It's Raining Skrull - Must Be Tuesday

[skyward_eyes]

New York. They said it was the city that never slept. Which, of course, was a lot of crap. It just never slept at the same time. Didn't mean that the people didn't sleep and really, it's the people that are the city. It's not the buildings, it's not the museums or the subways, hell it wasn't even the late night takeout places or the tourist attractions. No, the city was the people, and the people slept. Like this one, a twenty year-and-a-few-months-change old who was, at the moment, sleeping on the chintziest red plush couch that was probably ever made. He'd gotten in at three am the night before, collapsed on the couch, and proceeded to sleep like the dead until a pillow dropped on his head hours later.

Not that he woke very fast. Knowing who was tormenting you and why helped keep trained reflexes down.

"'Lijah, you fucking suck," he mumbled into the equally horrendous looking couch cushion he had slept on.

"And you broke in to my apartment again. What happened to getting your own place?"

"Rent's 'spensive," he slurred into the cushion before finally raising his head as his hand reached for his phone. When he saw the time he groaned. It wasn't even seven yet. Of course he could have guessed if his head was on better. Elijah was due at work by eight and there was walking and the subway and getting good coffee at starbucks because Elijah only kept shit stuff in his apartment ever since Nida had become a not-so-temporary couch surfer.

"I know. Which is why I keep offering to let you stay here."

Slowly Nida pushed to a fully seated position, running his hands through his hair to try and smooth it down. Here, of course, was Elijah's apartment. No, that wasn't exactly an accurate description. Here was his old high school buddy's expensive and really nice loft apartment in the good part of town where people weren't likely to jump you for looking at their mailbox wrong. Here was a safe part of town where Nida could never get work because he didn't have the prior experience of like seven years of prior experience for an entry level position, and that was only if you knew a guy. Here was everything that Nida wasn't, with a TV screen that nearly covered a wall, and two guest bedrooms, and a lot of other amenities.

Here was a place he could stay safe, but never even begin to fit in.

"Thanks by no thanks," Nida answered as he pushed to his feet. He knew as well as Elijah did that he didn't belong here. But the guy had been his friend for years, and Nida knew that he had one thing he could always play, the 'you owe me, Zale' card.

And Nida hated playing that card.

"Just take one of the guest bedrooms, okay?" Elijah grumbled from the kitchen. It had marble counter tops. The majority of Nida's belongings fit in a duffle bag stuffed in a closet in one of those guest bedrooms, and Elijah had fucking marble countertops. And a view of the city. And a hell of a lot of other things. Life was beyond unfair.

"Pass. It was just a night, Lijah. I finally managed to line up that dishwasher position. Which puts me at three part-time jobs. With that I should finally be able to get first and last and deposit scrounged up, get some studio place somewhere like..."

"Please," Elijah sighed. "You're killing me, Nida. Just... go take a shower. I know you're due at work by nine, and you're not the greatest morning person."

He was when he had more than three hours of sleep, but Nida didn't throw that back at his friend. Instead he pushed to his feet and slipped out of the room. By the time he got back from his shower and changing into clean clothes, Elijah was gone, there was a hot mug of coffee (cheap with milk and four sugars, just the way he liked it) and with it a fifty, left casually as if to say 'here is breakfast, lunch, dinner, whatever for a few days. Nida spared a smile and gathered his things up. Soon he was out on the streets, the backpack that contained only his uniforms for his jobs and the padded leather case with his bo staff over the other shoulder. Time to hit the streets.

He made it all of four blocks ducking and dodging around people when it happened. Upraised heads, pointing arms, and shadows against the sky. Familiar shadows. Nida just groaned as he kept rushing down the street. There was no chance that Mr. Curtis was going to accept 'Skrull invasion' as an excuse for being late for work. And with the crush of people now running toward him, Nida had to do something. With a sigh he turned and worked his way through the flight toward the side of a building and down an alley. When the salmon are spawning in the rivers, take to the sky.

Within minute he'd managed to get over a fence, up a fire escape, over a wall, and down into another street. This one less filled with people. In part, no doubt, because of the pair of Skrull not too far in front of him. Well fuck.

And any hope of avoiding them was pretty much ruined when one pointed in his direction. Lovely. Nida held his hands up in surrender as they approached. Aliens with alien weapons against normal people with a bo staff on their back they couldn't even access was bullshit. He let them approach and once one was close enough burst into action. Grab for one gun, secure the wrist, and hyperextend it to throw the Skrull over his shoulder and disarm. And since he didn't really mess with guns he threw it up and over the wall in the same motion that he dropped down and, with a spin kick, knocked the second off its feet. And that was when he ran like hell.

Please, if there was any real gods asgardians didn't count out there, please just... let him get out of this alive. He'd much rather get fired for being late for work than, you know, dead.

Prayer sent he slipped his staff case off his back as he ran, quickly getting the length of wood free and letting the case fall. Elijah would happily replace it, he was good like that. And Nida? He needed a weapon. Another Skrull noticed him in the road and Nida whirled, striking low with the length of wood. Not enough to seriously injure, enough to stagger the invader enough for Nida to keep the momentum going and slam the weapon against his head before he kept running. He didn't know, didn't bother to look back and see, that the Skrull had not just stumbled forward at the second blow. It had flown nearly twenty feet to crash into a stop sign. Funny. As it was, Nida was too busy ducking into an alley for cover.

Fuck his life. Just seriously fuck it.

Seriously, I promise to worship the first god that gets me out of this. Even if it winds up being Loki.