Holy delayed update, Batman!

Happy New Years everyone. Thank you for the reviews, now enjoy.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Chapter Four

Thor stood beside his father, arms crossed along his chest. T'was the following morn and the conclusion of yesterday's meeting would shortly commence. Everyone had assembled, excluding Tony and Barton. They were mingling quietly, voices tight with unease about the topic to be discussed.

Glancing to his father, he noted the irritation gathering at the corner of his mouth. They had been waiting an hour already for the small man. Thor pressed his lips grimly. Tony was not making a good second first opinion… The thunder god sighed discreetly. He liked Tony, truly. But he certainly wasn't ingratiating himself to Odin at all. Barton certainly wasn't endearing himself either.

The loose silence lasted for 20 minutes more before Odin firmly called, "Barton," causing more than a few to jump in surprise.

Everyone gathered turned to address the All Father. His glare deepened at the far wall. With pursed lips he continued, "Where is Barton and where is Anthony Stark?"

Thor shifted his weight, looking about himself. "Perhaps they have lost track of time? I sensed camaraderie between them, even at this early stage."

Steve sniffed, not amused. "That does not excuse them from meetings."

Thor twisted to look his fellow man in the eyes. "I did not say that, merely a possibility."

Odin tapped Gungnir against the ground. "Speculation does us no favors. We cannot delay much longer. We must find them. Natasha!"

The red head bowed her head, "Sir?"

He waved her along. "Head out. Find them both. Bring them here. Promptly."

She nodded once and turned to leave when the door burst open. All eyes turned to the newcomer. Odin straightened in surprise. "Tyr? Rare is it that you grace these halls. What may I do you?"

Tyr bowed his head in greeting, before glaring harshly. "I bring ill news, All Father. I know of where your men were yesterday." Tyr's eyes darkened. Many present glanced to one another in worry. "This foolish man of yours, your general Clint Barton, took your newest general to Thviti, to the Vánagandr himself."

Everyone present froze, incredulous and terrified glances were cast about eventually falling on Odin. His voice was deafening in the silence. "What?"

Tyr's thin lips pressed more firmly together, a nod his answer. "Aye. When I confronted them, your general," he clenched his fist, a hiss escaping gritted teeth. "Barton ran away like a coward. Leaving the unknowing mortal behind to fend for himself!"

Odin's grip upon Gungnir tightened, the creaking of leather sounding loudly in the room. Thor felt icy dread and shock run down his spine.

Tyr stepped closer to the All Father, a despaired frown upon his brow and arms spread in a placating matter. "The man; Anthony Stark… He went into the mountain. He entered Thviti and down into the ground."

Odin's eye widened as scandalous whispers bounced about the room. Thor's arms fell from across his chest, fear churning in his gut. "What?" Thor stepped forwards, skin cold and clammy. "Tyr, tell me you jest."

The harsh glare sent his way silenced Thor. Tyr grit out, "I would never jest about something this dire. I followed him down, until there was no light and further. I went to the beast himself and not once did I find him."

Steve muttered a curse as Bruce swiped at his glasses with the edge of his tunic. Tyr looked into the eyes of everyone and settled on Odin. "I fear you have already lost your general my liege."

.:.:.:.:.

Clint hopped up onto a higher branch, the tree creaking with his added weight. "I swear to god I've been up, down and all around this godforsaken forest. Where are you, Tony?" His intense gaze alighted on everything. Every spec of dust that seemed disturbed was placed under intense scrutiny. The archer would miss nothing should there be anything.

With a tremendous yawn, Barton leapt down to the forest floor, running further into the foliage. All evening, night, and morning had he searched for Tony with no results. Clint scanned the horizon, desperate but steady.

The Nine forbid him return without word or hair of Tony. Clint paled at the thought… He couldn't bare the thought of Odin and his wrath. Been there done that, thank you. He leapt over a small gorge and continued on his way.

… How in all of Asgard had he lost one man? One so outgoing and annoyingly loud as Tony?! He pursed his lips. "… God damn it." He'd just have to keep looking then, wouldn't he?

.:.:.:.:.

It was hot, it was cold; the room span in circles and yet never moved. Why, Tony believed he was going mad. Was he sweating? Yes, he was sweating and thirsty. Tony panted for air, completely delirious.

The rim of something cool and solid touched his lips and his head was lifted a bit. Cold water flowed into his mouth and he greedily drank. Far too soon for his liking, the glass was pulled away and he was lain back down with a whiny grunt.

He was once more whisked away by strange dreams and flashes of green light.

.:.:.:.:.

Herja knocked upon the door before slipping inside. Her father and many of his warriors turned to her. She bowed her head in respect and lowered to one knee. "All Father."

He distractedly bade her rise, so she did. Herja was surprised to see Tyr amongst the warriors assembled. Odin continued whatever conversation was being held. "Are you certain of this? Are you certain there was no sign of him? That he has fallen?"

Tyr nodded once. "I saw no answer to either death nor life. But the dread wolf is great and terrible."

Herja felt worry grip her breast. Moving closer to her brother Thor, examining his grim face. "Brother," she nodded in greeting and it was returned. She stood beside him, arms upon hips. "What has passed? Why is Odin so harried?"

Thor looked to her from the corner of his eyes. "… We believe Tony Stark has fallen to the dread wolf."

Worry was a vice around her throat, her heart a gallop. "The Nine help us," she turned to her brother. "Are they certain?"

He shook his head firmly in the negative. "That is what Odin and Tyr discuss right now. But knowing what we know of Vánagandr…" haunted eyes looked into her own. "His prospects are grim."

Herja gripped her hips tighter, eyes burning a hole into the floor. Odin spoke up. "And what of Barton? Have you seen hide or hair of him since?"

"Nay," Tyr said with purpose. "I have not. I did search for him after I was unable to find Tony. If he ran to hide, he has buried himself well within the forest. Perhaps the help of Heimdall is required?"

Odin opened his mouth to answer when a giant boom shook the room. Everyone froze, surprise causing hesitation and confusion. All was silent.

Fandral shifted around, knees bent and hands at the ready. "Alright! Any ideas as to wha—"

Another, louder boom crashed the room around, knocking all off their feet. Valhalla shook with deafening screeches. Scrambling to his or her feet, everyone ran to the adjoining balcony.

Herja felt the blood drain from her face. "By the Nine…" she whispered in horror. A giant chasm cracked the furthest wall of Valhalla, pieces falling to the ground surrounding and Asgard was on fire. Asgardians—looking all but ants from this distance—scurried around. The sounds of distant screams teased her ears, another crater at the edge of the city burned with red, red fire. Men with silver and green bodies and shambling steps emerged from the holocaust. Swords that glowed blue and staffs that shot blasts began firing indiscriminately.

Odin's aura changed into a deadly miasma. "Steve, Bruce, Natasha… Gather your troops. Evacuate all civilians that you can, defeat those who get in your way. "The generals bowed and left the room, Steve spouting additional orders. "Herja, gather your sisters, you shall be the first wave. Enter the city and destroy all enemies. Protect this city."

Herja nodded and began striding towards the door. She heard Odin continue," Thor you and your warriors protect the innermost circle; protect Valhalla and its courts. Tyr, go to the destruction upon Valhalla. Check for survivors, destroy everything else."

As she opened the door and began down the hallway, Odin's voice echoed down the hall. "No mercy."

.:.:.:.:.

Distant concussions drew Clint's attention back into the direction of Asgard. Glancing from his high perch upon the mountain, he observed for any clues. At the sight of black smoke rising into the air, he cursed. "Well, that can't be good."

Looking back towards the forest, he turned towards Asgard and began hopping and sliding down the mountain. "… Sorry Tony, Asgard comes first. I really hope you're okay though, you son of a bitch." The archer dodged about trees and made his way as fast as possible back to the city that needed him, eyes alert for any threat.

.:.:.:.:.

A voice tsk'd and the sounds of footsteps leaving echoed around in Tony's head. Green lights danced about and shadows grabbed at the rays, forming a strange fever induced puppet show within his mind's eye. Tony couldn't stop chuckling, tiny serpents lazily swirling with quiet hisses. Or… that could have been a kettle whistling.

Was that tea he smelled? Warm hands lifted his head once more, dancing lightly across his chin and propping open his lips and a different solid rim from before pressed against his flesh. Hot fluid swam into his mouth, trickling down his lax throat. That's when something strange began to pick at Tony's scattered attention.

His heart was pounding, throbbing against his ribs really. He began positively dripping sweat and his limbs ached and twitched, a hefty drawn out whine slipping past clenched teeth. And then the heat spiked in his chest and Tony gasped, his heavy lids all but popping open. He practically leapt from where he lay as if it were on fire, a breathy "Whoa!" gusting from him.

His fingers danced about his ribs as he felt for damage, heaving in air like he was starved for it, heart a mile a minute, eyes shifty and everywhere at once. "Oh my god, wha-what the hell was in that?!"

Tony paced like a caged animal, unable to stand still.

A smooth voice called from the shadows. "T'was a spell. To induce an excited state with copious amounts of energy."

Tony's eyes flicked everywhere, scanning everything and hands continuously rubbing at his chest, fingernails scratching at the edge of the arc reactor. "Are you telling me you forced me into an adrenaline rush? What good would fight or flight do a fevered man?"

The voice spoke, full of wry amusement. "Not quite. It's more comparable to that of ingesting too many sweets."

That forced Tony to stop, and stare at the shadows, eyes wide and twitching involuntarily. "So what you're saying is… you more or less gave me a sugar high?!"

"… More or less."

Tony shook his head side to side and began pacing once more. "Well jee, Mr. Mysterioso, did ya think about how the come down would effect me?! I gotta-I gotta worry about the crash! Oh god." Tony abruptly stopped his frantic pacing and looked to the shadows in fright. "I need to keep my high going until this fevers breaks or else I'm gonna be worse for it after. Do you have any glucagon shots?!"

The voice shifted as the man moved, a wicked smile present in every syllable. "I do believe you are overrea—"

"Overreacting?! I'm gonna crash, then I'm gonna-gonna burn, and then I'm gonna be nothing but a stick of charcoal. And all you tall ass Asgardians are gonna use me as the royal writing utensil and use my face to write down the names of people who-died-in-crazy-stupid-ways! I can see it now; first name on the list: Tony Stark!" Tony spoke so fast, his words slurred together as he paced wildly. His eyes filled with water and he stopped and grabbed roughly at his hair. With a sob, he whispered. "I don't wanna be a pencil…"

When his addled mind settled enough, he took note of the odd texture around his head. Feeling along his forehead, he felt soft fabric caressing his skin. "And why am I wearing a headband? Were the woman shirts not good enough?! Is someone trying to make a statement about me?!"

A solid hand snagged onto his shoulder with an annoyed hiss right before Tony was yanked backwards to sit back in his original placement. The voice from the shadows continued irately as Tony lamented the loss of his masculinity.

"If you would quiet and listen, your baseless fears would be assuaged. If you had heard me in the beginning of this mess—which is highly doubtful considering you seem to like the sound of your own voice to that of the sound of reason—you would know that it was a spell which caused you to be in this… highly annoying and frenzied state. You will have no adverse effects to your person once it wears off, as the purpose was to force you to break your fever.

"But, due to current circumstances, I regret even considering the spell work. You were preferable slumbering halfway to death…"

Tony cast a glare at the ground, not looking up from his panic driven shock. The man continued in the background, voice wavering in closeness as he moved about the room. "As for the supposed 'headband' upon your brow… it is not an accessory, but dressings. During your incredibly stupid escapades before reaching my domain you battered your skull. There was an abrasion along your hairline and temple. There is a salve to help it heal. The bandage is there to keep it clean and the salve in place."

Irritated, Tony lifted his head to curse the insulting man and pulled up short, mouth still open wide and heart galloping now for more reasons than adrenaline. Hazy memories of green eyes staring coldly at him sprawled on an icy floor floated through his hyperactive mind.

Black hair like ink tumbled around shoulders incasing a thin frown and aristocratic features. Tony couldn't help it, really he couldn't. He blurted before he could stop himself, "You're pretty."

The mysterious man's green eyes shot wide in surprise, head jerking back. He blinked owlishly before sneering in Tony's direction. "And now it appears that I did not take into account possible brain damage. You are repeating yourself."

Tony's brows furrowed as he shivered wildly, feeling his heart begin to slow down its wild race but mind still running in infinite directions. "Really, I am? Oh god, I'm calling people pretty. That's such a rookie mistake. Please tell me I didn't attempt to hold your hand and wax poetic about your delicious body."

The Asgardian's sneer deepened. "I do not care for your satire. It is pointless."

Tony smirked suavely, head tilting just so—that sweet spot that he knew made people swoon and lust, what made him look boyishly handsome. "Oh, so I'll take that as a no I didn't…. Did you want me to?"

The man leaned further away and frowned deeper. "You are far beneath me, mortal."

Tony's eyes brightened in mischief, having far too much fun teasing the bewildered male. "I wouldn't mind being beneath you; or over you, I'm not picky and oh so… flexible."

The dark man's eyebrows cocked at the sheer audacity. "Let it be known that you are not shy with your statements, mortal man. You would do well to reign yourself in. There are many who would sooner cut out your tongue than suffer your idiocy."

Tony pouted obscenely. "Aaw, but it's such a talented tongue." Tony pulled back at the terrifying glare thrown in his direction. Shaking his head to clear it, he rubbed at the bandages swathed around his skull. "Sorry," he stated in mild confusion and realization. "I become an awful horn dog flirt when I'm high. And currently I'm high off spell sugar and endorphins. Shit, even I can tell how cheesy and awful those lines were. Ugh, god put me out of my misery!"

Tony hid his face in his hands as he heard boot steps approach him. "That could be arranged. I'd be more than happy to oblige. Tony glared at the smug look tossed his direction.

"I bet you don't have many friends with that cuddly wuddly disposition of yours," Tony quipped heatedly.

The tall man instantly returned fire, "And I would wager that you chase everyone else off with your insistent blather."

Touché, good lookin'. Tony smirked from behind his palms, a mental count beginning. He'd have to step up to his A-game. He would not lose this battle of wits. It was in this moment of clarity—when the rush from the spell had worn off—that Tony realized something. "Hey!"

The Asgardian turned his attention back to Tony with a moue of absolute dourness. "And manners would go a long way in finding that which you seek, fool. I tire of your continued impudence in my presence."

With an exaggerated air, Tony regally swept to his feet. "Oh, I'm so sorry, your Royal Assface." He mockingly bowed deeply, as the Asgardian mouthed the mockery in disbelief. "Let me practice my curtsies and Shakespearian speech. Ahem! … 'The lady doth protest too much, methinks.'"

A wicked grin split Tony's face as the disgust grew distinguished on the other male.

A sibilant whisper harshly caressed his ears. "What care I for your pointless Midgardian sonnets?"

Tony's brows raised in pleasant surprise. "Oh? But obviously you know what it is. Your statement incriminates you."

The green eyes narrowed as the taller man stalked threateningly towards Tony. To Tony's surprise, he felt heated interest tingle up his spine, causing his toes to curl against the cold stone—when did he lose his shoes?!—and his pupils to dilate. The air was charged with tension and danger and Tony was becoming high once more but with the surrealism of it all. The Asgardian was so close; Tony could practically taste the malice coming from the other man. It tickled the part of him that craved the thrill of peril and uncertainty. The taller man bared his teeth and snarled.

"You play a foolish game that you know not the consequences of." He stepped closer and froze. His eyes shot huge as he took in Tony's face and close position. With an abortive step back, he put some distance between them, eyes shooting from one point on Tony to another. "… Far too assertive. Brash, foolish. You will be dead before your time."

With a dashing smile, Tony rested his palms on his hips. "I've been told that a few times before. But enough of how devilishly irresistible I am!" A flat look was shot his direction as tall, dark, and handsome attempted to put some more distance between them. It was obvious he knew that Tony was purposefully being obtuse. "But, before we shot off on this oh so stimulating tangent… I wanted to know your name."

The loose shoulders tensed visibly as he hunched in on himself. Suspicious eyes turned to glare over one broad shoulder. "… And why would you need to know that?"

Tony shrugged. "Well, to thank you properly for saving my life." At the blank look, Tony rolled his eyes and scratched at his—oh god, it was going to overgrow his face! —still incredibly itchy beard. He glared back. "Look, I realize that I don't seem capable of humility. But there's a couple seconds everyday that I'm allotted to show someone else how thankful I am. And this little spiel you're making me spit out is eating up your precious few seconds."

The Asgardian had the audacity to turn around and stare him in the eye before smirking beatifically; beatifically in a worn and tarnished sense. His poisonous lips opened and words as dark as curses poured forth. "You needn't worry yourself over my name, mortal. T'is a curse upon this land and all who deem it unworthy of being spoken. Keep your thanks and spare yourself your very long winded breath."

Cold, tired eyes glanced him up and down as a green glow incased a slim palm. "I doubt we shall ever lay eyes upon one another again." His hand abruptly pressed to Tony's chest, right below the arc reactor. With a great sense of vertigo—Jesus, not again—Tony pitched backwards with a terrified yelp and fell into green tinged blackness.

Ugh! I hate Asgard!

.:.:.:.:.

Mayhem, it was complete mayhem. Herja leapt from the shoulders of one fallen foe and rolled under the swipe of another's sword. Stabbing upwards, she slammed her shield behind her to incapacitate the enemy behind her long enough for her to pull her sword from the gut before her and into the fool she had just knocked senseless.

It was ceaseless; they were not prepared for this at all. The civilians were not forewarned enough. She stepped over bodies of innocents and felt such disgust. Who could find themselves above reproach enough to slaughter the young and the meek? Slaughter those that could not defend themselves?

She danced around mace swings and spear stabs, she parried and struck and blocked with all the finesse years of servitude and practice could hone. A lucky shot grazed her arm with a pronounced sting. In retaliation she twisted and slammed the butt of her sword into the temple of the pale warrior. He fell like a pile of stones and did not move again. She paused to look at the fallen enemy. These creatures did not bleed, but sparked. Their joints crackled blue and lightning bolts spat from limbs when they were severed. Their husks crushed like metal, not like flesh and bone. Growling, she leapt over the body. These metal men…

Running towards Valhalla to thin the herds, she caught glimpses of Thor knocking down countless foes with Mjolnir, the static of electricity thinning the air. Shockwaves pulsed the ground with each strike. His warriors and lady Sif, were near by downing foe after foe, all moving in synchronization. It was a thing of awful beauty and she was proud to call them shield brothers and sister.

Herja cried out in alarm as the ground below her feet bulged and exploded, flinging her quite a distance, a horrid pain blooming from her brow. She unsteadily climbed to her feet as a behemoth of a metal man climbed up before her, monstrous in height and mass. She staggered forwards, tightening her grip on her sword and shield with a grit of her teeth, attempting to focus her swimming eyes on the obstacle before her.

Shit. She vaguely took note of fallen Valkyrie sisters' heads strewn about in a macabre chain on his waist. Rage and fury and despair filled her massive shriek, a flash of lightning answering the call. Tears poured from her eyes as she leapt at this animal, so intent on avenging her sisters. A massive glowing blue axe came down, knocking her sword clean from her grip and shattering her wrist with the force. Crying out in pain, she staggered back and to her knees.

Glaring death upon his blank face, a random thought passed her worn mind. Tony Stark… I hope you are faring better wherever you are… if you still live.

And then she leapt to her feet once more to finish this, switching to her other hand.

.:.:.:.:.

Steve ran through the ruins, hunting for more cornered civilians, hoping to find more than he currently had found. It all happened so fast; they were unable to reach everyone. Now it was just damage control with Asgardian lives the collateral. His lips pinched together in anger, eyes searching frantically for any life. He hefted countless rubble as he yanked women after child after elder from the piles. The sounds of fighting and pained screams filled his ears.

He ran through the wreckage, tossing his shield like a boomerang, knocking the heads off several foes. Tucking and rolling behind a fallen wall, Steve looked about for his fellow generals. He spotted Natasha weaving through the shadows, blades shining like lethal lights before plunging into the sides of enemies. Bruce was a violent, green roar surrounded by smashing and screeches.

With his attention distracted, Steve didn't see the man sneaking up behind him, a glowing sword raised with deadly intent. Just as it began its descent, the high whiz of a projectile sounded followed by the crunch of contact. Steve swirled around, shield lifted in defense, before relaxing. He kicked the man away as he fell, an arrow embedded deep within his forehead, sparks flying from the puncture.

Rising to his feet, Steve slung the shield onto his back just as Clint dropped onto the roof above him. The blonde smirked in relief and pointed at the archer. "Good timing." A frown swiftly followed. "Where have you been? How could you leave Tony like that?"

Clint winced as he climbed to a higher perch. "I know… I thought that he had followed me out there." Hefting himself into a view with as much visual as possible, he began firing off rapid shots, gaze directed to Steve. The groans of foes falling sounded around them. "I've spent the whole time since then searching for him in that damned forest. Once I heard the explosions I returned here."

Steve bashed a man down, stomping on his head. Natasha rolled into view with a knife buried into the neck of another. She gracefully rose and stalked toward her fellow generals. "Tony went into the mountain. Tyr believes Fenrir ate him."

Clint paled, firing one more arrow. "Shit."

She stared up at him blankly. "Yeah. Shit."

Steve shook his head in shame. Meeting the gaze of the archer he sighed. "For your sake, Clint. Let's hope he didn't eat Tony and that he turns up eventually… as he is wont to do."

Clint dropped down to the ground besides him, moving to another position, picking up arrows as he went, muttering. "… No kidding."

.:.:.:.:.

"Holy mother of GOD!" Tony cried as he flew through the air before crashing face first into the ground. Bouncing with the momentum, he flipped and rolled, slowly sliding to a stop upon his back. Heaving for air, lungs bruised and winded, Tony laid there unable to move. "N-note to self," he gasped. "Never piss off… green eyed divas."

As he tried to catch his breath, and do physical inventory—spine? Hurts like a sonuva bitch. Legs? Tingly but manageable. Head? Swimming. Oh boy that was fun. Face? Ow—the sounds of combat floated to him. With a massive groan, he flopped over onto his stomach, fingers gingerly rubbing at his bloody nose.

"I swear to god if that bastard ruined my face… Gorgeous or no! …. He's a dead man." Sniffling against the steady stream from his nose, the metallic taste washing down the back of his throat, he unsteadily rose to his feet. Looking around him, he took in his surroundings.

"Okay, so tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Treeee and tree. Beautiful. Captain, it appears I'm in some kind of forest!" Rubbing at his scruffy and grimy chin, Tony wondered which direction was the correct direction… He might also have been having a mini meltdown over how absolutely repulsive he felt.

An explosion far into the distance caught his attention once more. Brown eyes stared off that way. Smart people would go the opposite way. Geniuses would know that that meant people and people meant civilization, albeit civilization amidst violent bloody dispute. Thank god almighty that Tony was a genius, right?

Turning towards the sounds, Tony began limping. Ripping a strip from his dirty, torn and basically garbage shirt to help stem the bleeding from his nose. He didn't need to look anymore like a beaten up hobo, thank you very much. Using trunks to help stabilize his steps on the uneven and slightly treacherous terrain, he slowly made his way back towards what he hoped was Asgard.

Dreaming of a nice long shower and an extra long coma-esque nap, Tony staggered through the forest. Swiping at his nose with the strip of fabric, he hissed. "Man, I'm really starting to hate this place." Looking left and right, assuming he was going the right way but uncertain, he huffed. "And I really miss Jarvis… Where the hell am I at? How far…? Damn it, I need my things. Tired of being beaten up… and lost."

Another explosion sounded, much louder than the last. Encouraged, Tony picked up the pace, tripping over hidden roots in his haste. He'd lost track of how long he'd been wandering through the forest, but at the first sight of the thinning of trees, he grew even more heartened. Stumbling out the copse, he stood blinking the bright light of day from his tired eyes, leaning away from intense heat. Shielding his eyes as best he could, he frantically looked about.

Dirtied and bloodied people of all ages were running from the city, some half crawling, others pulling themselves along by their fingers. "Holy shit!"

Tony rushed forwards and began hefting people to their feet, pulling others along as best he could with his smaller stature. Countless hands held onto him, thankful words of appreciation as they tried to help him too. And he kept staggering back, grabbing more and more, as many as he could. So many, too many, Asgardians lay upon the ground unmoving with halos of red.

Tony grit his teeth and soldiered on, ignoring the anger for the moment; there were people who needed him. When the sounds of blasts and lasers firing drew closer, he turned in worry towards the burning city. A robot burst through the wall of a half collapsed building, its gaze turning to them. Filled with surprise, Tony choked. "Doombots? What?"

The Doombot raised its energy sword—that was so new!—and drew closer. With mounting horror, Tony jumped in front of the Asgardians wishing with everything he was that he had his armor. As the Doombot grew closer, its head suddenly went flying as a shield flew through it and lodged into the tree right beside Tony. "Oh my god!" He staggered backwards, falling to his bottom. "Holy shit!"

Steve jumped through the wreckage of the wall the Doombot had originally entered from. Upon spying the decapitated bot and the unharmed Asgardians, Steve turned his focus to Tony and froze. "Tony?!" Haltingly running over to his fellow general, Steve snagged Tony's arm and hefted him to his feet, blue eyes bright with relief and concern. "Jesus Tony, you are beat to pieces! What in the Nine happened to you?"

Tony could only stare at the husk at his feet in confusion. Shaking his head, Tony slowly turned to Steve. "Why is a Doombot here?"

The blonde's brow furrowed in confusion as well, before solidifying into a harsh frown. "You know who did this? Whose man this is?"

Tony nodded, dazedly, all the trauma catching up with him again as the adrenaline left him high and dry. "Well yeah, Dr. Doom. But how did he get to Asgard?"

Steve pursed his lips and lifted one of Tony's arms over his shoulder. "Come with me. We need to take you to Odin, he needs to know." Tony nodded his ascent and as they passed the defeated bot, Tony watched it with unease as Steve yanked his shield from the bark of the tree. He continued watching as familiar blue electricity crackled about the metal sporadically, the bot spasming with it.

What was going on?!

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

1. Thviti was the stone used to keep the post that holds Fenrir in place. It is said that Fenrir is buried far below the surface. Made sense to me that the stone that holds him in place is also what he is buried beneath.

2. So begins the action/adventure of this story. Don't worry, it gets crazier. And all will be explained! (Over time) Also, I used the color scheme from Fantastic Four, 2005 for the Doombots.

3. Did I do a good job portraying people? I feel like I'm awful at getting characters right. Please, let me know how I did.