I wanted to get this chapter done weeks ago, but things have been kinda hectic. A couple of big, tedious, unexpected projects popped up at work. Those finally got back down to a manageable level this week. Also, a month and a half ago, my brother sold me his Switch, and spent over 260 hours (most of which should have been for sleeping) playing Breath of the Wild. I freaking love that game, but several days ago, I finished beating it to my 100% completionist satisfaction. So now I once again have time to write. I'm sort of glad I was delayed, though, because the downtime actually gave me a couple of awesome ideas for how to execute one of the current plot threads.

The title is in reference to the Led Zeppelin song, which I highly recommend using as the soundtrack to this chapter. It's perfect.

Thor waited for the arena doors to open. His hair was long, his armor was all of Asgardian make and untainted by paint, Mjolnir hung whole at his hip, no obedience disk itched into his neck, and he was here as the Grandmaster's "guest" rather than his captive, but somehow it all felt much the same as when he had waited to fight the mystery champion.

He was perfectly confident that he would defeat Cull Obsidian. He was going to enjoy that part. It was the other part of the plan that had him a little nervous, because it relied on his ability to successfully do something he had never attempted before. Oh, he had tested it with Barton, Romanoff, and Korg to be sure that it was even possible, and it had worked with them, but there was a very wide gulf between that and addressing a massive crowd of strangers comprised of innumerable species.

Loki could have done it effortlessly. He always found the best words to say, and with his illusions and projections, no one would realize what he was up to until it was too late. Pity the lines of blue paint didn't actually make Thor more like his brother.

If he failed, then no matter how his battle with Cull went, things were about to get incredibly difficult for him and his friends, not to mention everything they had set out to accomplish on Sakaar.

X

Natasha strode into the palace at a brisk pace. She'd memorized the route so that she could walk it like someone who'd done so a thousand times. By lucky coincidence, she was about the same size as the Valkyrie, so she'd borrowed some of her clothes (surprisingly, the leather and metal armor was about as comfortable as her SHIELD tactical gear, if less form-fitting, and it had a staggering number of convenient places to stash a small weapon) and done her hair, makeup, and face paint to match. No one at the party the day before would connect the giggling debutante to the surly scrapper she had become, and neither persona resembled the holograms of the woman the Grandmaster wanted captured.

Clint stumbled behind her, hands stuck out in front of him in high-tech magnetic cuffs synced to her bracer, a gag over his mouth, and a metal disk on his neck. His reconaissance gadgets were all in a satchel over Natasha's shoulder, along with their newest acquisition from Urizen Ul'Var's shop, none of which would seem strange for a scrapper to have on her. Clint's clothing consisted of a white shirt, open black vest, sturdy navy blue trousers, boots, and a belt with an empty holster. Natasha was pointedly not commenting on his choice of wardrobe. For now. But she'd worked out how to record video on her bracer and would absolutely be sharing it with Laura when they got back to Earth.

Apparently scrappers bringing in new slaves were extremely commonplace, because the guards barely looked up from their bracers (which seemed to be displaying what was going on in the arena) as Natasha led Clint past them. If that display was live, then Thor's fight hadn't started yet. That was good. They didn't have a very wide window to operate in.

X

Ebony Maw took his seat in the Grandmaster's box. He had no more interest in this than Cull Obsidian's first two arena battles, but he wanted to be present so that they could leave this planet the instant the fight concluded and their obligations were ended. He watched the Grandmaster with narrowed eyes. The man seemed irritatingly gleeful about something. It was difficult to be sure because he was always irritating, but he kept shooting glances at Maw as though looking forward to his reaction.

The stadium, Maw noticed, was packed to the brim with aliens of every description. The sight made his lip curl. Such a glut of life. It infested even a remote, undesirable world like Sakaar with its disease. This planet's very existence was proof that his master's solution was sorely needed. Maw would soon bring him one step closer to that solution. He shivered in anticipation. It didn't matter how stubborn the mage insisted on being now.

The Grandmaster stood up and waved at one of the attendants, who pressed a few things on his bracer. The arena was suddenly illuminated by a hologram that stood twice as tall as the highest row of seats. "Wow! Look at this crowd. I should probably have them stop letting more people in, but I'm kinda curious how much weight these stands can take. Now, who's excited about tonight? Let's get a round of applause for the warm-up act."

He led the clapping as a few battered fighters hobbled out of the arena while the corpses were dragged out by soldiers. "They sure tried their best." At this point, he became considerably more animated. "Next up, for our main event, we have Scales back for his last ever battle in this arena." More applause. He let it go on only a few seconds before cutting it off with his next words. "But what's this? A surprise volunteer in the opposite corner?"

A rumble of interest ran through the audience. Ebony Maw frowned and peered out at the arena. Cull was waiting near the center for his opponent to emerge, his weapon braced against his shoulder. The only one who had ever defeated Cull in battle was Thanos himself. The idea of anyone lesser challenging him voluntarily was ludicrous, particularly if they'd already seen him fight.

"Ladies, gentlemen, reptiloids, fishoids, walking treeoids, and superintelligent shades of the color blue, I give you...the Lord of Thunder."

And into the far end of the arena walked none other than the blond warrior who had arrived on Sakaar alongside the troublesome mage. The crowd cheered. Ebony Maw stared, then rounded on the Grandmaster, who ignored him. "He tells me that not only is he royalty, but a warrior with centuries of battle experience," he continued, "and as you all know, he's gonna need it. Before we start, he's requested a chance to introduce himself. So, uh, Lord of Thunder, these are probably your last words; you'd better make 'em count."

The hologram vanished, and the warrior walked forward. Cull shifted his weight, impatient over the delay, but he had enough restraint to follow the procedure the Grandmaster had laid out.

"People of Sakaar!" the warrior boomed. The arena's acoustics were such that everyone in the stands would be able to hear him easily. "I am Thor, the God of Thunder, Crown Prince of Asgard, Son of Odin—"

"What?" Maw hissed. He was one of the few in Thanos's inner circle who knew of the war against Asgard. Thanos, in his wisdom and humility, readily admitted that he had used the wrong strategy against Odin. He had underestimated the power of filial loyalty, a weapon he had taken care to add to his own arsenal many times over in the two millennia or so since.

"—and I am here to reclaim my brother from this creature and his comrade."

"WHAT?!"

"Oh," said the Grandmaster, as though he had only just realized Maw was there. "I might've forgotten to fill you in on this part. Yeah, you came up short on your end of our bargain, so if he wins, I'll need you to return Scrapper 142 and the pretty mage."

The edges of Maw's vision began to pulse with rage. He prided himself on being calm and collected in even the most taxing circumstances, but he was discovering that even his patience had its limits. After spending all his waking time over the last two and a half days split between playing at cordiality with this absurd man and failing to wrest any useful information out of the mage, he was a hair's breadth from snapping.

"He will not win," Maw ground out.

"Then you agree to the new terms," said the Grandmaster, beaming. "Wonderful."

The pulsing intensified. It would be so very easy to send every sharp object in this room flying at and through the Grandmaster. But he must control himself. Cull would fell Thor as easily as he had felled the others, and then they could leave this insufferable planet with their diplomatic ties intact. Yes, perhaps this was a positive development. In addition to the army, he could return with the head of one child of Odin and another captured and in possession of knowledge of the Space Stone. It would be their most triumphant return yet.

Maw had been so distracted by the warrior's identity and the Grandmaster's double-dealing that he only now noticed the behavior of the audience. Thor had continued speaking, and one in seven or eight people—with a much heavier concentration among the guards and people in finer clothing—was wincing at every syllable and grumbling in confusion, while the rest sat in wide-eyed silence. Maw focused on Thor with a frown. The sounds he was making were utterly incomprehensible, and his translator gave an unpleasant jolt under his skull. It was just like when he had tried to listen to his prisoners' conversation with each other.

Beside him, the Grandmaster's smile had fallen a little. He didn't appear to be in any pain from a translator malfunction, but his eyes roved around the crowd too. The two of them only had a few seconds to be puzzled and troubled by this before Thor faced the box again. "I thank you for your accommodation, Grandmaster."

"Yeah, you're welcome," said the Grandmaster. No hologram this time, but his voice blared out across the arena. "Now let's see a fight!"

The crowd was slow to react, but the cheer that built up as Thor and Cull faced each other was easily the loudest one yet. A foreign sensation settled over Maw's mind. It took him a moment to realize what it was: uncertainty.

X

Natasha and Clint worked their way to the heart of the palace's lower floor. After several long corridors and a few guard posts, their destination finally lay in sight ahead of them. Another pair of guards stood in front of an open doorway, behind which they could see glimpses of an elaborate network of electronics.

They made it half a step past the guards before two spears swung down to block them from entering the mainframe chamber. "Where do you think you're going?" said the one on the left.

Natasha rolled her eyes and pulled out an obedience disk remote she'd taken from the Valkyrie's apartment. "My remote stopped working." She clicked it, pointing at the disk on Clint's neck. He scowled through his gag, but nothing else happened. "They sent me here for the repairs."

The guards withdrew their spears. "Olivox, company!" said the one on the right. Natasha gave her bracer a jerk, snapping the cuffs forward and nearly making Clint faceplant before following her inside. The guards snickered.

A very lizard-looking alien, presumably Olivox, came into view around one of the glowing towers she assumed was a server. It was a little taller than Clint and had yellow, slit-pupiled eyes that flicked back and forth between them. "Mammals," it said with disdain, a forked tongue flashing. Natasha had no idea what its native language sounded like, but the translator added an extra hiss to the "s." "Try not to get hair or skin on anything. There's a lot of delicate circuitry in here."

X

Thor still wasn't sure how effective his speech had been. It was obvious, at least, that none of the Grandmaster's goons had understood a word, because they hadn't made a move to shut him up, capture, or kill him. The rest of the crowd had been quiet, but that could be for all sorts of reasons. He put the matter aside, his eyes on Cull Obsidian. If they hadn't made up their minds already, the fight would have to persuade them.

Cull was practically foaming at the mouth with anticipation and bloodlust by the time the Grandmaster finally signaled for the fight to begin. He surged forward, weapon raised. He brought it crashing down towards Thor, but Thor was ready for it. He threw Mjolnir straight up at the last moment, propelling himself clear and landing behind Cull. The crowd, which had been halfway into a groan, expecting another quick victory for Cull, sputtered out a gasp of shock. Before Cull could adjust to his opponent's unexpected flight, Thor threw the hammer. It was deliberately only a glancing blow, and it chipped one of the horn ridges on top of Cull's head before flying back to Thor's hand.

Cull felt the damage with his free hand and rounded on Thor with a furious snarl.

Thor gave him a cheeky grin. "Sorry about that," he said. "I could even things up if you like." This got a ripple of surprised laughter from the crowd.

Cull charged him again. This time his initial attack was a feint. He started in the same way he had the first time, but then curved his weapon around to swing upward, the head coming loose from the handle on a long chain. Thor should probably feel insulted that Cull thought he was stupid enough to use the exact same dodge as the first time. He leapt and rolled to the side instead and hurled Mjolnir again. It hit the opposite horn, chipping off a slightly bigger piece.

"Whoops!" said Thor. "I think I just made it worse. Do you want me to fix it, or were you planning to actually start the fight?"

The laughter was getting louder, and the Grandmaster had joined in. "I'll crush you like the insects they sent yesterday, little man," Cull snarled.

"He speaks!" Thor crowed. "I was starting to think you nothing but Thanos's dumb beast. It was a shame; banter is never as fun when it's one-sided."

Thor wasn't normally one for this much banter himself — particularly in a battle as personal as this. True, Cull's victims on the Statesman were all alive and well in this timeline, but that didn't change what Thor had watched him do to them, and it certainly didn't change that he was one of Loki's captors now. But the Grandmaster wanted a show, and Barton and Romanoff needed as much time as he could give them.

X

Natasha tossed Olivox the obedience remote. "Piece of shit remote couldn't handle my last job. Had to drag the merchandise all the way here without it." She jerked her thumb at Clint. "If that happens again, we're gonna have a problem."

The lizard creature looked deeply offended but not surprised. It raised the remote to its eyes and frowned, then walked with a sinuous, bobbing gait over to a flat surface and pulled out a handful of tools. In five seconds, it had the remote open, revealing its blackened, electricity-scarred inner workings. It gave her a disgusted look. "What did you do, throw it into your ship's reactor?"

No, just let a God of Thunder play with it for a few seconds. "Can you fix it?" she said.

"There's nothing left to fix. It's completely fried."

"So get me a new one."

Olivox glared some more, its pupils even narrower than before. "You scrappers are all a bunch of assholes, you know that?" It bustled off out of sight. Natasha glanced back at the guards. They were facing the corridor. She pulled Ul'var's merchandise out of her satchel and stuck it to the underside of the workbench, then returned to her previous position in time for the lizard to reappear, holding a shiny new obedience remote.

"Ruin another one and I'm reporting you to Topaz."

"Thanks," said Natasha, slipping the new remote into its slot in her armor. She turned to go, giving Clint's cuffs another tug.

"What, you're not even going to test it?" said Olivox.

Natasha gave him a scornful look. "Here? We're five minutes from the pens. Why incapacitate him now when he can just walk himself there? I'll test it once he's inside."

Olivox looked annoyed, but didn't protest, and the two of them walked back out between the guards, down the corridor, and around the corner.

X

"I love a game of cat and mouse as much as the next all-powerful planetary overlord, but I think it's time for some action," said the Grandmaster. The crowd roared its agreement. Thor's battle with Cull so far had mostly consisted of dodging Cull's attacks and provoking him as much as possible with irritating taps from Mjolnir. The crowd had enjoyed watching Cull's humiliating inability to keep up with him despite his size advantage and his versatile weapon, and the strategy had been highly instructive as to Cull's fighting style, but Thor had known it would only work for so long, and it was clearly time to change things up.

Cull, now nearly out of his mind with rage, came barrelling at him again. This time, Thor met him head on. A spray of sparks flew at the clash of steel against uru, and Cull's momentum drove Thor back several yards. Cull twisted something on the handle of the enormous chain-hammer, and a claw attachment shot out and seized Thor by the right leg. With a triumphant roar, Cull spun and swung with all his might, sending Thor tumbling through the air. He smashed into the far wall of the arena hard enough to leave a dent in it. The crowd made a sound of disappointment that quickly turned to relief when Thor got back to his feet. The Hulk could throw harder than that.

Cull pressed his advantage, running for Thor at a full sprint. Halfway to him, he twisted his weapon's handle again, switching it back into its long, bladed form. He threw it like a spear. Thor moved to the side just before it slammed into the Thor-shaped dent. Pain lanced through him. He took a second to look down. The blade had sheared right through the dwarf-forged scales on his arm and sliced a full two inches through skin and muscle. That one second was enough for Cull to close the remaining distance, and he came down on top of Thor with both fists swinging.

Barton and Romanoff needed to hurry.

That nasty cut is as close as I am willing to come to what happens to Thor's arm in the comics. (Partly because it's horrifying, but also because it seems redundant to have TWO left arm amputees running around.)

Ended up doing Maw's perspective again. Still creepy. I do not like getting in his head.

Originally, Clint and Nat's strategy was so much more boring and a poor use of their skillsets. A few days ago, I remembered that Tessa and Scarlett are about the same height (Tessa is only an inch taller), and that gave me the idea to have Nat pose as a scrapper while Clint poses as a freshly caught slave so they can get to where they're going. Any guesses who Clint's trying to look like? :D

The only problem I had with the idea of Nat dressing up in Brunnhilde's spare armor is that I had a hard time picturing them as anything but awkward outfit twins. So I dug up a picture of some of the unused concept art for Brunnhilde's costume and drew Nat in it. After that, I had to draw her in her Grandmaster party guest disguise too, for comparison. If you want to see the drawings, I posted them on my tumblr (same handle as here). I hope you like them! The party dress is based on an image I found after googling "weird fashion show dresses." It was by far the least weird one.