A/N: Hey kids! I had a sudden streak of inspiration and this chapter sort of ran away from me so it's a tad longer than usual... I didn't think you guys would mind too much. Anyway, this chapter gets down into the guts of the story, talking more about what Ragnarok actually is and Loki's involvement in it, and a certain somebody finds his way back to the Tower...

One thing I need to tell you for this chapter though is that in actual mythology it snows for 300 years on Earth as the precursor to Ragnarok but I didn't have time for that so I shortened it to 30 years and had a bit of a communication issue to shorten it further. Like I said in the beginning, I'm sticking to the mythology as much as possible so some things that get mentioned in this chapter (cough cough Jormungandr cough cough) won't make much sense until later so sorry for any confusion there. Also, if you happen to go googleing this mythology and go into a panic, calm down. I'm not following it to the letter.

I'll stop distracting you now. Go on reading for reading is learning! (stealing quotes makes you sound smart fyi)

Ragnarok

Chapter 8: The War to End All Wars

The Elder Council raged and screamed at him from around the hall, their worried and aggrieved voices echoing off the ice crystal walls of the thingstead. Councils were only held during times of war. One had not been held for over a thousand years but now that Odinson has come of age, they hold the second gathering in less than a decade. War was upon them yet again.

But today, the hostilities were not of their own making. The Frost Giants were governed by prophecy as much as any of the nine realms and one of the oldest in their history was coming to pass.

The Final War. The End of Days. Loki Laufeyson had killed Balder; he had begun his decent into madness. The trickster was the prophesised leader of the Frost Giant assault on Midgard. They were destined to bring the downfall of the petty human race.

But Laufey was tired. He was an old king, on the throne for three times that of his predecessors, and he knew better. The outcome of the war was not written. They had the same chance of a loss as a victory. The others were forgetting the Asgardians. The protectors of the worlds would hardly let them march on Earth without putting up a defence. Should Jotunheim be forced to stand against the army of Asgard, their loss was assured.

Odin would not let the treachery pass. A strenuous truce had been struck after Thor Odinson's transgression; a peace that Laufey was not willing to threaten for the sake of a long dead man's scribbles.

The others, however, were stuck in their ways. They read the prophecies as law, a certainty that couldn't be avoided any more than breathing. They would have their war, with or without a king.

"We must ready the army!" Genfry, one of the youngest on the council, called. "There is too little time! The snow has been falling for more than twenty years. We must prepare immediately!"

"The time for preparations is at an end. We must dispatch the troops now or risk the Midgardians rallying their heroes!" Murmurs spread around the table. The loss of the Chitauri had not gone unnoticed in Jotunheim.

"It appears you are correct, honoured elder." Silence fell over the hall, eyes turning in frozen heads to the source of the agreeance. In the doorway to the thingstead, clothed in identifiable black, green and gold, was the subject of their discussion. He wore a wise and all-knowing smile as he strode in, hands clasped behind his back. "Thor Odinson is learned in the prophecy and has returned to Earth. He intends to impart his knowledge on his friends so that they might defend their home."

The silence shattered. Every voice in the room sought to have his opinion heard. Laufey sat quietly at the head of the table, his eyes on his stolen son. The trickster's face twisted in a malicious grin as he watched the deliberations. His eyes drifted to the king, finding Laufey's old, world-weary eyes on him. His expression fell back into the penetrating stare of a would-be king.

Laufey sighed heavily. He was no stranger to men with motives. He had been one himself, long ago, and, he supposed, it fit that his son would be one as well. He lifted his foot and slammed it down to the floor, a crack splitting the iced ground. Tongues stilled in heads as attention returned to the king.

"I am interested to hear what it is you intend, outcast," Laufey spoke, keeping his voice flat and without inflection. The council looked between father and son, curiously watching the exchange.

Loki smiled wickedly, lips pulling back over teeth. "Jormungandr."

~AVENGERS~

The snow was only getting heavier and it was getting harder and harder for Peter to find a decent place to sleep for the night. He refused to stay in the same place for more than three nights in a row, knowing that it would just make him easier to pin down. Tonight's locale was an old abandoned warehouse on the edge of Brooklyn in the old navy yard. The holes in the tin roof made for a chilly evening but at least it was hidden and far away from Stark Tower.

Peter had made his home amongst the rafters, stringing himself a web hammock, filling the base with clothes to keep the breeze off his back and settling in with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He laid fully clothed, ski parka and all, with Kit nestled against his chest like the first night he'd met the annoying fur ball.

Peter smiled down at the wad of black fluff lying on its stomach with its head on its paws and that same grumpy expression on its face. He almost reminded Peter of a photo of his father he'd seen from when he was a kid. Peter had gone into his dad's office and drawn all over some important papers with his crayons. His father was leaning against the desk with his arms folded and a look of fond exasperation on his face while a young Peter held up a drawing of their family to him. The photo was old and grainy but it was one of the few he had of his parents and he treasured it.

The memory of the old photograph tacked to the corkboard above his desk made him feel a little homesick. He hadn't spoken to Aunt May in nearly two weeks because he'd had to ditch his phone. She must be getting worried by now. He was sure she'd tried to call him and gotten his voicemail. She had to be doubting the 'I'm at a friend's place' excuse by now. Peter didn't really have that many friends. She could check with all of them in about 10 minutes if she got really worried. He missed the heater in the lounge room and warm meals that weren't bought at fast food places and street stands. He missed talking to Gwen; he missed holding her, kissing her. He missed only having to worry about avoiding the cops and angry street thugs. He missed his life.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut, feeling tears welling behind them. God, he was pathetic; Puny Parker crying because he misses his girlfriend. Flash would have a field day with this. A small sob forced itself from between his teeth.

He opened his eyes with a jolt when he felt a small, soft paw on his cheek. Kit looked down at him with his blue eyes wide. Peter stared at him for a moment. Kit's eyes narrowed and he gave two short meows that Peter interpreted as 'shut up'. Kit swiped at him and Peter gaped at the kitten, feeling warm blood bloom on his cool skin, as he settled himself back down on his chest. Peter couldn't help the ridiculous smile that split his face. He gave a light chuckle and absently started stroking Kit's spine.

Maybe it isn't all bad…

~AVENGERS~

"That's twice now, Barton, twice a teenager slipped through your fingers."

"I know, sir, but if you'll let me-"

"I do not remember telling you to 'observe' him. I remember specifically saying bring. Him. In."

"But, sir-"

"That is what I said, wasn't it, Barton?"

"Yes, sir. But-"

"Well, did I stutter?"

"No, sir."

"Then there is no reason why Spiderman shouldn't be sitting in a cell, is that correct?"

"Sir-"

"Is that correct, Agent Barton?"

"Yes, sir."

"You have one more chance. If you don't bring him in, then you better hope I never see your face again. Is that understood?"

"Completely, sir…"

~AVENGERS~

Kathy was starting to get worried. After Steve left, she tried to call him to make sure he was alright but he didn't answer. The next morning he didn't show up for work. Her mind kept drifting and she couldn't concentrate. Eventually, she closed up shop early and went to check on him. She was standing out the front of his hotel room, her hand paused mid-knock.

She couldn't get what the woman from the café had said out of her head.

"Shellshock, dear. He's got shellshock. The snow's reminding him of when they pulled him out of the ice."

Ice… He'd been frozen for almost seventy years. That meant it really was him. It had been a controversial topic after the Incident when SHIELD had been forced to reveal that Captain America was alive. Some people believed that the government was just misusing a dead soldier's image; others believed whole heartedly that he was the real Captain America, but very few people knew for certain which was the truth.

The woman Kathy had been speaking to, Sandra was her name, used to work as Howard Stark's secretary. She had been in the office when they brought in the enormous chunk of ice with the war hero inside. Stark senior had been leaping out of his skin with excitement. He'd told her about the Captain and all the great things he'd done; how he turned the tide of war. He'd loved to talk about the Captain. He spoke about him more than he did his own son.

Kathy knew enough about the adventures of Captain America to know that he and Stark senior had been close friends, close enough for what happened to make Steve run away from his duty. That was not something a soldier did lightly.

Kathy sighed and lowered her hand. Maybe she'd just pushed him too hard about going back to New York. Maybe he just wanted some more time to think about things. He was probably avoiding her because she kept pestering him about at least calling his team so they knew he was alright. But what could hurt Captain America?

God, that was going to take some getting used to; quiet, awkward, little (huge) Steve was the Captain America! The only thing that had even hinted at him being that Steve Rogers was his terrible pop culture knowledge and almost archaically good manners. And the muscles and the looks… She groaned. And she'd thought he was out of her league before…

What was she going to do? Kathy had been standing at his door, thinking about knocking, for almost a half hour. Maybe she should just leave and let him come back to the world in his own time. Was that a good idea? Steve was the type to think things through thoroughly but this was something he'd been thinking about for more than half a year and still hadn't come to a decision. She didn't think he'd been thinking about it at all, honestly. Kathy was pretty much convinced by now that Steve was doing everything in his power to avoid thinking about it. That probably wasn't why he'd locked himself up then.

Kathy shivered in the cold. The snow had been coming down harder and harder since it started.

"Shellshock, dear, he's got shellshock."

Worry ate at Kathy's insides as Sandra's words repeated themselves inside her head. She bit at her fingernails, a bad habit she'd been trying to kick for years, when she remembered. She looked at her fingers, the ghost sensation of Steve's icy skin flickering through her nerves. Maybe he's sick or something! Can super soldiers even get sick?

Worry turned to panic as she lifted her hand for what had to be the fiftieth time that afternoon. She stared at the door again, doubt stilling her fist.

"The snow's reminding him of when they pulled him out of the ice."

That's it! Kathy brought her knuckles to the door and rapped three times on the wood. She waited for an answer but none came. She knocked again. Maybe it's me. Maybe he's avoiding me. She shook her head, determined to make sure Steve was alright. When silence answered, she tried calling to him.

"Steve? It's Kathy. Are you there? Can we talk?" Kathy's nerves began to fray when no response came. She was really worried now.

Kathy reached into her pocket and pulled out a multitool. You didn't survive as a single woman running a business without being able to fix your own problems and growing up as an orphan had imparted its own wisdom. She pulled out the flathead screwdriver and pushed it into the lock. She gave it a strong, sharp turn, breaking the lock. Kathy looked around quickly, making sure she hadn't been seen, before pocketing the tool and stepping inside.

"Steve?" she called, closing the door behind her. Kathy looked around the small space. It was your standard $20 a night hotel; a kitchenette to one side of the room on the wall opposite the TV and lounge with a small door leading to a bathroom off to the other. Her eyes trailed around the room, noting the near obsessive tidiness of it. Once a soldier, always a solder, she thought. Her eyes roamed until they reached the far wall, against which was a slightly smaller than standard double bed.

"Steve!" Kathy cried, running over to it. The Captain lay under the blankets, still as a corpse. He could easily have been mistaken for one. His skin was grey and his lips tinged blue. Kathy reached out to his forehead. Steve's skin was cold as ice. She stared going into a full blown panic as she pressed her fingers to his neck. She could feel a pulse there, a very weak one. "Oh my god. Steve! STEVE!" She shook his shoulders, slapped his face. She tried anything to get him to open his eyes but he just lay there, unmoving, unwaking.

Kathy didn't know what to do. She was almost shaking with the fear that Steve could never wake up again, that he would never walk around her café, never take orders from the bashful women who'd met him in their youth, never look at her confusedly when she mentioned a TV show or movies that everybody had seen but oh, no, not Steve. Kathy could feel the tears starting to run down her cheeks.

She had to call somebody, somebody who could help. She couldn't call 911. They wouldn't know what to do. Who would know what to do with a genetically altered super soldier?

If there was a light bulb overhead, Kathy was sure it just clicked on.

~AVENGERS~

The lounge room of Stark Tower was enormous to a scale that only Anthony Edward Stark could dream up. It was roughly the size of a moderate middle class family home, occupying a third of the 87th floor of the Tower and housing enough seating for approximately one hundred and fifty people. Reclining. The floor of the room was carpeted in warm sea pearl and the walls were painted in a pure white. A collection of curved leather lounges were dispersed around the room in small clusters alternating black and white encircling glass coffee tables. To the far end of the room, backed on to a white wall on a raised platform, was an elegantly designed (and fully stocked) glass top bar looking out over the room. The east wall was made entirely of glass allowing for a breathtaking panoramic view of the Hudson River over the rooftops of Lower Manhattan. Against the west wall was a larger cluster of white sofas built into a small depression in the floor. The lounges all faced toward a huge flat screen television mounted to the wall, bordered on either side by surround sound speakers. The crescent of lounges siphoned off roughly twelve square metres of the room for what Tony called the 'private lounge'.

Tony had led everyone to the small section the day after they had picked up their friend Thor in the middle of Midtown. The team was too frazzled after dealing with the mercenary to pay attention long enough for Thor to give them his 'news of great import'.

Tony lounged across one of the couches, his feet up over the arm at one end and his head resting on the other. His eyes were shielded by dark sunglass. The entire world knew of Tony's drinking habits and, in all likelihood, he was hung over again. Bruce squished himself to one end of the lounge closest to Tony's head, trying to make himself as small as possible. The doctor was comfortable enough with the rest of the team to speak when he wanted to but avoiding people had become second nature after his accident and he still preferred to appear as unremarkable and unmenacing as possible. Romanov sat at the other end to Banner, her legs crossed elegantly in front of her, one arm resting on the back of the lounge. Her eyes kept flicking to the door and Bruce. Barton had yet to arrive. It wasn't like him to be late for anything and she was starting to worry. She shifted in her seat, subconsciously moving an inch further away from Bruce. She had never really been comfortable with him again after what had happened on the helicarrier but she made an effort to appear unphased. Everyone knew her better than that. Thor took up an entire lounge on his own. Still dressed in his silver and red day-at-the-medieval-fair outfit, he looked every inch the god everyone knew he was. He sat up straight, arms folded across his broad chest, feet firmly planted on the carpet and wavy blonde hair settled just below the top of his shoulders. He was an imposing sight to say the least.

Tony huffed, dramatically throwing his legs around to the floor, moving to stand in the middle of the circle of lounges. "Merida's taking too long. If it's so important, we should just start already!"

Bruce sighed at his impatience but conceded his point. "It isn't like Clint, that's for sure. But Tony's right. You came all the way from Asgard to tell us this, didn't you?"

"I did. But should we not wait for the good Captain also?"

Tony gave a light frown, his features creasing in sadness. "The Cap won't be joining us either, pal."

Thor nodded, a look of understanding on his face. "Then I shall begin the telling. I've returned with knowledge of a new war that threatens this world."

The room fell silent.

"W-what?"

"You're kidding me."

"Why didn't you say so before?!"

"You all were too lost in your own considerations. More talk would only serve to muddy your judgement and the words I have to share are too important to be lost in the torrent of thoughts already sweeping through your minds." The team gaped at the god for a moment. Sometimes it was hard to look past the hair and the clothes to remember that the man sitting with them was the heir to the throne of Asgard.

"Well, we're bright eyed and bushy tailed now, L'Oreal, so out with it." Thor frowned and opened his mouth to speak but Tony held up a hand to silence him. "I should have known better," he mumbled. "Just… start talking."

The god's frown deepened as he leaned forward in his seat to rest his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped before him. "It is grave news I bring to you, friends. My brother has done something terrible…" The confusion collapsed into solemnity.

"I thought twinkle toes was locked up!" Tony whipped off his sunglasses to stare at him. Thor's lips thinned. Tony started pacing, his eyes flicking none too subtly toward to bar across the room. "Well, where is he now?"

"I know not. He appears and disappears as he pleases, leaving death and mayhem in his wake," Thor spat bitterly. Tony stopped pacing to look at him as he tried to calm himself. Bruce moved from his chair and placed a hand on the god's shoulder. Even when Loki had attempted genocide, Thor still defended his brother. Something huge must be going down…

"What happened?" he asked gently.

Thor looked up at him, tears brimming in his normally hardened eyes. "My brother… Loki has slain my brother, Balder…"

"Oh my god…" Natasha gasped, straightening up.

"Jesus, Thor, I'm sorry," Tony said sympathetically, freezing his pacing. Bruce didn't say anything, just tightened his grip on Thor's shoulder and cast his eyes to the floor.

"That's terrible," Natasha spoke up, her voice oddly strained. "But that's not the big issue here."

"Are you kidding me, Romanov? His brother was killed!" Tony was almost shouting, his arms flailing wildly.

"No, Man of Iron, Lady Romanov is right." Natasha flinched at the nickname but nodded for Thor to continue. "Loki's actions, while terrible, are the sign of something much worse to come. He has begun his decent into madness. Ragnarok is coming."

"Ragnarok?" Bruce faltered, standing and taking up Tony's pacing. "Shit…" The room fell into dead silence. Bruce swore almost as little as Steve.

"Ooookay," Tony said, staring at Bruce. "And the word of the day means…?"

"The End of Days, Friend Stark. In seven years, your world will come to an end."

"Seven years…" Tony blinked. "Seven years! I thought you said it was urgent!"

"Is this not a short a time?" Thor frowned, looking to Natasha who he classed as the voice of reason in the absence of the good Captain.

"Thor…" she started slowly. "How do you measure a year?"

The furrow in his brow deepened. "One passage of the sun across the sky." The group gaped at him. "Is it not the same on Midgard?"

"THAT'S A DAY, THOR!" Tony exploded.

"Seven days…" Bruce started up his pacing again, his fist clenching and unclenching at his side.

"Well, that makes sense, then." Natasha moved to gaze at the snow that was still piling up outside on the streets, snowploughs hurriedly trying to clear the roads while the sleet piled back up in their wake. "In mythology it says that in the time of Ragnarok it will snow for 30 years." She turned back to the group, finding all eyes on her. "It started snowing 23 days ago."

Thor smiled wearily. "You are well learned, Lady Romanov. Perhaps you could tell the Man of Iron and Friend Banner the remaining details?" There was a slightly pleading look in his eyes.

Natasha gave an apologetic half-smile. "Sorry, big guy, but I only studied it in school. I don't remember half the things I learned."

The god gave a sigh but, nonetheless, launched into his explanation of the events of the past few 'years'; Loki's escape from imprisonment, the murder of his brother and the performance he put up at Balder's wake. The gathered heroes listened raptly to the recount, none interrupting. Even Tony stayed quiet long enough for Thor to tell the tale, only punctuating his speech with grunts of aggravation.

"Our last report claims he has returned to Jotunheim and entered into council with the Frost Giant Elders. The topic of their discussion, we are sure, is Ragnarok. But the specifics…" He shook his head. "The thingstead is too heavily fortified for Heimdahl to see their plans."

"I thought you said you didn't know where he was," Natasha said suspiciously, the spy in her demanding to have all the answers.

"We don't," Thor grumbled defensively. "That information was from two years… 'days'… ago. Loki can move without detection. We have no way to be certain that he is still on Jotunheim, let alone in the thingstead." Natasha nodded, seemingly satisfied. "I must know your plan, my friends. There is a battle coming for the scale of which you are ill prepared."

"We need to figure out what their next move is." Tony started tapping his foot, a hand to his chin in thought. "If muscles could get us to this Jotunheim place-"

"Sir," the clipped British drawl of the AI broke into the tense room. "There is an urgent call awaiting you on line one."

Stark groaned, his head thrown back in irritation. "Jarvis, you know I hate being interrupted!"

"Apologies, sir," the voice replied, his voice inflectionless but still managing to sound annoyed.

"Reveal yourself, spirit!" Thor boomed, Mjolnir suddenly in hand, eyes on the roof.

Tony lowered Thor's arm. "Calm down, Garnier. That's just Jarvis. He helps out around the place."

"Good morning, Master Thor," the voice greeted.

"And you, house spirit," he replied, narrowed eyes still searching for the sudden presence.

"Shall I tell the caller that the reward is no longer on offer, sir?"

"What reward?" Tony frowned.

"For information on Captain Rogers," he drawled as if speaking to a five year old. Silence flowed after the announcement. All eyes fixed to the roof, minds grinding to try and process the sentence. Many calls had been made following the disappearance of Captain America and, after the first fifteen false leads and crushed hopes, Tony had ordered Jarvis to do a voice analysis on everyone called in, following the lead himself if he could, only forwarding the ones that appeared genuine. They hadn't received a call in months.

The room broke out in a cacophony of noises; orders to put the call through, requests for information on the caller, commands to trace the call, screams of joy.

"QUIET!" Tony screamed. Mouths snapped shut and eyes turned to the billionaire. Tony took a few deep breaths before addressing the AI. "Jarvis, put the call through and start a trace on the line."

"Of course, sir."

There was quiet and then a tentative voice. "H-hello? I-is this Mr Stark?"

"Yes. Who's this? Why are you calling?" Tony said, his voice low and dangerous.

"Oh my god!" the voice gushed. "Listen! My name's Kathy. I need your help. I didn't know what to do! The doctors won't know either. You have to help!"

"Kathy, calm down," Tony said through gritted teeth. His hands were clenched by his side and the colour was slowly draining from his face. "Tell me what's wrong."

"It's Steve!" she yelled, hysteria brimming in her voice. She was close to tears by the sounds of it. Tony swallowed hard, his arms starting to shake with the slowly welling panic. "I can't wake him up a-and his skin… oh, god it's so cold… Please! Please, help him!"

Tony didn't miss a beat. "Jarvis, have you got that location for me yet?"

"Of course, sir."

~AVENGERS~

Kathy had given up trying to sit and wait patiently. Pacing proved a much better stress reliever. Her eyes jumped from Steve to the door to her feet and back to Steve. She wrung her hands as she paced, the cuticles bleeding from her biting. Her eyes strayed back to her friend. He still hadn't moved and she was beginning to redefine panic.

God, what was taking them so long?! True, it had only been ten minutes since the call and they were two and a half states away from New York but he was Iron Man, right? He should be able to get there in no time!

Jesus, what if that hadn't actually been Tony Stark? What if she'd been punked? What if it was Tony Stark and he didn't believe her? He issued a reward so he must have gotten dozens of fake calls. He probably thought she was another nobody looking for a quick buck. Shit, and she probably sounded insane on the phone too. Double shit. What if they never came? What was she supposed to do with a comatose superhero?

"SHIT!" she screamed, immediately biting her tongue. She looked sheepishly at Steve's prone form. He may be unconscious but she knew how he felt about swearing. "Sorry, Steve…" she mumbled, sounding like a chastened child. She could picture the face he would have pulled, all disapproving frown and amused eyes. He looked at her like a child who'd been caught trying to sneak a cookie when she broke one of his silently imposed rules. She smiled at the familiarity of the face. It faded when she looked again on the pallid features before her.

She froze in her pacing when she heard a clunk outside followed by an enormous crash that had Kathy drop to her knees, hands over her head. She cursed again, throwing another apology over her shoulder, and ran for the door. She wrenched it open only to be shoved past by a red and gold figure. She staggered into the doorframe, glaring over her shoulder as Iron Man clunked into the hotel room, making a beeline for the bed. An equally large figure in even stranger dress stood just outside the door. A head of blonde hair bowed toward her, an arm folded across his middle.

"Lady Kathy," he said. "May I enter so as to see to the Captain?" She stood gobsmacked. It was hard to mistake the golden hair and the red cape but the gigantic hammer dangling from his fingertips made him unmistakeable. Thor… Holy sh- She caught the thought and mentally gave her third apology for the morning. She gaped for a moment, unable to speak, before moving aside to allow him in. He nodded graciously and moved to join Stark who was standing and staring at Steve.

"How is he, Friend Stark?" Thor questioned.

"Not good." Even through the mask, Kathy could hear the graveness in his tone. "His vitals are way off. We need to get him back to the Tower. Now." Tony leaned down and lifted Steve from the bed, carrying his limp form bridal style toward the door.

"Wait!" Kathy jumped between them and the exit.

Tony huffed impatiently, flipping up his mask to glare her down. "Listen, lady, we'll wire the money out to you later. Right now, we have to-"

"You think I give a shit about the money?!" Kathy screamed. Stark stared at her while she pulled in a deep breath. "Sorry, Steve," she muttered again. That brought a quirk to the man's lips. "I don't care about the reward," Kathy started again in a more measured tone. "Steve's my friend and I want to make sure he's alright. You think I'm gunna let him get carried out of here by some freak show in a metal suit, even if he is Iron Man? No way. I'm going too," she finished in a huff, folding her arms across her chest in defiance. Stark stared at her and she stared back, unwavering. Thor stood to the side, watching the exchange with a small, impressed smile on his face.

Tony sniffed. "Alright, Cindy-"

"Kathy."

"Whatever. You can come. Thor, buddy, why don't you give her a lift."

Thor's smile widened as he stepped forward, clapping Stark on the back. "Excellent!" He smiled down at her and Kathy suddenly felt very intimidated by the enormous man. His outfit was sleeveless and the sharp outline of his muscles were clearly visible. He looked like he could very well crush her if the need should arise. She gulped and returned the smile weakly.

Stark headed out the door and took off, leaving a ring of smoke in his wake. Kathy watched him fly away with apprehension.

"So, uh, how are we gunna do this?" she asked, looking back to the god (Jesus, he was actually a god!) standing by her side. He reached out and pulled her against him, wrapping his arm securely around her waist, and began swinging the hammer in his hand.

"Hold tight to me, Lady Kathy," he smirked. No sooner had she grabbed his waist than he threw his arm toward the sky, the momentum of the hammer carrying them both up and away, Kathy's screams echoing through the hotel parking lot.

A/N: Right, hope I didn't lose you anywhere in there! Thanks for reading guys and, before anyone complains, Deadpool comes back next chapter when we try to figure out what's up with Cap. As always, I love you guys and I'll see you next chapter!