I came across a woman calling herself 'Storm' two days later.Her hair is better than mine in every possible way.It was perfect, it was amazing, and plain beautiful. I mean it made Storm twice more attractive.Her white hair could be the most gorgeous hair color; ever.I mean my mom would have, in her younger years, gone out and covered her skin in black spray then dye her hair white ever so terribly.But despite that my dad would have made a whistle, and commenting "Sherrine, that is one nice look!" as if he wasn't bothered.

My father is not fazed in the slightest by my mother's 'crazy' behavior.

"Your name is Sarah Jackson?" Storm asks.

"No." I said. "But I do know a co-worker who has that name.Sarah just left, you missed her."

Her eyebrows shot up.

"Which way?" Storm asks.

"She went through the doors and turned left, as usual." I noted. "She always takes the enter door to go out." I sigh, shaking my head. "I swear Sarah's logic is flawed."

Storm left me be going out the entrance door.

For gods sake; if you're leaving, take the damn exit!

I learned recently that I was not in the year 2014 in the month of July. It wasn't July 1st when I had arrived into this unusual and unrealistic movie version of real life. The year is currently 2012 a few months after Loki had attempted to take over New York using a massively ugly army with flying spaceships and a brand behind heroes called 'The Avengers'. This brand is called 'Earth's mightiest Avengers', needless to say I bought a bobblehead of Loki and a Iron Man for the counter in my hotel room.

Lets say the hotel randomly trembles and the two bobbleheads knock against each other like competitive bucks.

I swear that is the only reason I bought them.

I have a terrible sense of humor.

"You're welcome!" I shout, as Storm had left.

I could see the sky is getting dark and stormy weather.

"Emily, help." Polly Fanner, a fellow employee, loudly squeaks from the heavy pottery area.

I turn away from the door then head towards the pottery part of the store striding right past a couple customers.There is a fairly sweater outfitted man near the box that is full of seed packages.There is a Mexican woman who had organized dark hair similar to Jasmine from Aladdin biding time biting her lip a little trying to make herself not stand out. All in that case is this woman is failing.

I've have experience from my job in reality detecting shady people.

"I am coming, Polly!" I shout. I came to a stop near the Mexican woman. "The Stalker flower pot guide is beside the out-door furniture..."I pause recalling that that it is rude to make up a name for someone who might be married or not. "Miss?"

"Miss Gazia." Miss Gazia said.

"Miss Gazia,you're sticking out like a flower in a potato field." I said. "Oh wait that is a terrible comparison. What I mean is that you're a potato in a flower field." I twirl my finger in a circle. "In terms of watching and spying; you need some more practice."

Miss Gazia's face turns into a mad one.

"Where's the manager?" Miss Gazia asks.

"He's not the guy you're stalking." I said, and walk right past Miss Gazia.

"EMILY, I NEED YOUR STRENGTH!" Polly shrieks loudly.

"Patience, Flower girll!" I shout back, walking into the pottery room.

Polly is trying to lift a big pottery item from the shelf.There were some wimpy people, probably without the strength that would be needed to lift it out of their car, just standing there with the cart ready to be slowed down by a heavy wooden brown pot.The couple are skinny, they both wore glasses, and had short sleeves on.

"Help." Polly squeaks as the tough and over-heavy pottery side was digging into her stomach.

"Step to the side and let the expert take care of this." I said. "No...actually; slide carefully."

My father always told me I had the strength of my mother and the courage came from him.Last year I helped a friend of mine from high school move his furniture into a truck with some other help. My parents had me do some heavy lifting for them too when they couldn't do it. So this left me with the reputation 'Heavy Lifter Woman'.

That strange man had disappeared in the store as did Miss Gazia.

___ ___

...1:20 PM...

...Subway...

A faint tap landed on my shoulder so I shifted myself in a complete 180 degree angle towards the person who had tapped on my shoulder in the subway. There is a tall man with eyes that easily bore a strong reminder to Loki's eyes. His eyes were greener than the color of bright green in a dark room. I mean, come on, his eyes are like flashlights except dim enough to see.He seemed calm, prepared, and modern day.The man didn't wear a business suit that made him seem 'Modern day' towards me.

He had that same sweatshirt.

He's the guy Miss Gazia is stalking!

"Have you seen a woman with red hair and hazel eyes?" The man asks.

I blink, hearing something familiar in the man's voice.

"No." I said. "I haven't seen Sarah Jackson since 12:40."

I recognize Miss Gazia from the corner of my eye.

"Her name is not Sarah Jackson." The man said. "Tricia Peters."

"Tri-ac-see-ya." I repeated. "You know what, ask that young fella over there." I point towards a short man holding a wrapped up box sitting on a bench anxiously tapping his sneakers on the floor that makes little taps and squeaks. "He might know."

"I may have advised her to follow you." The man said. "She was at the Dog Park where you were."

That can't be true. I have not visited the Dog Park at all. My hotel room is restricted against dogs.

"How old is she?" I ask.

"Nine." The man said.

"Nine." I repeated, lowering my head and cocked up a brow.

"That's what I just told you." The Man said. "Whatever point you're trying to make; just make it."

I lift my head lowering my eyebrow.

"I know." I said,with an eye roll. My high heels have some orange diamonds in the shape of triangles dotting all the in the middle. I have a slight fascination with triangles ever since childhood; well to be honest, triangles are my favorite shape. "That is hard to believe you'll let a nine year old FOLLOW a perfect high heeled stranger."

"High heeled?" The man said, sounding surprised. He didn't seem to get high heels. "A woman's heel is not high."

I point down to my gray dazzling heels.

"High heels." I said, waving my right hand in a circle towards my heels. "And very lethal."

"Oh." The Man said, like an idiot. "You could have just said high shoes."

I squint my eyes towards the man.

"Loki?..." I said, as my eyes returned to their normal size and position.

"You can't possibly think I am a god who attempted to take over a city and escaped one week ago from custody in Asgard." Loki said. I fold my arms while smirking at his denial. "It is preposterous!"

"You just confirmed it." I said. "Spill it before I call a handy dandy number and get tandy dandy Thor here." I twirl my finger down towards the floor. "You must have a pretty good reason to come here attempting to get me cornered when in fact I would flip you over and deliver a blow to the face using my high heels."

Where the hell did tandy dandy come from?

"You wouldn't." Loki said.

"Don't trust your luck on me, pretty boy." I said. "Spill it before I ruin your face."

"You told Thor where I was." Loki said, not happy. "Emily, how did you know where I was?" Frankly, what he read was a big hint. "Not many Midgardians, if you are even a Midgardian, can precisely know where I am." I can feel anger swell up through my body. "Who hired you to follow me?"

His current disguise is, surprisingly, easily to see through for me.

Not one person is paying attention to this conversation all the while focused on their current business in hand.

"First off." I said, holding up my index finger. "I am not a magician, I am a human,I am not a man's buyable stalker." I lower my index finger after shaking it back and forth. "And second of all it was a guess!" I snap my fingers in mid air. "Not a 'Oh, I know where! Give me a cash prize!' kind of scenario."

Loki's threatening demeanor was replaced by a lost look.

"Cash prize?..." Loki repeats.

I take out a dollar from my purse and wave it slightly.

"This is a dollar." I said. "More than one dollar is a couple bucks, and more bucks equal cash."

"What do you call dollars in English?" Loki asks.

"Money." I said. "If you're going to ask what a stalker is then go ask the shy Mexican woman who's been following you for the past hour." I point off to a young woman who's trying to blend in to the scenery terribly. I put the dollar back into my purse. "Also, approach me like that again and I will take a Selfie of you then post it to the internet."

"Selfie." Loki repeats.

"Yes." I said with a nod.

"Sounds senseless to make a miniature selfie of me." Loki said. "It is impossible to make a child sized version of me."

I laughed, honest to god.

"Why is that funny?" Loki asks. "A child version of myself is not a laughing matter." Loki does not know what a Selfie is. "You mortals are puzzling."

I shook my head with an entertained smile.

"Welcome to the 21st century, rock of ages." I said, with all my self control regained. "Bye-bye."

The train had came to a halt so I turned away then headed off like many people to the opening doors.I sat on a seat across from the doorway. Other people came in, yet I could see a blurry green line sizzle down a figure standing in the same spot that Loki had stood a minute ago.Instead of Loki stood a young man with some obvious freckles, unusually fire themed hair that was set up spiky, and wore a blue business suit.

He fiddled with the black and green tie that matched his gorgeous green eyes.

Loki turns around then walks towards Miss Gazia.

Why of course a woman knows when she is being followed even though she didn't know who is doing it. The funny thing about this situation was that the follower was being followed. It would have been more funnier if the second follower had someone following them.I had a smile come up thinking about that image. Though what I could tell in the train is that some teenage boys in hoodys over their faces were not planning to do some skateboarding.I found myself staring at their ominous presence as every breath and glance felt being suspicious.

I could see the handle to a gun sticking out partially from the 1st boys baggy pockets.

The boy were whispering.

There is an old couple sitting alongside each other, there were other people aboard this train acting casually and impatient as always. These two boys were, on the other hand, acting quite the opposite. My fingers clawed on the purse strap; tightly,wishing to take out a gun and my badge under legal purposes.

But I can't take out my badge for existence reasons.

Going to the most well known respected mall in Boston may just have to wait.

"Should we?" The 2nd boy, a young black kid shorter than the 1st kid, questions his partner. He had this unsure look in his eyes. "Travis?"

I could see from the exposed wrist that his jacket cuff is not covering, that the first boy is a white.He has a bulging backpack attached. The train speeds off from the station platform leaving Loki to a Mexican woman.I registered the fact that the second first boy's name must be Travis in my mind.There are innocent bystanders aboard the train.

"I'm ready to make some history." Travis said. "You are gonna be on the headlines, Burt."

"And so will I." I said, raising my voice. "Whatever you're planning; don't do it."

Travis and Burt look towards me.

"Uh oh." Burt said.

Travis takes out the dark gun so calmly from his pocket and shot at the ceiling.

"Hey folks!" Travis shouts. "We gotta bomb aboard this ship!"

Since when does a train get called a ship?

All the passengers in this part of the train turned their attention towards Travis.

"Travis, that's not what you told me." Burt said. "We didn't talk about a bomb."

"It is now." Travis said as people were shaken. "And there's a bomb aboard."

The train had come to screeching halt sending Burt hurling forwards landing his face straight on the floor. However; Travis stood there strangely, and unusually stoic as though gravity did not have any leverage on him.Travis had a backpack that seemed to be heavy on his shoulders.His still-ness alerted me. A boy wouldn't be that still when a train has come to a screeching halt.

That cursed old train can do many things in various iterations; haunting, magic, and hostage situations.

I admit now; the train is a very cliche setting besides banks. Burt gets up using the corner of a empty seat. Travis takes out a small item that is shaped like a marker except it has a button at the top and the top looks really screwed into the bottom half.The top button is a really bright red.

"I have a couple demands." Travis said. "First, you cop, take your gun out and drop it."

I stare right back at Travis.

"I don't have a gun." I lied.

"Yes, you do." Travis said, holding the gun towards Burt. It is like he knew Burt would try to break their current suspenseful and tension'ish situation.Maybe that is because Travis knows Burt too well. "No cop don't leave their house without a gun in Boston."

Boston isn't always a good place to hang around at night.

"Do not." I lied. "I have terrible aiming. " I shook my hands. "I failed the shooting test."