This is the penultimate chapter, guys. Just one more.

Wherein everyone gets the hell out of dodge. (Action. R.)

Most of the residents of Puente Antiguo stand in the streets, staring in shock at what remains of their home. This is a dump of a town, it always has been, no one's going to pretend otherwise, but it's still theirs, and now there's wreckage and bodies and burned out husks and… uh…

Fernanda doesn't really know what to say as the Batshit Brothers — to whom she's served beer and smacked on the side of the head — meet in the middle of the broken boulevard and hug, grinning, and then are joined by four other total strangers who are dressed like they've wandered out of some production of—

"Is this Shakespeare in the Park?"

Fern turns to find the famous Iron Man standing next to her. Because, why not? Sure! Iron Man! ¡Chido! It's no more fucked up than anything else that's happened today! "That's Thor and Loki," she tells him. He's shorter than she expected. "They live here."

"Really? 'Cause they don't look like the down-home desert types."

"They do if I say they do, gringo. Son culeros, pero los hermanos locos nos pertenecen."

"Hey, if you want 'em." Iron Man looks around with a click of machinery, seeming to register the destruction for the first time. "Kind of a mess. JARVIS," he says, and who the hell is Jarvis, "I've got some kind of charity organization for stuff like this, right?"

He's silent for a few moments.

"Maybe."

Silence.

"Probably in one of those email accounts I don't check."

Silence.

"Yeah, okay, assess property damage."

Silence.

"Ballpark it, then."

Silence.

"I don't know."

Silence.

"Don't know that either."

Silence.

"Aw, hell, whatever. Find Pepper, she'll sort something out. Who's in charge?"

Silence.

"Hello?" Iron Man waves a hand in front of Fern's face. "Anyone home?"

Fern blinks. "Who are you talking to?"

"You. Well, I am now. Do you have a mayor or something?"

"Just the county board forty miles out. We fend for ourselves around here."

"Then you're the Puente Antiguo Representative to Stark Industries. Congratulations. I'm going to give you a number, you're going to call a very competent woman named Pepper Potts, you're going to explain to her what happened—"

"I don't know what happened!"

"Oh, just blame the whole thing on me. Pepper's used to it. So's the legal team. They'll get some money and repair guys over here, and this whole place will be fixed up before you know it. Do you people have free WiFi? You should get some free WiFi. Tell Pepper I said to set something up. JARVIS, where's Coulson? I'm still a little worried about that vortex that's going to kill us all."

And he walks away.

If this town doesn't get a therapist soon, Fern's moving to Phoenix. She really is.

His powers have returned.

His enemies are defeated.

His brother is alive.

Thor has well and truly never been happier. "My friends," he says, pulling Volstagg, Fandral, and Sif each into an embrace in turn. (Hogun does not believe in embraces.) "You've come at last!"

"At last indeed," mutters Loki. "Were all the realms at war, that you were too distracted to find us?"

Volstagg claps Loki on the shoulder (he flinches). "We wished to, but could not," he says. "Your mother closed the Bifrost."

Mother?

Thor glances at his brother, who looks as baffled as he himself feels. "You mean the All-Father, surely."

"The All-Father has fallen into the Odinsleep, Thor. Frigga now sits upon the throne of Asgard." Sif's expression is stormy. "It is she who forbid your return until this day."

Loki shakes his head slowly. "You lie."

"Do not accuse me of deception, Silvertongue. If you had not—"

"While I do love to see everyone pick up right where they left off," interrupts Fandral, "there is a greater concern on the horizon." He points to the south. "The Queen does nothing by halves, including changing her mind."

Thor looks off into the distance, beyond the borders of their town. A storm swirls through the sky — one not caused by Mjolnir. "The Rainbow Bridge! But why does it not close?"

"The Queen has ordered it open until we bring you home." As though in response to Volstagg's words, the ground shifts beneath their feet. Pieces of the already-damaged buildings fall to the street with a rumble. "We must go. Quickly."

Thor is struck by another thought. A terrifying one. "Brother," he says slowly, "is that not the direction you sent—"

But Loki is already running.

Darcy has never panicked in her life… until now. "You are seriously going to kill everyone!" she screams at the Gatekeeper — partly because she wants to scream, and partly because it's the only way to be heard in this freaky sphere that's making some very scary noises to go with the very scary flashes of light. "Including Thor and Loki if they're still alive!"

"If they live, they will return. If not, Midgard is to feel the wrath of Asgard for their deaths."

"Who the hell said that was fair?"

"I am sworn to obey my Queen."

"Are you kidding me?" Darcy turns wildly to Jane. "Help me, here! Make him understand!" Why does she always have to handle everything? She doesn't know how! She's not that smart, she's not that strong, she tries her best but she can't make it all happen and she never signed up for saving the Earth and what is she supposed to do now? "Jane!"

Jane's looking really scared too, spinning on her heel so fast that she's got to be getting dizzy. "Darcy, we have to get out of here," she shouts as another surge of lightning crackles up the curving walls. "It's going to fall apart!"

"What?" Darcy swings back to the Gatekeeper. "Can that happen?"

The Gatekeeper catches Darcy's eye; his gaze is a freaky shade of yellow, and the first expression she's seen from him is the tiniest sad smile. "I have stood at this gate for more than a thousand years," he says, "and here I will continue to stand. Now flee, little mortals."

What else can they do?

"Hi. I'm Agent Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. Please exit your vehicle, sir."

"Huh?"

Clint, leaning on Coulson's shoulder to keep weight off a twisted ankle, rolls his eyes. "We need your truck," he tells the grizzled old man in the Dodge, "to save the world."

"Oh," says the old man. His liver-spotted knuckles crack against the steering wheel. "Sure, why not."

"See?" Clint tells Coulson as he gets hoisted into the truck bed. "I told you you've been with S.H.I.E.L.D. too long. Speak the language of the people."

"I'll take that under advisement. Everybody in."

Clint taps off a quick headcount as the Dodge rocks under the weight of the passengers — Coulson, himself, and four aliens. Thor's already flown on ahead (he can fly — who knew?), and Stark's going to give them a push, but aren't they short someone? "Hey, who's missing?"

Rumlow knows he's not getting out of this one. It's okay; the kind of soldier who does what he does isn't known for a long lifespan. It's not like he expected to make it to retirement.

But he really hates leaving a mission incomplete.

Half-buried in the remains of the laboratory, at least two limbs broken and tasting iron from the internal bleeding, he watches as Loki — dressed in the weirdest get-up ever — digs feverishly through the rubble, turning over two hundred pound chunks of concrete as though they're bricks in a garden.

"Loki!"

The demigod ignores the call, but about thirty seconds later he comes across something that makes him grin and tucks it into his coat. When he steps back, the twisted mess of the roof shifts around him — and against Rumlow's ribs.

He can't help it. He groans.

Loki pauses.

Spots him.

"Ah. You."

Approaches.

Well, then. Rumlow smiles a bloody smile. "Cut off one head," he murmurs, "two more shall take its place."

"An interesting theory. Let us test it."

The last thing Rumlow sees is the glint of a dagger swinging for his throat.

"Lagging behind again?" says Robin Hood as Loki hoists himself into back of the truck with everyone else.

"I had a promise to keep," he replies. Then he leans past Clint — yeesh, personal space, there's only so much room for six people in this truck bed especially when one of them is Giant Gimli — to speak to the old guy, who's taking this all pretty well behind his sunglasses. "Will you convey a message to the village?"

"Guess so, yeah."

"Good." Loki glances back at the town. "Tell them they are henceforth under the protection of the Princes of Asgard. We will watch over them, defend them in their times of trouble, and from this day forward, they may count the gods Thor and Loki as their allies." He pauses. "And thank them for what they have done for us during our exile. All of them."

"Even the perverts?"

"Yes."

The old man shrugs. "I'll let 'em know."

"You have my gratitude."

All four of the other aliens stare as Loki sits back. "Who are you," says Giant Gimli, "and what have you done with Loki?"

"Is this some new web that you spin?" demands Xena. "What trick do you have in mind for these innocents?"

Loki only examines his fingernails.

"Whatever," says Iron Man. He gets a good grip on the back bumper, and Clint finds a handhold just above the right wheel. This is going to be rough. "Ready or not!"

And then they're flying.

The boa constrictor, who did not reach her size and status by easily giving into panic, continues to ignore the tumult of Puente Antiguo and concerns herself with peacefully winding around the body of one of the smaller fallen S.T.R.I.K.E. agents.

Lunch!

A/N:

Son culeros, pero los hermanos locos nos pertenecen. —They're assholes, but the crazy brothers belong to us.

Also, oh HAI Stan Lee!