Trigger Finger
Jane Foster was at her wit's end.
She had openly ignored her mentor, no, outright opposed him, by stating that she knew what she was doing, and carried two people that had escaped from the Hospital all the way to some sort of a military base, where she left them just as a freak downpour made itself known in the desert.
And now she had returned, empty handed, after a day spent letting out the pent up stress by hitting things at the local gym and by driving way too fast along the endless lanes that crossed the desert, only to find that the two papers-less guys she had helped escape from the hospital were squatting in her apartment... laboratory... building... whatever!
She huffed in irritation as she sent Darcy off to buy something to eat with a text, Jane didn't have it in her to actually interact with people at the moment.
But that wasn't all, oh no, she entered one of the larger rooms only to find spittle and sweat and Thor on the fucking floor, with Bald&Scary remaining immovable, staring the blonde down.
With exasperation, irritation, and what was actually starting to feel a lot like outrageous rage, Jane went to help raise Thor from the floor, her floor, only for the bald man to extend his only arm to stop her.
I am SO. DONE. with their shit. she thought instinctively, at this point no longer caring at all about them and their problems, only seeing the neverending amount of problems that they brought into her life.
"Excuse me?" she immediately hissed, her rage about her whole situation focusing with pinpoint precision on the positively ancient, if ripped, guy.
"No." he spoke with a heavy accent that almost made it sound like a 'U', but the intention was clear.
"Like Hell!" Jane whirled on him, instinctively stopping an inch short from actually poking the scary old man in the chest, "That's my floor you're fucking up mister! I don't care whatever shit-headed reasoning you have going on, if you're delirious just like him, or if your speaking Japanese is only a fuck you to my whole country, if you want to have your testosterone-induced, alien dick measuring contest, you can have it out of my life!"
She had invested far too much time in the vain hope that the duo's involvement with the freak space-bending event that had brought them together in the first place culd bring her to some answers. She had lost the work of her entire life to some sleazy, shady bullshit government-funded organization, and she was expected to just accept it? Yeah, like hell, as soon as the scientific community got a wind of it... the Court Supreme would tear SHIELD to shreds.
For all of her tirade and the blazing sequence of events born out of an instinctive decision, she slowly recognized that trusting a guy that believes himself an alien was likely not on par with her usual level of logic-based thought process.
While she tried to work through the events of the past days, her eyes snapped to the sweaty Thor who was trying to rise from the floor, only for his supporting leg to be kicked out from under him, the unmerciful gaze of Bald&Scary almost physically pinning her into place when she took a step forward to intervene.
Jane took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose in an uncharacteristic display of barely controlled rage, slowly feeling the outrage at having her work stolen from the shady S.H.I.E.L.D. simmer into actual fury, which was only being ignited by the absolute madness that the two hospital escapees had introduced into her life.
Her civilian, reasonable, academic, logic-life.
"Okay, stealing my research goes against a lot of my rights." she exhaled, her eyes still closed while she tried to close off the occasional meat-on-meat thud of Bald&Scary hitting the blonde, exhausted Thor.
And I really don't have the inclination nor a reason to play babysitter. She concluded in her mind, finally swallowing her rage and taking a step back from the decision to taser Bald&Scary in order to throw the both of them off of her property.
Well, the place was rented through the University, but that wasn't the point: "Okay, I'm done."
Something in her tone, now that she had centered herself and managed to exert some measure of control over it, seemed to catch the attention of the one-armed man, who turned his eyes towards her, almost as if he was weighing her soul or some bullshit along those lines.
Even the exhausted Thor managed to turn his head from off the floor, where he had been busy eating humble-pie up to that moment, and stared at her questioningly: "You promised me answers if I brought you to that base. I did, you managed to not get arrested for some reason, now, you'll give me my answers, and then you'll leave this place, so that I'll be able to rebuild my research from scratch."
The punch landed on the side of Thor's head so unexpectedly that his skull almost bounced on the floor, returning him to unconsciousness.
Even without understanding English, and without actually looking at the woman, the old Shinigami had more or less got the gist of what she had told: her interruptions wouldn't be conducive to the teachings he was trying to impart on the fallen Asgardian. So, without saying a word, he grabbed the big, blonde lump by the scruff of his neck, and dragged him out, as easily as Jane would lift a pebble from the street.
Seeing how the blonde had been silenced, a brief flare of familiar outrage made itself known in the human researcher before she thought again about what Thor had talked about. Yggdrasil and Realms... Which were the odds that she'd meet an actual alien during the only event that she failed to predict to the second? Which were the odds she'd instead stumble upon a strange couple of madmen?
Then noticing how the one-armed man had lifted the unconscious one, her mouth briefly hung open, and she could feel her questions bubbling up about the unreasonable strength that Bald&Scary had just displayed. But after a second, she closed her mouth with a resounding clack.
No, I'm done, bye and fuck you! It is clear that these have nothing but mad ramblings to give to me. And with that brief sequence of thoughts, Jane Foster closed the door on the backs of a God of Death and an ex-god of Thunder.
Yamamoto dragged the unconscious Thor after him as he basically power-walked towards a nearby, thankfully empty, parking lot.
He frowned at the conspicuous absence of mortals loitering around, a part of him realizing that it didn't quite fit with the image he had gotten of the small town when he left the hospital with his -for now useless - charge. For now, he kept in mind the oddity, but otherwise shelved it for future reference or use. It wasn't like the mortals could represent an actual threat for the Shinigami, but for the time being, they could be a danger for the very frail Thor in front of him.
A quick flick of his fingers against the blond man's ear was enough to jerk him awake, his eyes quickly gained focus as he grimaced and rose to his feet, the hot asphalt of the parking lot minutely reddening his skin.
"Where are we?" his question came out instinctively, but it hardly was what the banished Asgardian needed at the moment.
"The mortal realized that she couldn't play babysitter with a man unable to keep his word." Yamamoto's scathing reply, "After you promised her answers for her help, and then refused to surrender the truths she seeks, she realized you are a child, and not what she so transparently sought."
Rage flushed the cheeks of the ex-God of Thunder, who mindlessly charged at the one-armed man: once more, matching the speed of the blond man, Yamamoto countered with relative ease, experience and a cool mind more than enough to break through the brittle defense in front of him.
Unbeknownst to the Asgardian, the bald man decided that if the weapon of the fool he was manhandling wouldn't answer to his call, shattering the bindings on his power, it would be up to the shinigami to do so. He would do what he had never needed to with his previous students, for even the most dimwit among them realized the weight of the duty in name of which power should be sought.
It was something so blatant, so obvious, that it didn't need words to be expressed. And it was outrageous that a being that apparently was to succeed as a ruler of his people had been taught nothing about the true meaning of leadership.
Power must have a purpose.
The truly powerful didn't have to employ their power towards a certain end, but each individual who sought strength had to be formed from the beginning into someone that once at the peak wouldn't turn into a monster ready to stab you in the back.
The memory of Aizen burned brightly in Yamamoto's mind's eye, and how ironic was it that the unparalleled genius that that traitor had revealed himself to be was to be compared to the blond man gasping for his breath under the unmerciful care of the one armed-shinigami?
A society like Asgard, which apparently held power that was beyond what almost everyone else in the whole universe could come close to, had managed to utterly fail in the only endeavor that couldn't be dismissed: the shaping of the next generation.
Yamamoto's eyes opened up by a fraction while he regarded the disgraced god that was trying to catch his breath. As his chosen weapon had apparently refused him, and the Shinigami didn't know how to make the hammer change its mind, the only solution was to push the blond mortal to shatter his bindings on his own. By his own power, in a manner similar to the one that Urahara had used to truly awaken the insane War Potential of Ichigo Kurosaki.
The god of death collected some of his reiatsu to the point of his index finger, and readied himself to stab Thor in the heart: the disgraced son of Odin would survive, or he would die, letting Yamamoto find his own way towards Ryujin Jakka, no matter the words of the 'Ancient One'.
After all, he had been informed of a brewing war, and he had not the kind of time to waste on the lengthy soul-searching process that would likely be necessary to absolve whatever task needed to qualify Thor as 'worthy' in the eyes of his weapon. Just as he was about to strike his unknowing charge, a waterfall of rainbow light crashed to the side of the empty parking lot, delivering four figures that immediately charged at him, screaming and wielding weapons with incensed fury.
The one-armed man reacted to the assault without a single issue, the insanely vast amount of experience that he carried with every scar, with every breath, more than enough to analyze the pincher formation that the newcomers had employed while one of them raced towards the downed Thor. Immediately, the one-armed shinigami adapted to the inhuman speed the newcomer displayed.
A woman wielding a sword and a shield flashed to his left just as a short-haired blond man did the same on his right, his straight blade extended as if to skewer him. Two steps forward were all that he needed to throw off his attackers, who were ready to pursue him further instead of falling back. Stopping the straight path that would lead the one-armed shinigami to Thor, however, there was suddenly a third member of the attackers.
An humungous red-haired and bearded man that attempted to smash Yamamoto with a mace in a downward swing. Allies or not, they're just as foolish for attacking me.
So they have a semblance of tactics. Yamamoto realized that the overextending of the pincher maneuver was a feint to lure him into the midst of three fighters that clearly knew how to work together, and a part of him wanted to nod appreciatively at their teamwork.
His way back was now blocked, and the man in front of him was just a bit too large to be bypassed at the same speed he had been moving at.
Foolishly, the man seemed to ignore that a stab was much faster than a swing, or worse, he seemed to think that only because Yamamoto lacked a weapon, he wasn't a threat to his life: the aged shinigami's only hand struck just under the solar plexus of his attacker, his palm open and delivery his whole momentum before the ax could come near his bald head.
The burly man in front of him was flung away in a straight line, narrowingly missing the last of the newcomers that had been succoring Thor.
"Volstagg!" the blonde man's dumbfounded scream was enough to warn Yamamoto of his hesitation: with a serpentine turn on his left heel, he pushed off at the same insane speeds he had seen the newcomers move. His hand clamped on the right wrist of the surprised blond while Yamamoto kept moving, leveraging the imperfect balance of his opponent to drag him between himself and the attacking woman.
The black-haired warrior openly snarled at seeing her wing of opportunity close before she could take advantage of it: "By Odin's beard, Fandral!" She seems aware enough of her companion's mistake.
The unbalanced Fandral found himself with his main arm twisted behind his back, his blade forced uselessly between Yamamoto and the woman. While she had lost her opportunity to attack directly, however, she hadn't stopped her charge, and tried to somersault the two men.
Her intention was clear in the narrowing of her eyes, in how her legs coiled to turn all the possible momentum into something capable of delivering her behind Yamamoto's back.
Too obvious. Yamamoto kicked away the left knee of Fandral, and he simply pushed forward the wrist of the weapon-wielding hand: the straight blade darted forward in a stabbing motion, grazing the blond hair of the aesir while his shoulder was dislocated with a wet 'pop'.
"Sif!" even in pain, the man that the shinigami was using as a weapon realized what was going on too late to do anything about it. But the black-haired woman wasn't your average rookie, and she brought forth her shield at an angle, just enough to divert the badly controlled stab of Yamamoto.
Then she slashed with her sword: the weapon glinted under the unforgiving sun so that its edge would reflect the light directly in the eyes of the one-armed shinigami, and he almost felt a smile threatening to rise on his features. If they are allies, they haven't been trained by the same person.
In the fraction of second between Sif's shield deflecting Fandral's involuntary stab and her elegant use of the sunlight itself as a weapon, Yamamoto's foot that had kicked the blond man's knee had yet to touch the ground, and from his perfectly balanced position, it was a joke to kick the base of his unwilling prisoner's back, throwing him against the incoming woman.
With her shield to one side and her whole weight behind the slash quickly approaching Yamamoto, she was bowled over by the body of her companion, breath leaving her lungs forcefully at the impact.
As if he had just pushed off from a stable rock, Yamamoto used his last kick to reorient himself, and his heel impacted hard against the vambrace of the warrior he had yet to face, redirecting his attack just enough to avoid his beard being grazed by the spiked mace, and putting himself in a perfect position for his hand to close around the shaft of the weapon.
As he started to pull, the last warrior gave proof of his intelligence by immediately letting go of the weapon, turning his incoming swing into a shoulder check that impacted against the hip of the bald man: and that utterly failed to move him.
Balanced on a single foot, the leg that was sustaining Yamamoto was as straight as an arrow, to the effect of rooting him in place at an angle that was directly opposing the strength of his opponent: with practicality in mind, the mace-wielding warrior would have had more luck in lifting a mountain.
With a perfectly calculated twist of his wrist, Yamamoto slammed the handle of the spiked mace into his last attacker's throat, only to pummel his head to the ground with a drop ax kick with his still raised leg, his heel digging in the exposed temple that his helmet failed to cover.
All in all, it at taken one second for the four newcomers to split between bringing Thor away and attacking Yamamoto, two seconds for the pincher maneuver to start, and another 15 seconds for the one-armed shinigami to incapacitate them all.
The shinigami darted toward the displaced Thor with his reiatsu once more coalescing around his index finger, the flabbergasted mortal still processing the fact that his unexpected rescue party had been defeated before he could even greet them. And an instant later, pain was all that Thor knew.
Yamamoto's index finer plunged into his unknowing charge chest, barely grazing his heart while the aged man's reiatsu gave the faintest spark of itself to the bound core of the ex-god of Thunder.
AN
It was high time for some sheer action, wasn't it? Old Man Yama is insanely powerful, I still have to figure out a way for him to be actually under threat in battle, but I don't want to nerf him, he's just too fucking badass for that. I used this chapter to clarify that for some reason he has a body now, and he isn't pure spirit as he was in Seiretei.
I've read a fantastic fanfic on a Loki that doesn't go completely bonkers. The title is Asgardian Galdr, which is a bit unpalatable, but the story itself is... wow. Then again, recently Twubs updated his Thor-SI (Siegfried), and I got mad ideas about this fic.
So, the meaningless love story between Thor and Jane that even Marvel let fade into nothingness will clearly not take place, as Foster actually uses the brilliant brain she is rumored to have and throws the two insane men out of her life.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this!