Disclaimer: Image (c) Universal

One Year Later

"Dr. Pierce, the new acquisitions have arrived." Joshua Sanders, Cassandra's assistant called from the open doorway of her office, but she barely heard him, absorbed with the newscast streaming on her laptop.

Cassandra flicked her hand dismissively, her eyes glued to the computer screen in front of her. "I'll go down to the warehouse later and check things over."

The live broadcast flickered for a moment, as the drone shifted angles zooming up on the strange symbol charred into the earth. A thousand feet in diameter, the circle was bisected down the middle by a symbol like an Egyptian ankh, looped by an ouroboros. The third anomaly to have appeared in as many days.

Cassandra pressed her fingertips to her lips, feeling an overwhelming sense of anxiety. The whole thing was disturbing. What did any of this mean? Were they being invaded again from outer space?

The newsfeed shifted to a so-called expert on symbology, an elderly Swedish man with thinning hair and a white beard. "While this phenomenon has captured the public eye, I suspect this is just a hoax."

The news anchor leaned forward over her desk. "What makes you think that Dr. Eriksson?"

"These supposed crop circles contain symbols from multiple cultures. Egyptian, Celtic, Greek.... I cannot think what else it would be, if not a malicious prank." Dr. Eriksson declared pompously.

"So, this is not the work of aliens, then?"

Dr. Eriksson shook his head dismissively. "Definitely not, Barbara. This is why..."

Photos of the three circles popped up onto the screen simultaneously and the symbologist launched into a detail explanation of the dubious markings in the charred earth, continually emphasizing his belief the circles were a childish prank or a red herring created by some terrorist organization to create panic.

Cassandra slumped forward in her chair, exhaling shakily. Tension drained out of her in a whoosh. After the apocalyptic events of six years ago the world would break under another alien threat.

She shivered violently, recalling people all around her dissolving into ash, swirling away to nothing. Then silence. Morbid, deadly silence as she stood by herself on a New York City sidewalk sobbing helplessly in the rain.

When everyone reappeared last fall, the world seemed to go back to normal for the most part. But those who were spared in Thanos' first attack still remembered the horror.

She still remembered.

Cassandra shook off her dark thoughts, closing the live feed. Her fingers trembled unsteadily over the mouse, both from a lack of caffeine and nerves. Surging to her feet, she crossed to the window at the rear of her office. The familiar sight of the city soothed her when she was upset.

When she first hired on at the auction house over the summer, she absolutely loved having her own office. As an associate curator she'd expected to be crammed into a cubicle and shoved into a dusty corner and forgotten.

Instead, she had her own private space with a panoramic view of the New York City skyline. Fluffy white clouds floated lazily across the late afternoon sky, the sun a pale disk hovering over the Empire State Building several blocks away.

Cassandra closed her eyes, listening to the comforting staccato rhythm of horns honking angrily in the streets below. At least somethings never changed. You could always depend on a New Yorker to road-rage.

"Dr. Pierce, there is one other thing." Josh said hesitantly from the doorway.

Cassandra swiveled from the window to face her assistant. He wore a familiar anxious expression that told her everything she needed to know. She paced over to her desk, resting her hand lightly on the highly polished mahogany. "Let me guess. Mr. Kensington is making a nuisance of himself again."

"He sent flowers. A giant bouquet of white roses." Josh clarified.

Cassandra sighed. Arthur Kensington was a thorn in her side. The billionaire philanthropist was a frequent patron of Rosenbaum Auction house and had unfortunately taken a shine to Cassandra. She could fill a flower shop with all the roses he'd sent to her over the past three months. "Write him a thank you."

She might not like Arthur, but she could not afford to insult such an important client who dropped hundreds of thousands of dollars on a regular basis. The only other person who spent money like that at the auction house was Pepper Potts. Cassandra hadn't yet met her famous husband Tony Stark, a.k.a Iron Man. She assumed the man didn't like antiques.

Josh grimaced. "I'm running out of ideas of what to say to Mr. Kensington."

Cassandra turned to the pile of folders stacked haphazardly on her desk wanting this conversation to be over with. "You'll manage. If all else fails, add a poem."

"Sure thing, boss." Josh turned to leave and paused on the threshold. "Oh, before I forget, remember the museum gala is this evening." He gestured to the miniature grandfather clock hanging on the east wall, the pendulum swinging back and forth ticking the seconds away until her doom.

Arthur would no doubt be in attendance.

"I'll head straight to the museum after work. I'll catch a cab." Cassandra said, thumbing through the files until she reached the one she wanted.

Josh gaped at her in abject horror. "You can't take a cab to the gala! I've already arranged a car to pick you up at seven." He shook his head. "Sometimes, I wonder about you, Cass."

"I feel so pretentious riding in a town car." Cassandra grumbled.

Her assistant regarded her without sympathy. "Too bad. You represent the auction house. Its part of your job to look pretentious."

Cassandra's job was to examine acquisitions as they came in and certify them for authentication. Fresh out of graduate school with a shiny new doctorate, and references from her thesis supervisors she had managed to acquire a coveted position at the Rosenbaum Auction House at the age of twenty-eight.

This had more to do with her references than anything on her resume.

Unfortunately, the job also came with certain social requirements. Like attending stuffy galas and fundraisers. She spared a brief glance for the dress bag hanging on the partially open door of her closet. Not to mention, the metric ton of money she was forced to spend on her wardrobe.

Cassandra shrugged into her blazer and tucked her feet back into her ankle-buster heels. With the gala looming ahead of her she'd taken them off earlier to spare her poor feet some pain. "Why don't you take the rest of the afternoon off. Grayson is taking you out on a date tonight, right?"

At the mention of his boyfriend, Josh's grin broadened. "Yeah. He promised me a romantic dinner at that new Italian down the street." The twenty-five-year-old was very much in love and turned mushy any time Grayson came up in conversation. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

Smiling a little, Cassandra shook her head. "I'll be fine here. Most everyone has already left for the day."

Fridays were slow days. The bulk of the staff only worked full time hours when an auction was around the corner. Rosenbaum's next auction wouldn't be until the end of the month, two weeks from now.

Longing sparkled in Josh's blue eyes when Cassandra pulled on a pair of cotton gloves. "Not fair, taking a peek at the new goodies without me."

"You'll survive." Cassandra shooed him toward the door. "See you tomorrow and remember I want to hear all the hot gossip about your date."

He winked. "Sure, thing boss." Whistling a jaunty tune, Josh slipped through the glass doors toward the elevator.

Chuckling to herself, Cassandra headed deeper into the building where another bank of elevators waited to take her down to the warehouse. Stepping inside she pressed the button for the lower level. She knew how Josh felt. Her fingers twitched in anticipation of opening the stack of crates to see what treasures lay inside.

Ten floors down, the elevator crawled to a smooth stop, opening onto a long gray corridor framed by cinderblock walls. A single naked bulb dangled from the ceiling providing barely any illumination. At the end of the corridor was a heavily reinforced steel door and a high-tech keypad. Cassandra unclipped her employee badge from her blazer and swiped it across the pad.

When the light turned green, the door swung open. Cassandra let out a sigh of pleasure as she entered the warehouse inhaling the dust and scent of aged parchment. Rows upon rows of steel shelves held objects of all kinds: paintings, vases, sculptures, papyrus scrolls, antique weapons, the list was endless. The shelved objects were already categorized and tagged for auction so she walked past them.

Cassandra's immediate interest lay elsewhere. Giant shipping crates waited in the cargo bay, the heavy metal doors across the dock firmly barred. No other deliveries were expected that day.

The dockworkers had already done the hard work of loosening the nails from the wood. A cart laden with tools waited by the crates.

Cassandra opened the side panel in the first crate easily. She handled each bubble-wrapped object with care. It always amazed her how wealthy people collected beautiful things just to say they owned them, without concern for their history. Their stories.

Holding up a Ming vase to the light Cassandra beamed at the clarity and detail worked into the pottery. Pleased to find no imperfections or damage. She combed through her inventory list for mention of the vase and marked it off.

Cassandra worked at a steady pace, briefly examined each item, and then replaced them in the crate. The setting sun cast an orange glow over the cement floor, pools of deep shadows surrounding the packing crates. It must be nearly five. She checked her phone for confirmation and arched her back, stretching out the kinks.

Casting a final glance over the crate's contents, Cassandra's eyes snagged on a piece she missed. Crouching low, she maneuvered carefully around the crate's contents to reach her goal. Her hand closed around rough wood.

Withdrawing from the confined space, Cassandra stared down at a long staff. It looked like a prop from some fantasy movie. Seven feet of red oak, a raw crystal embedded in a waffle cone-shaped knot at the top.

Sure, its inclusion was a mistake, Cassandra flipped through her list for a mention of the staff. Surprisingly, she found it listed on the last page. Ancient Staff, Origin Unknown.

The last rays of the fading sun sparked across the staff's crystal causing it to shine. A strange humming filled the air. Unnerved, Cassandra grabbed the staff from the cart to put it away. The moment her hand brushed against the wood electricity crackled through her skin.

The crystal brightened, the wood growing hot against her palm. When she tried to release the staff, she couldn't. Her fingers were welded to the wood.

Desperate, Cassandra fumbled for the crowbar on the cart. In her haste to grab it the crowbar clattered to the ground at her feet. A high-pitched whine vibrated from the staff through her bones increasing her urgency. She stooped to grab the crowbar and froze.

On the second tier of the cart sat a black box roughly the size of a shoe box. Red, blue, green, and yellow wires connected to an apparatus attached to the box, a clock swiftly ticking down the seconds. Forty-five seconds.

Cassandra screamed, leaping away from the cart. A bomb. There was a damned bomb in the warehouse!

She spun on her heel and swiftly sped through the warehouse toward the emergency exit.

Thirty seconds.

Her heart raced frantically in her chest as she pumped her arms, running faster than she ever had in her life, staff banging awkwardly beside her.

Twenty seconds.

Cassandra sprinted around the corner; the glowing exit sign a lifeline beckoning her.

Fifteen seconds.

The heel of her shoe caught in a crack in the cement, tripping her to the ground. Cassandra scrambled upright, ignoring the pain shooting through her ankle.

Ten seconds.

She stood.

Five seconds.

Cassandra limped frantically toward the exit.

One second.

Her hand closed over the door handle.

Fire erupted all around Cassandra and everything went black.

A/N: And there you have it! Who planted the bomb? Was Cassandra the target? Loki up next chapter. I hoped you liked it. As always, comment, vote, and have a great day!