This month, guys. This freakin' month. But I'm going to finish this story if it kills me.
Wherein smartphones fail to adequately capture the weirdness of Puente Antiguo. (Action. R.)
If Jane is going to die, she can't imagine a better way to go than soaring through a wormhole, untold galaxies streaking by in long lines, surrounded by all the colors Loki had told her of, heart compressed in her chest and wind that can't possibly exist in the vacuum of space pulling at her hair.
Even with Darcy clinging to her shoulders and screaming, this is the greatest moment of Jane's life.
It's over too fast; she hasn't had time to observe. They stumble into some kind of metal dome and Jane, dizzy with scientific joy and the head wound, topples to her hands and knees. So does Darcy. "We," Jane says, "have to do that again."
"No, we don't." Darcy's making noises like a cat about to hork up a hairball. "That sucked. Please tell me we made it."
"I… think so?" There's interstellar material under Jane's hands. She resists the urge to stroke it and glances up instead. "Hi," she says blankly.
The helmeted man standing atop the platform in the center of the — room? — nods impassively, like total strangers fall out of space and at his feet every day of the week. That is a big sword. "Welcome to Asgard," he says.
Asgard.
It's true.
It's all true.
And this is the Gatekeeper. He has to be. "Um, thanks. We're—"
"Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis of Midgard. I know."
Wow. How does he know? Jane wants to ask, to pry every last scrap of information from the guy who watches the universe, but the roaring in her ears distracts her from even this opportunity that Newton would have given his right leg for. The vortex is still swirling behind them and, presumably, ripping into the Earth. "Listen, this might sound strange—"
"Very little sounds strange to me."
"—but this Einstein-Rosen bridge has the potential to cause severe destruction on the other end of the connection. The focus point…" Jane trails off, unable to resist a good look at the gears that line the curving walls. "Is this a focus point? How can—"
"Shut it down," interrupts Darcy. She struggles to her feet, still looking green. "Whatever you've got to do, shut this thing down before it destroys everything!"
(Jane swallows the knee-jerk impulse to correct her; you can't shut down an Einstein-Rosen bridge. But this isn't the time.)
The Gatekeeper's expression doesn't change for an instant. "The Bifrost is to remain open until the Princes return," he intones.
Darcy just gapes. "But there's— what if something happens to them? What if they can't come back?"
(Jane bites back a retort for this one, too. They'll be fine. Of course they'll be fine. Loki promised to show her the stars. Slapping him can't be the last contact they'll have.)
A beat. "The Bifrost is to remain open until the Princes return," the Gatekeeper repeats… a little bit gently. Just a little.
Jane and Darcy stare at each other.
It takes a lot to surprise Tony Stark these days.
Well, let's face it — it took a lot to surprise him before, too. He's always been a roll with the punches sort of guy (and it helps when the ground is cushioned with hundred-dollar bills… sometimes literally). But Tony can't recall ever really being knocked out of left field since becoming Iron Man. Just doesn't happen. Isn't happening now, either, not really.
But, as he sets Agent Coulson down next to the remains of what he says was a laboratory, Tony's got to admit it: New Mexico's pretty damn weird. "JARVIS, talk to me."
"Sir, thirty-one percent of the permanent structures in Puente Antiguo are on fire."
"Yeah, I can see that. Water mains?"
"In tact. Scanning for emergency vehicles."
"Don't bother, I'm faster than any trucks. What about the S.H.I.E.L.D. psychos? How many are we talking about here?"
"Current scans put the number at twenty-two." JARVIS pauses. "Twenty." Another pause. "Seventeen."
"Really? Who's taking these guys out?"
"The readings are… indeterminate, sir."
"Well, enemy of mine enemy. We'll deal with that later. Let's find some hydrants."
"Yes, sir."
Volstagg is surprised by the efficacy of the enemy's Midgardian weapons. Those blue blasts of power hurt — and, furthermore, seem… familiar.
But no mortal, no matter how well armed, will ever stand against Lady Sif and the Warriors Three.
It doesn't take long before their opponents are felled beneath staff and sword and ax. "It was almost as if they resented being in battle," remarks Fandral, looking up and down the alley for more enemies (there are none).
"There's just no pleasing some people," says Volstagg as he wipes his blade clean upon his leathers. "Anyone else?"
"I heard several to the east," says Sif. "We must get to Thor before they—"
She stops when Hogun holds up a bloodied hand.
The sky fills with clouds, and a familiar crack of thunder echoes through the alley.
Oh, good.
"I suspect," says Fandral wryly, "that Thor will be fine."
"Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit—"
"Will you shut the fuck up? I'm trying to get this!" Cherry Beth, one foot on top of a box full of angry kittens and one seriously alarmed chihuahua puppy, aims her iPhone around the alley corner and clicks 'record'. "No one's going to believe this isn't shopped."
Kyle wraps his arms around his parakeet pillowcase. The squawking is audible even over the thunder. "I don't believe it isn't shopped! What the hell is going on?"
"If you want to know then stop cowering and come look!"
"I don't have a death wish!"
"Wimp!"
"I'm not a wimp! It's the fucking apocalypse out there!"
"It's not the apocalypse, it's… uh…"
"What? It's what?"
Cherry Beth lowers the phone. "Kyle," she manages to say, "Thor can fucking fly."
Chester is too young and too pretty to die. But if he has to go out, it may as well be in a blaze of glory. "All right," he says to the soldier-or-whatever in front of him, raising his chainsaw; it sputters helplessly, down to the fumes. "You best get out of my town, motherfucker, or I'll give you a taste of this."
The soldier cocks his crazy-ass weapon. "You're out of gas, you idiot."
"Maybe I am," declares Chester, "and maybe I ain't. You've gotta ask yourself one question: do I feel lucky?"
"God, I hate this place."
"Well, do ya, punk?"
"Shut up." The giant gun rises, and this is it, this is the end, but Chester gets ready to throw the saw as he goes down—
"Oh, but I like this."
Chester and the soldier both turn.
If Chester hadn't spent a lot of time observing him — and he's spent a lot of time observing him — he doesn't think he'd recognize the man standing next to them. The man in the black armor and green cape and… and horns.
The hell?
The soldier immediately swings his big-ass gun to point at this crazy costumed person who is apparently Loki. "Put your hands in the air," he demands, which kind of impresses Chester, who would need to change his underwear if he were in the soldier's situation. (He might anyway.)
Loki raises his hands obediently — and mockingly, somehow. "Threatening a harmless old man with a weapon you can't possibly understand," he says. (Old?) "I've never been one for honorable combat — ask anyone — but is this not some violation of integrity, even here?"
"Lace your fingers behind your head and get on your knees."
"I do not kneel, Midgardian."
"You will if you've got a hole blown through your gut."
"Your compatriots tried that earlier. I'd say you should ask them how it turned out, but, well…"
The big-ass gun makes some kind of whirring noise. "Last chance, freak show."
He might be about to shit his pants, but Chester's not gonna let this happen. "Run!" he shouts to Loki, raising his chainsaw over his head. (The weight almost tips him backwards.) "I'll hold him off!" He swings the saw downwards, aiming for the soldier's arm—
—and the soldier gurgles as blood erupts from his mouth in a hot red gush.
The Loki with his hands raised vanishes in a shimmer of light; another Loki who came out of nowhere pulls a wicked-looking knife free of the soldier's back. "Look to your elder, mortal," he says as the soldier falls to his knees. "Let him be an example. For as I said—" there's another gush of blood as the blade slips between the soldier's ribs once more "—I am not one for honor."
The chainsaw hits the ground at the same moment as the soldier's body.
Holy…
"You saved my life," breathes Chester as Loki sheathes his dagger.
He glances at Chester, pauses for a moment, then blinks. "So it would seem," he replies, sounding as surprised as Chester himself.
"Are… are you a wizard?"
"A god, actually."
"Can I hug you?"
"No."
"I should privatize emergency responses," says Tony as he zips to the next blaze, leaving another soggy, smoldering, but now-safe building in his wake. "JARVIS, some mood music."
"Yes, sir."
"We didn't start the fire; it was always burnin', since the world's been turnin'; we didn't start the fire…"
"Nice."
"Thank you, sir."
"You're having a bad day," remarks Coulson as he digs Barton out of the rubble.
"I've had worse."
"Where's my car?"
Barton points to the other side of the smoking wreck of the lab.
Damn it.