Faces of Midgard

“I told you, Donald, this isn’t Loki. Because he’s dead. I saw it happen.”

She had her doubts on that subject but she wasn’t going discuss them with Don. Unfortunately, Balder being a full blood brother just made things more mysterious instead of less. Why hide him away? Why adopt Loki when there was already another heir? As far as she knew, Balder would not have been in any danger.

This is getting more and more like a VC Andrews novel every minute.

“In any case, I figured either you all were hiding something from me telling me this was a friend or this was some sort of surprise,” he shrugged. “It’s good to know it’s the latter, but that also opens up a whole score of other questions, I’m sure. Bombs like this don’t drop soft, in my experience.”

The Blue Screen of Death flashed in front of Jane’s eyes and she blinked at the chart, her mind in freefall as she absorbed Don’s words.

A brother? A BROTHER? Oh my God, what the hell is this, why do I get myself involved in these situations, what the fuck is going on-

“Oh, it’s definitely a friend,” she said, her tone light. “Trust me, Loki is… not in the picture. He has been Photoshopped out and put in the trash.”

Thor has ANOTHER BROTHER - but I can’t tell him - he can’t know - Karnilla definitely can’t know - does BALDER know? No, doubtful because he’d probably tell Thor.

Jane peered at the chart, trying to read it. “So is this guy… a half-brother?”

“Well, it . . . it’s good to know that now--during the testing I was kind of afraid you were asking me to help your boy toy save that megalomaniac with the horns who tried to play the game Risk for real with Manhattan,” he said, taking the clipboard back. “In which case, I would say you all could go suck it.”

“But no, this--with results like these, this isn’t a Jon Snow Game of Thrones kind of surprise sibling situation--or well, is it now?” He scratched his chin. “Who knows--anyway, not so much that as much as it is a Star Wars kind of situation . . . I mean, minus the twins and the princess thing. Or I guess this makes the new guy Luke and your hammer boy the princess?” He paused again, thinking on the analogy. “Whatever.”

He stepped back beyond the printer to where several vials sat, labelled and innocuous. A screen was illuminated in the machine arm suspended over the samples, displaying several irregularly spaced bands. “The sample of the neurotoxin--which is what that poison is, by the way--had some of the subject’s blood still in it. It took a while, and some of the fancier equipment I got with my last grant to extract it, but I got enough to run a few profiling tests on it to serve as a point of reference against what your new space Viking boyfriend gave me. I could only do a a preliminary set of tests, but I figured checking the similarities in the sequences of DNA could only help us figure out how close the reactions with Hammer-man’s blood would be to the guy they dosed with the stuff.”

He indicated the double chart above the samples, sliding his finger from one set of illuminated bands to the other. “Everything kept coming up almost identical to original sample of blood pulled from the neurotoxin, which I thought was weird--well, weirder than checking out a neurotoxin in alien blood,” he shrugged. “But in any case, I figured that merited a few other tests just to be sure it wasn’t some sort of fluke. Now, I can’t be absolutely certain because this isn’t human DNA I’m working with, and I don’t have a lot of it in the case of your missing guy, but every test I ran with some clean samples from your boy came up the same,” he said. “And by human standards the number of markers that match here . . . well, those would be blood siblings.”

She peered at the data Don was showing her and tried to summon what biology and biochemistry remained from her college days.

“But the real issue comes afterward,” he went on. “This thing has three stages. The first two aren’t lethal, and if the concentration of the drug is under a certain ratio to the brain chemicals, then we just get this kind of semi-conscious ragdoll effect,” he said, turning around to pull up a second sheet of paper. “But if you manipulate the ratio so that there’s a saturation compared to the normal brain chemicals--well, then you’re in trouble.” He handed the second sheet to Jane, pointing down the list of percentages and results on the page. “After this point,” he let his finger stop about halfway through the findings, “it doesn’t block or reduce the signalling to the neuromuscular junction. It does a 180 and begins to mimic the neurotransmitters--essentially causing muscle contraction on overdrive.”

As do I, was the unsaid implication.

As Don closed the door, Jane turned around and folded her arms, her eyes darkening in frustration “I guess the next time aliens invade New York, I’ll just tell the Avengers to stay home, hmm? Let Donald Blake handle this, because he will definitely not ‘smash up’ Manhattan and will have everything under control, right?!”

She was so tired of people making snide remarks about the Avengers ‘wrecking’ Manhattan. As if Don could have saved New York without any mess or destruction! As if the alternative (being conquered by aliens and ruled by a sociopathic pretender to the throne) was actually PREFERABLE!

He isn’t worth it, she reminded herself. He can’t bear the idea of them being able to do something amazing and he especially can’t bear the fact that you went from him to Thor.

“In any case,” he cleared his throat and stepped over to one of the large printers, “there are a couple things I was able to determine from the sample you guys brought me. For one, this isn’t really a sedative compound,” he explained as he picked up a sheet of paper from the tray. “Well, not only. Now, I’m going off the idea that these guys--the aliens and all--they’re at least by and large similar to humans in their systems and . . . probably--” he lingered on the word, still doubtful, “--most of the chemistry involved . . . so if that’s the case, this stuff would definitely be able to pass through to the brain and suppress the central system and block some things at the neuromuscular junction.”

He indicated several of the columns of data on the sheet to Jane. “What the presumptive testing determined was that first--” he pointed to the top section, “this isn’t anything we’ve seen before, and second--” he trailed his hand down the side margin, following the numbers to the bottom, “it doesn’t keep the same characteristics over time.”

What she had remembered as labyrinthine sets of hedges and garden flowers that mad up the construct of nooks and crannies in Balder’s mind had been cleared, levelled into a hissing sea. She raised her hand again, watching as the liquid, though painful to her projected form, did not eat away at her as it did the more physically present landscape around her. 

“I am going in,” she resolved, taking a step forward. She bared her teeth with the sharp intake of breath that came at the burning sensation, but moved her next foot forward. It is not actually harming you, she assured herself. It is sensation without sense. It only feels as though it is harming you.

The walls had several charts up, and they fluttered a bit on some of their untaped corners with the whirring of several large machines. The blue lights from a few computer screens wavered underneath a few post-its with some unintelligibly underlined phrases scribbled on them, and a few plastic bins sat with their sealed, packaged contents slightly misarrayed.

If Thor lost Balder again…

“And these men in suits…You know what agency they were from?” it seemed as though he didn’t. Thor might have stopped Don, except that the other man had finished, and Thor had not even noticed.

That was, perhaps, all the more unnerving.

“Elsa is a Queen,” he furrowed his brow after the absent-minded correction. “I would like the BB-8 bandage.” The little orange robot was more cheerful than Elsa. He had liked Rey, too, and seeing the mechanical beast reminded him of the character.

“And you’re lucky too,” he added as he settled the items in his tray packing them up and and disposing of what was no longer needed, “since we have the equipment facilities to accommodate research like this.” He packaged the vial and boxed it, picking it up on his way to the door. “I’ll be expediting this research, right?” he only half-asked, “since you probably want it before all the other patients I had before you today?”

“Code gold?” Thor gazed across at the giant Midgardian questioningly. Men in suits were, as he had come to learn, not a particularly good sign in most cases. Who was he giving his blood to?

“What do you mean ‘code gold’, Don?” she asked, eyeing the syringe as he picked it up. “Where did you get those? Which company?”

He pulled the needle away, already drawn up with the sample and hardly a hitch from his patient. “I can’t complain about their effectiveness, though,” he indicated he was finished with a slight flourish as he removed the needle directly into the dispoal unit, closed off the syringe, and set it on the tray. All the while, he had put his other hand to work with a clean cotton ball, effortless in his well-practised multitasking. “These things are supposed to be able to get through most anyone’s skin--from Captain America to you, buddy.”

He nearly choked, however, as Janey stuck her face in front of the second of their alien patients. If he recalled the footage and state briefing correctly, even a casual strike from one of these people could do major damage. And here she was challenging one.

He could easily see Karnilla’s discomfort. He ought to have relished in it. Thor found that he could not.

Thor began to explain, and her hackles continued to rise. “It is even more so in Nornheim,” she asserted, “and for the blood of those of the Norns in particular. With it–in the hands of one who knows the art–there are few limits to what one can do with even a small sample. What is limited by propriety for you and Asgard,” she narrowed her eyes at the Odinson, “is forbidden true Nornir.”

“And offering up as much before is likely how such a mess was wrought to begin with,” she said, her shoulders still tense and hands half curled round the inklings of a defensive spell.

Jane took a deep breath. “I am not ‘trifling’. It’s a cultural taboo? That is all you had to say, Karnilla. You didn’t have to blow a gasket and make a big song and dance. I am sorry if we accidentally broke a taboo but it was an innocent request on Don’s part.”

“I suppose I could work with one sample,” he conceded, “but the results won’t be as conclusive. The more constants available measure it against the better the reading would be.”

He went back to the syringes, checking among an array of them. “But if one is what we’re allowed, one is what we’ll work with.” He plucked up one from the far end of the selection, opening up the plastic seal. “I was wondering when I would get to use one of these new ’code gold’ types,” he mused a bit over the tool. “We only have about fifty total, but the suit made a big to-do how it’s supposed to work through . . . enhanced skin types.”

“The sample Janey gave me has just a bit left in it–enough that I might be able to test it and see what sort of substance we’re dealing with,” he explained, stepping toward the side of the room to set the broken syringe in question down on a countertop, still nestled in its paper protection. “However,” he went on, sanitising his hands and picking up a clean set of gloves, “in order to see what sort of reactions it has been causing, we’ll need some samples to eliminate other variables. If this wasn’t meant for humans, we’ll have to test just what it is it does on a cellular level to those who aren’t.”

“What manner of game are you playing?” she whirled round to demand of the Odinson. By his discomfort and his question, however, it seemed he had not anticipated this bent to their investigation.

“Is this what qualifies as advanced alchemy here? This … invasive, vulgar practice?” she ranted, turning from one face to another before eyeing which exits she might use. “You may no more have my blood than you may have my corpse to examine, mortal!” she snarled.

This spoiled brat…

“Do you really think we’d ask you for this if we had any other choice?” she demanded, keeping her eyes on Karnilla’s with an effort. She’d once stood on a living volcano and stared into the smoking centre. This felt similar.

“I guess your sense of propriety is more important than someone else’s wellbeing… someone else’s life. But that’s fine, you go back to what you were doing before, you were having so much success before, right?”

He nearly choked, however, as Janey stuck her face in front of the second of their alien patients. If he recalled the footage and state briefing correctly, even a casual strike from one of these people could do major damage. And here she was challenging one.

His hand still burned (there were no healing stones on Midgard, after all), and every moment that Jane spent in that office with a man he did not know put him yet more on edge. It was all compounded by the idea that somewhere, and he did not know where, Balder was alive and he did not know in what state he would find him – if he ever found him.

Thor glanced up again as Karnilla’s weight made the floor creak when she leaned just slightly toward him. He looked back, seeing the open door and the smiling face of Doctor Blake. The Thunderer could not help but frown a moment. There was something just a little bit off about the man.

Years of training had drawn his eye to the way that Blake stood, favouring one leg over the other. An injury, perhaps. Probably long term.

Jane’s invitation forward was all that Thor needed. He glanced once at Karnilla and then stepped toward Jane, passing by Doctor Blake and glancing at him once more as well. There was something insincere in his smile, Thor decided. The prince of Asgard’s brow furrowed yet a little lower, and as he drew level with him and then stepped past, he noted that the mortal was a little taller than he himself.

That seemed wrong. He had not known a single Midgardian yet who was of such stature.

Thor turned his gaze away, a hand coming unconsciously to the small of Jane’s back as he drew level with her instead, looking about them and down the chemical-smelling halls. All of their healing facilities smelled strangely. It was always so jarringly different from Asgard in this way most of all.

The brush of the fabric of Jane’s shirt against the gradually receding rawness of Thor’s skin made him wince just a little. He flexed his hand before bringing it back to her waist, clearing his throat.

They were ignoring her, she thought, bristling. Her simmering gaze followed them to the door, where the bright smile of the alchemist met her.

He seemed awfully cheery, she thought with a suspicious lowering of her brow. Left in the centre of the waiting room on her own, however, she elected to approach the hallway where the rest of the company had entered.

She took Thor’s hand, carefully avoiding the raw patch of skin, and rubbed her thumb in a circle over the centre of his palm, hidden from the other two. She sensed he was uneasy - over Don? Karnilla? Balder? All three, probably.

“As you are the Queen, we thought it only suitable that you go first, right, Don?”

“The sample Janey gave me has just a bit left in it--enough that I might be able to test it and see what sort of substance we’re dealing with,” he explained, stepping toward the side of the room to set the broken syringe in question down on a countertop, still nestled in its paper protection. “However,” he went on, sanitising his hands and picking up a clean set of gloves, “in order to see what sort of reactions it has been causing, we’ll need some samples to eliminate other variables. If this wasn’t meant for humans, we’ll have to test just what it is it does on a cellular level to those who aren’t.”

He turned the glass in his fingers, checking how much of the toxin remained in the cracked reservoir. “I can probably draw some conclusions from this much here, but I’d need samples of the blood it affected as well,” he said, rising up from the desk and wrapping the tube back up safely. 

It only served to fuel Thor’s fear that the drug had actually been meant for him.

The prince’s brow drew low in mirror to Karnilla’s, his thoughts going internal. Crossing his arms over his chest, Thor stood and thought. They had tested it upon Balder, perhaps…But that still did not necessarily explain how it was that they had come to know that Balder was of Asgard and not of Midgard.

“No, I don’t,” she muttered. “Well, Thor might consent but Karnilla definitely wouldn’t. Not if you treat her like a specimen. You’ll have to use that elusive charm of yours and really flatter her. If you want your clinic to remain pristine and whole, do not upset her.”

Having delivered this warning, she moved forward and went over to Thor and Karnilla.

“But if Jane trusts him, then it is relatively safe to say that he is our best hope.” Their best hope next to SHIELD, and that was a toss of the die these days. Too few agents remained, and from what Thor understood, not many could be trusted any longer.

He could not call in any of the Avengers, either. Perhaps Natasha could be trusted to proceed with caution and quiet…and Steven too…but it had been some time since he’d received any communication from them. They had disappeared into Midgard not to be seen. Stark was unreliable, and he did not have enough of rapport with Barton. Banner was a reliable man, but the other aspect of his nature was too readily available, and was certainly not subtle. They would have enough troubles with Karnilla’s lack of abilities in that field.

The Odinson kept his voice close as they stood apart from those seated in the waiting room, though a young girl scribbling in a book filled with plain, lined images absently allowed one of her sticks of coloured wax to roll closer to their feet. Karnilla eyed it a moment before nudging it back in the girl’s direction with her toe.

“A bludgeon is rudimentary but effective to its purpose,” she commented on his praise of Midgardian alchemical studies. “I’d hardly consider it advanced–necessary though it may be. The same for these compounds they have concocted.”

He turned the glass in his fingers, checking how much of the toxin remained in the cracked reservoir. “I can probably draw some conclusions from this much here, but I’d need samples of the blood it affected as well,” he said, rising up from the desk and wrapping the tube back up safely. 

The prince had to resist the urge to pace, thinking that this must have been how Sif felt every time he left her behind when she wanted to come along. A strange thought. Thor frowned at himself. lifting a hand to rub at his bear before returning it to its position inside of his elbow.

The lab offices kept relatively quiet for the day, with only a few patients waiting for their results in the lobby–a young girl with her mother fiddling with her bracelet, a heavy-set man attempting to cover his nervous hands with his use of his iPhone. Don scratched off another set of tests from his list, matching the creatinine levels on the renal test against the IDMS, and setting the stack aside. 

The glass wall of his office, lined with frosted bands toward the bottom that gradually thinned up around chest-level to transparency, allowed a survey of the lobby and the bustling brunette bob of his office assistant sending out another call concerning the results of the lab.

The Post-It beside his own desk phone was hastily scribbled, and periodically he would glance at it with a skewed expression before he went back to verifying the test results the lab assistants had printed off.

What Janey could want his help for, he could not possibly guess.

He set the papers he had been working on into the outbox, and began work on another stack–he would have to go out to discuss the results with the patients in the lobby shortly, but there was no reason why he could not save himself a bit more time by completing the next written verifications. The kidneys were not going anywhere at the moment, and people tended not to mind waiting overlong if the news turned out to be good, besides.

The front door opened and Kim began cooing about something loud enough for the sound to make it through his glass office walls, and Don caught just the bare hint of familiar brown hair over the frosted bars before the broad shoulders and instantly recognisable features of the Norse alien thunder god came into his office.

Don frowned. Kim had not said anything about Janey bringing company–certainly not of the extra-terrestrial sort.

Behind them, another woman entered, tall enough for the beginnings of her ample figure to slink past the frosted decorations, a cloud of black hair curling through nearly the whole expanse of the door frame. 

It was a wonder anyone ever got well here.

His nose wrinkled for a moment before he had moved on. If he breathed in the air long enough he would no longer notice the scent. Thor rubbed at his still-aching arm, flexing the tight burn on his hand. The skin had begun to heal, but more slowly than he was used to expecting, still angry and red, shiny with scar tissue.

Another pang tightened in the center of his chest.

The receptionist, a bubbly, dark-haired girl, stood as they entered. There was a cheerful flush to her cheeks, and she bounced on the spot, seeming to be uncertain of where to go as they approached.

She folded her arms underneath her breasts as she stood in stern, if uncomfortable, silence. The way over had held some further discussion about her attire, and the current ensemble she wore was rather plain for her tastes with the dress’ solid maroon colour and only the hint of lace at the back and the edges of the short sleeves. Her legs felt exposed, however, empty of adornment as it stopped at the knee, and she made up for this with an eyelet open at the bodice for balance.

Don’t act like a child just because Thor’s here, she thought, turning to the secretary.

“Thank you, Kim, I know Doctor Blake’s expecting me,” she said and turned to the two giants trailing in her wake. “If you’d just mind waiting here for a moment, this won’t take long. Kim, would you mind getting them a hot beverage?”

She walked across the room and opened the door of the office without knocking.