Loki Detective の小説・ストーリー

She can't help herself they just bring back bad memories for me. Towards the end of the night the evening had died down only a few people where left In the restaurant. She makes myself a cup of tea and sits at the bar and drinks it waiting till the diners all leave. All of a sudden she felt the hairs at the back of her neck stand up turning around seeing the detective staring at her, he pulled out a bar stool and sat down and said to her " I'm sorry if I'm staring at you but you look really familiar, I don't know where I've seen you but I feel as though I now you, or maybe you look like someone I just can't figure it out". I smile at him and nod my head bring my hair down to cover the s

Loki said something like, "Where?" "Bee." She stepped forward. The moment she had stepped foot where she ought to stand, she turned to look at me. And then looked away. "Titan." A boy this time. Has a dark complexion and is wearing tank top and shorts. "Jungle boy, that one," Loki whispered. "Hard to catch. Pretty agile." "Why would you want to catch him?" I asked. "He stole my cheesecake," Loki frowned at the memory. "I caught him, though. But the cheesecake's gone. He received quite the beating."

Ash turns cautiously. Five people emerge calmly from the tall grass. At the very front, a red-haired young man walks toward us while casually spinning a small flame in his palm. His sharp eyes lock onto our team. “Well, look who’s crawling around on the ground like worms,” the young man says mockingly. Damian grits his teeth. “Loki. Why does it have to be you, asshole?” The young man, Loki, laughs sarcastically. He snaps his fingers, and a wall of fire rises around us, making the prehistoric birds hesitate to attack again.

I held my breath, waiting for him to strike. White lightning streamed through their van’s windows, illuminating that part of Richmond Park. More gunshots rang through the air, but none smashed through the glass. I clenched my fists and breathed hard to remain calm. Beki gave me a questioning bark. “Loki had to disguise himself so he could get close to the enforcers.” She tilted her head to the side. “It was just a guess that Captain Caria would be there, but she seems to be Hades’ number-one henchwoman.”

The way I left everything; I was amazed he wasn’t yelling down my throat. “I’m good. Thanks for asking.” “When Captain Bridges said he had the perfect guy for us, I sure as hell wasn’t expecting you,” he chuckled. I awkwardly laughed in agreeance before pausing, trying to plan my next words carefully. “I wasn’t expecting to be back here. I uh… I’m sorry for how I left everything. I really…” “Save it,” he cuts in. “That was the past. Right now, we have bigger fish to fry. I have you partnered with Detective Lopez for the time being.”

Now, thinking of certain hypothesis like why would this guy knows such a thing. To be honest, I, myself, knew nothing about the rumor and how did they found out I'm after their DIAMOND. With minutes of deduction, finally summing up a conclusion that this guy I'm dancing with tonight is no other but a 'Detective'. His presence is quite rare or it shouldn't even exist in my WORLD. "Who are you?" I asked as I bowed my head, not wanting to meet his gaze. "I'm Detective Kaizi Hirogome." was his response.

He couldn’t rise again. “Tell me,” I whispered, more to myself than to Matteo, “you don’t think it’s him.” Matteo didn’t answer immediately. His fingers curled into fists at his sides. The tension in his jaw was enough. “We don’t know,” he finally muttered. “And we’re not jumping to conclusions.” But the fear in his eyes betrayed him. Loki, the Blood King. The one whose thirst had drowned villages in blood. The one who defied death so many times, our ancestors had to turn to forbidden rites to bury him.

Lucifer said, raising his brow in confusion, but Ethan was pushed aside before two men walked in. One of them took out what looked like a badge. “I’m Detective Larry Hanks, from the crimes division of New York city department , and i would like to speak with Lucifer Morningstar.“

A second later, the screen lit up. A photograph appeared. A man in his early fifties, sharp eyes, expression unreadable. The kind of face that blended into crowds and vanished just as easily. “This is Lorenzo Moretti,” the lead investigator said. Sophia’s breath caught. “He’s Italian,” the man continued. “A professional assassin. Old-school. Known in underground circles for one thing, clean jobs. No witnesses. No loose ends. No emotional involvement.” He paused, letting the weight of that sink in.