Reed walked through the once proud city of Asgard in a daze. It wasn't quite true that no stone stood atop another- whoever had done this had left just enough of several buildings standing that it was possible to recognize that this had indeed once been the mighty Asgard, if the Bifrost Bridge, left untouched, hadn't been enough to be certain. There were no signs of life, or even of death, merely the destruction of the city.
Reed examined the city, trying to determine what exactly had happened here. The answers he found, however, only raised more questions. Here was an area in what had once been a park, where the grass had been burnt away and the dirt melted to glass. Not far away, there was a hole in a wall consistent with a man sized object being flung at it with incredible force.
He saw something glinting in the dust, and knelt down to pick it up. A playing piece of some sort, wrought out of gold. He let it drop from his fingers, as he suddenly heard labored breathing. He moved quickly, and then broke into a run as the breathing became a strangled shout. He was sprinting by the time he came into a large courtyard, and stopped dead, shocked by what he was seeing.
Reed had always had trouble accepting the Aesir as actual gods- or the Olympians for that matter, or any of the other pantheons his team had encountered over the years. Nevertheless, he had always considered Thor a good friend and a staunch ally, and, he had had to admit, there was definitely something about him and the other Aesir that spoke of a level above humanity.
It was in no small part this that led to him being so stunned by what he was seeing. The rest was simple compassion at seeing any living being, especially a sentient one, especially one he knew, laid low in such a manner. This courtyard, apparently, was where the final battle between the attacking forces and the Aesir. Armor littered the ground, all of the Asgardian style, and blood was spread across the ground in frightening amounts.
That was far from the worst, however. That singularly dubious honor belonged to the sight on the huge wall immediately opposite for him. Fully ten score Asgardians were there, run through and impaled on swords, spears, even the wooden haft of an axe. He recognized the Warriors Three; One Handed Tyr; Heimdall, the guardian of Bifrost; Swift Hermod, but there were more that he had never met or heard of.
The sons of Asgard are a hearty breed, and some had survived the injuries, as Reed could see by the slow labor of their chests. One, Hogun the Grim of the Warriors Three, managed to lift his head and look at Reed. "Richards," he said, and then started coughing, an awful noise.
Reed took a step forward, and examined the spear more closely. He wasn't primarily a medical doctor, but he could tell that Hogun's injuries were less serious than those of the others. A long cut across his torso had spilt blood over his dark clothing, but it was scarred over now, and he, at least, had only been pinned to the wall by two halves of a broken sword through his hands, instead of his chest or stomach. Still, he was obviously dehydrated and painfully thin.
Reed hurriedly pulled the swords out and set Hogun on the ground. Ever since a day, roughly two years before he had been flung into the future, when Ben, transforming back into his human form at an inopportune time, had been shot and nearly bled out before Johnny could reach a hospital with him, Reed had required the entire team to carry emergency first aid kits. It was the work of only a few moments to clean and bandage Hogun's wounds, and once Reed was certain that he was, for the moment, stabilized, he went off to find a source of water.
As he had thought, there was a river running through the park he had passed through earlier, and he fetched back a canteen of water, mixing in a packet of sugars and salts meant to help restore electrolytes. He held the resulting mixture to Hogun's lips, and the warrior drank it thankfully. "Thank you," he said, rising painfully to his feet. Already, he seemed to be recovering.
"That is all I needed, to be off that accursed wall. Now go! Find Odinson!" There was an element of command in his voice that Reed had never heard from him before, and, without thinking, he obeyed. He did not know what guided his footsteps, but he found himself heading towards the center of the city, where Yggdrasil, the world tree, pierced the earth and heavens both, connecting all the worlds of the Norse mythos.
Suspended from this tree, upside down, by a spear through his chest, was Thor. He bled from scores of wounds, and his face was twisted in agony. Yet he was breathing, gasping for air with every breath. Reed rushed forward to free him, but a voice in his ear hissed "Stop!" Reed froze, and then whirled around, but there was no one there.
"Loki," he said, "Where are you hiding yourself? Is this your doing?"
"No, not my doing," said Loki's voice, seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere. "I never wanted Asgard leveled, Reed Richards. I never wanted this. I only wanted to rule it. The blame for this lies rather closer to home. Your home, that is, Richards, not mine. As for where I am, well, when Asgard fell, I was fighting in the front lines. As punishment, when we were swept from the field, I was once again bound at the ends of this world, with a serpent dripping venom on me. For which reason it is important that we expedite this little talk. My faithful wife will soon have to empty her bowl, and then I will be unable to keep in touch."
"Why shouldn't I free Thor?" Contested Reed. "If you fought alongside him, you should be happy at the return of so much power to your forces."
"Nothing would delight me more," said Loki dryly, "But there are greater forces still at work here. If we are to have any chance of success when our attacker returns, we shall need the Runes. Given that Odin was cast down into Hel while he slept, the only chance we have right now is if my dear brother completes the trial, and finishes out nine years on that tree."
"I thought it was nine days," countered Reed.
"He speaks the truth," said Thor, abruptly, his eyes snapping open. "My father hung nine days from this tree, but it is not enough merely to equal his feat. I must surpass it, and so win from him the right to the power of the runes." His eyes drifted closed again almost before he had finished speaking.
"Return to Earth, Richards," said Loki, not unkindly. "There are things to come here that would snap any mortal mind, even yours, like a twig, and rend your soul from your spirit. Go home." Reed paused for a long moment, and then nodded, and turned to return to Bifrost. First, though, he stopped in the courtyard, where he was surprised to find that all of the Aesir had been removed from the wall. Many had been covered with makeshift funeral shrouds, but others were resting on the ground, being tended by those less wounded than themselves.
"Asgard owes you a greater debt than ever," said Tyr, who seemed almost wholly recovered. "So long as we remained on that wall, we were helpless, but now we can mourn those who are dead, and prepare to avenge them." He clapped his hand on Reed's shoulder.
"Who did this?" Reed asked. "Who has this sort of power? To level Asgard, to defeat the Aesir… who was it?"
"I do not know his true name," said Tyr, slowly. "He called himself Aeshma, but I know Aeshma, and it was not he."
"I know who it was," said Loki's voice. "As should you Richards. After all it was your-" his words were cut off in a shriek of pain, and then there was silence.
"He suffers again," said Tyr. "I helped to bind him so, once, but he fought well beside us, and does not deserve it now. Go home Richards. We have dead to burn, and a fight to prepare for. It may well be a hopeless one, but when before has stopped us?"
Reed nodded, wearily, and turned once more to Bifrost. Crossing it, as ever, seemed to take at once forever and no time at all, and he emerged, oddly enough, at the base of the Statue of Liberty. He glanced up at it, happy to see that this, at least had not changed, and then saw the figure that stood facing it across the water. It was as large as the Colossus of Rhodes had been rumored to be, large enough that ships could pass beneath its legs without danger. The size was not what most captured his attention though. That honor belonged to the face, for he recognized the face as that of Doom, before he had been scarred.