XLIX
Tweets in Your Area
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Hadar N hezzi2049 ・ 13h
yo, if anyone headed to brooklyn don't get on the 4 the delays are shit
Tim NOTthefather ・ 12h
Replying to hezzi2049
whats up
Hadar N hezzi2049 ・ 12h
Replying to NOTthefather
idk man some kinda building collapse or something
Taleen Minhas TonyStarkISmySexuality ・ 12h
Replying to hezzi2049 NOTthefather
shit im gonna be late for work
Miss Mack missymackclapsback ・ 11h
theres feds on my block? wtf
[attached: a blurry picture of emergency vehicles and a street blocked off by police tape]
Kae Johnson Kaelynn_C ・ 7h
Um we just evacuated so they can check structural damage? Not paying this much rent for my shitty apartment to collapse on me
Mikey Mike hveemike ・ 2h
fuck WNBCLocalNews weatherman said no rain today mf. i put my canvas outside to dry and now all the colors ran togehter #boycottWNBC
Rina Koval yeshiiiiivagirl ・ 2h
WNBCLocalNews why do you refuse to send news crews farther north than inwood we wanna know whats happening in our neighborhood #boycottWNBC
jimmy jimmelaya ・ 1h
pushmedontu hey pick me up some cheeto puffs cant go to the bodega cuz theres cops everywhere and u kno i smell dank #boycottWNBC
I Am Your Aquarius AquariusBoyxxX ・ 30m
that flash of lightning literally woke me from dead sleep and lit up my whole room jesus christ thought i was ascending to the astral plane
Ashante Patrick MthrofDrgns ・ 26m
Replying to AquariusBoyxxX
You saw it too! my bf thought i was fucking with him but i couldnt see for like 30 seconds
Omar Riviera 3POisIronMan ・ 22m
uhh did anyone else just see that guy with the flying hammer? #boycottWNBC
L
The transport rumbles to life. Lukas Eld stands just outside the vehicle, one foot in the door and one on the sidewalk. Brenna Roberts studies his back, the slim cut of his black suit and the rigid line of his spine. "Good luck," she calls out.
He glances away from the distortion, over his shoulder. "Luck is for the ill-prepared."
She smiles down at the ground. "Just say thanks, alright?"
Lukas doesn't respond immediately. His gaze is drawn once again to the looming skeleton of the building, which has looked moments away from becoming a ruin for hours now. "This is unsteady ground," he finally says. "Tread softly."
Sliding into the car, Lukas clicks the door shut behind him. The window is down. Roberts can't resist. She leans in. "Where are you really from? What's your real name?"
Lukas taps his nose and gives her a cheeky smile. "A backwater place of no importance. And a name has only the meaning one bestows upon it. No more than a collection of convenient sounds. I have given myself a name, is that not enough?" He begins to roll up the window, nose tilted high in the air. She shakes her head.
Wheels crunch over the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. "Not even a hint?" Roberts hollers after him. He gives a jaunty wave and she sighs. Coulson'll get it out of him, sooner or later. She hopes sooner.
But she's not too worried about it. Everything makes sense, now that she knows he's a metahuman. She finally understands why he'd entertained the notion of joining Raina, why he was skulking around her operations. Raina's whole gig is preaching about securing the freedom and future of metahumans. Brenna had never tried to analyze her philosophy, figuring her criminal activities were more important. But she can see how it would be attractive for someone like Lukas to hook up with a person who thinks his kind are superior. Who doesn't like to feel wanted, valued?
She still doesn't know Lukas's real name, but it feels good to know something concrete, something real about him. The resentment she'd been holding onto has dried up. Brenna's instincts were right - from the first time she'd met him in that quaint museum, she'd known there was more to him than met the eye. To finally figure it out… well, it makes the sleepless night and the gnawing uneasiness she feels in the presence of these strange distortions easier to bear.
Agents are milling around the cordoned-off street. She joins them. Hauling away rubble and helping Fitz lug around his machines serves to distract her. She feels like she's contributing. That's better than worrying over everything they don't know.
Roberts hefts a portable mass spec into the back of a van. She heaves a breath, wiping away the film of sweat gathered on her forehead. At her side, Coulson rubs his knuckles across his brow.
Squinting up at the sky, she sees the moon is half-hidden by a fast-moving surge of grey clouds. "Didn't think it was gonna rain," she says. "Maybe we should get the rest of the equipment put away."
Coulson pauses. "It's not supposed to." He shoots a glance upward. "We're almost done. I'm leaving some of the probationary agents here to keep an eye on things, keep the public away."
"And where are we going? Back to the Manhattan base, or are we heading for DC?"
"Neither, I think."
Roberts wipes away an errant drop of water. The clouds are thickening. "What do you mean?"
"If Eld is right about the energy source for these portals, then we could have more forming at any time, and who knows where. I don't want to be scrambling to dispatch agents all over the globe. It'd be better if we were mobile."
"Really!?" Coulson purses his lips and she regulates her tone, trying not to sound so eager. "Yessir, of course. I agree." If he's serious… the Helicarrier might be going on its maiden voyage. Excitement quivers down to her toes.
Coulson mutters something about getting ahold of Romanova before disappearing into the command tent, one last look at the sky as he goes.
She needs to find Fitz. Spying his curly head near the partially loaded van, she rushes over. "You're never gonna guess where our next stop is."
He hardly pays her any attention, fussing over his equipment. "This spec was half our budget for the year and the field agents treat it like they're moving a moldy old sofa," he says. "Stupid. Just bloody ignorant, if you ask me."
"You do remember I'm a field agent, right?"
"You're not as bad as the rest of them."
"Gee, thanks." Roberts does not want to hear another rant on how the increase in field agent applications is a symptom of the rise of anti-intellectualism in the country. As it is, she could probably give a lecture from what she's heard from Fitz in passing. She's never been inclined to get involved in the rivalry between the field agents and the analysts. "You still haven't guessed!"
Fitz cocks his head. "What?"
"Helicarrier," she sing-songs. "Does that ring a bell? We're all going for a ride on the He-li-carr-i-er!"
That gets his attention. "What? You mean they're deploying - yes!" He whoops and Brenna laughs.
"So we better finish up, we've gotta clear the area here first," Brenna tells him. "Looks like a storm's coming." The rising wind brings goosebumps to the surface of her skin, plays with the ends of her hair. It smells clean and damp.
"That's amazing, but…" The young agent wrings his hands. "What will happen to the building? With the distortion?" he worries. "I'm not sure if the rain will - " His voice peters out.
A gust of wind, more forceful now, flings her blazer open. She tugs it closed, tries to fasten the loose button. "Fitz?"
He looks past her. His mouth falls open and he stammers. "It's - I - "
For a second, Roberts thinks she'll turn around and see Tony Stark showing off. Sending up fireworks from some hidden crevice of his suit, or juggling repulsor bolts. Fitz is never very coherent when the billionaire genius is around. Starstruck, really. It annoys the hell out of Coulson.
But as she cranes her neck over her shoulder, she feels the bottom drop out of her stomach.
A man descends from the sky, trailing clouds of mist. Descends. From the air. A stiff wind blows her hair off her forehead, yanks her blazer open again. She and Fitz stagger back a step, both rendered speechless.
The man lands on the pavement, boots hard on the cement. The impact shivers through the earth, reverberates in the soles of her feet. Her sidearm is in her grip instantly. She finds the trigger and her voice. "Stay right where you are, buddy!"
He's dressed innocuously, just another passerby in New York City, but Roberts can see the muscle corded beneath the fabric of his jacket and his jeans. The whirling breeze halts when he grasps the blunt handle of a giant hammer, lowering it. Sparks flicker around the silver head. The hair on her arms stands on end, her skin prickling. Thunder rumbles from the depths of the grey clouds above them, low and quiet, sensed more than heard.
He steps forward and she firms her grip on the trigger. "I - I said stay where you are!"
Her mind spins from one thought to another, like a car skidding on ice, wheels out of control. Hammer - flying - thunder? This can't be - he can't be -
"Well met, Midgardians. I come as emissary and friend," the man says. His voice is deep and powerful, cutting across the gathered buzz of activity effortlessly. If everyone hadn't already turned to stare, they were now. Several of the agents react like Brenna, and raise their sidearms. The man appears perfectly calm staring down no less than thirteen barrels. "I shall not raise my weapon against you," he says with a meaningful glance.
"You," Roberts squeaks. "You're - "
"I am Thor, my lady, and I must speak with the esteemed mortal who guarded my hammer upon my last visit to this realm." He twirls the handle before latching it onto a strap of his belt. The archaic weapon looks ridiculous resting against his blue jeans, but she eyes it warily all the same. "The son of Coul," Thor says.
"Um." Roberts and Fitz look at each other. Her fingers feel slippery against the plastic casing of her sedative-loaded gun. Sedative? What the hell's a sedative gonna do against a goddamned alien? Especially one so - so massive, she thinks, as he steps forward, a moving mountain.
She lowers her gun, taking him at his word that he won't raise his own weapon. Her boss had liked Thor, that had been clear from the amused glint in his eyes when he spoke of the New Mexico Incident. Against his better judgment, Roberts had thought.
"Uh." Clearing her throat, Brenna raises her voice, so that her supervisory agent will hear her from the command tent. "Uh - Coulson! Coulson, you better come out here! You've got a - a visitor."
Thor smiles at her, and the clouds seem to break over his head, letting the starlight through. Or maybe that's just her relief, as she hears her boss's footsteps approaching.
The steps come to an unsteady halt. "Thor?"
She could have thrown a bucket of ice water over Coulson's head and he'd look less bewildered then he does now. Brenna understands. She's tempted to ask Fitz to slap her, just so she can be one-hundred percent positive that this isn't some kind of lucid dream. If it ends up that she's tangled in her bedsheets right now and this is all playing out on the backs of her eyelids, it could be worse. Hell, it's about damn time she starts dreaming of glorious golden princes and less about shooting giant twenty-foot centipede monsters with Raina's face at both ends.
S.H.I.E.L.D. has really screwed her head.
"My friend!" Thor crows, barging forward. Her hand twitches on her sleeper gun. Mostly reflex. He's fast for such a big guy. The force of his hug nearly lifts Coulson from the ground. "You look well!"
Coulson coughs as soon as his lungs are able to expand. "I, ah - thanks, Thor. You look pretty good yourself."
"The Asgardian constitution is much more robust than a mortal's." There is a slight pause, where it slowly seems to dawn on Thor that he has said something that could be construed as offensive. "I mean to say - I have not been myself, though I may look hale and whole. Truly, sorrow has been my closest companion of late. "
The baldness of the statement takes them all off guard. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents aren't exactly the poster group for healthy processing of emotions through open communication. As a rule, they prefer come to terms with the complexity of the human experience using a truly cathartic amount of ammunition. And explosives, they're not too picky. The last therapist S.H.I.E.L.D. had on staff retired after her stress ulcer burst.
Coulson has a fixed expression on his face that he only wears when he's uncomfortable. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that." Roberts looks anywhere that isn't Thor's face, so she's the first person to see the white glow that speeds toward them. From the sky - again! A split second passes, while she gapes, thinking, is there another alien prince I don't know about?
The white glow resolves itself into two separate circles, each on the palm of a suit she recognizes. Iron Man plummets toward the ground, a streak of crimson. The hand held repulsors glow brighter, gathering power, the double-strike aimed directly at Thor.
She shouts, lunging forward, just as Coulson at her side does the same. They're too slow. The bolt of power fires outward in a deadly stream. And then stops.
Thor holds his hammer in front of his body. The weapon catches the repulsor beam, the metal glowing with energy. Pointing the hammer up, Thor shouts, wordless. A bolt of lightning shoots down from the sky - or up from the hammer. Roberts can't tell. It slices apart the darkness. Like a flashbang, brighter than a magnesium flare. Her eyes are blind for a moment. The thunder rattles after, like it's shaking apart her ribs from the inside.
Iron Man lands on the street in a clatter of metal. "W-What?"
He goes to raise his hand again. Coulson leaps forward to bat him away. "Stop! Friendly! He's a friendly!"
"He's a friendly?" Iron Man's voice modulator squeaks. He shrugs, best he can in the suit. "Well then, my bad. Party foul." Thor inclines his head, putting his hammer back on his belt, but Roberts notices his hand hovering near it. Oh god, that could have been so much worse. They were lucky Thor doesn't seem to have much of a temper.
"Yes!" Coulson snaps. "A friendly. You can't just go around attacking everyone who - "
"Who suddenly materializes next to a distortion in time and space? How was I supposed to know! I think that's arguably suspicious!"
"He didn't just materialize," Roberts feels it necessary to point out. "He flew down from the sky."
"Oh, yeah, that's much better." The face plate pops open in time to catch the tail end of an extremely overblown eye roll. "Nothing bad ever came down out of the sky. Did you even see X-Files, or is that too old for you? Are you even out of college yet?"
Stung, Roberts opens her mouth to fire back, but he's already turned away from her. "Coulson, do you even pay these interns?"
Her supervisory special agent looks down the tip of his nose. "They aren't interns, Mr. Stark. They are agents."
"But if they were, you wouldn't pay them, would you?"
Coulson presses his lips together and gives a prim sniff. "Mr. Stark, your presence is no longer required. You may return to your home or place of business."
"Whoa, whoa whoa!"
He keeps talking over Stark. "The Strategic Homeland Intervention and Enforcement Division thanks you for your outstanding civilian service - "
"There's no way in hell I'm leaving now, Coulson!" Tony Stark flails out a hand toward Thor. "Or should I start calling you Mulder, now that we've confirmed your story about aliens?"
"Mulder?" Coulson looks offended. "You can't be serious. If anything, I'm Scully. You're Mulder. You've got the antisocial tendencies down pat."
"I can feel the romantic tension already." Stark waggles his eyebrows. He turns to Thor. "What do you think, big guy? Is the truth out there?"
Roberts glances to Thor. He's looking between them all, mouth slightly parted and brows quirked up. It's kinda cute and kinda pitiful at the same time, like a puppy that keeps bumping his head on a glass door and can't figure out why he's not outside yet.
"I am Thor, of Asgard," he says, in lieu of responding to Stark. "That is the truth. If you doubt my words or my intentions, I shall endeavor to prove myself to you."
"No, no, he didn't mean it like that," Fitz blurts out. He stutters over an explanation. "It's a television show - uh. That is, a program that, um, that actors - "
"Television!" Thor cries. They all wince at the sudden volume. He visibly restrains himself, a bit of a sheepish smile on his face. "I know what that is."
"You know what television is?" Tony Stark peers at the alien prince. "Well, I'll be damned. Great reception up there in Asgard. Who's your favorite Kardashian?"
"The boob tube," Thor says with a knowing nod.
Coulson sputters. Tony Stark opens his mouth, a delighted sparkle in his eyes, and her boss hurries to cut him off. "This is all very illuminating, but Thor, I have to ask. Are you here for a reason?"
"I come to ask a favor," Thor says. "And to extend an offer."
"An offer," Roberts repeats.
"An offer of goodwill." He smiles, and his broad face seems younger, almost boyish.
"Who's goodwill, exactly?" Tony asks.
Thor blinks. "The throne of Asgard's."
"And you can speak for the throne of Asgard, can you?" Stark says.
"Yes." Thor looks at him funny.
"He neglected to properly introduce himself." Coulson tilts his head back. Roberts thinks he wants to smile. "Right, your highness?"
"Ah - forgive my oversight." He fiddles with the handle of his hammer. "I am Thor, Crown Prince of Asgard."
"Ohhh. Oh, I see. Don't worry, I get it now. You're probably used to being recognized." Tony strides forward, flinging out his hands. "Listen, I understand, buddy. Me and you. We're in the same boat."
Thor looks down at Iron Man. His metal faceplate barely comes to Thor's shoulder, but that doesn't stop Tony from clapping him on the back. "We've got the notoriety. The fame. Everyone wants to know us, or to be us. All the wealth, all the power. Women and men throwing themselves at our feet."
Stark sighs, gazing out at the lit skyline. Thor looks up too, glancing around, his brow furrowed. "But sometimes, the burden is too heavy, ya know?" Tony continues. "Sometimes we just wanna be that regular, Average Joe again. The one with the pure heart of gold, hidden under the layers of cynicism we've had to build up to survive the limelight."
Thor, bless his heart, nods. "A title is often a burden, yes, my friend. You speak well."
"Like a turtle!" Stark says, too loud, hand still clasping Thor's shoulder as he gestures wildly. "A hard exterior and a soft underbelly - "
"Okay," Coulson interrupts. "Alright. Unless you'd like us to start calling you the Iron Turtle, can it."
Tony lays a hand over his heart, staggering back, as if Coulson's given him that piece of lead he's always threatening. "And there it is, the greatest curse of lives like ours - to be so tragically misunderstood!"
"I am grateful for your sympathy, Lord Stark." Thor bows his neck. On anyone else, the motion would seem ostentatious. Somehow, and Roberts isn't sure if it's cause she knows he's a prince, Thor pulls it off.
"Lord! It does suit me - "
"Good god, stop giving him ideas." Coulson ushers Thor away to the command tent.
"Can we use that phrase anymore? I mean, if we're gonna have a buncha gods descending in some sorta outerspace Second Coming, it just seems weird." Coulson ignores Stark's parting comment, but of course the billionaire follows them into the command tent. They won't get rid of him easily. Roberts wishes curiosity would get this particular cat.
Seeing the detritus of all their work laid out on the folding tables sobers her. Fitz's printed readings of the distortion, pictures of the initial stages, the final stages. The rubble and the injuries. Any lingering giddiness she might have felt soon departs.
Coulson must have the same thoughts. He leans on the table, posture slightly bowed with weariness. "Thor, can I ask - what exactly does Asgard's goodwill entail?"
"My father has given me leave to travel to your realm and to offer you Asgard's friendship and protection."
In his sheepskin coat and blue jeans, long blond hair brushing his shoulders and ruddy cheeks, he looks more like an energetic college student out for a sightseeing hike than a prince of an alien civilization.
"Your pops gave you permission to offer us protection." Tony Stark squints at Thor. "How generous of him." Roberts detects a slightly acidic undertone to the comment. Coulson gives the billionaire a sharp look.
"How come you didn't do this last time?" She can't help but ask, and only partly to divert Stark's focus.
"The last time I visited Midgard…" The kind smile Thor had worn now fades. "I was not myself. And I was in no position to speak for Asgard."
Coulson chews on his lower lip. She can tell he wants to hammer out all the specifics of Thor's offer, since he's being undeniably vague about it. But first, he asks, "Is that the only reason you're here?"
As Thor's brows draw down, Coulson hurries to correct himself. "Not that I'm not pleased to see you. And Asgard's goodwill is a great thing to have, I'm sure. But why here, in this specific location, and why now?"
Roberts sees what he's getting at. "Is it the distortion?" she asks eagerly. "Are you here about the distortion?"
Thor shakes his head and she slumps back against the pole of the tent. So much for a little ancient extraterrestrial wisdom.
"I confess I know nothing of any distortion. I came in search of you," he tells Coulson. "You did me a great service when I was last on Midgard. Watching over Mjölnir while I was not - " Brenna can see his throat bob as he swallows. "While I was not able."
Tony Stark interrupts. Honest to god interrupts the alien prince as he's explaining what brought him to Earth. Roberts stifles the urge to scream. At this point, she's sure that if Stark ever met the Pope, he'd probably give him a wet willy before loudly declaring his agnosticism.
"So, this hammer - it's like a sword in the stone situation, is it?" He mimics a terrifically bad accent. "Whosoever pulleth the sword Excalibur from the stone shall be once and forevermore King of all Glorious Englandshire!" His tone is light and teasing, but his eyes are still narrowed. She's not sure what response he's looking for.
Thor steps forward, a hand extended. "Lord Stark, are you quite well?"
Coulson elbows Tony Stark out of the way. "Please, ignore him. I mean that in the most literal way possible. If he's in a chair, feel free to pretend he's not and sit on him."
Stark tries to lean around Coulson. "Godly lap dance, I'm in - ow!"
Coulson grinds his shoe down harder. "You know, Thor, I was kind of expecting you to come back. After you'd dealt with everything in Asgard, that thing you called the Destroyer. I think a lot of people were."
Thor squeezes his eyes shut. "I promised that I would," he says softly. "But I was unable. The Bifröst was - damaged." He opens his eyes, cloudless blue like the sky at midday. Roberts clears her throat, feeling heat rise on her cheeks. Alien, she reminds herself. He's an alien.
"And this is partly the reason I have sought you out." Thor shifts on his feet. "I know you and Jane Foster did not have the most amicable of relationships before the Battle at the Ancient Bridge, but I have found that bonds forged in the midst of peril are often the most durable of links."
Coulson blinks. "Thor, what can I do for you?"
"I know not where Jane Foster now resides, and I wish to speak to her. Will you tell me where I must go?"
"Coulson, are you running an intergalactic dating service that I wasn't aware of?" Stark folds his arms over his chest. "If you are and you haven't told me, we can't be friends anymore. You're uninvited to my next sleepover. Also, I want in."
Her boss seems to be an expert at ignoring Stark. "I know where Dr. Foster is, and yes, I can tell you."
Thor grins. "You have my thanks. He makes for the flap of the door. "I shall go and see her directly."
"I can tell you," Coulson continues. "As long as you promise to come back. If Asgard is really offering us all that you say, then we need to discuss it."
Thor nods quickly. Coulson pulls him aside, draws out his tablet. Roberts can see him loading an aerial map. Stark pretends like he's not watching them, but keeps Thor in his peripheral vision. Brenna tries to move casually between them. If there's anyone she doesn't want acting as Earth's unofficial ambassador to Asgard, it's Tony Stark. And not just because Coulson would have a coronary. Stark gives her a half-smile that says he notices what she's doing. Brenna doesn't move.
"Dr. Foster has my number," Coulson says as he steps away from Thor. "Have her call me when you're done visiting." Thor agrees.
"Hang on - if you can't find your way around Midgard, how did you get to New York?" Fitz asks, apparently channeling Stark's curiosity.
"I asked for directions." The prince shrugs. "Unfortunately, the man I spoke to could not tell me where Puente Antiguo lies, but he did know of New York City." He flexes his fingers on the handle of his hammer, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I shall return, you have my word."
At Coulson's slight nod, he hurries from the tent. They trail out to watch the spectacle of his leaving, with a blast of wind, a sudden drop in pressure, and the fresh taste of water lingering in the air. Roberts doesn't take her eyes off him until he's a speck in the sky, lost among the lofty spires of Manhattan to the east.
"So is he on the payroll too?" Stark asks. He glances sideways at Coulson. "You keep showing up with superpowered consultants and I'm gonna start to feel a little self-conscious. You told me I was the only one, babe."
Roberts stifles a grin. Damn, she wishes Lukas Eld had been here. She would have loved to see his face.