So for those wondering what's going on with my other story - I've got to admit, I've been distracted, sorry. Here's what I've been distracted by...
On re-watching Thor: Raganrok, I realised during the arena fight with Hulk that Thor was either 1) naïve in thinking that the Grandmaster would honour his promise, or 2) bloodlusted or selfish in choosing to continue his fight with the Hulk once he accessed his powers. This story develops from those thoughts - what if Thor wasn't either of those things during that fight?
Bang!
Bang!
The Hulk's fists crashed into his head again and again, sending his helmet flying and dulling his vision.
Bang!
Bang!
The ringing in his ears increased and the arena faded from view - tough as he was, he couldn't take much more of this. Desperation made him turn to prayer.
Bang!
All-Father!
Bang!
All-Father - help! Please!
Bang!
And then his intercessions were answered. The familiar power gathered itself in his arm and he clenched his fist around trusty Mjölnir's handle and thrust upwards with all his strength -
With a ear-splitting blast, the Hulk soared upward on the point of a spear of lightning. As the green giant crashed back down onto the sand, Thor gathered himself in the depression he had been thumped into. His gaze went to his right hand -
- his empty right hand -
Where is Mjölnir? he wondered as he pushed himself to his feet. He could feel its restrained force in his hand; there was no mistaking it, not after a thousand years of wielding it…
And then the power surged forth through him, and he gazed in wonderment at the electrical discharges wreathing his hands and arms. Inside, he could feel a ferocious tempest gathering and through that, a connection to all the other storms raging around this benighted world…
…out to sea, a line of thunderstorms bearing down on a scavenger crew that was a little too late heading back to shore…
…a swirling typhoon battering the edge of a continent to the south…
…even the permanent storm that roiled a few miles distant from this stadium - and they all fed their power back to him.
He looked up; the Hulk had just got to his feet and was gathering himself in a ready pose and Thor realised that the green being, who had earlier threatened to beat him to a pulp, was now no match for the might he could tap into. Gathering himself and drawing just a little bit on that storm-force, Thor began his charge towards the Hulk -
- and his mind started working before he had completed the first step. Hulk is not your enemy! a voice cried in his head. Who is?
The Grandmaster, answered Thor as he ran.
So against whom is it best to apply your power? the voice asked again.
Between one stride and the next, Thor understood the magnitude of his error. He was acting as the uncouth, brawling prince of old, as he was when he stepped onto Jötunheim. He had left that person behind long ago - he was now king; he should think like a king, not like a boy, and kings considered the bigger picture.
Thor refocused on his surroundings. The Hulk was matching his charge, closing the distance fast, and to his right was the Grandmaster's box. Not stopping, Thor made a quick mental recalculation, then opened himself up to the storm-force and leapt. Caught by surprise, the Hulk copied his jump a second later.
Brunnhilde snorted in derision as Thor jumped. Too early. He'd come down feet first on the Hulk and no matter that he was now trailing lightning, he was still too light compared to the green monster. Hulk won't feel a thing.
Her mental critique of her fellow Asgardian's fighting style were interrupted by her ship rocking in the breeze, forcing her to scramble back from her perch deeper into the cockpit. "The hell?" she muttered under her breath as she fell into the control seat and studied the readouts. It normally took significant gusts to move her ship like that…
A rumble of thunder made her look up - and her eyes widened at the nastiest thunderhead she had ever seen building supernaturally fast above the stadium. "Oh, shit," she murmured, then slapped the engine-start switches before reaching for the rarely-used seat restraints.
Loki was plastered against the reverse-sloped window of the box, contorting himself to try and see where his damnable brother had got to after he'd bounced off the Beast. Said beast was stamping around the arena and also craning its head skywards, bellowing and shaking its fists as if Thor had robbed it of something. A good pasting at its hands, that's what, Loki thought sourly.
"How come we've never thought of this before?" the Grandmaster fretted, pacing in front of the couch, control wand tapping against his free palm. "We've had plenty of others try to escape, how come we never thought about someone leaving through the roof?"
"Because we've never had anyone who could fly before," Topaz answered coolly. "We made sure to eliminate anyone who we thought could."
The Grandmaster's eyes widened. "Good point," he replied, pointing his wand at her for emphasis, before turning and grabbing Loki's shoulder. "Why didn't you tell us your brother could fly?" he demanded.
Loki had to avert his gaze from the Grandmaster, lest the other man's comical attempt at a threatening look made the God of Mischief burst into laughter. Gathering his control, he made sure to let a hint of menace creep into his tone as he looked back up. "You never asked."
Their little staring contest was broken by a flicker of motion in the arena and they both turned to find that the Hulk had launched himself skywards. A moment later, he was smashed back into the arena's surface by a fat streak of lightning. Both Loki and the Grandmaster flinched back from the crash of sound it produced before looking up at the bolt's source.
Above the stadium, shredded and lightning-streaked black clouds swirled around, gathering up the hovering private aircraft. The wind swirling around the stands increased from breeze to whining gusts, and the crowds began to panic as a funnel began to descend from the centre of the spinning cloud base.
"Jesus Christ," Loki gasped, then slapped himself for using the Midgardian epithet. Beside him, the Grandmaster stared out of the window in slack-jawed silence.
The funnel descended further, rotating ever faster, and the wind whipped up the sand from the arena surface, forcing the Hulk to shield himself from the stinging grains. Finally, the clouds at the tip of the funnel parted to reveal Thor, cloak whipping in the wind, streamers of lightning writhing from his outspread arms and ankles, glowing eyes narrowed in rage. Loki's mind gibbered at the sight and the only coherent thought he could form was, I wonder if Mercury could sue him for copyright abuse? Then Thor drew his right arm back and both Loki and the Grandmaster leapt for the meagre shelter behind the couch.
Lightning exploded into the architrave at the top of the glass, but for all its power it only made a small gap. That was all that was needed, though: the wind barrelled into that gap and after a second, peeled the roof of the box back like the lid of a sardine can. The glass disintegrated into thousands of pieces which embedded themselves in the floor in front of the couch, but only to small relief for the box's occupants as stinging needles of rain pelted them instead. Loki could hear some faint cries above the scream of the wind but ignored them, making himself as small as possible and casting a cloak of invisibility around himself. On the other side of the couch, the Grandmaster was trying to doing the same but without the benefit of magic.
The Grandmaster wasn't sure just how long had passed before he became aware of footsteps slowly crunching through the glass shards. His head jerked up as he realised who it could be and he turned to the only ally he could have against this demon -
"Loki?" The Grandmaster whispered, staring at the empty space where he was sure his companion had been. "Loki!" he repeated, raising himself onto one knee, before remembering just why he was behind the couch -
A powerful hand grabbed the scruff of his neck and jerked him upright. Paralysed and with eyes screwed shut, he sobbed in terror as he was spun around and - brushed…down…?
Puzzlement replaced some of his fear and the Grandmaster cracked open an eye to find his erstwhile contender giving him a crooked smile, hands on hips as if pleased with his work. He remained frozen, wide-eyed and open-mouthed as Thor plucked his control wand from nerveless fingers before clapping him on the shoulder and leaning in.
"That's God of Thunder, if you would," Thor said sotto voce, before giving the Grandmaster a wink and leaping up through the open roof, leaving the other man to fend off the return of the driving rain.