to question these impossibly bizarre circumstances for the time being. She dug out a sheet of paper and a few different types of pencils before looking back towards the man. "Can I get your name?"

Rather than give up his name, the stranger began describing his sons. "My firstborn," he tapped the paper, as if asking her to do something with the information 'my firstborn'. "A proud fellow, always keeps his head high. A bit of a broad face and a square chin-"

"Sir, I have samples of different facial features you can look through and match up to what your sons look like-"

"That won't be necessary. You are a real artist, are you not?" Marley was beyond unamused, but she was already committed at this point. And somehow this man knew that she couldn't resist a challenge. So she listen to the old man describe his first son down to the last detail, her hand working furiously to keep up with his words. Marley almost didn't realize that he had stopped talking as she finished up the sketch. When he said nothing, she held it up to him.

"Like this?" There it was, that vulnerability that was gone before anyone could notice it. The old man offered her a nod, taking the drawing gently out of her hand. Marley could swear she had seen the son before, but she couldn't place where. Nowhere in real life; perhaps a TV show. She didn't have time to ponder it as the stranger launched into the description of the second son. Shit, there were two.

"My second born could not look more different. He has high cheekbones, and his eyebrows are always furrowed with some sort of thought, eyes always squinted…" Before long, she had finished the second sketch. Now this man she was absolutely certain she had seen before. She stared at his face, trying to place it. All of a sudden it hit her with the force of a train: this was Loki, the man who launched a terrorist attack on New York a few years ago. As realization dawned on her face, the old man allowed for a small smile, still looking sickeningly perceptive. "You probably think me mad."

"Um...yeah." For lack of a better word. Finally, all the questions on her mind spilled out messily. "Who are you really? Why did you have me do this? Why are you here so late at night? These men aren't really your sons, are they? This is Loki, and that's Thor; he was in New York too, wasn't he? Is this some sort of sick joke?" She could only stare as he chuckled a bit.

"I have already told you; I'm an old man who misses his sons." He reached out his palm for the second drawing, but Marley held it close, wanting leverage for at least one answer.

"What's your name?"

"Odin."

Marley blinked at him, now completely convinced he was mad. She gave him back the Loki sketch before shaking her head and pulling her coat on. "Well, have a nice evening, 'Odin'."

"Many thanks, child." He pulled a golden coin out of his pocket and placed it on her desk. Marley eyed him before picking up the coin and inspecting it. It was not a currency she had ever seen, but it looked extremely valuable.

"What's-" When she looked up again, he was gone.