Unlit

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Aw, Dot. Daisy's the cutest! Hah, and Nestor's demoness is such a skank. That was quite an enjoyable round of posts to read. That was a nice one, Team Atticus, bringing in the Viking lore and such.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Adam’s rock-hard, shapely man-derriere remained oblivious to the scrutiny it was receiving while the golem toted his two charges through the gateway into … somewhere else. The Vaults, Isis had said. Adam was not sure what that meant exactly, but it did not truly matter. It was simply the next step to the Ankh, a necessary step, Adam assumed. The first step had proven dangerous enough. He could only wonder what this step would bring.

Along the way, Adam nodded with nigh expressionless golem politeness to Nestor. “Thank you, Nestor,” Adam replied genuinely to the fellow. Though, a frown passed the golem’s onyx brow as Nestor collapsed against a wall in visible suffering. “Perhaps you should seek medical attention,” the golem suggested in a concerned golem-ish rumble.

Then Adam found himself face to face (or chest to face, given his height) with Nestor’s Demoness. The golem blinked at her words in puzzlement. Had some evil magic transformed him into a giant metal sphincter without his knowledge? Worried, Adam glanced down at himself, his large arms and hands that were still holding a giggling Mila and Anastasia, at his legs down there, at the trim waist and his ensemble of dress clothing. No… Everything looked right…

But then Adam caught the Demoness talking to Anastasia, which reminded him. He set the two women down gingerly, making sure each of them had their feet under them (injured or not) before he let them go.

“You may look,” the golem murmured absently to Mila.

He had finally taken a moment to look around himself, and his glinting black eyes were met with quite an unexpected sight. Bright blue skies, oddly distorted clouds. Lush greenness and fields of beautiful flowers. Adam sighed in silent appreciation. Drawn by the scenery, the golem forged ahead slowly, his head slowly turning side to side, but soon centering toward the stone monolith ahead.

Adam was marveling at the twisted shape of the structure when his vision lit upon something living, which happened to be staring right back at him. The golem blinked in mute surprise, and then his eyebrows slowly rose. The being was … strange, to say the least, but were not they all strange? Privately, Adam suspected he had found the elusive Chupacabra that the National Enquirer magazines oft mentioned. Some of the descriptions Adam had read seemed to fit, but the golem contained his excitement at the discovery. No doubt the Chupacabra would think it rude to make a fuss.

After the Keytaker spoke, Adam mimicked the creature’s slight bow, then said, “Hello, Vos’o’los. I am Adam.”

The golem considered the creature’s request for a moment or two, then he dug into his coat pocket. Key? Adam produced his house keys in his big dark hand and offered them politely to the Keytaker. Perhaps those would suffice.

“I will need those back when you are done,” the golem admitted.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

I'll try to get something up tonight. Work + other things have kept me heavily engaged the last several days. Just have to get caught up on reading all the latest lovely posts first...

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Psssh. I can kill entire boxes of those things. It's almost obscene.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

My favorite was always the thin mints... And then those wily scouts put themselves out there in front of all the shopping centers and bully me into buying their cookies.

Damn you, girl scout cookies. Damn you to hell.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

That was great. Glad I got to see a little hulking out, at least, and some lovely teenage angst! And violently expiring nixies on the other end. How fun.

Uh ... Adam sorta picked Anastasia and Mila up. If that's not how you ladies wanted it, sorry!

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Adam was so elated someone called his name for help (meaning the corner of his lip twitched minimally upward) that he nearly careened into a stone pillar. As such, he took a nasty chunk out of it as he redirected his ponderous flight in the direction of the voice. His glinting black eyes sought out the source and quickly landed upon one of the red-heads, the talented young woman with the mobile sprinkler system (Mila).

His heavy footsteps quickly thudded him to the woman and an injured Bain & Hoyle employee -- another woman, this one with white hair and lilac eyes and a wrapping around her leg (Anastasia). “I am going to touch you now,” Adam informed politely as his big hand reached for the white haired one. Without even waiting for an answer, he hauled the injured girl up under his arm, his forearm wrapped around her middle -- even if he did have her head facing behind him.

Misinterpreting Mila’s “we’re faster that way” comment, the golem figured she wanted a lift too and also picked up the red-haired Rusalka under his other arm -- he had her head facing in front of him, at least.

"Hold on," he said, even though there wasn't really anything to hold onto.

Both women securely under wraps, Adam began ponderously jogging his way toward the doorway to the vaults. An explosion from behind made the golem momentarily duck his head, but the blast was not close enough to stagger him. He kept on trucking for the exit.

“Hello, friend Nestor,” said Adam calmly as Nestor blew by him. The golem was pleased that he had not accidentally turned Nestor into a bloody smear on the ceiling. Talk about a bad case of golem embarrassment. It would be more embarrassing than the time Adam had accidentally shaken a door-to-door religion-salesman’s hand right off. Adam still regretted how the first gush of blood had hit the poor man’s companion square in the eye. Oops.

More scarabs were coming down…

Fortunately, there was a dark cloud of doom to stall them, as well as a giant, and several pops from undead bullets. Adam lumbered at a steady canter past the giant red wolf-woman and the pink-haired child. The pink-haired child scout was looking grumpy again. Adam wracked his golem brain for something to say to cheer her up in the dire situation. Then it came to him.

“Optimus enjoys your Do-si-dos,” the golem told Daisy with a grave kindness as he steadily thumped past, two Bain & Hoyle women dangling from his arms.

Then, finally, he was in the gate… with everyone else, soon enough. Hopefully.

Marvel Comics: Sentinel Initiative

Saw this the other day. Made me chuckle.

Marvel Comics: Sentinel Initiative

No, like ... now.

Marvel Comics: Sentinel Initiative

After drinking heavily last night, Thor wandered the beach in solitude -- solitude which had been in short supply in recent months within Asgard. It was not that he intentionally abhorred or avoided the company of the others, but he sensed the undercurrent of other dynamics that were best left alone for the night, at least. Each had their own fears to confront, their own darknesses to reconcile before the battle to come, their own methods to prepare. Despite his lofty words at their meeting, Thor prepared himself by brooding.

Truth be told, the Thunder God did not fear for himself as much as he did his Midgardian allies. He had survived and triumphed over many cosmic foes over the span of many, many years. He did not feel that his end would be here, fighting this fight. However, he could not say he shared the same feeling for some of the others. From what he had observed in Midgardian politics, the momentum of the masses was key. Should that momentum ever fully turn against Thor’s allies, the Avengers would ever find themselves running. Hiding. Fighting a phantom war as outlaws. Hunted by their own. Not an enviable lot, that. But what more could be done, save fight and hope?

Every now and again, even a god had to have a bit of blind faith that ultimately Good would prevail, despite all odds.

Thor barely slept that night, but his was a constitution that did not require much. He was awake when the Widow came, and he received her tidings stoically. Yet another wrinkle to the situation. One that made Thor momentarily reconsider if the average humans of Midgard were completely in the wrong for wanting methods established for containing and controlling the super-beings of this world. His second thoughts ended when he reminded himself the entity in his mind was not of this world, but that did not lessen or completely invalidate his concern -- simply allowed him to put it aside for scrutiny another day.

At the briefing, he was somewhat satisfied to hear the Not-Sorceress Grey would be with him. If the being inside of her wished to spread its wings, Thor would be there to see and gauge the level of threat. In the meantime, he would simply perform his role. He was not the commander here, nor did he feel it his place to contradict or direct plans. By cosmic design, he would help rescue Fury, or he would not, and then he would see where the next step lay. Hopefully the next step would not involve dismantling the American government. But if it was … so be it.

“A warrior should not face a death trap before properly breaking his fast,” said Thor, rising slowly from his chair. “I require a last feast of buttered hot cake, seared parts of porcine, and a tankard of Midgard coffee bean before departure. Any are welcome to join, or not. Regardless, I will be in front of this building within the hour.”

Thor strode from the room, destination -- the expansive outdoor patio with all its tables and chairs and a pleasant morning breeze. Once there, he sat (still in his beach clothes, by the way) and flagged down a servant to place his order, emphasizing the need for all possible haste. He ate quickly and with great appetite, whether any joined him or not. By the time his plate was scraped clean and the coffee drained dry, a low whistle could be heard sharpening from above.

Thor held his hand out casually to catch an incoming blurred missile, and the handle of Mjolnir deposited itself within his mighty grip. As he stood, a flicker of crackling lightning lashed over him, replacing beach attire for Asgardian armor and flowing crimson cape. The armor leant Thor inches in height and enhanced the breadth of his already broad shoulders and chest. He ignored the gasps and stares and cries of alarms (and surprisingly, a few ragged cheers), as well as the click-click-click of cellular phones and cameras. Their enemies already knew Stark had gathered allies here. Like Stark, Thor was not a man made for subtlety. There was little sense in hiding still. Let their enemies know who they faced.

Let them fear.

Thor headed for the meeting point, for the vehicles, his face grim, Mjolnir in hand. Ready for war.