Carolyn was brushing out her hair, about to check on Loki, dressed in an oversized gray sweater and black leggings that hugged long legs. Cloudy dark eyes loomed back at her, the room like a dark cloud around her frame of her soft blonde hair. Her brightly colored socks slid along the hardwood floor under the table as she prepared herself to meet his anger again, building up bravado. He was going to be a tempest for a while - losing your son forever was a huge thing. Especially for him, he had been planning to just take him by force. That poor kid would've never gotten over that break from Sherlock and the detective's lover. They were very attached to him, according to the press, and he was always smiling, always glad to be with his dads.

But what would this mean for Loki? He was still without his child, after realizing he actually had one. That must've crushed him. And a crushed god is not safe, especially a god of chaos. After all that past excitement over a child; all that love, and hope, only to be told your offspring was dead and your love gone - that does something to a person. What could she do? What did he want her to do? He'd never even admit he was injured, let alone give her any indications. She'd have to follow her gut. Sighing, she put her hands in her lap and looked down at her hairbrush. Why did she feel like she needed to help him? Was it because he was alone? Hated? He was a killer, after all. Driven by power, but a murderer in cold blood. And she was no prison counselor. A brilliant Physicist, ignored by society, jaded by loss, still melting at a handsome face and conflicted green eyes. She put down her hairbrush and got up, throwing a sweater over her calculations. Whatever she could do, she would. He needed that.

She emerged from her room at last, and was alarmed to see an empty living room. The blanket she had covered him in was tossed over the couch, and the door latch was thrown, her house echoingly empty. She ran to the door and pushed it open, stepping outside as she glanced about in panic. Gone again! He was an emotional time bomb, where was he now?! She went to the top of the stairs, shivering in the cold, and a cry drew her attention. Throwing on boots, she ran from the apartment, flying down the stairs and down the street, her heart racing.

Not a block down the road she spotted them. Loki facing off with Sherlock Holmes, while some guy with sunglasses and spiked hair was shouting at a man in his forties who was grabbing his head with both hands.

"Give me your best shot," Sherlock barked, his voice sharp. His blue eyes were wild, his hair unruly from running, as his cheeks and panting indicated as well. He was even wearing that coat of his and everything.

"You mock me," Loki laughed. "Thinking I cannot take out a mere mortal with my illusion alone."

Carolyn ducked behind a car and peered over, gaping. They'd found him! Whoever they were, anyway. They didn't look like the police, or much of anything at all, but Sherlock was a pretty well stocked guy in the fighting and, well, everything area. So he may pose a threat.

All of a sudden, Sherlock began thrashing, jerking his head and blinking as if he were trying to see through fog, and then a storm, and then a brick wall. He fought something invisible and Loki's laughter echoed. "You think you are a god," the darker haired man sneered. "You are an arrogant, mewling quim. And I will make you kneel."

Sherlock began to walk forward, a scowl slashed into his normally exotic, handsome face. "Every disguise is a self-portrait," he retorted. "And every image is a satire of its artist."

Loki's sneer tugged into a snarl, and he took a step back, putting out his hand. Sherlock struggled harder, his face a grim set of determination, steely rage thinly concealed. He finally let out a cry and lunged at the god, tackling him to the ground. They then engaged in a wrestling match, in which Sherlock was winning.

"Banner!" The spiky haired man snapped. Carolyn squinted. He kinda looked like Tony Stark, of Stark Enterprises. That Iron Man guy. But it couldn't be, not really. I mean the Avengers had five guys, well four and a girl, right? He was grabbing the other older man's shoulders. "Banner, we need him, we need him now!"

"No," Banner shot back angrily. "He'll destroy everything!"

With an exasperated groan, 'Tony' did a spin on his heel and went back to shaking the other man. "You can control it! This is not who you are, Banner, it's just a part of you!"

"Tony, please don't." The man gasped.

Tony! Carolyn smacked her forehead. It was them! Oh my god, it was Iron Man and the Hulk! Loki was in big trouble now!

Sherlock threw Loki aside, and got to his feet, his lips curled back in a snarl. He drew himself up to his full height, which was not as tall as the god on the ground, but over the other shorter men he looked like an infuriated giant. "I will make you wish you had never come near my boy," he said cold, voice quivering, and began to advance upon the groaning god.

Loki pushed blood off his chin and got to his feet. He took a fierce stance, flicking both of his wrists, a Cheshire grin taking over his face as both his hands exploded into blue lightning. "Try me, mortal," he spat, his body bathed in the glow of his power.

Sherlock came to an abrupt halt, the weight of Loki's power heavy in his eyes. His shock was brief, though, as he took to just standing his ground. Loki cackled and flung his arm, and Sherlock jumped just in time to avoid it, rolling on the asphalt. The lightning crack singed the hair on Tony's chin and he let out a cry. "BANNER!" He raged.

With a strangling roar, Banner began to turn green, and began to grow alarmingly fast. His clothing began to tear loudly, his hair becoming unkempt and dark green, his entire body rippling with impossible huge muscle. Carolyn squeaked in fear; not for her, but for the green-eyed killer who had just been rounded on by a monster eight times his size.