X-rays found no broken bones in Sgt. Sauer's face (despite Big Ass's best efforts), but a mess of torn cartilage that would need some adjusting. The medical officer gave her a shot of painkiller and anti-inflammatory, and reset her nose as best as he could. He handed her an ice pack when he was done and picked up a pen.

"You should take a day off-duty for that," he said firmly, "especially if you handle any sensitive equipment. The painkiller will make complicated maneuvers impossible. Are you a pilot?"

"No, I work in the armory. I don't have duty again for another 12 hours or so."

"Good." He scribbled something on a pad. "I want you to take this to the pharmacy technician. Nothing to keep you out of work, understand," he had seen the look on her face. "This script is for three of our new soft-tissue rejuvenation packets. They'll match the sample I'm going to give you now. It's a new technology that should accelerate the healing process," he explained. "As for the other..."

"Other?"

He frowned. "Sergeant, I'm a military doctor. We haven't discussed what happened yet, but I can tell you I already know this was no slip-and-fall accident. You were hit, and by someone a hell of a lot bigger than you. Do NOT try to lie to me about this. I've had about all the testosterone-filled bullshit I can handle for one week. Who did this?" he asked sternly.

She grimaced, then winced when the movement hurt her nose. "Ahh, shit," she said, reaching for the ice pack again, and sighed. "Doc, I wasn't gonna offer you any BS. I just don't want to seem like..."

"A malingerer, I know." He held up a hand. "I've heard it for years. Some thick-headed jackass with extra stripes takes it on himself to 'toughen up' the newbies by beating them black and blue, and they put up with it because they don't want to be seen as a crybaby. However, there's a reason we have three gymnasiums on board. That is where hand to hand combat is practiced. Injuries happen during practice. This," he pointed to my face, "did not happen during practice. This was assault and battery, and that is not tolerated."

She frowned. "Does doctor-patient confidentiality still exist here?" she finally asked.

Doc's face clouded. "Of course."

"This wasn't simple assault."

His face became stony. "Go on," he finally said,

Sergeant Sauer started from the beginning of Staff Sergeant Biggess's harassment when she got on board, and finished with the attempted sexual assault that had finished with her visit to Sickbay 2. Doc's frown only got deeper as she talked, but oddly, he didn't seem surprised.

"Have you reported any of this to your superior officer?"

"Numerous times. He steadfastly ignores me and brushes off my complaints."

"Talked to Fury yet?"

"He's a busy man."

"I'll take that as a 'No'." Doc sighed. "Sgt. Sauer, I'll be quite frank with you. You aren't the first female recruit to visit my office with this complaint. You certainly aren't his first SA victim, either."

She frowned. "Attempted, or completed?"

"Both. Usually the latter. He always walks. Apparently Biggess is connected to the Council of Regents. How...I don't know. At any rate his last three victims were bullied into silence and left S.H.I.E.L.D. I don't know how much Fury knows, or if he knows anything at all. He normally has bigger fish to fry, and trusts his junior officers to handle pricks like Big Ass. Yes, I know his real name," he sighed and rubbed his temples. "And I want his damned big ass off this ship, preferably in a dank prison cell in Southeast Asia. I can make a report, and I will, but only you can press charges."

"Which will go to our immediate commanding officer, and will subsequently be ignored," she pointed out.

"Did you hit him back?" Doc smiled. "I saw your knuckles, you know."

"Whipped him like a 10 year old caught stealing candy in a Big Lots, and took away his gun. Then I punted," she added, "just to make the point."

Doc smiled. "Good girl. He'll complain-he is a malingerer-and the joint complaints will make it to Fury's desk. He'll have to hear both sides, and I'm confident Fury will side with you. Complicated, but I'm sure it will work. Here," he handed her a fresh tunic, "get changed, and put that tunic in an evidence bag. Then we have some forms to fill out."

Sgt Sauer did change her tunic, and the bloody one was promptly stored in an evidence locker, but they never got to the paperwork for the formal complaint.

Loki's strike team hit the helicarrier first, and all hell broke loose instead.

/

The ship was listing oddly, as if the pilots had put it into some sort of steep banking maneuver, but Sauer could tell it wasn't deliberate. The claxon of the alarm and the general panicked look of various crewmembers told her that. She ran towards her duty station; general quarters had been sounded, and her 'break' was officially over.

Doc had shoved a handful of the rejuvenation packets into her hands with an admonition to 'be careful and not get killed'. She shoved them into the lining of the jacket she had snagged from a closet and ran. The armory that was her duty station was just on the other side of the upcoming hangar...

In theory.

Something roared (roared?) underneath the deck she staggered against, and the ship shivered and moaned. Lights flickered and popped, and Sauer could hear power stations snapping. Emergency lights strained, and she swore she heard gunfire. What the hell?

Sauer reached the hangar, coming out on one of the upper gangplanks. She therefore had a birds-eye view of the Hulk tearing through a bulkhead, tackled by a blond man in medieval armor. He was built like a linebacker.

Sauer knew who the Hulk was. Hell, anybody who didn't have their head buried in the sand for the past 10 years knew who the Hulk was. What was amazing was that she had no idea that he was on board. Ship gossip was usually better than that. As for the blond linebacker...she had no idea. She caught a glimpse of Agent Romonov through the hole the Hulk had left in the bulkhead, and then an arm snaked its way around her throat, pulling her back into the corridor above the catwalk.

"Miss me?" Biggess snarled.

Solar plexus, instep, nose, groin...the SING mantra had been drilled into her since puberty, and she fell back onto it now, delivering precise blows with her elbow, boots, head, and fist. Biggess grunted but tightened the sleeper hold on her neck, and she went for a pinky finger instead, grabbing it and twisting it 90 degrees the wrong way before she could pass out. It worked, and she staggered back towards the hanger bay catwalk.

"General quarters, asshole," she gasped out, lurching as she ran, "the ship is under attack. Save the testosterone for something useful."

He got his hands on her again, this time by the collar of her jacket. "Yeah, Little Tit, we're all gonna die." He slammed her against the nearest pipe and her head swam. He grabbed her by the throat and shoved her to the catwalk deck. "I'm goin' out with a bang, sweetheart," he growled, and reached for her belt.

Shit, she thought, then remembered the bulge at her hip was his gun. "You wanna go out with a bang, Big Ass?" She yanked the weapon out of her pants liner and thumbed off the safety. "My pleasure."

Biggess ducked just in time, and her first shot barely missed his temple. The bullet whanged around the hangar deck, unnoticed by the personnel fleeing the Hulk's wrath. Her second and third bullets also missed Biggess-for some reason she just couldn't aim properly-and struck one of the support cables just to the right of his head. Then the gun jammed. Biggess was notorious for his poor gun maintenance.

He was on her again a second later. "You aren't stopping this, Little Tit," he growled, hauling her up by her tunic again. "And you're never gonna tell anybody what I did," he snarled as he started to drag her back into the corridor, "so just shut up and bend over," he said, shoving her back onto the floor.

Her feet had not quite left the catwalk when the support gave way with a whip-swang, sagging in towards the hangar bay and the fight between the Hulk and the linebacker-in-armor. Biggess' surprised look would have been comical, if it had not been followed by him tumbling backwards and falling over the railing. Sauer heard a short yell, then nothing more from Biggess. Gasping, she pulled herself to the still-supported side of the catwalk and looked down.

The hangar was in ruins: a jet sat crumpled with a wing torn off and a jeep, smashed, burned where it had been kicked aside. The Hulk and the linebacker were still trading blows, only now the linebacker seemed to be using a sledgehammer. Biggess? She looked around, and her hand flew to her mouth.

Biggess was dead: impaled on a cantilevered missile on the torn jet's remaining wing. He looked surprised as hell.

Somehow, Sauer couldn't hear anything but the oddest roaring in her ears. It was like when her father had held a large seashell to her ear that time they had all gone to the ocean when she was 10.

The catwalk pitched beneath her, snapping her back to reality. Another support cable had given way, and Sauer grabbed instinctively for the handrail as she pitched forward. Cables gave way with a snap-spring, and she found herself dangling by her hands, two stories above the ruined, smoking jet and Biggess' body. Shit...

She scrambled for another hand-hold, tried to swing her leg up for more traction on the handrail, but another support gave way and the catwalk sagged even further. Smoke from the burning vehicles blurred her eyesight, and her sweaty palms slipped on the handrail. Sauer screamed to the person who appeared at the doorway-she couldn't tell who it was, but knew the look he gave her wasn't good.

The catwalk snapped again, and she lost her grip, screaming as she fell...

THUD...she hit something softer than metal and concrete, a lot sooner than she should have. Green...she was surrounded by green leather...green?

The Hulk had caught her. She looked up into the hugest green eyes she had ever seen. He had seen her fall and had caught her, almost instinctively. Their eyes locked for a minute as he held her in cupped hands, and he pulled her closer for a better look. She reached for a huge, green cheek.

"Th...thank you," she gulped and felt stupid tears welling up. Now was not the time! She sniffled and wiped them away, and her hand came back smeared red again. "Thank you, Hulk," she whispered. "I'm ok. Put me down?"

He seemed to change-starting to shrink a little. "Careful, little mouse," he rumbled, setting her down on the runway.

She clung to his hand, and he had to hunch over a little. "Thank you," she panted again, trying to calm him a little. "My hero," she smiled through tears, "just in time," she choked, and threw her arms around a massive neck. "Thank you," she croaked again.

He was shrinking, her hold on his neck was getting easier, and she spared a glance over the massive green shoulder. The linebacker-guy was there, eyeing the pair of them warily and picking his way through rubble, and beyond that...her eyes widened in horror...

A hoverjet settled into view outside the viewport, its cannons trained on their position... "NO!" she screamed, holding a hand out to the pilot, praying he would see her...

"Target acquired," the pilot radioed to Fury.

"Acknowledged. Get his attention," snapped the order from the bridge.

The hoverjet opened fire on the Hulk.

Tracer rounds burned through the air, the first ones shattering the plexiglass shielding and the following strafing their entire position. The pilot didn't seem to realize that there were other people in the hangar bay. Either that, or he had orders to ignore anything but his primary target.

Sauer screamed and curled up into the Hulk's massive hand again, cringing as he roared in pain and confusion, inflating to his previous size. Bullets bounced off his broad back and pinged around the hangar, and Sauer found herself flung again as the Hulk turned to face his new enemy.

"Target angry...TARGET ANGRY!"

Two bounds later the Hulk landed on the spinning hoverjet, and proceeded to rip it apart.

Sauer didn't see that; the Hulk had thrown away his little mouse. She careened through the air only to be caught again, this time by the linebacker-armor guy. The wind left her lungs with a whoosh.

"Are you well?" His voice was deep enough.

She nodded, still gaining her wind. "Th...thank you," she finally gasped. "Yes."

He glanced down at her face, again smeared with blood. "You are injured. You should seek out a healer, lad," he rumbled, "and stay out of the way this time. Battles like these are not meant for youths."

Ok, now she was pissed. "I've been fighting since I was a youth, thank you," she snapped. "And it isn't 'lad'; I'm a woman."

His eyes widened just a bit. "My apologies, milady," he said, placing a hand on his chest and inclining his head. "I am Thor, of Asgard."

"Sgt. Sauer, keeper of arms and armor, of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Midgard," she replied. What the hell, may as well play along with the formalities. "Are you related to the prisoner, Prince Loki?"

"Indeed. He is my foster-brother. This cataclysm is his doing."

Sauer's heart sank. "And whose side are you on?" she couldn't keep the tremble out of her voice: not completely. It had been a very bad day.

He heard it at once, and a massive bronzed hand steadied her shoulder. "Do not fear me, Lady Sauer. I am here to protect this realm and all who would despoil it. But my brother, I fear, has descended into madness. If you know where he is, you will do well to avoid him." Something boomed a large way off, and the blond giant glanced around him. "I fear my brother seeks his freedom. Get thee to safety, Lady Sauer. I must away."

And suddenly he was gone.

TBC