What a curious object.

Thor held the tiny circular piece in his hand, turning it over again and again as he examined it. It was metal... thing, not even the size of his palm. The front was colored in black, yellow, white and red twisting together. If Thor stared at it long enough, it looked almost like a yellow paw against a black background with white claws and red accents around it. From its back, a thin metal rod protruded.

Thor narrowed his eyes, seeing an inscription on its back. "A lamenting goddess left this prophecy for the five warring kingdoms below: that their world would end in blackest sun-fire," he read.

How particular.

"Thor?"

Thor looked up to see Jane standing still in her pajamas before him. "Lady Jane!" he greeted.

Once the news of Loki's attack on New York and substantially Thor's return had been plastered across every news channel, Jane had arrived to New York with Darcy in tow to track him down. It hadn't been too hard. All she had to was follow the damages straight to Stark Tower.

"What is that?" Jane asked, pointing to the metal object Thor held.

"I do not know. I discovered it on the floor this morning," Thor said, handing it to her to look at.

"Oh it's a pin," Jane said. At Thor's curious expression, she elaborated. "It's an accessory to wear, basically."

"Ah," Thor said, enlightened. "Then you can pin it to my cape then!"

Jane smiled. "Sure thing."

The goddamn fucking sun.

Clint groaned as he pulled himself out of bed. His muscles ached from overuse; his body stiff and sore. He blinked at the clock, willing it to turn back with eyes still glazed over with sleep. Eleven in the morning was too goddamn early, especially since Clint didn't crawl into bed until six this morning.

He had pulled the graveyard shift, helping the rescue teams who were still up heaving rubble in search of the survivors. None of the Avengers had left New York after Loki's attack, choosing to stay behind with the relief efforts. (It was a blessing in disguise for Clint who couldn't stomach the idea of being back with SHIELD so soon, after Coulson's death, after his brainwashing.) Tony had offered the Tower as a place to crash as long as they didn't mind the fact that half the windows were gone while the building was under repair.

The traitorous blinding sun finally grew bright enough that not even the dark heavy shades kept it out. Its rays had reached Clint's bed that had been shoved into the farthest corner away from window. Clint had half a mind to crawl back under the covers when a shrilly shriek of his alarm clock shattered the remaining silence.

After he smashed the alarm clock silent, a knocking sound took its place. "Barton." Natasha called from outside of the hallway. Her voice was muffled through the thick wooden door.

"I'm coming," Clint shouted back. 'So much for getting more sleep,' he lamented.

He stumbled out of the bed, untangling himself from the blankets. That was when he heard something drop to the floor. It was a small 'clink' sound, as if something metallic like a screw or a pin had dropped.

Clint searched the floor before finding the pin near the bed's foot. Its surface was black, with splashes of yellow, white and red swirling on the front. He flipped the pin over. There was something inscribed on the back. Clint ran his finger over the tiny words as he read them, "Yet her prophecy held hope. The goddess promised to all living things, great and small, a saving Light to ward off their doom."

He scoffed at the words. A saving light? Sounded like the mumble jumbo Loki had been sprouting.

"Clint," Natasha called out again through the door. "If you don't hurry up I'm going to offer Thor your portion of the pizza!"

Oh no, that was not happening again. Clint pocketed the pin and dashed out the door.

It was dinnertime and Bruce was once again on kitchen duty.

It never really helped that he was one of the few that could actually cook more than one dish. Natasha was the only one who knew more dishes than him. Clint knew one: stew. Tony could do about three: two soups and pancakes. Steve knew about five of his mother's homemade recipes and no one had the time to actually teach Thor how to use the stove. So more than often Bruce ended up cooking on the days where everyone was too tired to move.

However all the dishes Bruce knew how to cook were all strange by normal American standards. He did manage to convince his teammates to try oxtail soup and various curries but never the stranger things like cow tongue and dog. Still in an age of fast food and Chinese takeout something different is always welcomed.

"Almost done Bruce?" Steve asked, entering the kitchen.

"Yup," Bruce answered. "Don't worry something safe tonight. Just spaghetti." He pulled the cover over the pot and gave the sauce a stir. Replacing the cover back on, Bruce looked at Steve and asked, "Can you call Natasha and Tony? I can get Thor and Clint. They're just in the living room."

"Sure thing," Steve said.

Bruce opened a drawer, searching for pot holders so he could remove the pot from the hot burner. He didn't want the temperature of the sauce to get too high. Resting on top of worn pot holders was a pin. It was black with yellow swirls that looked like an animal's face. Bruce frowned, examining it. Why was this in the drawer?

"But the five kings would not believe her. So one sought strength and found futility; so another sank in mindless wisdom," Bruce read off the back of the pin.

The bubbling of the sauce broke Bruce's thoughts as he quickly pocketed the pin and grabbed the pot holders. "The sauce!"

It was a beautiful mural if she was being honest.

Natasha stood on the rooftop of the Tower. It had been something she noticed out of the corner of her eye when she was up here trying to close the portal on the Chitauri.

The mural wrapped around the stairway entrance to the roof. Brightly colored letters spelt out whimsical nonsense and the center was a black cat with stars for eyes. She touched the mural, tracing the outline of black wings.

She couldn't explain it, but there was this tug she felt when staring at it. It was subtle in an awe inspiring way.

"Natasha?"

And just like that it shattered away.

"Captain," Natasha greeted. Steve had appeared alongside her, staring at the mural.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Steve asked. "I can stare at for hours."

"You come here a lot then," Natasha concluded.

"Not really. If you look this artist's work is all over the city. Strangely not a single one was damaged during the fight. I run passed a lot of them in the morning."

"I wonder who they are," Natasha mused. "Perhaps I should ask Tony." This... piece had a calming effect. As if she was adrift in the sea, just floating as the clouds passed by overhead. After a long day of searching for survivors and dead bodies among the rubble, this was a welcomed change of mood.

"You think Tony would know?" Steve asked. "He never struck me as an art lover."

Natasha shrugged. "The artist had to get up here somehow."

"True," Steve agreed. "Bruce said dinner is ready."

Natasha swept her eyes over the mural again, feeling that subtle tug again. "I'll be down in a few minutes," she said.

Steve nodded. He pulled himself away from the mural and headed toward the stairs.

Natasha heard the door closed as Steve left her to her thoughts. She ran her hand over the mural once more, following the white outline of a word colored blue. A bump in the wall caused her to stop.

It was a single blemish on an otherwise perfectly curved line. Looking closer it was a button pin, simple single black and yellow pin. Natasha pulled it off the wall. It came off easily as it was only held by a single piece of tape. "Why would anyone put this up here?" she asked. How would have they even gotten up here?

She turned the pin over, looking for a marking that would describe the owner. Instead she found an inscription on the back. "In the end, the kings' delusions led them to a chamber of reckoning, where their unspent chaos brought fear and woe to all," she read.

Natasha frowned. "What is this suppose to mean?" She pondered it for a few more seconds before pocketing it. "I'll examine it closer later. Better head down for dinner."

After all she wouldn't want to upset Bruce by not being present. The last thing anyone needed was the Hulk in the kitchen.

Steve couldn't find Tony.

That... never was a good sign. He had checked Tony's bedroom, the lab, the garage, the lobby, the gym, all the living quarters even the dusty old library. Yet Tony couldn't be found anywhere.

Steve sighed as he closed the door to the library. Where could Tony be?

"JARVIS?" Steve finally asked, giving in.

"Yes Mister Rogers?" JARVIS instantly answered. His voice echoed throughout the hallway.

Steve grimaced a little. The concept of a talking house was easy to accept and understand (It was a shame no one had invented flying cars yet), but actually hearing JARVIS still took getting used to. It wasn't often that Steve had to address something that was invisible to the naked eye. "Do you know where Tony is? It's dinner time," Steve said.

"Sir is not the building."

Steve blinked. Tony wasn't in the building? Where did he go?

"Did he say when he would be back?"

"He did not."

Steve frowned. It couldn't be helped he supposed. If Tony wasn't here no amount of questioning of JARVIS would magically make him appear. A quick phone call to confirm if he would be back soon would probably be for the best.

As Steve turned to head toward the kitchen, Steve felt himself kick something. "What was that?" He bent down the ground, feeling the soft carpet for whatever he had hit.

It was a small black and yellow pin. "A pin?" Steve asked. He squint his eyes as he read the inscription.

"Now, as the boy stands before Eden, the five kings in his wake, the goddess rewards his balanced judgment with her Light."

How strange.

"Steve!"

Steve looked up to see Pepper coming down the hall.

"Hello Miss Potts," Steve greeted. Tony had introduced Pepper to the team a few days ago. She was friendly and nice, easily helping Steve with whatever questions he had. Steve had to admire the way she handed Tony too.

"Pepper," she quickly corrected him. "What are you doing?"

"I was just about to call Tony to see if he would be home in time for dinner. Bruce is almost done cooking."

Pepper gave Steve an inquisitive look. "He didn't tell you guys? Tony left for Japan last night."

Steve blinked in surprise. "What? Japan? Why?"

"Well... then again Tony never really tells anyone when he's going to Japan. He just ups and goes and lets everyone else scramble to figure it out. Tony always goes to Japan every few months for as long as I've known him," Pepper explained. "He never told me the exact reason but he has I guess like a foster family there that he loves to visit in person. Rambles about some kid named Joshua sometimes. I think it's also to get away from here, the pressure the media, everything."

A quiet 'oh' was Steve's only response. He understood a bit, the need to get away. It would have been nice to know, but as Steve was finding out, Tony Stark never did anything by normal means.

"How long is he usually gone?" Steve asked. The more he was aware of it, the better he could prepare for it next time.

"Usually it's about a nine to ten days," Pepper said. "He said this time though it would probably be longer, closer to month. Sounded like they really wanted to make sure he was alright." Her voice wavered as the end of the sentence before she sighed. A tired look washed over her face as her shoulders sagged.

Steve gave her a friendly warm smile and held out his hand. "Miss Potts would you be so kind as to join the rest of the Avengers for dinner tonight?"

The corners of Pepper's mouth twitched upward. She looped her arm around his and said, "I'll be delighted to."

Shibuya

Sanae stretched, lazily taking in the sights of his favorite city in Japan. Not much had changed over the last few months. Still ever crowded, fashion everywhere and overflowing with Imagination.

It really felt like coming home.

Sanae laughed, feeling a joyous euphoria spread throughout his body. As much as he loved playing "Tony Stark", Shibuya offered him a welcome break from the paparazzi, money, grief, guilt and superheroing that his human alias maintained. There are no burdens or pressures here. Well there is the sense of duty, his job, but hopefully Joshua wasn't causing any sort of trouble.

However, the underlying poisonous notes twisting in Shibuya's song told him otherwise. Sanae frowned. Looked like his hunch was correct.

"Oh Joshua," Sanae said with a sigh. "Just what is going on?"