ALL CHARACTERS ARE PROPERTY OF MARVEL INC. AND THEIR RESPECTIVE AFFILIATES.
I spent almost no time editing this. . . I was just so excited to post it!
Avengers tower was the tallest building I'd ever been in. Sitting in the middle, three wings of the building around me, and an Asgardian tower above me, I sighed. Autumn's chill held New York in it's grip, and I pulled Thor's cloak tighter around my shoulders.
The Asgardian warrior looked out over the city, sitting beside me. His thoughts heavy, showing in the stoop of his broad shoulders and the way he tipped Mjolnir, his hammer, made of uru metal, forged by elves at the behest of his father, Odin, as a gift to his beloved eldest son.
He sighed, and my heart started pounding again. “You are certain that you feel this way?” he asked.
“No. I'm not really sure of anything these days, Thor.”
“Anthy, I have lived through centuries, among both mortals and Asgardians. You are stronger and more mature in your ways than many. You have battled the Enchantress and come out alive. But coming between Karnilla and Balder. . . that is a dangerous game. You must be certain that you love him, for the battle for my brother's heart will wage long and hard, and you will not escape without scars.”
“Is that a no?” I asked, looking up at him.
He smiled and cradled the back of my head in his huge hand. “That is a yes. You have my blessing to pursue Balder. And that you asked for it impresses me much, Anthy.”
“I wasn't aiming to impress, Thor.”
Thor frowned. I knew my mood these days worried him, but I couldn't shake the cloud that hung over me. Three days had passed since the invasion of Asgard, and since then I'd learned that it had been instigated by Vali Halfling, son of Loki.
I'd been given two gifts from the people of Asgard, brought to me by Kelda Stormrider, who sat inside, alone, missing her lost love, Bill, the short-order cook. The first gift had been a tunic of fine black fabric, soft, warm, and breathable, the same kind that Thor wore. The second was a silver headband, with a single bird's wing on it. I'd been told that it was an owl wing, for wisdom.
They sent them to show that they still believed in me.
Now I had to bring them a hero worth believing in.
I just had to believe in myself.
Thor leaned back against a pillar, totally at ease, and closed his eyes. His cloak was warm and smelled of the world, of Tony Stark's expensive cologne and Cap's clean soap, Logan's cigars and the Jarvis' cleaners, Peter's ink, saline from the infirmary, and of himself. It smelled like pancakes from that diner down the street where he fought some street level bad guy this morning, and like Jane Foster's body mist.
“You saw Jane Foster today?” I asked.
“Aye,” he said, scratching the side of his face. He pursed his lips nonchalantly, and I chuckled.
“And I think I've got romance problems. . .”
“I've missed your meaning.”
“Thor, you love Jane. And you love Sif. Even I know that much.”
He was quiet. “I have had. . . difficulty in this. Sif and I have been together and we have been separate. Jane aided me as I sought to gain back my honor as Don Blake and we worked together for many years, she has helped me become accustomed to Midgard and had helped me protect it.”
I nodded. “So who do you pick, the one you understand or the one you know?”
“That is often the question.”
I stood up and adjusted my t , then Thor stood too. A shrill scream rang out, and I ran to the edge of the roof, looking down as I tied my shawl around my waist. “What was that?” I asked.
“Danger,” said Thor, Mjolnir at the ready.
“Can I come?” I asked.
He stared at me for a minute, then nodded. “Aye,” he said with a grin, whirling Mjolnir around, then shooting forth. I jumped from the edge and fell, hugging the side of the building, then shot horizontally, darting in between buildings and over the streets. Thor was right above me, and then we were directly over the trouble. But someone was already taking care of it.
Her hair was a fiery red orange, her costume a beat-up black coat and a pair of jeans, with matching all black sneakers. What set her apart was the S symbol barette in her hair. “Thor, isn't that. . .”
“The mark of the Sentry,” he breathed, shocked.
The girl, who was maybe the same age as me, and just as short, just as unlike any other superhero chick out there, was taking names and kicking ass. She landed one last punch to the face of some overpowered villain I didn't know, and then she brushed her hands together and turned.
“Ho, milady,” called Thor, thoroughy impressed.
Her mouth popped open in a perfect little O, and we walked closer. “What is your name?” he asked.
“Sentry. Um, you're Thor! And. . . I saw you on the news too, you fought Boulder. That was totally awesome,” she said, her voice kinda scratchy.
“I'm Anthy,” I told her.
“You don't have a super name?” she asked.
“Oh, um. . . no,” I confessed. “I'm not a superhero.”
“You should be. You've got balls,” said another voice, another girl, who was. . . also short.
Her auburn hair, tied back into a ponytail and streaked through with almost white blond, almost touched the ground. Her big green eyes sparkled as she looked around. “Looks like Sentry here already got to the good stuff.”
Thor's face was frozen in surprise. An invasion of short superpowered teenage girls was in progress, and he was probably more than a little confused. I was more than a little confused.
“Truly, miss Katy, this is a most unusual occurrence.”
“Unusual? Why, it's downright strange,” said Cap as we looked at the girl on the table. She had all sorts of wires attatched to her arms, but her skin was too dense for needles, which broke at the slightest pressure against her.
“You guys, be nice,” I said. Agea watched over the proceedings from outside, the bow she carried slung over her shoulder. She smiled every time we looked over at her, but insisted that she stay out of the way as my tests were pushed aside by Pym for this far more interesting subject.
“Infused with the blood of the Sentry? It's not impossible. . . Bob could have donated blood without knowing who he was,” said Pym.
The whole time, Katy sat patiently, quietly, waiting for this to be over with. I nodded to her and left, meeting Agea in the hall. “Is it just me, or does she seem. . .”
“She's grieving. That's what it looks like to me, anyway,” she said, in a quiet voice. She was a little bit more square than me or Katy, but still round, dressed in black jeans, a t-shirt with a geisha print, a leather jacket and aviator sunglasses. “What are you thinking?” she asked.
I pursed my lips, then shrugged. “I dunno. Hey, I gotta go, but it was great meeting you,” I said, waving as I turned.
“Bye,” she said cheerfully. “Oh, one more thing,” she added.
“Something's beating you up too. We're all nice and damaged, I guess. But anyway, don't let it get to you. If you're still alive, it's something you can fix.”
I chuckled and said, “it's not that simple. But then again, maybe it is.”
Balder stood beside his bed, buttoning a pair of jeans around his waist. “Knock knock,” I said as I came in.
“Anthy!” he said quickly, turning slightly. “I am not dressed.”
“What are you, in your bra?” I teased.
“It does not bother you to see a man unclothed?” he asked, a little shocked.
“It's a chest, Balder. Apparently, you're about to get a crash course in what Midgardians consider blush-worthy.”
Truth was, it was kind of embarrasing to see him without a shirt. He was totally cut. I blushed a little, but then he pulled the white t-shirt over his head, his bandage a little padding underneath. The clothes were probably a little light to him, and he looked at himself strangely.
“And these are truly Midgardian garments?”
“Yes, Balder,” I said. “You look good.”
“Has Thor worn such things?”
“Yeah. But he tends to go a little more. . . hippy.”
Who are these new characters? What's Agea's story? Why is Katy grieving? Should Balder be up and about so soon? And what's more, will there be more scenes with Balder shirtless? *she asks in full awareness that most of the people that comment are guys*