An Asgardian Return

November 21, 2017:

After months off world, Thor returns to Midgard bloodied and beaten.

Peggy and Thor's Apartment

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: None.


Fade In…

SOMEWHERE

"A VALIENT EFFORT, SON OF ODIN - BUT YOU HAVE NEITHER THE STRENGTH NOR THE FORTITUDE TO BEST ME THIS DAY-"

Thud. Thud. Thud. The rhythmic beat of a heart.

"Or."

The word is croaked, strained, forced out past cracked, bloodied, swollen lips.

"OR?!"

The thuds pause. They source from no heart, but instead, from the impact of flesh being tenderized.

"It's neither the strength OR the fortitude-"

The lips twist into a grin. It slips as the thuds begin anew.

"I DO NOT CARE FOR YOUR SEMANTICS!"

The heart stops.

MOMENTS AGO

The night skies over Manhattan are real beautiful. Or disgusting, depending on how you view it. You're a grown ass adult, you make up your own mind! The skies are split, however, as a slight tear in reality splits a cloud in half. Between it slips a weight, swaddled in red.

It plummets.

Hurtling down like so much broken meat, the weight shifts, revealing itself to be a figure wearing a rather fancy, but thoroughly tattered and torn, cape. The arms flail. A hand thrusts out.

A second weight slips out from the crack in reality, just shy of it slamming shut.

NOW

THUD. Rumblerumblerumblecaralarms.

Something heavy strikes into the roof of a certain building on the Upper East Side. The goats are not normally that loud about it. A second impact happens, this time sounding much more metallic. The sight that will await whoever is within is Thor of Asgard, flat on his back, the rooftop somewhat cratering about him, with the heavy weight of Mjolnir on his chest.

He looks pretty banged up, too. His arms flail weakly, teetering on the brink of consciousness.

*

Peggy Carter is currently at home in that certain building on the Upper East Side. For once, she's having a bit of relaxation time. She has a book open in her lap and a glass of wine on the coffee table in front of her. Legs are curled up on the couch and she has her brown hair braided back in a precise, but casual braid.

In fact, she is so absorbed in her book that she doesn't notice the sudden change in the clouds of the Manhattan sky. The streak of red swaddled Thor is missed as he hurtles toward her roof.

What she cannot miss, however, is the impact he makes when he lands. Startled almost off the couch, she rushes to where she stores one of her guns throughout the apartment. Then, she goes running up through the roof access. Once she reaches the door that opens onto the open space, she flicks the safety off of the gun, points it at the ground and then shoulders her way forward. Immediately, she is scanning the periphery for whatever it is that might have done this. Thor has been gone for a few months, meaning the goats have been, too. Either way, that was too loud to be the goats.

However, she is surprised to see that Thor is there, the roof cracked and cratered about him, Mjolnir on his chest. "Thor!" The safety is quickly placed on the gun and she tucks it into the back of her skirt. Rushing over, she moves to try and help him up. "Bloody Nora! Where did you come from? What happened?" A quick glance is given toward the sky and then she refocuses her attention back to him.

*

For his part, Thor is supremely out of it. The door is barged open, and the Asgardian simply continues to flounder, arms moving in an 'I just got the absolute shit kicked out of me' kind of way. He groans loudly as the Spymaster approaches.

"Giant hole…" he attempts to explain as he also attempts to simply get up - the hammer will have none of that, it seems, and it keeps him pinned. Peggy's assist won't get far with that in the way.

"Giant demon," he finishes, arms falling flat to the cold rooftop below. It feels nice. He exhales, head resting back against the gravel. The various wounds across his body seem to be in the midst of knitting themselves back together, though he's clearly seen better days. That left arm is definitely not supposed to be at that angle, for instance!

"Oh, it is chillier than when I left…"

Yeah, Thor's kind of out of it right now.

*

The flailing Thor is met with something akin to alarm as he can't seem to get up and the mythical hammer that he usually holds is not helping anything, either. Peggy gives Thor a look when he mentions giant hole and then giant demon. "That's where you went?" He left an incredibly cryptic note as to where he was going and why he was going to be missing. There was no return date. After a month or so, she debated whether he was ever going to return and claim the collection of swords and weapons that he managed to stash in random places about the apartment.

Her eyes catch the left arm's improper angle and she blinks a few times. "I'd hate to see the other guy," she tells him. Finally, she moves for the hammer, trying to figure out a way to get it off of him so that he can finally sit up and she can help him back downstairs.

Frowning, she decides to shove it rather than lift it. Hopefully that will dislodge it and he can get to mending. "You've been gone for months, Thor. It's winter now."

*

There's not too much from Thor at the moment. He seems to be gradually coming back around, but the moment is more about Peggy Carter and the Hammer. She moves for it, the intent to shove.

It's like pushing a wall. It doesn't want to move - it almost seems to be actively moving AGAINST the Spymaster's hands as she shoves. Yet her persistence, her resolve, her dash cunning…

Mjolnir shifts. One side of its face glows blue, briefly.

The mortal succeeds.

The Hammer topples off of Thor, and he gasps in a bigger, deeper breath. His good arm moves, as if on instinct, to cradle the haft of the weapon protectively. The glow has faded from the majestic weapon — whatever was that?

"Oh, by Odin's beard, you do not want to see the other guy," he groans the words out, turning to his side, intent on rising. "Has the fat man with his sack come yet?"

*

Determined, Peggy shoves against the Hammer. She is not a person who is going to give up that easily, especially not when this thing is crushing her friend and roommate. It has not escaped her notice that he was being pinned by it and therefore that might mean he cannot lift it any more. However, now doesn't seem to be the time to bring that up.

Planting her feet, she squares her shoulders and shoves, curious about the blue light that emanates from one side of the hammer before it topples off of the Asgardian and onto the floor of the roof. Taking a few deep breaths, she settles back onto her heels and studies Thor.

"We should get you downstairs, set your arm." Peggy stands and then leans over to try and help the man to standing. She'll pull him up by his good side if she can. "We can come back for your Hammer in a moment."

His question about the fat man is met with a curious look and then the meaning hits her. "Oh! No. You've got about a month till Christmas. Who did you fight that put you in such a state?"

*

There's a minor struggle there as he's brought back to his feet - Thor clearly wants to take the hammer with him, but Peggy is quite insistent. Ultimately she wins, and takes some of his rather substantial weight. While he looks bulky to begin with, he's even heavier than he appears. His good arm goes about her shoulders, and he'll be led away from Mjolnir.

"You will have to tell me what it is that you wish for Yule. A fine log to burn perhaps? I will find the finest tree. Perhaps the one they put up in the town square?" He must mean the one at the Plaza. "Or perhaps you wish for the plumpest pork?"

If one didn't know any better, it would sound like Thor was evading that last question! Yet he feels like he should offer something to the mortal roommate he calls friend. "His name is Surtur. He has a very large blade which he enjoys hurting people with. I have… given him pause, for now."

His lips shut. He isn't hiding anything.

*

Him holding a Hammer in a broken arm is not what Peggy considers a good idea and she also doesn't want a hammer hitting against her as she tries to drag the heavy Asgardian Prince down the stairs. It's certainly slow going, as the Agent of SHIELD is strong, but she's not exactly a weight lifter.

Down the stairs they go and she finally deposits him on a stool in the kitchen by the divider. The question about what she would like for Yule is met with a raised eyebrow. "It's easy to get me a gift. The pork sounds nice, however I would settle for some straight answers." She is a spymaster, after all, she can tell when someone is evading a question far less obviously than Thor is doing right now.

"Surtur. You haven't been fighting him this entire time, have you?" The questions keep coming as she grabs her first aid kit and then returns. Pulling out bandages and disinfectant, she starts to go to work. While she's not a nurse, she was on a battlefield for years: she has done her own share of combat triage.

First, she goes to the broken arm and starts to place it back into its proper place. While she's not attempting to hurt him, she certainly doesn't have the most gentle healing touch. Generally she's used to making these injuries, not treating them.

"And you're saying he's still out there?"

*

"Ah," Thor sounds as he sits down on the stool. He breathes a sigh of relief, head lulling as he takes in the interior of the apartment he was calling 'home' not that long ago. He most definitely did not make a face akin to a petulant child as she tells him she wants answers.

Except he did, of course.

And as she returns with the kit, she'll see Thor moving his arm about, wobbling it like a sausage, on the verge of laughing at the limb.

Asgardians. Really.

Looking up as he sees her return, he seems to be indeed a touch full of seasonal mirth. He even helps the triage by holding his broken bones in place. "Do not mistake me, this hurts like Hel," he says, "but there is something damn funny about this. I will need mead. Please."

His expression sobers somewhat as her questions are still there, floating, waiting to be answered. "You may want one also. I do not know how long I have been gone for. In certain realms, time flows differently. I have been to several since I left. A good deal of it was spent fighting."

Those dazzling blues will seek out Peggy's rather less exciting brown. His follow-up is electric. "And yes, Surtur remains on his throne. He will come again, soon."

*

Of course he did. Peggy lived with Thor long enough that she knows exactly the kind of look he was going to give her when she insisted he talk to her about where he had been.

For a moment, she stops and watches the wobbling arm with something akin to confusion and horror as he seems to think that his wobble-arm is funny. Setting the box down, she pours a glass from the cask he left behind. It's only a little more depleted from before he left. She's no Asgardian, a little of that stuff can really knock her out. Request fulfilled, she sets it down right next to his good arm. A smaller glass is poured for herself.

Then, she gets to work on the arm and bandaging everything into a proper shape. "You've been gone about five months. I was starting to get worried." She listens to his rather abbreviated story as to where he's been and frowns. "Were you searching for something? Or was this more of a jaunt?"

She doubts that getting the tar kicked out of him counts as fun, but then again it is hard to tell with the Prince of Asgard. Knowing that the guy that caused this much damage to Thor is still around and will come again soon does not sound good. "Is he coming here?"

*

The mead is set down. One of Thor's mighty hands seizes it, and he knocks it back like the shot of proverbial medicine it is. It's timed well - he hides his grimace of pain as Peggy tends to his arm. He covers it further by wiping at his mouth with the back of his arm. Did he just bite his bracer? Surely not.

"Five months? By the legs of Kelda, it has felt much longer." The grimace is not hidden now, out in the open for all to see. The fingers of his good hand drum on the kitchen counter. "It started as a simple fetch quest, yes, but it turned out to be something more. As usual, the quest giver - Odin, my father - did not give me all the information I needed at the time."

The hand waves, an attempt at dismissal. "To cut a long story short, there were elves, three dragons, a gladiator tournament, two jousts, one planet-destroying wave, and finally Surtur."

The name sobers him right up once more.

"I do not think he has his eyes on this realm. As always, he wishes to destroy Asgard, though in his quest he may venture to any of the Nine Realms. Know this, Peggy Carter. I will not allow him to bring harm to Midgard."

Easy for him to say, considering he just /lost/ to the demon.

He says it with conviction, but the fire in his eyes doesn't last.

"I may, however, need some help."

*

Focusing on setting Thor's arm, Peggy doesn't look up to Thor until everything is properly splinted and bandaged. With his advanced healing, he'll hopefully not have to deal with the bandages as long as a mortal might, but it should keep everything roughly in the proper place until his body properly mends itself.

Once everything is tied tightly, she steps back. Pouring her friend another draft, she sets it down next to him again and then goes to work on the scrapes and cuts with a cloth and the disinfectants. "Figure it out as you go sort of mission?" Now that the most attention consuming part of his treatment is over, she glances up at him with a raised eyebrow. "I had COs that were quite the same. Though, their actions were generally more biased in an attempt to get me out of active duty. I doubt that is your father's plan."

The description about what he went through is met with a few blinks. "A planet destroying wave?" That certainly doesn't sound good. "How did you survive that?"

It certainly sounds like Thor has been through a lot in the time since he left that note. A bit of a smile is given as he promises he won't allow Surtur to destroy Midgard. "Us Midgardian's appreciate that. We have a vested interest in the place, after all. I'm sure we will be glad to help you against him to help Asgard, as well."

*

"My father has terrible foresight," Thor critiques, though that may just be a bad joke concerning the one-eyed leader of Asgard. The second drink he nurses, as Peggy continues to be ever so kind. "I would not worry too much about the scrapes, they will mend before I awake in the morning," he points out with a shrug. Asgardians, y'know?

"As for the wave," he says after a healthy gulp, "you simply start a counter-wave. It helps to have a very powerful relic that can spin fast enough to do so…"

Trailing off there, Thor's head leans to one side, and he glances up at the ceiling. The mug is placed down, and his hand extends out. Something begins to move across the rooftop. A moment passes, two, three. Finally, the God of Thunder lets his hand return to the mug, a tight frown tugging at his battered, beautiful face.

"Hmph."

Something might be going on there, but he changes the topic back to where it was. "I thank you in advance, friend, for your aid in the future and also here tonight. If I may be so bold as to assume I have not been replaced, I will retire shortly."

He stands, as if to do just that - and ideally his room isn't full of boxes and storage now. He pauses, mug near his mouth, to regard Peggy, giving her a critical once-over, which looks just charming with a swollen eye. "I trust you are skilled with sword and shield, much like Steven Rogers? Or is it the bow that you favor, given your tendency for the metal pellet thrower?"

*

Peggy, at least, gets the joke. Though she's never met Odin, she knows the legends. When Thor says to not mind the scrapes, she raises an eyebrow and then continues. She started on this and she's stubborn enough to keep going. She doesn't usually - if ever - do the nurse bit, so she'll see it through to the end.

It doesn't take very long for everything to be seen to and once that's done, she steps back and starts to put everything away. "That seems simple enough," she grins at how he defeated a planet destroying wave. She catches that look up toward the ceiling and she gives him a studying glance of her own. "Is everything alright between you and Mjolnir?" It's as if she's asking about his significant other. Of course, Mjolnir sort of qualifies in that realm.

The thanks are met with a nod and a wave of her hand. "We're friends. And your room is still there. Perhaps a few shotguns in the corner, but that was merely because I was cleaning out the closet. Feel free to leave them out in the hall."

His assessment to her fighting ability is met with a skeptical look. "I don't believe I've ever seen Steve use a sword, however I have some practice with a shield. An arrow is not exactly my forte either, no. I'm best with a gun and a right hook. I did once knock a man unconscious with a stapler, however."

*

"Yes everything is fine between Mjolnir and me, why would it not be?" Thor is a little /too/ defensive there, his intent to depart momentarily given a setback. "I simply… did not wish to destroy the doors or the windows to call the Hammer right now."

While that makes sense, it's clear that it's a little bit of a sore point.

Sporting many of those, he does them no good when he starts to laugh at Peggy's claim to fame. "One of the-hee-small contraptions that-hee-place paper against paper? My word, Margaret Carter, you are a true danger."

The laughter subsides, and he places a fist into his side, the grimace plain. "My ribs cannot take another battering like that. We will begin sword training with all due haste, as soon as I am well. If you have a favorite sword, feel free to bring it. I will move the guns of shooting out into the hall."

The mug is lifted in a salute, and Thor ambles off towards the hall, to sleep like the future king he is.

"You can tell me if there have been any developments in your love life in the morning."

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