Chapter 2
The storm was finally breaking.
Rain still fell, heavy and cold, but the thunder had begun to drift away, echoing faintly across the forested hills. The ground below was torn and scorched, trees snapped like twigs, the air thick with the lingering scent of ozone and wet earth.
At the center of the clearing stood three figures.
Thor gripped Mjölnir, chest rising and falling, lightning still crackling faintly along the hammer's head.
Iron Man hovered a foot above the mud, repulsors humming, armor scraped and sparking.
Captain America lowered his shield slowly, muscles still tense.
For several long seconds, no one spoke.
Above them—far above, lost against the thinning clouds—Kara hovered in silence.
She had been watching for minutes now. Long enough to understand the rhythm of the fight, the clashing philosophies, the strange pride that had driven these three to trade blows instead of words. Long enough to notice what none of them seemed to be paying attention to anymore.
The prisoner.
Loki stood several dozen yards away, positioned on a low rise overlooking the clearing. His wrists were bound in alien restraints, posture relaxed to the point of mockery, rain sliding down his hair as though the storm itself deferred to him. He wasn't struggling. He wasn't fleeing.
He was watching.
And they were arguing.
Kara's brow furrowed. Even from this distance, she could hear them clearly—voices sharp, overlapping, circling the same pointless dispute about jurisdiction and authority. Gods and men posturing while the captive was left effectively unattended.
Her irritation built quickly, hot and unfamiliar.
This is reckless, she thought. This is foolish.
With a silent exhale, she moved.
The air barely disturbed as she crossed the distance, speed instinctive, effortless. Loki sensed it a heartbeat too late—his head turning just as Kara reached him.
Her hand closed around the front of his armor.
In one smooth motion, she pivoted, momentum carrying through her body as she released him in a wide arc back toward the clearing.
Loki barely had time to register surprise.
Thor looked up just in time to see his brother hurtling toward him.
Impact came a second later—Loki colliding squarely with Thor's chest, the force driving them both into the mud in a spray of water and shattered earth. Mjölnir skidded loose. Thunder died mid-crackle.
Silence followed.
Kara descended quickly, landing a short distance away. She took in the scene—two figures sprawled on the ground, motionless—and felt her stomach drop.
"Oh," she said softly.
Her eyes focused on Thor's face.
Recognition hit her all at once.
The holovid images. The Asgardian armor. The presence she'd felt even from orbit.
"…Oops."
Color rushed to her cheeks. Then horror followed, sharp and immediate, as her gaze snapped to Loki—still bound, now groaning faintly where he had landed.
Princes.
Both of them.
Her princes.
"Oh no—no, no, no—"
She crossed the distance in a blur, crouching and grabbing Thor and Loki each by the front of their armor. She shook them gently—or what felt gentle to her—panic threading through her movements.
"Please wake up. I did not mean—this was not—please."
To an outside observer, the sight was… unsettling.
By the time Kara stopped, both Asgardians stared vacantly, eyes unfocused, expressions somewhere between dazed and existentially lost.
Iron Man broke first.
A short bark of laughter escaped him. Then another. Then full-on, armor-shaking laughter.
"I'm sorry," Tony said between breaths, "I just—did a five-foot-nothing girl just accidentally knock out two Norse gods?"
Captain America approached carefully, hands open, voice calm.
"Miss," he said, "mind letting them go before you actually kill them?"
Kara looked down.
Really looked.
Her eyes widened. She made a small, startled squeak and released both of them at once.
They dropped.
Headfirst.
The sound was not encouraging.
Tony laughed harder.
The Quinjet hummed steadily as it cut through the clouds.
Thor sat upright now, one arm braced on his knee, laughter booming as he glanced at Kara beside him. She sat stiffly, hands folded, still radiating mortified energy.
"I have fought frost giants and dark elves," Thor said warmly. "Yet never have I been felled by my own sister wielding my brother as a weapon."
Kara buried her face in her hands.
"I apologized," she mumbled.
Across from them, Tony leaned back, boots up, still grinning. "For the record? Best entrance I've seen all week."
Loki sat restrained nearby, silent, staring straight ahead like a man who had briefly glimpsed the end of all things and found it deeply upsetting.
Captain America watched them all, trying—and failing—to reconcile the last ten minutes with reality. Natasha said nothing, eyes sharp, taking everything in.
Thor's expression sobered as the Helicarrier came into view through the cockpit window.
Kara lifted her head, glancing toward the massive airborne vessel with wide-eyed wonder.
Loki sat restrained nearby, silent, staring straight ahead like a man who had briefly glimpsed the end of all things and found it deeply upsetting.
Captain America watched them all, trying—and failing—to reconcile the last ten minutes with reality. Natasha said nothing, eyes sharp, taking everything in.
The Quinjet descended.
The Helicarrier awaited.