A/N: Envoy, this may be as close as I get to doing a full length version of this story. I hope you enjoy.
Does anyone ever really set out to be a hero?
Personally, I'd settle for working eight hours and an evening of Netflix, beer and a pizza. But then I also did the stupid thing of signing up to SHIELD.
Sure, the benefits package is awesome, especially the medical coverage, but it did mean doing some quite out of the normal shit.
Like guarding a hammer that was stuck in the ground.
According to the crazy bastards in logistics they'd been trying everything to move the damned thing and it wouldn't budget. Even when some Special Forces fuck broke in to try and take it, it still hadn't done anything.
There was a pool going with those who'd been assigned guard duty, myself included, to see if anyone of us could pick it up. So far no one's been able to.
Except me.
Not that I've told anyone of course. As rich as I'd be, like hell do I want to be the one who stands out. I already get enough grief for being the lone New Zealander on the team, but I don't want the hammer jokes to be added to that. Besides, I'm sure Coulson would bust a nut if he found out. He's already focusing all his efforts on the spec-ops guy that apparently broke in.
But, yeah, I was actually able to pick the damn hammer up and for a few moments I swear I could hear a voice in my head whispering about being worthy. Not that I'm worthy of anything. Well, outside of perpetual bachelorhood and a developing beer gut.
hr
Whelp, I'm in the shit and there's no mistake.
Just when I thought shit was going to get even more boring in buttfuck nowhere, the fates decide to throw me a curveball that's sent my life into a complete 180.
An alarm hit about six hours ago. Apparently the hick town was under attack from some giant ass robot with freakin' lasers coming out of its face, thank you Doctor Evil for that reference. Coulson got into a tizzy 'cause we weren't supposed to raise a fuss or anything and, well, here we are.
That's just the start of the problem as Coulson's first thought was to protect the hammer. Y'know, for science and shit.
His official orders were to "get the hammer moving, now," despite the fact that the science nerds hadn't been able to do shit with it. Even with a few extra days under their belts.
So, what do I do in my infinite fucking wisdom?
If you guessed that in my panic, I picked up the hammer and started moving it before realising what I'd done, then you guessed correctly. Congratulations, you'd won a prize.
Regardless, everyone started freakin' out even more, 'cause here I was moving the bloody thing that for the last week had been immovable. On top of the freaking out over the laser robot in town.
But hold onto your underthings, boys and girls, it gets even bloody worse.
As I'm grasping the hammer, concern written all over my face, I get a booming voice in my ear about being worthy and gaining the power of Thor and proceed to armour and cap up like some medieval prince.
It was then I decided to embrace the American concept of "fuck it." There was a laser robot in town, I was dressed like something of a Renaissance Fair, and was probably going to be fired as soon as Coulson could close his mouth, and so I swung the hammer round for a few moments and threw it upwards.
The amazing thing was, I actually flew up and out of the facility we'd constructed around the hammer and towards town.
My touch downs need work, but thankfully everyone was focused on the robot, the blonde spec-ops fella who'd been released and three other renaissance rejects.
Well, except for them of course and only because I landed right in front of them.
"All right, you hunk of junk it's time to stop you rampage – the time of the hammer is upon you…"