cutting_edgex23 | yellow bird flying

X judges him for the coffee.

She judges him so hard.

She also judges all the other diner patrons that are drinking coffee. Except those that are drinking decaf.

Those she just finds confusing.

It shows clearly on her face. Every time.

Thor is just confused by the judging, every time.

Coffee is DELICIOUS, man. (He informs X of this. She seems unconvinced.)

But if X wants to scorn it, her loss!

Maybe Thor will understand once X explains about Stitch on caffeine. And Batgirl.

The horror will never leave her thoughts. Ever.

(Why she waits until a diner in Maryland to tell him the story, no one knows.)

Maybe it's the pancakes.

Maybe he will!

...But nope. Thor thinks Stitch is hilarious.

Although he does understand why she doesn't want Stitch drinking coffee. Or Cass. Clearly something about it does weird things to their metabolisms.

He will helpfully assure her, over the excellent pancakes, that it does not have the same effect on Asgardians.

X looks dubious, but since he doesn't start bouncing around the diner, throwing plates and hanging from any exposed rafters or beams --

Well.

Maybe she will eventually believe him.

(But when it comes to the effect of caffeine on humans she is still dubious. A little.

At least espresso comes in smaller cups?)

Thor, indeed, does none of those things.

Nor even race her any more recklessly than usual!

(Motorcycles are fun, but they don't have the speed to be really reckless, anyhow, he feels. Thor's standards of recklessness are... high.)

The Atlantic Ocean is nice, though. And so are the crab cakes, which Diane the waitress assures him he's gotta try.

And then: McDonald's. X informs him that it's traditional.

What is also traditional --

Happy Meals, or so X has been reliably informed. (Thanks, Santo.)

The sparkly plastic tiaras are a surprise, and they don't fit very well. Sadly.

X takes a photograph.

She lets Thor take one, too.

There are no more badass princesses on this planet.

Even if Thor does look better in the tiara. It matches his eyes.

If these thin patties of poor meat are a traditional custom, Thor will not speak ill of them.

He doesn't order seconds, though.

But he does smile for the camera! Apparently it's the done thing. Even though he does feel obliged to tell X that crowns are not part of the royal regalia on Asgard. Not even full-size ones.

X keeps the tiara anyway.

And then: northwards into New Jersey, and then New York.

They are not part of X's regalia in any reality, but tradition has been satisfied.

(That is probably relevant.)

X slows her bike once they get to New York, and not only because obeying traffic laws is important. Fortunately her helmet has an automatic map setup, into which she has already keyed the route to the college.

And Alex's schedule.

The physics building should be . . . . about . . .

Ah. Here.

She parks her bike and waits for Thor to join her.

But other than that, and looking up at the building, she doesn't move.

Thor knows there's no chance that Jane Foster will be in this world's New York, nor Erik Selvig.

He can't help but keep an eye out anyway.

But mostly, he's here for X's sake. It's X he's mostly keeping an eye on.

(And the buildings and the rest of the crowd, but that's just training. You keep your eyes open, and you deal with anything that comes as you need to.)

He comes up beside X, staying within her peripheral vision -- not hard, when you're a head taller and a good bit broader than your companion -- and draws to a halt beside her.

After a moment, he shifts his weight to press his bicep lightly against her shoulder.

X leans into the touch, more than a little.

She takes a breath.

Then she steps away, smooths down her hair, clips a student I.D. badge to her keychain, and heads for the labs.

"Hi," she says, smiling at the receptionist on the ground floor, in front of the elevators. "You wouldn't know where I could find Alex's PI, do you? Alex Cimini. He left some papers and a notebook in the kitchen this morning, and he'll be kicking himself about now."

X shifts her weight from one leg to the other, pulling down at the strap of the bag over her shoulder.

The receptionist smiles back, polite and a little tired. Kids. Honestly.

"He'll probably be in the downstairs lab, this time of day. Most of that group are. It's B255. Take the second bank of elevators."

"Thanks!"

X's smile brightens and turns into a grin. "Here's hoping I don't get lost. Navigation's not my best skill."

She'll turn around to wave at Thor, flashing five fingers held very separately.

(He can take care of himself -- and decide whether to follow or not. It's -- safer. Or maybe just easier. Right now.)

"Shall I come, or leave you to it?"

X grins at him, with a chameleon cheer that's faintly unsettling to see -- and dimly nostalgic, too. How often did Loki change his face and form with illusion, to counterfeit another's appearance with his own manner? This is the opposite: X's shape unchanged, X's straightforward warrior's manner altered for deceit. "If you've got nothing better to do," she says, "sure. It shouldn't take long."

Thor shrugs, gives the receptionist a small smile, and follows.

The receptionist watches him go. Thor's pretty well used to that.

"Thanks," X says, nudging her arm against Thor's as they go.

That's pretty much all she says as they make their way to the elevator, as the elevator goes down to the second sub-basement, and as they continue down a windowless concrete block hallway -- painted a lovely off-white -- heading to lab B255.

X stops just outside, lifting her hand to grip the knob, then pausing, then lifting her hand again.

She takes a deep breath. Then a second one.

It doesn't make opening the door any easier.

In lieu of making a concrete decision, she peers through the glass on the door, instead, looking inside. A bunch of grad students and and lab assistants, including Alex Cimini, who appears to be in charge of the computer, begin the final countdown to some kind of test, using a new piece of equipment that they appear to have built.

"All right, we're all set to g -- "

"Wait, wait. The readings are -- "

"What's happening? It's not supposed to -- "

X staggers, letting go of the doorknob and taking a step back.

"Thor. Something is -- "

The light from the machine is very bright.

Thor is tense beside her, all his easy grace transmuted in an instant into readiness to leap into battle. His right hand opens at his side, though he doesn't summon Mjölnir to him yet.

His gaze cuts between X and the equipment, glowing bright as flame.

"Energies," he says -- or at least, that's the English word that comes out. The one he uses in the Allspeech is a little more specific. "There are soul-embers burning. X, are you well?"

She shakes her head, back and forth, back and forth.

Her hand is burning.

"I do not kn -- "

The ground quivers.

X looks up at Thor, then, eyes widening.

"I think we need to leave. They do, too."

Fortunately there is a fire alarm within easy reach. X pulls that, ignoring the ink that sprays across her hands, then yanks open the lab door.

"Something's wrong," she says. Overhead the fire alarm screams. "You guys, we've got to get out of here."

Some of the students start audibly wondering who this girl is, but drills and a severe lab technician mean they're already grabbing keys and heading out the door.

X follows, flicking a quick glance at Thor as she does so.

They can talk back on street level. Away from crowds of strangers.

Right?

Edited 2014-04-21 21:58 (UTC)

"That will cause them all to leave? Good."

Thor makes sure all the humans are out of the room before he follows after X, casting searching glances through every room they pass.

Any stragglers are going to get chivvied along by a tall and commanding Asgardian. Emphatically if necessary.

"There's too much energy for this building. It won't hold for long. The materials are not made to withstand such forces."

He can walk out of a collapsed building if it comes down on his head. X too. These humans will die, and he will not see that happen.

"No," X agrees. "And we do not know how localized they are. The tremors. It could be -- "

This, of course, is when they make it outside. And are greeted by chaos.

Chaos, and a balding man in a suit, somewhere amongst the crowd. His eyes are burning. The symbol on his forehead is burning, too.

X cannot look away.

"Thor, I -- "

The tremors increase to a full-blown earthquake.

It doesn't take long for buildings to start falling. Clouds of dust and debris fill the air, along with the sound of people's screams. X can no longer see the be-suited man. It seems relevant.

But not right now.

Edited 2014-04-21 22:21 (UTC)

A streak of silver bursts from the saddlebag of a nearby motorcycle, soars high above the crowd as a duller glint through the haze, and plunges down again to smack into Thor's waiting palm.

His t-shirt and flannel and jeans look abruptly incongruous, like an afterthought of an illusion over something more real.

"X." His voice is deep, urgent, commanding: aimed to cut through noise, and cut through confusion. "If you see this demon, or another foe, point me to him. Otherwise I will help these people."

"I cannot see him," X says, shaking her head once. "Anymore."

She'd be frustrated, but there are other concerns at the moment.

"You can carry me, too? It will be faster than climbing. Some buildings have not fallen yet, and there is no one else."

Edited 2014-04-21 22:35 (UTC)

"Yes."

Of course.

He catches her around the waist with his free arm as he drops Mjölnir to its strap and gives it a quick twirl. Silver armor ripples into being, mail latches itself from nothingness about his arms, and a red cape unfurls from his shoulders as he tosses them both skyward.

Some of the shouts in the crowd take on a different tenor as they dart upward.

"Go. I will take the south." The shifting of his grasp is the only other signal; so far as he's concerned, X needs no other.

And then she's getting pitched towards a seventeenth-story window. Thor has the pinpoint accuracy of a guy who's thrown a hammer around for several centuries. It's safe to say the window will lose.

Edited 2014-04-21 22:45 (UTC)

X tucks midair so that she hits the window feet-first.

It will save on a little healing energy. For later.

That later may involve mere seconds, as she slams into a wall before coming to a complete stop. Still.

She stands, shaking glass out of her clothes, and scents the air. There are people in several rooms on this floor.

In the rest of the building --

There are so many more.

She moves as quickly -- and as carefully -- as possible, gathering up survivors and sending them to the corner apartment with the large sliding doors and the most stable floors.

Maybe the firemen will be fast enough with their ladders.

Maybe --

Fortunately for everyone involved, at least in this building --

Spider-Man shows up first. And he and X have worked together before.

Successfully, even.

It helps.

Thor has chosen a building that's going to fall soon enough; it's groaning and cracking already. Earth's steel and concrete can only hold for so long. It makes speed a necessity -- but care rather less so.

He's very careful with the people, of course. But a whole lot of interior walls get sacrificed in the name of efficiency and Mjölnir.

Everybody seems to recognize him. It's useful. Clearly they think he's the alternate version X told him of -- a few babble questions to him about Avengers and names he doesn't know -- but they listen and obey, which is what counts. He doesn't answer their questions. Those who can hurry downstairs and away. Those who can't, he carries to the ground in armloads: clinging to his back, his neck, encircled by his arm. He sets them down where it's safe and tosses himself back into the dust-clouds.

When that building is empty, the next. The tremors have ceased. The soul-embers' energy has subsided. Now would be only the aftermath, save for the great sigil glowing orange in the sky. Thor doesn't know it. Perhaps his father or mother would. (Perhaps Loki would have.) He keeps a wary eye out, but sees no sign of a foe, no surge of energy from the sigil, nothing to fight.

This is what it means to be a prince, a king, a warrior: you use your strength in service of those who are weaker.

It's what it means to be an X-man, too.

Seeing that Thor and Spider-Man have the existing buildings sewn up, X devotes herself to digging up those on -- or under -- the ground.

She lifts rebar, claws through brick and stone and steel, pulls away rocks, carries the wounded, the elderly, and the small and scared.

She helps carry food, water, and shock blankets to those that need it, and helps clear pathways for EMTs and other emergency workers.

There is never time to stop. Not until all the work is done.

And by then the sun is ready to set.

Thor leaves the medical care to those who understand human physiology. Most of what he knows is that humans are incredibly delicate.

Lifting giant chunks of rubble, though -- well, that he can do. All around him, others are pitching in, the weak and the strong alike: X, a springing white-suited man he hears called Spider-Man, the humans of the crowd, others in uniforms of rescue forces or guards.

Until it seems there's nothing more that urgently needs doing, and a look at X tells him that she agrees.

Edited 2014-04-21 23:15 (UTC)

"It is the symbol," X says, stepping close to Thor.

(After inspecting him to make sure he is not injured, of course. Just to be sure.)

"From my dream. It was on a man, too. Here. But I cannot find his scent. I -- "

She flicks a glance up at her Asgardian friend as several white-suited figures approach.

Spider-Man drops down near them, too. Apparently the white is a theme.

"It's not over yet. You say you've seen the symbol before? Here, in New York?"

Reed Richards, it seems, is not much for small talk. This is probably for the best.

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