#big performance

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“Misique,” the name that was whispered in every dark alley and praised by the people of this borough who felt afraid for so long, was hissed by a creature who landed right behind you.

From the crouched position you were in to watch your next target your body followed your head in its path to watch the towering figure of the black fanged creature with long tongue extended as it stated, “We are Venom. We have been searching for you.”

Around you mist rippled in the brightening of the yellow glowing sea of glitter in your eyes and braids as you said, “Take a number, I have my target for tonight. My dance card is free on Thursday.”

“We have found another door for better access.” Your head tilted and he said with a widening grin, “We are always hungry.”

Timidly a duo was formed. And not a moment too soon. Even The Punisher had to guide Luke Cage out of his trial retirement to help restrain the dregs of every baddie with a bit of impressive tech. Increased danger in town had you revealing a newly harnessed ability of yours to the public. Bee formed clouds that you could use to run and slide around through the air between leaps and unnatural crawls up the sides of buildings you protected from the explosions the crime fighting duo set off as you crossed their paths.

…

“Pluto, we need to know what your Halloween costume is going to be.” The Coach said catching you in the hall on your way to lunch.

And out of the first thing on your mind, since you had been looking into Greek mythology for a reference on a paper you were writing, you replied, “A white stag, for the Goddess of the Moon and the hunt, Artemis.” That had them grin and go to share there was obviously an unspoken mythical theme from all of their students that could make for an interesting show. Mentally through Buster had the hive get started on a new mask to be ready by the Halloween fair themed game coming up this Friday.

Thankfully for the performance you had a flowing partly sheer dress, an up to the neck covering leotard to match the others’ in varying shades just leaving the masks, possible makeup and hair styling to you all to complete the individual looks. So all that was left to find was the outfit you would wear to school with the mask they wanted you all to wear all day like the band would wear theirs.

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Every piece of your wardrobe hovered around your room in a swarm of bees who tried to help you piece a look together. One that A, wouldn’t accentuate the new irritating growth of your chest measurements, and B, would pair well with a deer mask since you didn’t have the funds to go shop again without digging into your savings account. Already you had to deal with measuring yourself, only to have to be measured again by the woman who didn’t believe you were accurate in realizing you had jumped from an a cup to an almost too small b cup requiring a new hopefully not so padded bra to keep yourself in order when you wore looser necked tops.

Puberty was already meant to be unbearable enough and as you fidgeted the top of your month old bra you tried not to huff feeling some skin pooling over the top hinting you would have to buy another larger one soon. There was no telling how you would end up looking when it was all over and on new dull aches through your bones as you tried to sleep you hoped to be reaching a growth spurt soon to at least explain the pain for a good reason than the obvious thought that your body was dying at an accelerated rate. Thankfully your clothes had been pinned and subtly tailored with easy to remove stitches to grant more room to grow in sparing that much from draining your wallet at least. So you just had to find the right look.

Low necked and even on you a short white knitted dress had you smirk and lift it over a bold pair of grey high waisted heavily pocketed pants. Over the back and groin of the pants laid the layers of the skirt on the dress that hung longer in the back on each layer to match the slopes on the ends of the long sleeves. Clearly a grey leather vest would be added to complete a more steam punk look that with a few long chain necklace accents draped down your chest and back could add to the effect of the shrug that had white and silver accents. To finish the look off you would wear your peep toe high heeled booties that tied across the top joining the sides that had stud accented cutouts and had a polished heel. 

Already you had attached a lovely silver ribbon to the back of your new stag mask that would mime a snout over your nose and branch up to the fake ears that would stick out on either side of your head underneath the pair of antlers. All white except for the silver elegant swirls that from the outlined heart above the bridge of the nose to stretch out across the cheeks, snout, ears and the base of the antlers. A suitable replacement now that you couldn’t be a bee as you had originally planned and very well might not be able to be ever again. That belonged to Misique from now on. And to keep from being mistaken for her you had to keep that barrier between your two halves amongst other things, like the sudden zing of pain in your left thigh that had your bees fill your closet again so you could curl up in your heated blanket to try and dull the pain.

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“Look who’s been hiding in baggy layers,” you heard from behind you. And with a hand out you stopped Greg from charging at Harry Osborn who had crept around the halls to come up on the side of your school’s bleachers to be near to where your team was waiting for halftime.

Back at him you looked to say, “Do not speak to me like that. I will castrate you.”

Lowly he scoffed and replied, “Don’t be like that. We both know-,” a groan left his lips in a drop to his knees. With the back end of your flag you caught him in the groin in the call for halftime and your team to file onto the floor as the basketball teams filed off to claps and cheers.

When you came back to the sidelines he was there again looking you over to say, “You hit a man with an arm in a sling.”

Steadily your eyes locked on his and the smirk across his lips faltered as you spoke plainly so only he could hear, “And I’ll break a little boy in half if he dares to speak to me again with anything but respect.”

“Respect is earned,” he fired back cockily.

“And you’re doing a piss poor job of being worth any right now.” Was your cold reply.

“You love me,” he said and you shook your head, “We’re going to be Mates, you’ll see. Then you won’t be able to be rid of me ever.”

“Fruit flies like you are a dime a dozen, you lack the substance to get caught in a hound’s teeth,” you said taking a seat again on the floor deliberately speaking to Greg to keep him from beating you to the literal punch on this smug brat’s face.

The rest of the evening he was otherwise distracted. After you convinced his team’s bulldog mascot to pee on Harry, and in his try to follow you home in his father’s convertible that was spoiled by a flock of birds splattering their lunches and dinners over the interior of the backseat and its passenger that had him drive off while you walked home alone. Breaking off his tries to convince you his father hadn’t shut up about you since you’d met. Every try clearly with a hint of irritation that was pitifully restrained from the boy who obviously wanted his father’s unflinching approval. Something you somehow earned immediately.

And the next day when you got to head into school in your costume fully excited to see what this rumored fair theme would be like to see if it matched up to the yearly ones you had gone to as a child with your parents. It was going to be a day and evening of celebration as news had come in, Midtown was back in the parade again his year.

*.*.*

“I don’t give a damn what Stane thinks he can slap the Stark name on to sell, he can go and pitch his new glider demo to Japan! Rhodes!” The General in the room barked, making the man himself step forward from his group huddle over some schematics.

“Yes Sir!” 

“You go and find that Pear girl and you see what she can come up with. If Stane won’t build it then we’ll have her meet with our own Engineers and supply the materials she needs. Ample metal allies we have will jump at the chance for a direct payday on a new mystery product.”

“Yes Sir!” He said with a smirk at being able to check into what you could come up with finally.

 *.*.*

Down the sides of your head you arched braids that fed into a chunky braid down the top of your head. At the ponytail you cinched the braid you split it into smaller braids and one medium one you wove together for an interesting spiral pattern all the way to a final hair tie. The mask would be enough to have to deal with so it was a must to keep your hair pulled back completely. School had said that masks were welcome as long as they were appropriate and didn’t jingle, due to a bell coated fiasco the year prior which annoyed everyone who came across them. And the braids helped to help the ribbon sit comfortably to not slide around for stability for the mask. The real task was to not light up your hair or eyes due to habit of wearing a mask on your nightly prowls. A final check of yourself in the mirror was taken before you grabbed your bags and were on your way out.

You certainly got a constant stream of looks on your walk to the final turn where a sudden stream of fellow costumed teens seemed to drop right out of thin air to flow with you into the open school with a panda dressed guard on watch. Mainly to double check props by school rules and add to the ‘chest of confiscated stupidity’ as written across the clear dumpster sized box they could claim the items at the end of the day on their way out.

Comments streamed all day throughout the school to everyone on choice of topic to impersonate to the end of the day when you changed your clothes and filed out in your flowing costumes for the first masked trial run for tonight. A large lot near to the school had been secured, as it was every year, to lure in bodies for a mini carnival for this Halloween mingled celebration. For a few hours in rehearsals the routine was perfected before the home game that had the bleachers in the football field filled for the game.

 *.*.*

Grant Ward, on the side of Pierce, who was now walking with the assistance of a mechanical body brace to help his balance in this first try to walk again, approached Mariah Hill in the hall as she waited on the elevator. Grant when they grew closer to her asked, “I hear you have quite the interest in youth football lately.”

That turned her head to allow her a visual sneak of a check in how stable Pierce was growing to be by the day since those thorns had been removed. And she answered, “My cousin’s kid is on the marching band. Got booked for the Turkey Day Parade. You going to watch the parade?”

Wade shook his head, and in the shift of her gaze to Pierce the injured one answered, “I don’t watch the parade. Going to spend the holiday with my daughter and her family.”

“Should be a nice change,” Mariah said and glanced at May, who in the open of the elevator doors entered the metal box on her pass through the hall faking her own excuse to be there right now.

Ward spoke to his ex, asking, “What’s this I hear about your new obsession with flag twirling?”

“Is the confusion on the flag part or the combined efforts of artistry and synchronized group sports?” She questioned him flatly.

“Why would you like flag twirling?” Ward asked in Mariah’s stroll to her friend’s side.

“They also work with rifles as well.” May said timed to the close of the doors. Absently she stole her own look at the exasperated Pierce who was nearing the cusp of his energy he had to spend for the day. “What’d he say about the parade?”

“Never watches apparently. Or at least he says so.” Mariah answered. “Managed to get free tonight so you don’t need to fill in.”

“Oh I’m going.” May said making Mariah look at her, “Coulsen too. We aren’t missing the fair.”

“We can’t all go.” Mariah argued.

“And you can’t do recon while with your family. It’s a fair, kids get snatched at theme parks and carnivals all the time. We’re not going blind on this one.” May countered skillfully.

“You got a point.” Mariah said with an accenting nod, then smiled in asking, “You see the satellite footage of her flight yet?”

“My statement stands. I love her and I want twelve of her. Can’t wait to see what they have for the theme this week.” May answered proudly.

“Ricky said it’s a mythological theme.” Mariah shared gladly in her own expectations for the evening.

“Hope there’s a beheading.” May whispered in the split of the doors that let more people inside and disturb their conversation. Mariah had to bite the inside of her lower lip to not laugh.

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Both the band and Color Guard filled the field. Lines of scattered dancers held flags that twirled between lines of the band. To the sassy tune divisions of the lines would reveal each of the chosen main dancers with rifles who would act out the story of chosen mythological characters to the song. Lights held by a chosen group would dart around the chosen First Stringers designated solos would help to direct focus. A job especially helpful in your bit where as the Goddess of the Hunt you had your rifle, and as your Coach instructed you tossed that up as high as you could for a gravity defying set of moves.

Miming spinning doors back to back with others you came in and out of focus distracting the male dancers with flags who were trying to get glimpses of you through flags and band members. Up over your head in one handed holds with arches of your and his body each male dancer pretended to be bested before you would catch your rifle leaving them on the ground. Meanwhile each flight away you would steal their flags, that around your necks, waist with a securing anchor of a bent leg and torso with bent arms the flags would ease down your body in your spin away into the reforming lines with just sight of the again upright flag to help you blend back into the hidden dancers until your tune was up and the next story would kick on.

“Oh wow,” Rhodes said, turning Mariah’s head to not only see him but Fury on her right, the latter who was sipping on his drink through a straw while his funnel cake cooled a bit.

“When did you get here?” Mariah asked.

“Bit ago, before they went on, wow, this is pretty good for some upper city kids, don’t usually see this much flavor up North for band performances.” Rhodes answered and asked, “You know why May and Coulsen aren’t sitting with you? They’re way up over in the back of the cheer section.”

“We’re pretending we don’t know one another.” Mariah shared, making him look at her a moment when the performance ended amidst raucous cheers for the other band to have their turn. “I’ve talked to Pluto, be too obvious if they sat with me and started talking to her too out of nowhere.”

“This still about the mystery threat thing?” He asked.

Fury said, “Plausible deniability, Rhodes. Enjoy your popcorn and the rest of the game, we’re off to the fair after this and I’m gonna get me another funnel cake and one of those churros.”

Mariah asked, “Fury didn’t bring you?”

“No, General wanted me to ask Pluto what she designed for the contest. They hated the glider idea Stane sent over.” Rhodes answered proudly.

Fury said, his eye fixed on the field, “Stane is not gonna take to that well.”

“Well we’ve got enough supply connections to make what she designed on our own. And finally give our Engineers something good to work on aside from new shades for body armor vests and harnesses. Besides, with that code she gave us to hunt down hideouts in mountains she’s gained enough trust and time to at least hear out what she can come up with.”

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To the end of the game they waited and with a grin Rhodey alongside Fury met you on the way out of the field as you eyed the delivery man who had been aimed your way. A shake of your head was his answer to if you would accept the first of what would be gifts from Harry Osborn to buy your friendship and attention to prove his assumption he was your Mate. The delivery man didn’t care one way or the other. And when the other two men approached you the shift of your hand drew a bit of attention to your golden arrow topped white painted nails in the adjustment of the straps on the bags slung over your shoulder that shifted the sleeve of your sweater when they settled again.

“Lt Colonel Rhodes,” you said to the familiar face in the duo, “Something wrong?”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head, “In fact the General wanted me to come down and tell you that he wants to hear what you had designed for Stark.”

“But, I didn’t even make the short list on consideration. All Stane wanted was a copy of my notes on overhauling his flight system.” You questioned that answer.

“This offer is not from Stark Industries but the Air Force itself.” He answered.

“Oh,” you said and asked, “Do they do that?”

“When someone pulls off a show of intelligence the way you did in Goliath’s code and then the change to the flight readings afterwards. Had to make sure we got at least a taste of that before anyone else tried to replicate it.”

“I partly thought they’d be glad to be rid of me after the show I put on.” You said making Rhodey chuckle as you glanced up at Fury who finished off his drink. “I saw you online, you were with Captain America when he woke up and caused that stir in Times Square.”

“Nick Fury,” he said offering his hand that you shook. “Glad to meet you, heard about you from Morita, we go way back, served with his dad in Korea. I was in town and I never pass up on a good chance at fair food. They got funnel cake. You like funnel cake?” He asked in the retraction of your hand that revealed his pulse had spiked oddly within the last bit asking about food.

“I don’t think I’ve had any before.” You answered.

“We’ll get you some at the fair. You are going?” Fury asked.

To that you answered, “I told Greg I’d meet up with him and the guys after I dropped off my bags. They said I could add them to one of their parents’ trunks but sometimes there’s work emergencies and people have to leave.”

“We can walk you there and back, have some time to chat about your idea.” Rhodey said and you flinched out a nod and moved to take a step to lead the way with the both of them on your left and Rhodey being the closest to you. “Please tell me it wasn’t a glider,” he said making you smirk.

“Actually it’s a new twist on a DC-3.” you shared.

“Nice,” Rhodey said. “Jet adaptation?”

“Sort of, it’s actually meant to out perform any jet in production.” you said.

“And Stane turned that down?” Fury chuckled to himself, “Stark will be pissed when they find him.”

“Well, he never asked what I thought up, just for my code notes. I’m sort of, old fashioned, I can’t stand modern styles, and there’s something about the classic lines a DC-3 has, plus there’s more room.” You shared.

“Don’t fix it if it ain’t broke my CO always said in basic. Got pushed out of a good deal of that model in my service.” Fury said stealing a glance your way around Rhodey who grinned at the shared memory.

Rhodey asked, “How exactly do you beat a jet engine?”

“Kinetic energy.” You said.

Fury asked, “Like when you zap yourself from dragging your feet?”

“Sort of, it’s an engine that once started powers itself continuously,” you tried to give hint of what it could do, while also keeping vague in case they turned the design down.

“I thought all planes use kinetic energy?” Rhodey asked.

“Yes, but not kinetic engines, they use combustion engines, this one doesn’t. Might be a bit hard for others to wrap their head around, down to the solar skin for the wings and tail flaps.” You replied.

“Solar skin,” Rhodey said to himself trying to imagine what you had in mind until you brought out your phone to use that to show the duo the basic schematics model while waiting to cross a street. “So, you’re keeping the propellers?” he asked pointing to the wing internals you had been trying to simplify down to a ten minute walk.

“They’re not propellers.” You said and his brows arched up in confusion, “Arguably, they look like propellers but they are there to ground the engine.”

“How would that affect the flight if they don’t spin? That would create drag, right?” Fury asked and Rhodey nodded.

“They do spin, not in the way traditional propellers do, actually they can switch direction depending on what maneuver is being performed and help to keep the engine from overworking itself while retaining the field around the plane.” You shared.

“Field?” they both asked together.

“A side effect of the way the engine works makes the skin repel projectiles.” You said causing their mouths to open, “Granted there’s a Death Star weakness if you launch a warhead right at the spot, but I’m working on that, it takes some tweaking, minor adjustments to the chin to have that mechanism moved to a deeper spot to not have the risk of implosion if hit.”

Fury asked, “You said implosion?”

“Yes, if the weak spot were to be hit it would essentially fold in on itself when the engine gets unstable.” You said plainly causing them to worry about how dangerous these could be.

“How likely aside from the weak spot is it that the plane would implode?” Rhodey asked.

“As long as there is a maintenance schedule upheld, and the swap of a few belts and fuses then it shouldn’t. Essentially the only time aside from being targeted in its weak spot would be the installation process. It has to be followed exactly with no adjustments to the schematic or, well, there will be a crater where the shop once was.” You said.

Fury commented aloud, “Sounds like a nuke.”

“I know I’m not exactly painting a decent picture but someone once pitched the Hindenburg and we all know how that went,” you said making the duo smirk. “There’s danger in building it, but if you follow the guidelines and no one tries to change anything it would be one of the most reliable craft you could have, no different than building warheads or grenades.”

“Sounds incredibly unique, for sure, have you thought much on projectiles? I know the General will ask.” Rhodey said and wet his lips looking you over in your hop up onto the curb on the other side of the street.

“Well it can be fitted with a basic set of guns on the wings near to the base and under the belly for a hatch, that would be easy, my main attention actually went for a defense for the weak spot actually over adding guns, since anyone can do that.” You guessed.

“True, we could certainly come up with some ideas for guns. And we can let you focus on the defenses.” Rhodey agreed.

“I’ve already gotten a decent one in schematics. OWLS.” You said and his eyes narrowed a moment as you brought up the schematics. “It’s an acronym, partly. Most jets now have flares to help deflect warheads.”

“True,” Rhodey answered looking over what looked to be metal puffball owls mixed with small rockets for shape on the first image.

“They look like metal owls but when a warhead is detected they are shot out like flares are, but upon contact they expand to coat the warhead entirely and then detonate the charge inside itself to cause what looks to be a two second black hole,” you said making the two let out a stunned chuckle in amusement. “I was tempted to name them Blackhowls,” you said making them chuckle again, “But that might not be taken well by the military.”

“And these are easy to make?” Fury asked.

“Yes, it’s an adaptation of nano-tech that has an expanding metal that reacts like a combustible hungry parasite. And like grenades and warheads they’re a one use tool but they are cheaper to replace than pagers and not harmful, past the threat of an electrical shock from the grounding of the tail to help with the navigation and sensors for warheads.” You paused a moment then added, “Even if they don’t like the plane I was hoping to share these at least. I’ve been looking up schematics on war injuries and the highest percentile are from IED’s,” you said making the duo nod in your glance up their way in another turn of a corner.

“These OWLS you can launch from a plane or you can modify them into a sort of flare gun, smaller of course, but you fire them, either at, let’s say someone uses a rocket launcher on a base you could use this to greatly lessen the explosion to a huge gust of wind,” you said stunning them again. “Or you can fire it down a street and it emits a sort of sonar, because I’ve been finding a great deal of supplies used in devices reported and sold on black markets actually set off a pulse, then they chase down any device that is buried or alert to where the signal comes from before they can detonate. And like the air born ones they can absorb and detonate them safely. So it could actually help a good deal of the bomb squads and soldiers in transport or monitoring city bases.”

“And these are cheaper than pagers too?” Rhodey asked with excitement.

You nodded, “Oh ya, I mean, I’m 14, but these would be more trusted to use from a kid I would guess, and easier for them to test again and again then mass produce to ship out and put into use.”

“Definitely we will be all over this. In the very least,” Rhodey said, then looked to Fury who added, “Blackhowl would be a kickass name for the new DC-3,” making the former chuckle to himself and nod to you in agreement.

“It would.” Rhodey stated and looked up as you reached your stoop. “We’ll wait down here for you.” You nodded and trotted up the stoop to the front door you unlocked and eased it open to get inside leaving the two to stand in amazement about the ideas you had showed them. “This gonna endanger the kid?” He asked Fury. Fully realizing how much more attention you would be getting from this, especially from the military and especially press when this project came to public knowledge.

“Don’t think so, but I can certainly see how she and The Purge bonded.” That had Rhodey look at him wide eyed a moment. “She got snatched up by the Kingpin a while back and The Purge helped her out of his tower. They’re both crazy brilliant and nobody seems to be able to get a full picture on either of them.”

Rhodey asked lowly, “She knows Misique? You don’t think she’s-,” Fury shook his head.

“Nah, Pluto’s been accounted for during each attack inside her place, that was one of the first thoughts. Pluto can kick some ass, fight like nobody I’ve seen before. I mean she could probably give Widow a run for her money, but that Misique, I can’t figure out what the mask is for. Unless like my eye she’s got something she wants to hide, side effect from an experiment or something. Banner turns green and grows, maybe she, grows scales or fur, or I don’t know, her skin peels back and she sprouts tentacles.” Fury brainstormed.

“That’s terrifying,” Rhodey said, “Please stop, I don’t need nightmares. I saw Davy Jones in the Pirates films and I had dreams of suction cups on my arm for weeks. She, probably just has a day job, or something. And you’re sure no one else is up there?”

“Oh no,” Fury said, “No, thermal scans show nobody else has been in since a stop by the Swedish Ambassador and his lawyers who most likely found out she’s alive still and became a citizen here. Our girl keeps to herself, works hard. Only fault she cuts her toast diagonally.”

Rhodey chuckled, saying, “You got to get over that toast thing, man.”

“I will not and you can’t make me see reason on this.” Fury retorted playfully and looked up again when the inner door opened again and revealed you with tomato in hand that already had a bite taken out of it while you chewed showing that you were eating the odd choice of snack. Once through the heavier door you opened with a shove of your upper arm against it to fake its weight against your size for the two men on the sidewalk atop your palm the tomato was adjusted to take another bite.

When you reached them you said after swallowing your mouthful, “Found my tomato. Was gonna add it to my lunch, set it down and forgot where. Gonna lose its zing tomorrow,” you say taking another bite, subtly slurping the spill of liquid and seeds that came with it.

Rhodey said, “Texture thing, right? My daughter has a weird system on fruit and vegetables. Doc said she might grow out of it but it really does change the taste of sauces from what I can tell, the rest is just odd.”

“Children actually have more taste buds than adults,” you explained, “Part of why kids are considered picky eaters. I’m actually keeping a record on how food changes over the years for me.”

“Sounds like fun,” Rhodey said with a forcefully pleased tone.

“Not particularly, but it does fill the time during food prep.” You said with a forced grin. “You, really wanted to spend your evening at a fair?”

“I could use a night out,” Rhodey said only for Fury to add, “I certainly could.”

Talk on projects you had done for school filled the walk to the fair where fellow students were pleased to see you and guided you away to more fun stops along the way. A few game booths and snacks were bought while Ricky and the guys split from their parents to help you have a fun hour until their parents had to take them home for their own morning plans. “They have some booths over here,” was shared and to look at the few trinket selling booths.

“Here, you could use this,” a woman with a cross adorned booth held up a cross on a chain in your path. “Light a beacon for Our Father on this night of heathens.”

“Oh, um,” you said lowering your foot from an attempted step the guys who were at the next booth already took back themselves to see why you had stopped. “I’m not Christian,” you said while Chester in your hair let you know your fellow Norseman teacher Max was making a path straight for you. His determination urged Rhodey and Fury, who were off fetching more snacks, to pay attention to see what might be going on.

“I have some Jewish stars as well.” She said lowering the cross to lift another necklace from her supply on display.

“I’m not Jewish, either,” you said and held back an urge to flinch when Max’ hand came to rest on your upper back.

And in Swedish he spoke to you, still knowing enough of your language even in his years of letting his practice slip since leaving Norway,

“Move along, Pluto. This woman is no good. Do not let her poison this evening.”

“Don’t let that Pagan poison you! They sacrifice women you know!” She shouted earning a glare in return from you. “The path of the righteous is to pull the weak from darkness!”

That had you stop and turn to face her and say, “The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and goodwill, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee. Ezekiel 25:17.” Her lips parted and you said, “I read the bible cover to cover and it offered no comfort on why Ragnar Lothbrook would abandon the halls of his fathers to appease his Christian companions. Only the willing are granted the chance to offer sacrifice, anything less is an insult to the gods. Your ignorance does you no justice and will not win you my soul, leech.” She scoffed at the insult and watched you turn back to join the others while she found the ability to begin shouting obscenities to the point two guards nearby came to escort her out of the fair for causing a disturbance.

Max at your side chuckled and lowly complimented your response, then stated, “That woman keeps weaseling in each year and gets escorted out each year.”

“Only argument they have is human sacrifice, every time,” you said, “Same as limiting Buddhism to an argument on reincarnation and nothing else.”

One of the guys said, “My uncles are Buddhists, nonstop about films of monks handing out flowers at the airports when they come for holidays. I get it totally.” Your beliefs amongst the group was no secret and had been a sort of adventure for them to learn about your culture a bit to help gain some common ground as you had studied up on things they mentioned.

Like you had called it soon enough parents came to claim their kids. Greg out of them made sure to remind you, “Party at my place, don’t forget.”

“I’ll be there, already have the cake recipe ready.” You said gaining a round of hugs from him and the twins and the others on their way home. Alone a final few games were won with small prizes of colorful wooden animals you could add to your decorations.

A hand reaching out had Coulsen and May close in as you gripped your locket and parents’ wedding bands to keep the strange woman from touching your heirloom. “How much do you want for that necklace?” She asked and you glared up at the clearly affluent woman bent on always getting what she wants. “That would go perfect with my pearl and ruby chain flower earrings.”

“Not for sale.” You said winning a glare from her in return.

“I want that necklace, name your price!” she demanded.

“Not for sale.” You adamantly fired back.

She scoffed and said, “That’s ridiculous, that thing is clearly old, can’t be more than fifty.”

A rather studious looking man in a tweed jacket had been seen by the bees wading in and out of your line of sight all evening since first having seen that locket for himself. “This locket has been in my family for generations from my ancestor who fought at Queen Lagertha’s side, given to her by the Goddess Frigg.”

She scoffed again and the man said, “My dear child, there you are,” a gentle gesture of his hand to the side allowed you to ease aside as he glared at the woman who seemed to be on the receiving end of a mental jab who turned away to go who knows where. When you were alone the two agents kept at a distance with Rhodey and Fury on parallel pathways behind you, the new stranger lowly said to you in Swedish, “I apologize that woman, some people are merely blind. Clearly a piece from Asgard, and from the Queen herself is priceless. I am so pleased to hear you know the history behind the piece.”

“How, how do you know the history?” you asked lowly, folding your fingers around your small animal trinkets now pressed to your belly.

“I am from Asgard,” he said in a quick chuckle, “Elliot Randolph, on Midgard, I no longer associate with my former name.”

“Did Heimdall send you?” That had his brow arch up in confusion, “He, said, we’d talk again?”

“I apologize, but no. I am a Beserker, I live here in exile, self imposed of course I no longer wished to partake in the bloodshed. I saw your photograph online and wished to check if you knew the history of that piece as it is quite powerful.” Subtly your lips parted as he said, “Such a seeing glass inside of a locket, capable of tearing the mind from the body within corrupt souls who yearn for such pieces given with such an honest intention to those who bear them. I am pleased it is safe with you, and if I might say, as for what Heimdall has planned for a new meeting, had he given his word he will keep it.” You nodded and he asked, “Can I, ask when you met, or why? Travel is quite restricted to Midgard since the split of Beserker forces when I arrived here.”

You shook your head and said, “I, was having a panic attack. He told me he was issued by the Norns to tell me I was, emerging.”

That had his lips part and he raised a hand to timidly tap his fingertips to your upper arm, “That has not occurred in a millennia, quite painful, I hear. And I must say, welcome, should you require aid or feel targeted, I will give you my card. I am a Professor, Histories and Mythologies depending on my lifetime at the moment.” He did offer you his card and with a grin he said, “For now, clearly you are being followed, I will not trouble your shadows more with questions on me. Stay strong and trust the Norns will guide the way.”

“Thank you,” you said accepting the card he pulled from his pocket you eased into your own pocket then paused at a booth for scarves when he strolled off on his own aloofly.

“You-,” Morita out from behind a rack of scarves eased and when he spoke you flinched back a step widening his eyes a moment, “You okay?”

“Yes,” you let out a quick chuckle. “Just, woman who tried to touch my locket.”

He nodded as you stepped back and asked, “That man seemed nice, gave you his card?”

“Ya, he’s a Professor of Mythologies and has found jewelry pieces like mine in his research into Norse myths.”

“So, there, are actually more like that?” He asked in reluctant disbelief.

You nodded, “Not many, rarely gifted, so he has been collecting them.”

“He didn’t try to buy yours, did he?” He asked protectively.

“No, he heard me tell the woman its history and offered his card in case I wanted to hear more on his pieces he’s found.” Your eyes shifted over his face in his next calculating nod, and reassured him, “I am okay, just trying to not buy a scarf I don’t need.”

With a grin he replied, “I can see that. Did you want a ride home, it is getting late?”

“I should be okay, looks like Lt Colonel Rhodes and Mr Fury are making their way back to me.” You said making him smirk in noticing the duo clearly on their way over when he noticed them in a sort of sign to come over. The pair did walk you home again and on that walk a planned day to be taken out to meet with the General and a team of military experts amongst engineering and aviation would hear your pitch on your Blackhowl adaptation of a DC-3.

..

Pt 9

.-.-.

Hope you guys are enjoying it and if you don’t mind let me know what your thoughts are. Tons more adventures coming up now that Venom is involved and new faces coming Pluto’s way to mingle in both of her lives. :)

All –

@sherala007, @mariannetora, @jesgisborne, @knitastically, @catthefearless, @theincaprincess, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000, @alishlieb,

Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore