Gods and Monsters

April 23, 2010
New Mexico
The summer breeze whisks across the desert sand, causing dirt to fly every time there is a gust of wind. Tarps are set up, squaring up around one small area. Around the tarps, wire fences are constructed to keep intruders away. One jeep continually drives around the perimeter; its rounds lasting exactly ten minutes. The locals were told it was radiation, but none of them knew what was really going on. None of them had suspicions – no one had given them a reason to

The sun was high in the sky when a dark blue convertible drove up to the currently unguarded fence. In the driver’s seat, a young woman with brown hair sits alone. Her dark sunglasses gleam in the sunlight as she drives, one hand on the wheel. The brunette doesn’t slow as she nears the gate; she waves her hand, making the metal bend and move backwards to allow her entrance.

A man in a black suit runs out of the tarp at the sound of the gate. He stops when he sees the car, or rather the driver. He slowly turns back to the tarp walls, all the while grumbling something unkind and incoherent.

I love being able to do that, she thinks with a grin. She grabs one of two vanilla folders in the passenger seat. As she steps out of the car, the keys click back, turning the car off. It flies out of the ignition and into her palm.

The brunette lifts her sunglasses and rests them on the top of her head as she walked inside the tarp-walls. Her blue eyes were calm and patient as she weaved her way through to the center.

“Philoctetes, it’s been too long.” She greets him with a warm, but mischievous, grin. The entire room with government agents turn to face her and stare: curious and terrified. Collectively, they think, “Dear God, what is she doing here?”

“Libby,” Agent Phil Coulson says with a grimace. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s been almost seven months, right?” she asks as she walks towards him. The agents in her path quickly part and avoid eye contact with her.

“Actually, it’s only been one month.”

“Uh, it’s felt longer. Odd, isn’t it?” she says.

“What brought you out of hiding?” Phil asks. He leaves his pen on the desk as he turns towards her. He takes a half step in her direction. “I thought you were on vacation… in Latveria.”

“Not for much longer, unfortunately,” she says. “I’m here recruiting for my next project, and it just so happens that two of the people I want are here, in New Mexico.” She took a breath as she beams with an uncontrollable happiness - one that Phil knew means trouble. “Don’t you just love coincidences? I do. Oh, and Phil, you need to do something for me.”

“How much trouble am I going to get into for this?”

“None,” she answers with a laugh. “Just give Jane Foster back the things you stole.”

“Borrowed. And no,” Phil says.

“If you’re borrowing it you should return it.”

“I’m not done with it yet,” he tells her.

“I’ll supply you with anything you need,” Libby says. “I promise.”

“I can’t do that. I’ve got orders-”

“Well I’m giving you new orders. Give Jane Foster back her stuff.”

“Since when are you in a posi-”

“Give back her stuff on your own accord or I’ll do it for you.” Phil sees a violet hue in her eyes for a moment, just a moment. He knows better than to think it was a reflection, and he knows better than to ignore the mutant; one way or another, she’d get her way.

“Someone gather Foster’s things for me, I’ll be returning them later today,” Phil said to the agents around them.

“Hmm,” Libby hums as she grins with victory. “Oh, and give this to Artemis.” She gives Phil the vanilla envelope in her hand. “He’s still here, isn’t he?”

“Yes… How’d you know that Barton was here?”

“You should know better than to ask me questions you don’t really want the answers to,” Libby retorts.

“So, you want him on your team? Why?”

“Because there are only a handful of agents that don’t annoy the shit out of me, and Artemis is one of them,” she says.

Phil nods. “Can I ask what it is? The case?”

“It’s classified.” She grins. “But… since I usually like you… It’s the Tesseract.”

Phil’s eyes widen. “And the Council is letting you work closely with it?”

“It was one of my conditions for handing it over to S.H.I.E.L.D.,” she tells him. “I found it, I get to play with it. Simple as that.”

“Well, in that case, is there anybody else-”

“Selvig, only because I need an astrophysicist, preferably one that’s dabbled in gamma radiation,” Libby explains. “The Council wants someone there that knows who I really am to babysit me - apparently I’m still a danger to society.” She laughs, almost maniacally.

“I wonder why,” Phil says sarcastically.

“Anyway, I was going to pick you, but Patches wants you to go back to the Iron Man case whenever you wrap up here,” she says while she waving her hand in the air. Phil sees the little sparks that danced in the air between her fingers, and he wonders if she was doing it on purpose or not. Of course she’s doing it on purpose, what am I thinking? “Speaking of the Iron Man case, I’m oddly jealous of you. Did you know that they’ve sent me to check out every person they’ve considered for the Avengers Initiative except Iron Man?”

“Maybe it’s because you have a tendency to sleep with men with Stark’s personality,” Phil said.

Libby stares at him with hard eyes. Right, everything thinks I’m a whore. She looked down at her mostly flat stomach; she feels the life inside her and shakes her head. And it’s going to get worse. “Don’t insult him - I’m sure Tony Stark is a much better person than Victor is.”

“He’s Doctor Doom, that’s not saying much,” Phil says.

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “So, are you going to invite me to check out the hammer or not?”

“I figured you were going to do it without my permission.” Phil blinks at her. “But please, by all means, can you check it out?”

Libby grins, as if that was the real reason she was in this little town in Mexico no one knew the name of. “Naturally.” Parts of the tarp-walls have been recently replaced; parts of the sand floor are still caked and muddy from the rain, the impressions of a fight are left in them. She stares at the back of Phil’s head. “How bad was the rain last night?”

“We’ve seen worse.”

“Looks like you had company.”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

She snorts. “Get a name?”

Like you don’t already know, Phil thinks with a roll of his eyes. “Donald Blake. We figured it was a fake.”

The pair approach the ancient war hammer; it sticks out of the sand and mud on it’s own pedestal, the handle facing the sky. Libby circles it, her eyes watching it as carefully as a predator watches its prey. “You never know, it could just be his other identity. Or one of many.”

“You are the expert in having multiple identities,” Phil says.

“I mean it could be he’s not really one person; that he’s actually two or more people that have come together and now have one mind and one body and are now this great being…” She says with a shrug. “Or… it’s probably just some shitty alias put together in five minutes. Do you know where he is?”

“With Foster,” Phil says. It doesn’t escape his notice that she was already smirking before he answered. She already knew. Of course.

“If you want me to bring him back, let me know. It won’t be any trouble.”

“Not necessary,” Phil says. “We are considering recruiting him. He made some of the best trained men in the world look like second-rate mall cops.”

“I’ve been doing that since I was nine, it’s not that hard,” Libby says.

“Not everyone is you,” Phil says. “What do you got on this thing? Does your mutation even work on objects?”

“Only the living and… there is life in Mjölnir, but not the kind I can read.” She stares at the hammer with wide, curious eyes.

“But…?” Phil raises a stiff brow.

“But… Luckily I am familiar with the Norse myths. Mjölnir is one of the most fearsome weapons every forged - its’ capable of leveling mountains. Mjölnir was forged by dwarven brothers because of a bet made by the god of mischief, Loki.

“Loki bet his head that these dwarf brothers couldn’t make a weapon more beautiful than Odin’s spear, Gungnir. The brothers quickly got to work, eager to claim the head of the god of lies. Every night, Loki disguised as a fly, bites one of the dwarven brothers as he works in the hope that he’ll mess up, but the dwarf doesn’t. The third time Loki comes, he bites the dwarf so hard that he draws blood. The dwarf stops, only for a moment, but because he stops working for just that one little moment, the handle is short, meaning it can only be wielded with one hand instead of two. Despite this, the dwarves succeed in making a weapon as beautiful as Gungnir, and go to take Loki’s head. Loki, naturally, doesn’t want to be beheaded. So, he tells the dwarf brothers that to take his head they need to take his neck, and his neck was not apart of the bargain. So, instead, the dwarf brothers sew the god of mischief’s mouth shut. To teach him lesson.”

“Did it take?” Phil asks.

“He’s the god of mischief. Of course it didn’t.” She rolls her eyes. If anything it made him bitter… And racist against dwarves. “Anyway, the dwarves gave the hammer to Thor, the patron god of thunder, weather, storms, skies, and one of the gods of fertility. The legends say that Thor could smite whoever he so wished with this hammer, and he would never fail. He could throw it anywhere; it would always hit its mark and it would always return to him”

“Could this Donald Blake be Thor?” Phil asked.

“He could be… the Alfather - Odin, the king of the gods - could’ve banished Thor here until he redeems himself via self-sacrifice,” she said.

“Like Hercules?”

“That’s only in the Disney version, the Greek version is actually way more tragic, but yes…” Libby felt a bile rise in her throat. Fuck. No. No, no, not- “Excuse me.”

She’s quick to duck behind a tarp. Her body heaves as she bends over and retches the few contents in her stomach. Libby gasps for breath when it’s over; her chest heaving as she tries to regain composer. She senses Phil walking towards her. She stands upright and forces herself back into the sunlight.

“I’m fine. It’s just morning sickness. Now, uh, where were we?”

The agent slowly nods. “How far along are you?”

“12 weeks, or about that,” she says. She wipes the back of her hand around her mouth, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m heading to see Selvig next, do you wanna come with me to return Foster’s things?” Phil nodded. “You want a ride over to Foster’s or are you taking your own?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“With Foster’s things?” She raises a brow.

Phil grumbles something incoherent, and then he says, “Yes. With her things.”

Libby smirks. She waves goodbye, lowers her sunglasses, and struts back towards her car.

V
Libby’s hair blows behind her as she drives down the desert road. With a slight turn of her fingers, the stereo turns on. She bobs her head to the music and loudly sings along. “I can’t stop this feeling, deep inside of me. Girl you just don’t realize what you do to me. When you hold me, in your arms so tight, you let me know everything’s alright. Iiii-”

Whoosh!

Libby swerves the car as a circular dust storm appears in front of her. Her glasses tumble off her face. Blue sparks appear around the dark frames, holding them still midair. The sparks raise the shades, sliding them back up them mutant’s noise. She mutters a curse as she stares at the free-falling dust.

She can feel them; the bodies standing inside the dust storm. Four of them. As the dust settles, she can clearly see their silhouettes. Fuck. I forgot about them.. It took the four warriors a moment for their surroundings to set in before they realize what they were standing in front of - not that they even knew what it was.

“What is that?” Lady Sif points to the car.

Libby tells them what it is in a dull tone as she climbs out of her vehicle. She makes a quick visual inspection to make sure the car isn’t damaged. Satisfied that she finds nothing noticeably wrong, she turns and faces the four again. The Asgardians stare at her with various levels of confusion on their faces. She sighs. “It’ll take you just about wherever you want to go by land.”

“Who are you?” Voltstagg points at her with his long-handed axe.

“Most people call me Libby. And you…?” She remembers they haven’t met her in this form before. She gives them a friendly grin. She sees the skepticism in Lady Sif’s face and knows the other woman doesn’t trust her. She shouldn’t.

“Lady Sif and the Warriors Three,” Fandral says. “My fat friend here is Voltstagg, the quiet one is Hogun, and I am Fandral.” The blond Asgardian half-bows. He smirks up at Libby, and she rolls her eyes. Another man trying to get in my pants. Just what I need.

“You’re looking for Thor?” Libby asks. The Asgardians look at each other gleeful and nod. “Get in, I know where he is.” Blue sparks dance around her fingers as the passenger door opens. She retakes her own seat as the passenger seat pushes itself forward, allowing easier access to the back of the car. Libby grabs the manila folder from the seat beside her and sets it on her lap. She looks up, seeing the apprehension on the four Asgardian faces. She chuckles, “It’s not going to bite you, I promise.”

The Asgardians approach the car. She advises that the smaller three sit in the back, leaving Voltstagg to use the passenger seat. She sees Lady Sif’s eyes linger on the folder. “Just be careful with your weapons when you get inside, it hasn’t been that long since I had Mags fix the last set of dents I got in this car.”

“Who is a ‘Mags’?” Hogun asks.

“He’s friend, and a mutant like me.” She tells them about mutant-kind, about a few of the other mutants in the world. “Mags, or Magneto, controls magnetic fields. Some metals I can move myself, but it’s usually easier to just let Mags handle it. Metal isn’t exactly my forte.”

“Then what is?” Lady Sif asks.

Libby smirks; sparks dance in her blue eyes. She holds up her hand; sparks crackle and dance between her fingertips. “Electrical fields are. Electricity, positive flowing currents and ions… even lighting.” The sparks pop; the grow in length and start to venture out further from her hand. “Electricity is everywhere, in every living thing… I feel it, no matter where I go. Sometimes, it’s slower, but it’s still there… humming and whirling around. All I do is give it direction… a little push… And, well, you can see the result.” She stares in awe at the crackling sparks in her hand. She shakes her head. Her hand makes a fist, and the sparks seemingly disappear, vanish without a trace. But the energy she was controlling did not truly disappear - no, in fact, the energy continued to move around them. She could still see the sparks of blue dancing erratically in the air around her fist; she could see more sparks dancing in the air all around them. But no one else could. No one else ever had. She takes a deep breath.“So, shall we go?”

“Is it… safe? This car of yours?” Lady Sifs asks.

“Usually, more or less.” The mutant shrugs. “For what we’re doing, yes.”

Fandral grins. “Well come now, friends. Where’s your sense of adventure? Let us go get Thor so we may bring him home!” He awkwardly climbs into the back seat. At the sound of his sword clashing against the door frame Libby winces. Well, at least I’ll have something for Mags to do when I get home.

“Uh, for the sake of leg space the biggest one should up front and the smaller three should sit in the back,” Libby tells them.

“Well, that must be me!” Voltstagg’s face turns red with laughter.

Hogun climbs into the back next, not making a sound. Libby smiles in relief. Lady Sif is third, her wide and hesitant eyes carefully observing every step. Libby fixes the passenger seat before Voltstagg can sit, and pats the cushion with her hand when it’s ready. “All yours.”

She can feel an engine gently purring. In her rear-view mirror she can see the dust picking up around a dark van. Libby smirks as she puts her car and drive, and presses her foot on the accelerator. The music resumes, it loudly blares from her speakers. She belts along, a growing smile on her face. “Iiiiii- I’m hooked on a feeling… I’m high on believing… That you’re in love with me.”

A horn hunks. A black van drives up beside them. Libby flips the car the bird.

“What is that? A Midgardian greeting?” Voltstagg asks.

Libby cackles. “Something like that.”

The passenger front window rolls down. “TURN IT DOWN, DUGAN.” Phil pokes his head out of the opening.

The mutant rolls her eyes as the music volume decreases. “What do you want, Philocetetes?”

“Who are the hitchhikers you picked up?” Phil shouts over the roar of the wind.

“Thor’s friends. You remember him, right? He’s the guest you had last night,” Libby says.

“You said he wasn’t real.”

“I said it could’ve been him, not that it wasn’t,” she corrects. “And tell your drive to quit swerving into me; if he makes me hurl I’m doing it on you. I’m very queasy today.”

Phil grimaces. “Ew, gross, Dugan. Bob, knock it off.”

“Was there something you wanted?”

“Why are you driving? I thought you flew everywhere.”

“Levitating more than five feet in the air makes me nauseous and dizzy. Mags wants me to cut on flying anyway; we believe that the high pressure is bad for the baby. Or will be, when I’m further along.”

“Are you with-child?” Lady Sif asks. Libby says she is. “That is most joyous news.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Is the father excited as well?”

Libby grits her teeth. “Sure, let’s go with yes on that.”

“Do you even know who the father is?” Phil asks.

“I resent that statement, that makes me sound like the kind of woman that recklessly opens her legs for anything with a pulse,” Libby says. “And yes, as a matter of fact, I do know who the father is.”

“And?”

“And it’s none of your business. You’re not the father, that’s all that matters.”

Phil snorts. “That sounds like you don’t know.”

Libby stares at the human with unaumsement in her eyes. “It’s none of your business who the father is.”

“If it’s Doom’s, does that mean you’re getting married?”

“Oh please, Mags would never let that happen.”

“So it’s Magneto’s then? You carrying a little terrorist?” one of the men inside the van shout.

Libby cackles. “I’ll let Mags know you said that, he’ll get a kick out of it. Victor will too, actu-” She stops; her heart nearly skips out of her chest. "-ually. Excuse me." A large, electrical source of power - almost god-like - a feeling she only gets in the presence of gods… but this was different. This was more. Her foot presses harder on the gas pedal. Her lips curl into a smirk. This… this is going to be fun.