Summary:The Avengers' library does not survive Thor's arrival. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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The angle was not a good one.
Perhaps there was some air current involved, such that the object that fell was unable to hit straight down.
From a distance, it did look like a sky laser: a bolt of lightning, a rush of air, a flash of purest white that bled into blue in the sky as it slammed into the Avengers mansion.
The upper northeast corner of the building took a colossal hit, though not without answer: defenses of the mansion responded to attempt to shoot that missile down. Whatever remained of it has impacted that corner of the buildings, though, and no doubt set off an array of alarms.
To make matters worse, the sky has streaked with angry clouds, the weather upset growing worse throughout the dark night: if there was a hole created, it may soon be full of rain and snow, the sky promises, as rumbles shudder in the now foggy black night.
*
Coffee puddles on the table and spills in a slow waterfall onto the carpeted flooring below the rolling chair just now settling back onto all four wheels. The papers on the Captain's desk are safe from the beverage's spread, but the stain will linger. Outside in the hallway runs swiftly a figure in slacks and a white t-shirt, something worn beneath a dress-shirt out of old-fashioned propriety. On his arm, the signature vibranium shield in silver and patriotic hues with its centralized white star. His boots thud a rapid tattoo as he heads towards the corner of the house already cooling with the influx of wind and gaining weather.
"Downgrade to Armed Stalemate! Override First Avenger!" His shout precedes him as he enters into the lower section of the house, where the living room's now sporting a gaping hole into the outside of the house. The mansion's technological defenses do continue to aim at the invasive object, but no longer actively ready up the next blast. Clambering over the scattering of smoking beams and charred architecture, Captain Rogers attempts to see exactly what has just smashed into the mansion. "Hello?"
*
There's no words at first, just a loud cough. A massive cough, really, because there are some powerful lungs on the god: he can project. In this case, projection of how little air is in his lungs as they spasm from impact.
The form of a very big, adult male in difficult to determine (singed is a kind way to put it) clothes has made a mess out of a bookshelf and the contents; the books were flung everywhere, and the man has ended up leaving a sizable dent in the floor, with the bookshelf's lower half now fallen across him. He moves an arm under him, just to get his face out of being mushed on the glass surface of an end table.
"Is that you, Captain Rogers?….One of my greatest foes has attempted to get the best of me, but still I /live/," Thor says, his voice strong, but the clear stress from having all of the wind knocked out of him created a wheezing undertone in his voice. "Gravity, ye foul mistress," Thor adds with a lift of his fist. He then resumes resting his face against the ground, his clothes still smoking in places. Rain starts to patter down, creating swirls in the steamy air coming off of the god of thunder: the cool rain hisses as it turns to steam off the torn scraps of burgundy cloak on Thor's back.
*
Steve squints at the darkened corner of the room when the first loud expulsion of air comes. No more standing corner lamp over there, that's for sure. He approaches cautiously until he recognizes the dampened hair and what appears to be the peek of a wrecked red outer-garment. His boots break a plank of wood from the back of the fallen bookshelf as he clambers over towards the Asgardian.
"Thor, what the hell? What happened?" The vibranium shield is set aside to free up both of his hands. It slides in a shiver of metal to one side as he then stoops to grab at the angle of the front of the shelving. With a grunt, the Captain carefully lifts it and steps to move it off of the fallen warrior as best he can. He winces and chuffs out a sound as it almost collapses, but finally, after the grind of weight upon wetted carpet, Thor is clear of the main debris. "Did you just…you fell from the sky?" The soldier asks this as he returns over to offer a hand to the god in aid to rise.
*
"It does appear that way," Thor agrees. He doesn't help with uncovering himself, he seems to either be out of it, or just unconcerned with the bookshelf leaning over his body. There's very little reaction to being unburied, he was taking a moment to recover from his encounter with the ground.
"Fortunate to have arrived here, among friends, at least," Thor adds. He looks up and sideways, a curious lift of brows at being offered a hand, but he accepts it, a warrior's clasp to the forearm. He draws himself free with the assistance, rotating his body with a mixture of bravado and bruises. He breaks a shelf of the bookshelf as he steps out and stands up, and seems to notice, suddenly, the damage. "…I seem to have broken your library; my apologies." Not that he had any control over it at all: still, he'll take responsibility for it.
With a mild wince he bends to try to pick up and dust off the side of a shelf, and set it back on the lower-half of the bookshelf.
*
"It can be replaced." Steve's voice is still tight, but whether or not it's from reaction to sudden implosion of the building or the fact that the Asgardian god looks shockingly worse from the wear, it can't be determined off the bat. He keeps a grip on Thor's forearm for as long as necessary before releasing it. "C'mon, downstairs. Medical staff's gone home for the night, but I know my way around a basic med kit. You can tell me what happened. You can walk?"
The blond super-soldier stoops to collect up his shield and looks over Thor once more with a grimace of concern. "Hey, it's alright, leave the bookcase. We'll deal with it later. It's an IKEA purchase anyways. Can't keep furniture around here intact on the regular as is." His tone is firm without being unkind, a throwback to when he had to herd wounded platoon members out of the range of weaponry.
*
As can be expected, pretty much anyone at the Mansion would be aware that something happened, and Nat is no different, as she soon arrives in the epicenter of Quake Thor, dressed casually in black leggings and a red tank top. The look of alarm on her face, if there was one, is long gone, as she looks one moment at Steve, before her blue eyes zoom in on Thor. "Do we have to be concerned? Or are you celebrating an old Asgardian holiday, where you must break your house apart?"
*
Thor was really trying to get that bookshelf to balance on what's left of the backboard. He pushes on it, and the whole thing collapses. He sets the shelf on the pile. That goes there. "Yes, inform IKEA to create a new shelf, then, and instruct her to build it with higher stability; this one was not sufficient," Thor declares. "I have many craftsman, should IKEA require training."
"Hello; it is not a holiday. Are there such holidays here? Odd," Thor says as Nat appears, as if he were on the doorstep, not in a crater. "Walk?" Attention returns to Steve. "But of course. Barely a scratch; nothing a round of ale and a good night's rest wouldn't undo," Thor says, although how much of that is simply Thor acting like he's fine might be unclear. His attire looks like he passed through the sun on the way there, charred in places, cloak a bare limp version of itself. Bruises darken the godly facial structure, though he seems battered and broken, but not obviously bleeding. If he is, it is internally.
Thor pauses, slapping out a smoldering bit of fire on his cape near his left hip. His balance was a little off as he did so, but afterwards, he'll release Steve's arm. "Medical? I suppose; I would not refuse your hospitality," Thor answers.
*
"Nat, hey." Steve lifts a hand in greeting from where he's walking across the wreckage of the room. An open hole a few feet wider than Thor-sized in the upper portion of the wall is letting in a cold draft and the potential for stormy weather with the scent of impending rain. More broken plywood cracks under his boots as he travels. He appears stoically accepting of the state of the room itself now.
"I'm trying to get him to the infirmary," the soldier asides to the Widow as quietly as he can manage. "He's taken a beating on the way in." In a white undershirt and black slacks, Steve appears to have been interrupted in late-night paperwork.
More loudly and towards Thor, Steve says, "Hospitality's downstairs. We'll get your vitals and you can explain to us what happened." Natasha is given a significant side-look.
*
"I'm not sure you fully comprehend what IKEA is," Nat states dryly at Thor's assertion. What does concern Nat is the fact the alternative to weird Asgardian Holiday, is something just made Thor crash through the Mansion. That was…unexpected to say the least. "Thor, is there a threat we should be worried about? Or is this a case of don't drink and fly?"
Nat offers a friendly salute in turn towards Steve, just two fingers over her right brow, nothing formal. "Anything that can do that could be a problem," Nat notes as she moves further into the room, obstacle course that it is, "mind if I tag along, I'd love to hear that story."
*
"You will find my vitals in high standing, but you may check if you wish," Thor declares, accepting the direction of where to go, and troops immediately towards the door, intending to find the stairs himself. Surely that won't be difficult. "That is accurate, I don't know who Ikea is," Thor calls back over his shoulder to Nat without turning.
"A threat? There could be, but that is… not related to what has happened this night," Thor answers, slowing his pace as if the graveness of it not being a foe bothered him in some deeper way. He frowns at the hallway as he continues on, roughly in the right direction, luckily.
*
The super-soldier falls into step behind Thor. He pauses to gesture for Natasha to follow before continuing into the hallway proper. To close the door behind him engenders something very close to a wince, but property damage pales in comparison to an injured companion in the long run.
"You look like somebody pushed you down out of a tree and laughed as they watched you hit every branch on the way down," comments the Captain brusquely to Thor. "What happened?" He doesn't make to herd the wandering Asgardian just yet. As long as they continue down the straight-away of the hallway and then go downstairs, they're golden.
*
"I had a feeling you may not know, but IKEA doesn't matter, I'm sure Tony will prove more handy in seeing to the repairs." Naturally, Nat isn't about to ever accuse Tony of turning to something as cheap as IKEA, heaven forbid. "If not a threat, mind sharing what did happen tonight? Not used to seeing you taking a beating, Thor."
Natasha stays close behind, observing largely in silence, trying to assess what injuries are visible on Thor.
*
"I've had a…. disagreement with my father. I don't want to discuss it right now," Thor says brusquely, but both of his fists tighten, and the darkened weather outside gives a growling rumble that is most obviously connected to Thor's reaction. He pushes the difficult mood aside, at least visually, and forces his hands to open.
"The beating is from prior to that, and the…. impact," Thor admits, gesturing back behind him to the library. He fell pretty far, is all. He comes to the end of the hallway, looking a little disoriented, but decides to go left and down. The stairs slow him down, but he makes a big show of not being bruised to hell, bracing one hand on the side of the wall flat. Hopefully nobody's in a rush.
*
Steve's head turns towards the nearest window as he hears the distant roll of thunder. While he makes a point to be at Thor's side as the steps are taken one at a time, he makes no overt gesture of aid. Sometimes, being present is as good of a crutch as literal physical support. He has the grace to avoid further discussion of what the cause of the fight between father and son, but he does press further as to the damage he can see darkening skin on the Asgardian.
"Sounds like a rough night," he agrees calmly. "Just bruises or you got a few joints that feel funny too?" He's slightly in the lead as they take the corner down towards one of the infirmary rooms. Automatic lighting flickers on and machines start up as he triggers the sensors in the entrance to the collection of beds behind glass walling. Curtains can be drawn for privacy.
*
Not that Nat ever met Thor's dad in person, but from her knowledge of Norse Mythology alone, she raises a skeptical brow, "you had a fight with Odin?" It's asked half in gest, because she never feels quite comfortable when stakes get too magical or divine. "That doesn't mean he's going to come after us, does it…? Just a family quarrel?" She follows along, looking on curiously as Steve attempts a more hands on medical assessment of Thor, her own assumption is that Thor wouldn't be much pleased. Hence the distance she is keeping, just to be on the safe side.
*
"I do not … win in disagreements with my father," Thor says gravely. He shakes his head quickly, clearly still not wanting to discuss it. "Even if he is wrong," Thor adds. So much for not talking about it. He allows himself to be led (or lead?) into an infirmary area, and proves he does know exactly what to do, moving to a bed to immediately sit on it, resting his hands on either side of the comfortable bed as he sits. He does not lay down, at least at first: he dwarfs the bed, anyway.
*
"Sorry to hear that, Thor." It's quiet brief empathy from the soldier as he bends down to lean his shield against the small desk pushed aside for a laptop to be set upon or diagnostic tablet to be rested while the medical staff checks over a patient. "'m gonna slap a few bandages on the split skin I can see after cleaning them off. Talk to Nat while I do it." He knows the value of a conversation while dealing with wounds.
He opens the cupboards tucked to the wall of the room and brings out a few rolls of gauze and wrap alongside some sterile wipes in their foil-lined packets before returning to the bedside to the left of Thor. His nose wrinkles as he works at opening one of the cleaning wipes. The poor Asgardian definitely smells like burnt fabric.
*
"That fight…" Natasha asks after giving Thor enough time to settle, "did that fight by any chance had anything to do with Midgard?" Feud among Asgardians? Natasha doesn't care so much, even if she would generally favor her teammate in Thor. Feud among Asgardians in matters relating to the planet she lives on? That's a much greater concern. "I mean…there's no pending End of The World type event we should expect? Tony would be pissed if his upcoming gala will have to be cancelled."
*
"I am not so frail or injured that I am unable to clean myself," Thor states firmly, suddenly skeptical of what Steve is up to with the diagnostics and talk of bandages. "Nor will you find split skin."
Thor watches the diagnostic tablet critically but fearlessly. He only lifts one dirty eyebrow as Steve starts to open the wimpy little cleany-wipes. Those seem rather improper to use on a god, to Thor's view.
"No, I would not suggest such a fight be brought here. I was sent here to keep me from it, I suspect." Thor adds, more quietly, insulted. Something seems to occur to him. He starts to ease off the bed to his feet, and addresses the ceiling VERY loudly. "HEIMDALL," Thor yells. He squints upwards, waiting. It's like talking to an AI like JARVIS, except at super top bone-shattery volume.
*
"Alright." It's acknowledgement without acquiescing to the heavily-muscled Asgardian on the medical room cot. Steve then places the opened wet wipe down upon a square of sterile gauze. "Wipe yourself off if you want." The man then takes a step or two backwards before turning and seating himself at the diagnostics tablet.
By his frown, he's not completely familiar with the fine nuances of the programming, but a few swipes and some brisk screen-touches and he has the basic live measurements of Thor's vitals on the screen. The man frowns at the screen, but doesn't bring further attention to himself.
*
Crossing her arms, Nat looks amused at Cap even reaching for bandaging, having anticipated Thor's response with complete accuracy. To her credit, she doesn't offer any quip aimed at Cap, instead she focuses on Thor's reply, which is what she's been waiting to hear. "Perfect." Nat says, relieved, before offering, "not that you're kept from a fight, but that you're here, keeping that fight from getting to us." Wincing as Thor bellows for Heimdall, Natasha does offer far more softly, "perhaps JARVIS would be more inclined to help?"
*
"Jarvis does not provide rides to Asgard, does he? Then his inclination does not make a difference, sadly?" Thor questions aside to Nat, laughing at his 'joke', and then yells upwards. Again. "HEIMDALL. I WISH TO RETURN," Thor projects.
Nothing happens.
"HEIMDALL YOU ARE EMBARRASSING ME IN FRONT OF THE AVENGERS." Thor stares at the ceiling, and then lowers his gaze slowly without moving his head at first, peeking at Steve, then Natasha, as if /maybe/ they didn't hear or notice what just happened. Which amounted to Thor being ghosted by Heimdall.
Thor clears his throat. And sits his butt back down on the bed. He also reaches across his broad chest and unclips the side of his mostly burned away cloak, freeing it from his shoulders, and sets it nearby with some humility. He still looks dubiously at those wipes, though.
There are limits.