Time passed on as we journeyed through a seemingly endless cavern of clouds, when we had the unexpected greeting of a thunderstorm, surrounding our ship. The thunder overhead boomed unnaturally louder.

It was at the height of the storm, my techno senses became active once again as if to read a newly arrived sense of power. I immediately dismissed the thought of such a circumstance, having known the nearby presence of the scepter.

"Where is this coming from?" Romanoff questioned with obvious suspicion.

Loki's mask of helplessness diluted to a reality of mild fear and concern upon the blare of fresh thunder. I forced an obnoxious snicker down my throat as a sudden thought sprung to life. But I could not resist the urge to insult him."

"Surely the demigod has no fear of lightning?"

"I'm not overly fond of what follows," he answered grimly, keeping his gaze to the sky.

That was all the confirmation I needed to acknowledge my techno senses weren't fried.

"Hey Jack," Tony gaped at me, "what's with the glow?"

"What?" I shook my head.

"You're glowing."

"Glowing?" I shook my head. "No, I'm not. I'm-"

As I lifted my hands for observation, a mini heart attack punched me in the chest at the sight of my hands.

"What the-"

"What is that?" Cap demanded.

"I don't know," I said, starting to panic.

"You mean you don't know?"

"Yes," I shouted. "What else is it supposed to mean?"

The thunder overhead accelerated in volume. Growing louder, louder still, reaching a volume that overtones our voices. This brightened my unexplainable glow. Brighter and brighter to light nearly blinding.

Steve started after me, assuming the storm to be my doing. "What are you doing? Stop it!"

"I'm not doing anything!"

The ship suddenly lurched as a result of a loud thud overhead. Tension rose in the atmosphere. Loki was the worst of us all. He was more scared than all of us, seeming to know exactly what it was, confirming I knew what it wasn't. Even that lurch wouldn't have been the work of a bolt.

Definitely not lightning.

I gripped one of the bars overhead for balance, every instinct on alert.

Steve and Tony snatched up their masks and slipped them on when the door to the quinjet began to lower.

"I don't remember anyone knocking!" I shouted over the wind.

A large figure landed with a thud on the ramp, rising to a full height of six foot four.

Holy-

At first he was merely a silhouette against an illuminating sky when he stepped in further to reveal a Norse god. Only from his attire was I able to depict this in less than a second. He had flowing, golden locks of gold and a matching beard. On his chest, he wore a silver plate with matching arm guards of foreign design, with a billowing red cape streaming down his back. In his hand, he wielded a hammer of incredible size I had never seen, except in legend.

Definitely not from this world.

Loki's expression turned from fear to terror, all forms of courage diluted entirely from his features.

Must be old friends.

Stark was the first to greet our unwanted guest, about to send a fist through his face, only to be the first victim, knocked backward with a swing of this guy's hammer. I pinned myself to the wall out of the line of impact, just able to dodge a flying Stark who crumbled into Steve, landing in a heap as they struggled to remount their footing.

There was no way that hammer had mortal quality.

Our guest marched further into the quinjet, when my incomprehensible glow became brighter, the light becoming so powerful, it nearly blinded even myself. The new guy raised an arm to shield his eyes somehow met mine through the intensity of my glow.

But this gaze I had met once before and was able to trace it back instantly to Loki when he first discovered my identity. The undertone of shock was the same, as was the look of a memory flashing through his mind, but there was a kind of sentiment that lingered... an affection long abandoned, now renewed at this moment.

We held it longer than was necessary before he remembered what he had come for. He thrust a hand at Loki's throat and tore him from his bonds.

All the while, at my side, I made a claw, about to ignite a flame, when I remembered what had happened in the ballroom.

The glitch.

What if I spark? I can't do that, not again.

My worst fear was coming to life.

I was hesitating. I never hesitated.

With a final glance, my entire recollection of Norse knowledge flooded my thoughts. I suddenly realized who he was. The symbols of the hammer had given it all away, as did Loki's reaction to his unexpected arrival.

"Thor..." I muttered.

Our guest launched himself from the ramp with custody of our prisoner into the abyss of clouds, leaving behind a final mark of thunder to record his farewell.

I just met the god of thunder.

With his descent diminished my glow, until it vanished entirely, but left behind the fear that trembled my hands and clouded my thoughts.

Behind me, Steve and Stark stood, recovered from their little Tummel.

"Now there's that guy," Tony muttered in agitation.

I couldn't see his face, but I could easily decipher the concern and frustration in his tone.

"He took Loki," I shouted over the rising wind.

"Thank you for the obvious," Cap shouted.

"Another Asgardian?" Natasha shouted from the front.

Steve marched up behind Tony. "Think the guy's a friendly?"

"Doesn't matter," Tony answered, strolling to the edge of the ramp. "If he frees Loki or kills him, the Tesseract's lost."

"I'm coming with you," I shouted to Stark.

"No! You need to get back to the helicarrier."

"But I need to-"

"No buts," he argued. "Romanoff, take her back to the helicarrier. We'll bring Loki back."

"On it," she replied.

Steve decided to intervene. "Stark, we need a plan of attack."

"I have a plan. Attack."

Before I could argue, he took off into the abyss after Thor and Loki. Steve grabbed behind me for a parachute and began the process of harnessing himself.

Bad idea. "I'd sit this one out cap," I warned.

"I don't see how I can," he shouted.

Romanoff joined in on my side of the support. "These guys come from legends, they're basically gods."

"There's only one God ma'am," he responded, edging towards the exit. "And I'm pretty sure He doesn't dress like that."

Another gone vanished into the abyss.

Norse gods. We were dealing with Norse gods. That's not something necessarily easy to process, especially when they're meant to come from myths. Getting thrown into this mission was overwhelming in itself. Now I was facing beings of another realm, gods, with power beyond belief, and I was already on one of their bad sides.

"What am I getting myself into?"

As we landed atop the surface of the helicarrier, I was immediately escorted by Agent Romanoff to Banner's lab so as to be patched up and checked over. My resentment in being treated as a wounded agent was never acknowledged. I was abnormally fast when it came to healing. By the time we had begun to land, my wounds had begun to fade, but that wasn't enough to diverge their thoughts of action.

Steve and Tony were not yet back from returning our prisoner, so I also unknowingly volunteered in carrying the scepter back to the lab, only after cloaking my fingers with my leather gloves. My first contact with the scepter was not overly pleasant, nor expected, and I did not wish to relive that moment.

Obeying orders, with strong reluctance, I allowed Banner to look me over. I slipped off my jacket, already torn with its own share of battle scars: across my left palm, over my left shoulder and forearm, finally, on my right side which, according to Banner, just so happened to be the deepest.

Luckily the damage that was done was not fatal. Banner was rather impressed.

My wounds had faded to scars, but Banner insisted they be treated. However, the slash on my right side, being the worst, had only diminished to a scab, requiring more treatment. Not that it mattered. I didn't mind, for every scar, there was a story to tell. These just so happened to involve a Norse god attempting to kill me.

That was a first.

Banner grabbed some wrap and started wrapping my left hand, after pouring rubbing alcohol over it. I didn't fight him in the act, silently acknowledging myself of his other half.

"So uh," he began making casual conversation, as was a doctor's habit in course of explanation, "how was it? Your first fight?"

I shrugged, not having collected many thoughts over it. "Oh, you know. Almost died a few times, got the wind knocked out of me. It was a blast."

He chuckled lightly. "Glad you enjoyed it. You took a good beating. Are you holding out alright?"

"Define holding out."

"Maintaining life."

I snickered. "Yeah," I shrugged, growing obnoxiously impatient as he carried on the agonizingly slow wrapping. "Look I appreciate the gesture, but-"

"Come on. It'll protect your hand from disease."

"My concern does not hold value to catching a disease."

"What does it then?"

I scoffed. "Are you oblivious to the pressing matters surrounding us?"

He shrugged. "Hey, I'm just a scientist trying to do my job and get out of here."

"Wish my role was as easy as yours."

As he finished wrapping my hand, I lifted my wounded jacket and examined the damage Loki had made. Years worth of research for the perfect material, shredded in a single battle.

Just my luck

I sighed and sent it off to be mended while I obtained a leather jacket as a temporary replacement.

Many moments lingered with an unsettling silence. I sat on the table, recalling once again the events of my first fight.

My right hand rested atop my left with the palm exposed. On an on I continued to study it, wondering how such a thing could be possible.

I could not recollect, at any point in time where my fingers were unable to produce a flame, of course occurring at the most convenient time. This was a first, and it bothered me as a terrifyingly depressing thought of my flame being distinguished forever haunted me.

Even on the quinjet, I hesitated in using my fire, which lead me to not using it at all. This was unacceptable.

What am I going to do to fix this?

Banner returned just moments later for my final check-up, making sure everything inside was still intact. My heart was still recovering from the excitement at the gala, but otherwise, I was diagnosed as being the definition of healthy, as was my constant expectation.

"Your um... I noticed your wounds um... you heal abnormally fast," he observed as I jumped down from the table.

"Yeah," I sighed, entirely unenthusiastic about it. "It's uh... fascinating."

"You got these slashes just less than an hour ago, and their already scars. How long has that been a thing?"

"My whole life. I have no further explanation beyond that."

"You haven't conducted any studies?" he asked, carrying on with his work.

"Only to know why I can do what I can."

"Which is?"

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"Good thing I'm not a cat."

"Make a fire, read technology inside and out, change the function of a machine, produce light, and those are just the supernatural traits," I laughed. "You should see the abnormality of my human traits, physically and mentally."

"How do you go about studying these?"

"I apply scientific knowledge to the idea, which serves as a foundation of my aberrational skill, so I can better understand how to control them, and how they work. Such as the reason I can produce a flame, or, expand my senses to read technology of any kind."

"Incredible," he complimented, looking at me. "You are truly a mystery."

I laughed, wandering aimlessly about the room. "I assure you, it's not on purpose."

"Hey Jackie," joined a new voice in my ear. "Can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear Stark," I out a hand to my earpiece. "Did you get the prisoner?"

"Don't worry. He's already on his way to his cell."

A strong force of relief drenched my being at this news. I could finally relax, mostly. "Thank goodness."

"How you doing? Still breathing?"

"I think so," I chided. "According to Dr. Banner I am, but I'm still deciphering for myself."

Maybe my jokes weren't always the most comical, but Tony appreciated my sense of humor. But I was always able to tell his level of concern by the way he laughed. When he didn't respond with a chuckle, I knew he was sincerely concerned.

"You better be taking it easy Jack," he warned.

I rolled my eyes and leaned against a counter. "Meaning as easy as this job?"

"Hey, this is serious. It's not like this is something you do every day."

"Stark, seriously," I said with a stern tone. "I'm fine. Just a little scraped. Banner fixed me up good as new. The scepter is safe, Loki is locked up, now all we need is to find the Tesseract, not that it makes the job easier."

"Just lay low for a bit," he warned me. "You're already on Loki's bad side. We don't need him going after you. See you on the bridge."

After he signed off, I clenched my jaw from stress and allowed my head to fall back. What was I thinking, taking on this mission? What were they thinking, putting a teenager on? Nothing was going right, for anyone, and I couldn't help but find all the mistakes drawing back to me. Of course, I was overthinking and blaming myself for everything, but I had no valid excuse for anything I was doing because everything at the time was madness!

I put a hand over my still covered pendant and prayed for Hawkeye's continuance of safety, as much as could be had, given the circumstances.

"Who was that?" Dr. Banner interrupted.

I snapped my head forward, heaving a long, steady breath. "Just Stark. They found Loki now they're here."

"I guess that's our cue?" he asked.

"I suppose. Let's get the scepter in position first, then we'll head out."

Banner gladly took hold of the scepter and placed it on a small stand where we could study it further. I pulled up a screen projecting a graph of its wavelengths, including power and energy, and anything else it could pick up.

As we worked, I felt an unsettling shiver trickle down my spine and spread to the tips of my fingers. I furrowed my brow as the feeling grew uncomfortably stronger.

Then I remembered our prisoner. Don't tell me.

"What's wrong?" Dr. Banner asked.

Just as I was about to answer him, he peered behind me and out the window. I turned as well and locked eyes with Loki, being escorted by a dozen soldiers to his new quarters.

His taunting gaze sent my heart on a marathon, and that smirk resurrected his wicked laugh to echo in my ears.

Banner wasn't taking his presence well either. I noticed him rub his head and over his face as if trying to hide away his worry and concern. Not the most comfortable of thoughts came to mind in witnessing this.

But my anger overpowered everything. Knowing we had him in custody, that we were closer to finding Hawkeye and avenging him gave my hope.

Hope was the one thing I had to hold onto.