[center][img]https://cdn.marvel.com/content/1x/004tho_com_mas_mob_03.jpg[/img][/center][indent][sub][color=gray][b]UOU Presents:[/b][/color][color=lightgray] THOR, GOD OF THUNDER[/color][/sub][sup][right][b][color=gray]ISSUE #9:[/color][/b] [color=lightgray]A Soldier's Plea [/color][/right][/sup][/indent][hr][indent][color=lightgray][sub][b]A Fortress in the Mountains [color=red]♦[/color] Germany [/b][/sub][/color][/indent]
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In the mists of old memory, a castle stood in Alpine mountains. Field guns and anti-aircraft turret stood sentinel on ancient stone walls. Men in grey-green woolen uniforms patrolled the parapets. They were gaunt-faced, pale ghouls who'd seen too many winters with too little food. Symbols of evil were pinned proudly to their sunken chests: the swastika, clutched in the talons of an eagle; and the head of the hydra, with its many reaching tendrils.

Below the walls, the castle courtyard bustled with activity. Frantic soldiers fought to roll nine massive boulders into a circle while imprisoned craftsmen carved occult runes into stone. A gaggle of officers directed the work. Among them stood a tall, slender man with dark hair and emerald eyes. The corners of his lips never fell from their slight smirk.

"The work is nearly finished. The Führer will be pleased, I hope."

Another officer looked up, astonishment and bewilderment plain on his face. "The Führer is dead, sir. Months gone."

"Oh, is he? Drat." The emerald-eyed man's grin rose a little. "Then his [i]heir[/i] will be most pleased, whoever they are."

With a flourish, he clapped his hands and stepped forward, raising his voice to address the garrison. "It is time to begin! Someone bring me my staff. Light the fires. The wonder weapon we shall use to win this war will soon be upon us."

The officer to speak up furrowed his brow and walked briskly up behind the emerald-eyed man. "Sir, you said Herr Shmidt sent you here-"

"Yes, Mr. Smith, good fellow."

"[i]Shmidt.[/i] But we have not heard from him in some time. Not before you showed up out of nowhere with all this talk of- of magic and, well, the officers have some concerns-"

With a flick of his wrist, the emerald-eyed man sent a handful of pixie dust directly into the Nazi officer's eyes. He spat, sputtered and coughed, waving in the air to clear it. "W-what the devil did you do?!"

"You trust me implicitly. With your life and the lives of all your men."

The Nazi stopped. He turned his now bloodshot eyes toward the strange sorcerer with the pixie dust. "I trust you implicitly, of course." He stumbled for a moment, righted himself, and then threw up as crisp a salute as he could manage. "Hail HYDRA!"

The sorcerer waved him off. "Yes, yes, hail HYDRA. Now leave me to my work before the Allies arrive to spoil the fun."

"The Allies, sir?"

Moments later, a plane engine could be heard hollowing in over the mountains.

"Oh, goodie, right on schedule!" Loki Laufeyson declared, taking his staff from the hands of an aide and waving it in wild patterns above his head. The ritual fire danced in concert with his motions, and the voices of old spirits rose up in song.

[hr][indent][color=lightgray][sub][b]Former Soviet Prison [color=red]♦[/color] Siberia [/b][/sub][/color][/indent]
Thor clutched his head as a spike of pain racked his mind. Moments from a forgotten past slipped through whatever enchantment plagued his memories. These were stranger than he cared to admit, seen not from his own eyes but from...

He felt his throat go parch. A cautious hand went to the wall so he might rest a moment. He needed time to think. Time to parse what was happening to him. These fragments did not explain the whole of the mystery, but they offered some few answers. T'was his late brother that placed this curse on him, clearly. And it explained how a man of present day Midgard might know the ancient rituals of summoning.

Was the wielder of this shield not the honorable warrior Thor assumed, but instead an old agent of Loki seeking aid from his patron? That felt wrong somehow, as if he knew the answers yet it remained just out of reach.

"Answers. He will have answers for me." Odinson grumbled, shoving off the wall to rise once more. 

It was only then that Thor noticed the guard hammering a baton against his back.

"Hm? Oh, my deepest apologies, warrior." Thor turned to face the man. 

The guard, mid-swing, made direct contact with Thor's face. The god could only offer a remorseful look in response before knocking the man unconscious with a light punch. He tried to be gentle: it was the least he could do for humiliating the poor soul in the midst of battle.

Onward into the facility Thor pressed, following the sounds of battle as best he could amidst the chaos. With casual swings of mighty Jarnbjorn, he shattered the chains and broke open the cells of any prisoner that asked it of him. He had no idea who any of them were or what crime they might have committed to end up in a frozen hell like this, but it mattered not. Thor was already thrashing their wardens; to leave them here would only doom them to the cold, harsh future of a broken prison with no one to watch over them.

Thor tried to kill as few mortals as he could manage, but it was a difficult task. They were such fragile creatures. Skin like glass and bones of bark shattered more easily than he was used to. Still, he felt little guilt for the deaths he [i]did[/i] bring. Each and every one of them would pass on to the gates of Valhalla. Carried to those halls by the Valkyries, they would be met with an endless well of ale and jubilation for all time. What better life could there be?

Somewhere up ahead, someone uttered his name.

Faster than anyone his size had a right to move, Thor charged forth. He stopped caring for petty things like hallways and doors. Instead, he lowered his shoulder and shattered concrete to make his own path. Guardsmen and prisoners alike scattered in a panic as he broke through wall after wall, finally emerging where he first heard the call go up. Here, he found a bruised and battered soldier doing battle with a crimson sorceress.

That was him. His square jaw, golden hair and bulky frame stood out like a beacon in his mind's eye.

"Never fear!" He bellowed, lifting his axe high. "The [b]ALMIGHTY THOR[/b] is here!"

The shield practically leapt from his hands as Thor tossed it across the room to the soldier it truly belonged to.
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