Bronze Mettle (MCU/DC SI)

[Xavier Bronze]

Sif: Interlude​

Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg follow me into the Bifrost chamber. We have been preparing for this day ever since Heimdall told us Mjolnir had been claimed by a mortal. This noble Phil must be properly met by members of the Asgardian court, and friends of Mjolnir's previous owner.

I cannot think of Thor at this time. I must ready myself to meet this new warrior of Midgard.

Heimdall opens the Bifrost, and the four of us step through.

We emerge at the edge of a cliff. I see a gateway of human artifice in the rock between my feet and the sea below. There is a small structure nearby that I can only assume leads down inside Phil's fortress. The fortress is cleverly located to utilize the rocks themselves as both camouflage and additional defenses.

Fandral affixes one end of a rope to one of the rocks, and leaps off the cliff. I watch him swing and land inside.

I roll my eyes at his fancy. But, if he's going to make it easy for me... I ensure my scabbard is securely attached before sliding down his rope. Once I reach the level of the opening, I swing, and jump inside.

Are these flying machines? I had no idea the humans had become so advanced while we had been gone. This must be some kind of sky dock.

The local garrison point their quaint sulfur-based weaponry at us. I raise my hands to show I mean no harm, "We seek the great warrior Phil."

Not long later, the man I spoke with on my previous visit to this realm enters the sky dock from one of the back doors. He passes all of his subordinates and approaches us.

He reaches his hand out, and only moments later Mjolnir flies from somewhere behind me over my shoulder and into his hand. He asks, "I'm assuming you're here to talk to me about this."

This is the man Mjolnir abandoned our prince to serve, so soon after his departure? This man is Phil? "Yes. Heimdall has been watching for a time when you would have the chance to speak at length. You keep very occupied. Otherwise we would have come sooner."

He smiles in a strange manner, "Next time he could just ask for my schedule. I have copies."

"...I will tell him that. Thank you."

"What did you want to ask?"

All my plans for how to proceed suddenly elude me. This man is the last thing I would have foreseen.

Thankfully Fandral has his wits more about him, "We simply want to know more about the man who now wields one of Asgard's greatest treasures. What do you plan to do with it? And why?"

Volstagg continues, "Who do you fancy? How do you fight? What do you eat? That's how you know someone."

He lets the mighty Uru weapon hang in his hand at his side, "That's a lot of questions. Should I just... answer them in order?"

Hogun answers in the way only he can, "Yes."

The supposed warrior Phil nods, "Okay. I plan to protect my people and this planet from anyone that means them harm. I'm doing it because I believe given the same opportunity, anyone would be obligated to do the same. I'm currently fond of a cellist. A bard, named Audrey. I'm not much of a fighter, but that's been changing recently. Maybe we can spar later, if you have the time."

I step forward, not a hint of a smile crossing my lips, "Yes, I think I'll find the time."

Fandral passes me and gives the imposter a hearty clap on the shoulder, "Now then, why don't you tell us more about this cellist, and all the things about her worth fancying."

After what feel like countless decades of man-talk and drivel, it finally comes time. Phil leads us to a training area elsewhere in the fortress.

He tells the four of us, but I only hear it directed at myself, "This may go without saying, but I've never sparred with Asgardians before. I don't know how tough I am by your standards."

I draw my sword and shield, and extend the second blade, "If you truly have Thor's might, you have nothing to fear."

The Warriors Three pull me aside. Hogun shakes his head, "You cannot hurt him. No matter how much you miss Thor, you would disrespect his memory to injure his divine successor."

I sigh and grit my teeth, "I know. You need not worry. I shall not do him any permanent damage. But I need to test his mettle. We will yet see if he's worth the Uru he now carries, or if his will is as soft as bronze."

The three silently interrogate me with their eyes for several moments more. And then they give me release.

I turn to my duel, "Prepare yourself, Warrior Phil."

He enacts two truly pitiful practice swings, "So, should we count to three? Or-"

I leap forward and swing my blade down at his head. He raises Mjolnir and hits the flat of my blade aside so it strikes the floor at his feet. I ram his head with my own, and rotate my sword to thrust with the other end.

He takes a step back to dodge, and I push my advantage, driving him back one step at a time with alternating blows from each blade and my shield. He hasn't noticed the closing distance between himself and the wall behind, and I smile.

I stun him with a bash from my shield, and then kick his center of mass. The stone wall shatters and he hits the far wall of the room behind.

I stroll through the makeshift gateway and watch Phil's underlings scatter elsewhere at our arrival. He carefully stands and checks his surroundings, "I don't think we need to consult the judges." He reaches his hand out in camaraderie, "Good match."

I twirl my sword with theatricality, "It was but the first round. Raise your weapon."

He hesitates, looking at the broken wall behind me, "Should we move outside?"

I close the distance between us at a brisk pace, "We begin again at once."

He raises Mjolnir, held in both hands as if it were a battleaxe. Why did Mjolnir choose this fool? He barely knows the first thing about how to fight.

I raise my shield, "Your move."

He lets go of Mjolnir with one hand, and then with the other as well. But the hammer doesn't fall. It stays in place between his hands. How is he doing that? Does he have power beyond that which Mjolnir has bestowed upon him?

Mjolnir's handle strikes my shoulder. Observing that sorcery lured me into lowering my guard! I will not be fooled by that ruse a second time.

I stretch my shoulder and turn back to my opponent. He's unarmed. I sidestep just before Mjolnir would have hit me from behind. He catches the sacred weapon.

"You may have tricks, but you lack training. That blow could have ended the round if Mjolnir's head had hit me instead of its hilt."

He shrugs, "You've got a few thousand years more experience than me. So I think I'm doing okay, all things considered."

"Asgardian children train for fifty years with the great warriors of Valhalla. Thor and I stayed an extra thirty."

He looks at Mjolnir, "I'm afraid I don't have eighty years to spare."

I raise my sword, "Then you shall have to learn on your feet."

I swing at him from the side, and he blocks with Mjolnir. Thor always did the same, no matter how many times Odin told him it was not a shield. And it leaves Phil open to the same counter. A knee and shield combination puts him on the floor.

But he rolls to the side and Mjolnir comes up. I move my shield to block. But that puts me on the defensive long enough for him to make distance.

He thrusts Mjolnir directly forwards and I feel the oncoming lightning strike. I plant my sword in the ground, take a step back, and crouch behind my shield. I hear the thunderstrike and feel the static rush in the air.

I run forward, grabbing my sword and thrusting its point at his throat.

I stop as soon as I realize he won't be able to block me.

I step back, "You can use his lightning too."

He's out of breath. That blast was uncontrolled. He hit himself even more than me, "Thor's. Is there any news on the search?"

I take a deep breath to control the surge of anger, "If there were, I would be here to take Mjolnir back. At any cost."

He sets it down between us, "Take it. It belongs to your people."

I frown, "You mock me? Do you wish to engage in flyting?"

"I wouldn't dream of it. The hammer's yours, if you can take it. So far I'm the only one it likes."

I know the nature of the enchantment, of course. Loki was present when it was cast. If I cannot lift it, what would that mean? I don't know. I dassn't attempt it.

But if I don't, I will appear weak. My role here is as a representative of Asgard. And I fear I have already shamed my people with my disrespectful actions. He has offered a challenge, and a gift. As a guest, I cannot neglect either.

I wrap my fingers around Mjolnir's handle. I pull, and it budges for only a moment before stopping in place, immovable.

Phil's eyes are filled with wondrous curiosity, "You actually moved it. No-one else has ever done that before."

I know it to be a victory, no matter how bitter the taste, "That may be, but you remain the only one who can carry its might."

The man worthier than I steps forward and picks it up, "Once you find Thor, I would be honored to return it in person."

I smile genuinely, "Of course, that honor would be yours. Mjolnir chose you, after all."

We remain silent for a moment. I would apologize for my earlier behavior, but it's clear that he understands my grief.

I turn to the Warriors Three, "We should be on our way." I face Phil again, "We can tell Asgard that Mjolnir is in worthy hands. Farewell Thunderer." He's not Thor. But he's learning on his feet. He deserves the honorific.

He nods in very good-natured form, "Until next time, Lady Sif."

 

[Xavier Bronze]

"And you haven't seen him since this mystery mission ended?"

I shake my head, "No. I'm worried about him. This... mission is dangerous. Jack is a good agent but he's still just a guy, in a world of… more." We stop walking right in the middle of the Metropolis sidewalk.

Jane tucks a loose hair behind my ear, "Hey." I look at her, and she has this calm confidence that's just so infectious, "You said he has help? It's his mission? He's gonna be okay."

I smile back and nod, "Yeah, you're probably right... God. Caring about people is hard." We start walking again.

She giggles, "New to the concept?"

I shrug, "There were a few people, but no-one I would've risked my life for. Maybe Alex. Here, I have Phil. I have Jack." I point a thumb over my shoulder, "Hell, I even have those two bozos." I lean in and lower my voice, "And don't quote me on this, but they're not too bad." The pause stretches on just long enough to be awkward. I roll my eyes, "And I guess I have you."

She smiles, "You do."

I stop in front of an Italian/Indian fusion 'eatery'. Very characteristic of Metropolis, that.

"How about this one?"

She looks at the elaborate embossing on the door, "It might be a little expensive."

I bump her shoulder with mine, "You're gonna be rich some day. I can pay you back."

She opens the door and I walk in ahead of her, "That's what you said last time, and it still doesn't make sense."

I nod at the person up front, "Table for four." He grabs a few menus and as we're following I turn back to Jane, "And? I paid you back, didn't I?"

"If I'm the one who's going to be rich, shouldn't I be the one paying you back? And if I'm rich, why would I even want for you to pay me back anymore?"

I bump her again, "That's the idea."

SHIELD confiscated the exact bills that were in my wallet when I came through the Bifrost for study, but they compensated... most of it. I'm down about two thousand from the original twenty thousand I started with. It's a good thing life at H.O.M.E. doesn't have many expenses, because I'm not being paid much either.

Almost as soon as we all sit down Jane asks Mike and Ike, "Mike? Harold? Can you two give us a minute?"

Ike frowns and lowers his menu. Mike whacks him on the shoulder and stands, "Of course. Just call us when you're done." Ike follows his partner out, but of course complains about protocol the whole way.

I turn to Jane with an eyebrow, "Yeah?"

She's suddenly getting all awkward and shy, which tells me exactly what this is about, "So, I told you a while ago that I would be thinking about… us, and, trying to figure out if my feelings are real."

I nod, "Yeah."

"And, my father talked to me about it. And…" Damn these pauses, get it out already!

"Yeah?"

She takes a deep breath, "I don't know. But I think I want to try?"

A little hopeful tone is breaking through for both of us, "Yeah?"

She nods, "Yeah. Like, a date? I know we both have busy schedules. You have your training, so we won't be able to do anything special for a few weeks-"

I interrupt her, "What about the third? Next month? We can just take a train up to New York, do some Times Square shopping. I have enough cash to spring for Broadway tickets if you want, as long as we don't need good seats."

Her expression of shock tells me that maybe Broadway was a little heavy-handed for the first date, "Wow, that would be-... I mean-" She shakes away the sentence fragment and starts again, "That sounds perfect. Thank you."

And we're both smiling like idiots, "Is that it? You just wanted to ask me out?"

She breaks into a laugh, which I join, "Yeah, I guess it is. I don't know why I was expecting that to take longer."

I shake my head, "Maybe because it took eight months for it to happen." I touch my comms, "Yeah, Mike, you two can come back now."

They come back in, sit down, and we all order our food.

Mike keeps looking at Ike like he's going to melt into the sewers, and Ike is nervously tapping his fork against the table.

I reach over and take away the fork, "Ike? Is there something you want to say too?"

I don't think I've ever seen his eyes this wide, even in combat areas, "No, no. Nothing. Just, something happened this morning at the shooting range."

"Does this have something to do with why it's closed for renovation?"

Ike hesitates, and Mike answers for him, "Apparently one of his shots overpenetrated through the target and the wall behind it too. It hit someone in the shoulder."

My eyes go wide, "Shit."

Ike nods, "They're reinforcing the whole back wall, and decreasing the muzzle velocity on the guns allowed at the range."

Jane asks, "Is the person okay?"

Ike nods, "They're fine, so I hear. After going through the wall the bullet didn't have enough force to do permanent damage. But it could've been a lot worse."

"Ike-" Wrong name for right now, "Hey, Harold." He looks at me in disbelief at hearing his real name, maybe the first time from me, "That sucks. Are you okay?"

His absent expression returns telling me that he's definitely not, "I'm fine. If the wall was that weak, it was bound to happen eventually, right? I was using the same gun as everyone else… It was a good shot though. I beat my best distance with a bullseye."

He's torturing himself. This is bad, "Hey, your meal is on me, alright?"

He shakes his head but there's the smile I was aiming for, "That's not necessary. SHIELD pays for it either way."

I shrug, "Fine. Then we're getting an extra dessert. How does a 'Harlem's Monster Sundae' sound? Do you like pistachio?" No response. He's staring past the table. I throw his fork back into his lap, which breaks him out of it again, "I have to fatten you up somehow. You almost kept up with me on my run yesterday."

 

[Xavier Bronze]

The water streams from the bowl to the shoulder they pulled a bullet out of. The woman's eyes widen with anxiety at the sight of the floating, glowing liquid.

Ike reassures her, "It's fine, I've seen her do this before. It's not dangerous." He awkwardly hovers a hand over my shoulder before returning it to his side, "Thank you, for doing this."

With the bullet hole healed, I return the water to the bowl, "It's literally not even worth not doing. You should have come to me sooner."

The woman experiments with moving her shoulder, and stares at it disbelievingly, "...It's like it never happened."

I brag, "Actually, it might even be a little better than before. Any prior muscle trauma was probably fixed up too."

She turns to me, shocked. And then looks at her arm again, and raises it slowly above her head. Her other hand jumps to her mouth and she looks like she's biting her tongue to stop from crying, "I haven't been able to raise my arm this high since I was a teenager."

Aw shit, "Look, I'm sorry. I can't put it back-"

"No!" She looks at me and there are the tears we've both been hoping wouldn't come, "Thank you. This is a miracle."

I look at one of the monitors nearby, "Yeah, so I've heard."

I don't want to be a miracle worker. I don't want people to look at me like that. They're lifting me up, which in one way feels good, and I'm fine with that part. But to this extreme they're putting themselves down at the same time. I'm fine with being a hero, or even maybe someday a leader. But I don't want people to idolize me.

I ask her, "Are you gonna be okay if I head out?

She nods emphatically, "Of course. Go. Thank you. Just… Thank you."

I give a very unconvincing wave and turn around. Ike steps to follow and I turn back and hold him in place, looking him in the eye, "Stay here, Ike. You two need each other right now. Talk through some shit."

He nods, "Right. Thanks."

That's it. I'm out. I have to leave before someone thanks me again. I walk out quickly and Mike and Jane stop their conversation and stand up when I enter the room outside.

Mike asks, "How is he?"

I shrug, "He still shot someone, but he's talking to the person he shot in a friendly manner. Give him a day." Jane opens her mouth but I put a silencing finger to her lips because I know what she's about to say based on her expression, "Jane, I don't want someone else thanking me right now. I know that's weird, but can we just talk about something else?"

I take my hand down and she smiles understandingly, "Yes."

And so we talk about something else. But we're all still thinking about what I did in that little hospital room.

Fifteen minutes later, Jane asks me, "Why don't you do that more often? Heal people? It doesn't seem like it takes much out of you."

I look at her, and sigh, "No. It doesn't take much. But so many people get hurt in this line of work. The docs do call me in sometimes, when I can save people they definitely can't. Just... not for the garden-variety stuff. But for the most part, I'm only doing one or two doctors' worth of work. There are other places that my time could be better spent, like training."

She nods, "Okay, but you don't train all the time..."

I very-almost interrupt her, "Why doesn't Superman go to Gotham? Have you ever thought about it?"

She clearly hasn't, "Because he works in Metropolis."

"Right, but they're right next to each other. He's supersonic, he could be in Gotham before I could call for a pizza. And he's close enough to hear the crimes that happen there. So why doesn't he stop them?"

She shakes her head, "I don't know."

"There's a mental toll to being a savior. When you save someone, you're owed an unpayable debt..."

I take a moment. Another sigh.

"Superman doesn't go to Gotham because there are too many people in Gotham for him to save. Even if he could, he doesn't want people to treat him like a god, which Gotham would."

She's really trying to understand, "So you don't heal people because you don't want them to owe you?"

How can I explain this… "It's the difference between a soldier among many who helps protect a group that happens to include you, and an angel coming down from above to personally deliver you alone out of Hell. You're thankful of someone who saves the world. But they're not your savior. It's impersonal. A hospital room or an alleyway in Gotham is an enclosed space. If someone goes there, it's specifically for you. They chose to save you, instead of someone else. It's more pressure. Too much, for me."

Mike adds, "You never think about why it's called hero worship until you're the one being prayed to."

She nods slowly, "I think I get it."

I hear Ike's footsteps and turn to him, "Did you two talk it out? Are you good?"

He nods, looking much more well-adjusted than at lunch earlier, "I apologized. She said it wasn't my fault." He breaks into a confused smile, "She complimented my aim. Apparently she watched the security footage. I'm going to check on her again tomorrow."

Mike asks, "They're keeping her another day? Isn't she healed now?"

"No, she is. We're going to do morning exercises together. ...She said there's no-one she'd rather break in her new shoulder with."

I give him an eyebrow, "Morning exercises, ey? Is that what we're calling it?" I turn to Jane, "Hey, how many dates until you join me for 'morning exercises'?"

She turns bright red, and only then realizes that I was screwing with her. But she still can't manage to get words formed and out. I laugh at her charming awkwardness and bump her shoulder with mine.