Multiversal Mirai Ch. 2: Storm Bringer Pt. 1
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Year: 2010
Location: New Mexico, United States of America
Agent Phil Coulson had admittedly seen some very 'out of this world' things since he's been with S.H.I.E.L.D.– most of them classified. A few, though, stood out amongst the strange and unusualness that's become his life; ones that have kept him up at night, ones that he'd never forget, and ones he wished he could.
A seemingly immovable, extraterrestrial hammer falling out of the sky to land in the middle of a New Mexico desert didn't even break the top five.
Agent Coulson followed procedure: cordone off the area, question anyone involved(silence if necessary), strictly observe, and report back any-and-all findings to Director Fury who'd then report to the World Security Council. Phil made sure to do it all by the book because he didn't want to be the one Director Fury tore into for (potentially) destroying the planet or unleashing some eldritch abomination unto the unsuspecting human populace.
Yes, the Director was paranoid but for good reason.
So, S.H.I.E.L.D. sent their 'brightest' minds to New Mexico to evaluate this alien object. The facility they erected helped keep outsiders out and insiders in, as S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel worked to devise the true nature of the extraterrestrial object. But Agent Coulson knew, as well as the Director, that things rarely were ever so simple as a 'put up some walls and no one will come looking.'
In fact, it was the complete opposite.
That's where he came in. No, not him, the other guy. No, the other other guy.
Phil waited outside as the workings of the makeshift S.H.I.E.L.D. facility continued behind him. The New Mexico night sky grew cloudy, but he spied the untold number of stars twinkling from behind the cloud cover. Coulson wondered from which of them the hammer arrived, but that answer wasn't for him to find out. He was only there to observe and manage. All the science and space mumbo jumbo went beyond his master's in Criminal Forensics and into Star Trek meets Dr. Who territory. Not his circus, not his monkeys.
Speaking of…
"Glad you could show up," Agent Coulson couldn't see him(yet), but that didn't mean the opposite was true. "Took your time getting here, though. How'd it go in Harlem? Has the Director filled you in?"
A hum of energy, low and, if Coulson would compare it to something, like a sound effect out of a sci-fi movie reached his ears. From the sky floated down a man (well, half-man. No, not like a centaur. Do those exist too? Mermaids?) Phil knew stressed out both the Director and the Council severely enough that if the Director wasn't already bald, he'd be well on his way.
The half-man, half-alien landed with nary a sound, a result of training with Agent Romanov no doubt. His long lavender(yes, lavender)hair was pulled back into a ponytail, showcasing a scowling, human face. He wore a purple jean jacket with the SHIELD symbol on the arm, a black shirt, and cargo pants tucked into a matching pair of combat boots. The most unconventional thing about the man, outside of his hair color(or the fact he could fly) was the sword strapped to his back.
Yes, an actual, what he called, 'buster sword.' Agent Barton couldn't stop laughing for an entire day over the name.
"Tch," the man sucked his teeth and crossed his arms across his muscled chest. "As if. Probably expected you to do it for him, lazy, one-eyed bastard. And Harlem sorted itself out. The Council didn't want me or Natasha getting 'involved,' but I wasn't about to let innocent people get hurt."
Phil smiled as his friend grumbled insults about the W.S.C. It was refreshing.
"Director Fury has had a lot more than usual on his plate this week, Trunks," Phil found his friend's eye-roll amusing. "It's not just here and Harlem. You were briefed on Stark's Expo?"
"Yeah," Trunks ran his hands through his hair. "You ever get the sense something big is going to happen?"
Phil couldn't help it. He snorted. "Bigger than the Hulk? Or Stark's ego?"
Trunks angled his head to the sky, to the stars. "Way bigger."
Agent Coulson chewed on that but had nothing to say for a long moment. It was a worry everyone had: from the W.S.C., to SHIELD, to the old lady across the street (probably). The world was changing fast: the Tesseract, Stark's suit of armor, the Hulk, and now this. It was almost too much to wrap one's head around if it wasn't either A) your literal job or B) you've been through way worse. Phil was the former, Trunks the latter.
"What's the situation then, Phil?" Trunks could reel it in with the best of them. A fact about him Phil admired. "I know you aren't here just to investigate 'the weather.'"
Agent Coulson smiled and gestured inside. "Follow me then. I'll explain on the way. You'll want to see this."
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"Sooo…it's a hammer."
"From what we've theorized about it so far, yes."
"A hammer…from outer space?"
"Well, that's the working theory. We've…acquired some interesting theorems and data from an outside expert that seems to suggest it's a little more complicated than that. And by a little, I mean a lot."
Trunks leaned on the railing, looking down at the hammer(mallet honestly) stuck in the ground as S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel fluttered about. Phil stood beside him in his impeccably pressed suit, waiting for his thoughts. And Trunks had plenty of them.
Switching gears from Harlem was tough, but Trunks made sure everything was in order after those two green muscle-heads finished beating the crap out of each other with cars and light poles. Or, at least, as 'in order' as it could get when dealing with 'Hulk-level threats.'
This situation, though, was interesting; took some real mental acumen that scratched an itch in his brain Mom would be proud of. An alien object fallen to Earth that gives off strong, unidentifiable energy readings. Trunks doubted it was an extraterrestrial power tool. It was obviously a weapon used for fighting, maybe even war; very archaic, simple, but it's not like every species in space was highly advanced.
The hammer was powerful, too. Even without the data to confirm what Trunks sensed, he knew it was more than a 'straightforward' weapon, if that's what it was.
To his senses, the hammer carried a sort-of self-sufficient aura, an energy that fed into itself on loop, which may explain its 'unique' properties.
"And no one's been able to move it? Acquire a sample?" Trunks asked.
Phil shook his head. "Some locals tried to pull it out with their trucks, and the trucks lost. Badly. We had no one on hand stronger than a four-cylinder dodge ram, so it seemed useless to try. Lasers, diamond-tipped saws, none of them even scratched the thing. And we're in the hole a few thousand dollars for having to replace the saw. And by a few, I mean upwards of a hundred."
Trunks huffed amusedly but didn't take his eyes off the hammer. His mind working, whirling, feeling out the alien object. "Clint didn't want to give it a shot?"
"I advised Agent Barton he'd accomplish more on overwatch- didn't want his pride wounded."
"Heh, of course. Don't want to ruin Natasha's fun."
Trunks could feel something about the hammer. More than the energy signature, there seemed to be a sort of…expectation about it, which didn't make any sense because inanimate objects don't hold intention. Well, inanimate objects didn't have much of an energy signature either; certainly not enough to rival some of the stronger fighters Trunks had been exposed to before and after arriving in this new dimension.
Trunks leaned in closer and squinted. There! Something about it…shifted. What were–symbols? Were those always there?
"Those symbols on the side, were you able to figure out what they mean?" He pointed.
Trunks focused on them, and they seemed to almost move, slithering their way into a sort of script he could almost understand. He looked to Coulson who was looking at him.
"What?" Trunks asked, confused as to why Phil looked at him like that.
"What symbols are you talking about, Trunks?"
Before he could explain himself, an alarm blared out across the facility. From his time with S.H.I.E.L.D., Trunks knew which alarms meant what; this one meant intruder.
Phil turned away, finger to his ear. "Agent Barton, status report?"
With his keen hearing, Trunks parsed what Clint said next, "Got a ne'er-do-well, Coulson, doing pretty dang well actually. Big, blonde, and beefy, like Cinderella if she hit the gym like a maniac. The guy is tossing our guys around like leaves in the wind. It'd be funny if it wasn't so embarrassing. For them I mean."
"And you're not moving to stop the intruder because?"
"He's heading your way. I figured beef-cake Barney could get his cousin blondie to calm down."
Phil sighed, and Trunks made a note to get back at Clint for the nickname. 'Beef-cake Barney.' What did that even mean?
With a nod to Coulson, Trunks was on the move to intercept. As he hopped the railing, he heard Coulson report back to Clint. "Beef-cake Barney is on his way to intercept. And I'm pretty sure he heard you, Agent Barton."
Whatever Clint had to say in reply, Trunks didn't care enough to listen to. The intruder had made it to them already.
At first sight, yeah, very Cinderella if she got buff.
The guy was massive, taller than Trunks and probably Fury too. He had long, blonde hair with matching eyebrows, and wore a simple t-shirt and pants that were soaked through from the rain outside. The intruder looked human, with a strong, square jaw and brow. He had dark blue eyes and a thunderous scowl.
But what idiot would come barging into an obvious high-security facility like this and bash his way through several well-trained guards? An enemy agent would be more subtle or bring more firepower. An idiot wouldn't have made it this far, even one doped up on roids or drugs. The man didn't even seem to be looking at Trunks, who blocked the way to the hammer, but past him to the hammer itself.
Interesting.
"Stop right there," Trunks said and immediately cringed at how typical a line that was. Whatever, he wasn't some comic book hero. "Don't come any closer. Stand down, and we can talk this through." Probably.
The man scowled, and Trunks could feel any chance of diplomacy fly right out the window into the rain.
"Nay," the man proclaimed like it was the 16th century. "You shall remove thine self from my way so I may retrieve that which belongs to me, Thor Odinson, pr—son of Asgard."
Yeah, the guy was either crazy or making complete sense (at least to himself). But Trunks didn't want to fight. Well, that was a lie. He did, but fighting so close to an alien object was a recipe for disaster. Or, at least, a 'meeting' with Council.
"I can't let you go any further, Odinson," the man, Thor, settled into a more aggressive stance. "This facility is off-limits to civilians, and while I'm sure you have a really good reason for being here–!"
The man roared a battle cry and charged right at him. Trunks didn't move; what he sensed from the man made him no threat. The man's power level was too low, although, something about it felt familiar.
"Have at thee!"
BAM!
A punch crashed into his cheek, and Trunks' head barely moved. The man's eyes widened as Trunks forced his head back straight, easily pushing against the man's meager(in comparison) strength. Trunks had taken harder hits from Natasha. The look on the man's face made him smile, he'd never get tired of doing this.
"Sir," Trunks gripped the man's wrist and wrenched it away. Thor threw another punch, this one Trunks caught with ease. "Stop this. It will only end poorly for–"
"Raargh!" The man bellowed and cranked his head back. Trunks knew what was coming.
SLAM
The man headbutted Trunks with great zeal. Shame it backfired. The man's eyes fluttered as a cut opened up on his forehead. A drop of blood slid down between his eyes.
"I," the man may be concussed. "Urgh, that usually, ugh, works."
His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he fell unconscious. Trunks could only shake his head in exasperation. More brawn than brain in this one, so hopefully, the headbutt didn't do too much damage.
He hefted the man over his shoulder and looked back up to Coulson, who looked down amusedly at him.
Trunks couldn't have given him a flatter look. "Just tell me where to put this bonehead. I don't want to get his blood on my jacket."
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The medics on hand wrapped Thor's head injury and brought him to an empty room so they could interrogate him. It was a song and dance Trunks had grown familiar with when doing ops with Coulson and the others. Well, not Natasha because she tended to work better alone and was plenty scary enough on her own. Coulson didn't have the same sort of 'menace' the redhead had. Trunks, apparently, did, which meant when it came time for Coulson to interrogate the muscle-beach dropout, he got to stand behind him and look menacing.
It was easy too. All Trunks had to do was what he did when the Council or anyone annoying wanted to talk to him. He channeled his inner Vegeta. Arms crossed, scowl set, gaze sharpened to a knife's edge, and exuding the sense that they were beneath you.
It helped that Trunks let some of his power manifest, giving the air a palpable weight to it. Anyone not used to it would feel nervous, frightened even. It helped 'grease the wheels' as Clint liked to put it.
This 'Thor Odinson' was different. He didn't fold. If anything, he rose and puffed his chest out. It was by the grace of his head injury that he couldn't get up to throw another punch. Head injuries will do that to you.
"One more time for me please, Mr. uhm," Watching Phil work was inspiring. Unassumingly clever. Trunks knew Mom would've liked him.
"Thor!" His own voice made him wince, and Thor(!) continued in a more subdued volume. "Thor Odinson, son of Odin All-father, King of Asgard and protector of the Nine Realms. And Mjolnir is mine. I know not how laws work here on Midgard, but where I am from, it is not right to keep something that is not yours."
"Right Mjolnir…and you said you were from Asgard, correct?"
"Yes, son of Cole."
'Oh, brother, this guy's committed to the bit, huh?' Clint's voice patched in through the comm device Trunks had in his ear. The listening devices in the room were transmitting audio feeds to his 'nest.' 'Odin, Asgard. What's next, he's got a brother named Loki?'
"Where is Asgard?" Phil asked. "Could you point it out to us on a map?"
"Nay," Thor replied. "It is a realm that exists on the branches of Yggdrasil, the World Tree, unto which all the realms exist on its branches. I confess I am…unfamiliar with its exact composition. That is more my brother's expertise."
'And here it comes,' Clint edged.
"And your brother, what's his name?"
"Loki Odinson, pri–well, no doubt, King of Asgard by now."
'Told ya.'
"Loki is king? I thought your father, Odin, was?"
"Twas true before my father entered what is called the 'Odinsleep.' In his absence, a regent is appointed to rule Asgard till my father awakes to return to his duties."
"I see," Phil nodded along. "But then, why weren't you appointed? You are the first-born son of Odin, correct? Here on Ea…Midgard, usually the heir to a kingdom is the first-born son."
"Tis true for Asgard as well, son of Cole. But, I–," Here Thor tapered off, eyes to the side as if recounting a difficult memory.
"But what Thor?" Here, Phil pressed him, sensing weakness. "Because to me, this doesn't make any sense. If you are who you say you are, then why aren't you ruling Asgard in your father's stead? Why are you here on Midgard attacking our people and wrecking havok? Surely your father would not approve of such reckless actions."
Each word seemed to affect almost physical pain unto Thor. His shoulders drooped, and the luster of his blonde hair even seemed to dim. He dropped his head, looking ashamed.
"Aye, he would be most ashamed of me," Thor dropped his head between his knees. He then began to sniffle. Phil and Trunks exchanged a look. "I confess, son of Cole, I've not been a good son, prince, or brother. I've brought great shame and danger to my family and realm. My father banished me here to Midgard, so I may learn a lesson. Only then may I return home. And yet here I am, having not learned a blasted thing!"
"Why would he do such a thing, Thor?"
"Because I–"
His answer was cut off as a phone rang. It was Coulson's. He plucked it from his jacket pocket and looked to see who was calling. From his spot behind him, Trunks saw who it was: Director Fury.
"So sorry, Thor," Phil got up and went to leave the room. He gestured for Trunks to stay. "I'll be right back. Gotta take this."
Phil left the room, and Trunks was stuck with a red-eyed, muscle-bound 'god' with daddy issues. It was embarrassingly relatable.
'So we got Thor, Odin, and Loki all on Asgard,' Clint continued through the comm. 'Ask him his mother's name. Is it Frigga? Freya? I'm a little rusty on my Norse mythology 'cause, y'know, gods don't actually exist.'
Trunks rolled his eyes and let Clint continue his one-sided conversation. In the meantime, he watched Thor. You could never be too careful with people proclaiming themselves as gods, even more so when they seemingly bit off a whole culture's mythos. Like c'mon, he couldn't even come up with something original? It's space, man, just make it up. Who was going to fact-check you?
The more Trunks thought about it, though, the more it made sense. Say the guy wasn't lying, and everything happened as he said it did. Gods, other realms, they were all things Trunks knew about but never looked into so deeply. When the Supreme Kai sent him here, Trunks didn't think to question the finer intricacies or wonder if other beings had the same abilities.
It was easy to believe the man was simply spouting nonsense, safer to believe he was crazy, but Trunks saw the hammer. It was real, and the energy it gave off was just as. And wouldn't it make sense for a banished prince to come looking for his lost weapon? Trunks knew if he wound up on some planet he didn't know and lost his sword, he'd go looking for it urgently. Who wouldn't?
In that sense, Trunks could believe 'Thor.' That didn't make resolving this situation any simpler. It would have to involve some sort of communication between them and this 'Asgard,' but then came the question of how to even contact them. If Thor was banished, does Asgard have a means of contacting him? If his father, who banished him, was asleep for who knows how long, who'd relieve Thor of his banishment? His brother, Loki? And on top of it all, what lesson had Odin meant for Thor to learn here on Earth?
Trunks cleared his throat, getting Thor's attention. He had all these questions, and here was an easily available source he could get answers from.
"Ah, my fellow warrior," Thor greeted him gaily, no hard feelings over his loss. "Twas a good showing on your part. I had no idea Midgardians were so sturdy. Whilst I may have lost my powers temporarily, it is no small feat to defeat Thor Odinson."
'Gosh, this guy's full of himself, isn't he?'
"Yeah, thanks," Wouldn't hurt to be polite to the guy. "I'm sure with your powers and hammer, you're a sight to see on the battlefield."
"Of course! I am the greatest warrior in all of Asgard. Well, I was before father stripped me of my honors and banished me."
"Yeah, that's what I wanted to ask you about, Thor. Your father, Odin, banished you here to learn a lesson? Do you know what he wanted you to learn?"
"Nay, but…but, I know that if I can prove myself worthy to him once more, prove myself worthy of Mjolnir, then he shall have no choice but to allow my return home."
"So it's worthiness, you think?" That rang a bell in Trunks' head. "Worthiness of what?"
Thor shook his head. "I know not, friend. Only that I had proven myself unworthy after nearly inciting a war. Tis a great shame of mine to know many may have almost lost their lives for my foolish mistake."
Huh. "What'd you do?"
"Once you hear my tale, you may think less of me. I know many do, and I cannot blame them."
Trunks shrugged and leaned against the wall. "You'd be surprised."
Thor ruminated on it, his jaw clenched, until he let out a sigh. "Well, friend, my tale begins thus…"
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AN: We're kicking things off in 2010, amid the rise of the MCU and with the first Thor movie. This isn't our boy's first rodeo, though. I didn't want to write the whole 'origin' portion of Trunks' arrival. I'll build it up as we go along, and we discover how Trunks' presence has impacted the MCU at large as we move through it. I appreciate every single one of you who read, leave a kudos, or comment. It means a lot, so thank you!