It's a back-alley clinic, in a seedy basement in the bad part of town. The air is cold and damp, and mold streaks the walls; but the tray beside the operating table is pristine. The tools gleam under the overhead light.

"The sonic boom ripped through the sky over Asgard's capital, rattling windows in their casements and scaring clouds of pigeons into the air." (Prequel to "Id Est Furor.")

"Come to visit me again, brother?" Thor's voice rumbled through the prison block like thunder in the distance. Loki stepped out from the shadows of the stairwell. "Disasters are always so compelling to watch," he replied. (Thor 2 AU where Thor is imprisoned as a berserkr.)

It started at Baskerville. A leaky pipe, a faulty experiment left to seed by an absent scientist; in the end, it didn't matter. What mattered was that an epidemic spilled through the medical halls of Baskerville, and no one knew the cause—or how to treat it.

"I meant no offence," said Bilbo Baggins, burglar and now disturber of the peace.

It dawned fair and clear, the day they sewed Loki's lips shut.

Classical thought holds there are three vectors of magic.

AU. Claire runs across a certain watchmaker's shop while out for a walk.

Sylar, with the ink-blot, at the Carnival.