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It's late afternoon on a Friday, and the trains are full of commuters heading home, looking forward to a weekend away from work, home with their families. It's standing room only on most of the trains, crowded and hot in the summer heat. The summer heat is part of the problem, though. As the brakes have ground down and down, the friction grows, wearing at the levers that control them. And when it wears too thin…
With a wrenching screech, the brakes give out on the train, sending it barreling full speed down the tracks as commuters hang on to straps and bars for dear life.
Thor's out flying. Why? Because he can, and it's awesome. Midgard glitters underneath him and the sun beats down on his face, the clear summer breeze whipping through his hair. All the world at his fingertips, less than a leap away— and the rest of the universe beckons, with Heimdall manning the Bifrost with his ever-vigilant self.
But then the sound of wrenching steel and screams from below, hammering at his sharp Asgardian senses. He looks down at the train, hearing it screech protest and sparks fly as it rails out of control, tilting wildly back and forth. Thor blinks in alarm and dives, accelerating towards the visibly imbalanced vehicle— he gets near it and when it swerves into a too-steep corner, he brakes in midair and rapidly hammers with his hands on the sides of several passing cars to jar them back into place before they fly entirely off the tracks. He's forced to catch the last one entirely, and with an *oof* goes flying along, trying to force it onto the rails again.
Luckily for Thor (and the people on the train), the Asgardian prince isn't the only one out flying this afternoon. Kara was just getting a little air herself when she heard the sounds of screaming metal and panicking commuters. She dives in just in time to see Thor struggling with the last car, flying up onto the opposite side to lift and push it back into place.
"Do you have the train?" she calls over the top of the train, already putting on a burst of speed to try to find the source of the problem. "I'll check and see what the problem is!"
Thor blinks when someone's flying next to him. A petite blonde, in a skirt and with flowing golden hair?
"Aye, I can keep it pon some of the gentle curves!" Thor shouts, walking along the train at a swift jog. "But I know not if I can protect the whole of it alone, if this great beast encoutners too steep a corner— that last was a near affair!"
He flies ahead, keeping easy pace with Kara. "I know little of these twisting worms, save that they balance on rails so perilously. Know you the controls, or must we stop it by main force?"
"It depends on what's broken," Kara calls back, dipping lower as she flies to look beneath the train, zipping between uprights as she searches for the source of the problem. Meanwhile, passengers are crowding to the windows, their edge of panic taking on a new note of hope as they see heroes flying outside the train.
It doesn't take Kara long to find the dangling brake lever - bad news. Flying back up toward Thor, she pauses long enough to set a steadying hand to the side of a car.
"The brakes are out," she shouts back. "If you can pull from the back, I can try to push from the front. If we try not to go too fast, we should be able to stop it without too much whiplash."
"I… aye, I can do that, but— can you?" Thor asks, giving Kara a wary look. She's tiny, even by human standards, and her slender arms give him pause.
He floats backwards though, moving to the rear of the train, and starts looking at the back of the vehicle. Seeing no handhold he particularly likes, he grunts and smashes his hands through the back end, tearing through the metal like so much tissue paper until he can grab the chassis and /pull/ on it, setting his teeth and hauling back as carefully as he can to avoid merely snapping the cars apart at the hitches. He digs a foot down to brace himself against the tracks below, and only the magic of Asgard cobblers prevents his shoes from bursting into flame as he presses against the steel tracks for extra stability.
Kara grins at the question, declining to answer in favor of flying to the front of the train. Once there, she carefully matches her speed to the train itself while she sets her shoulder against it. One moment to measure the speed and the force, and then she carefully starts to slow down, exerting pressure back on the front of the train.
Sparks fly and metal screams from both ends of the train, the cars swaying dangerously in the center as cars bobble back and forth between the opposing forces working on it. Passengers shriek, but the train starts to slow…even as it comes closer to a sharp turn with apartments hugging the space close to the tracks.
Thor groans as the heat wears into his feet, but he endures— throowing as much of his weight inot the effort as he dares, biceps bulging with the effort.
Closer… closer… the train's slowing down… Kara gets the front end up and the vehicle starts to squeal and screech to a halt, sparks spraying as the other, automatic 'holding' brakes override the broken emergency drums at the lower velocity.
The train drifts around the curve at a lazily sedate pace and squeals to a stop, grinding protest against the twin forces working against it.
"Tiny blonde girl!" Thor booms from the back of the train (making himself heard easily). "How fare you?"
There's a roughly Kara-sized dent in the front of the train by the time it comes to a stop, but Kara peels herself out of it, tossing her hair back with one hand as she looks up over the top of the train to give Thor a thumbs up and a self-conscious grin. "Mission accomplished, giant blonde man!" she calls back with a laugh, blushing as relieved passengers start to cheer and wave their hands out the windows at both heroes. "How about you?"
Thor grins back at the adulation— clearly not one to oppose some praises from the peanut gallery, waving back at many of the folks who cheer him on.
He floats atop the train towards Kara in easy flight, and lands heavily on the roof with a tread from his still smoking-hot boots, ignoring the heat burning against his toes. "I live to celebrate our victory, my friend!" he says, clapping the girl on the shoulder with a heavy hand. "Your timing was most fortuitous; to arrest something this large and unwieldly might have strained even my skills. I am Thor, Prince of Asgard," he says, offering her a firm wristclasp.
Kara climbs up to meet him, trying to take his hand only to awkwardly realize that it's meant to be the wrist, fumbling a bit until she gets there. "I'm Ka- I mean, Supergirl," she introduces herself. "Asgard. Prince? Wow, that must be…" Archaic. "Interesting." Oddly enough - or perhaps unsurprisingly, given what they just accomplished - she doesn't stagger under the shoulder-clasp. "I'm glad we could work together on this. Stopping it alone might've been possible, but it would have been harder on the train and the passengers. Less collateral damage this way."
"Supergirl?" Thor peers at the blonde woman with confusion on his rugged features. "You must be sisters to my friend Lara," he declares a moment later. "She is taller than you are, and has black hair. And you are on the skinny side," he frowns. "Are you eating enough?"
"But she dubs herself 'Supergirl' as well," he says, brushing past his questions. "In any case, yes— 'twas better to labor with an ally at hand than endeavour to discharge this crisis alone," he tells her. "You must be mightier than you appear, though, to have halted this metal beast!"
"Oh, well, not that mighty," Kara demurs with a wave of her hand and a sheepish look at the train. "I mean, it's kind of- uh-" No, actually, stopping trains is pretty mighty. It's just that Kara isn't really the best at taking a compliment. "Well, it's no big deal," she concludes, though the rest of his statement catches her attention.
"I thought I'd heard there was someone but…I don't think they could be related. Probably not. I mean, as far as I know, I've only got a cousin. Well, one real cousin and one adopted cousin, but neither of them are named Lara. And the boy cousin is the one with dark hair. Definitely not a girl."
"I know not, but I would happily put you in contact with her; she live at the Embassy of Asgard on the… East End," he says, trying to recollect the words. "There is an address but I know it not offhand. Mortal letting confounds me at times," he confesses.
"You are welcome to attend there at some point and meet her, if you crave an introduction. Tell me of yourself, Supergirl! This Heraldry on your chest— what does it signify?" he inquires, pointing at her sternum.
"Huh? My- Oh!" Kara glances down and then back up with a lopsided smile. "It's the symbol of the House of El. My family's house. It stands for hope," she explains, then clears her throat as another round of cheering goes up from the train and sirens start to sound from the ground. "Maybe we should, ah…continue this somewhere else?" she suggests, pointing a thumb up toward the sky.
"Supergirl, of the House of El," Thor says, repeating the words with the grave solemnity of royalty. "I know not this line, but if you are a Lady of a noble lineage, then I should offer my formal introductions as the Son of Odin," he tells her. "Born of the house of Buri, the First."
He grins again. "But I am a warrior at heart, and formalities of court impress me less than earnest labours. Come my friend! I crave the food known as 'shwarma'," he tells her, levitating skywards and soaring towards a rooftop. "It is a delicacy most pleasant and unique to Midgard, if you did not know it; salty and savoury, and succulent!" he says, beckoning her along with him.
"Noble is, uh…My people had more of a…council thing going on," Kara explains, but the suggestion of shwarma is definitely a welcome one. "But, you know, I'm sure the prince thing is nice. Fun. There are capes!" she exclaims as she takes off after him. "Capes are always great. Oh, is there actual singing? Like in the disney movies, and musicals, just breaking into song every now and then?" She's probably joking, but there's something about two alien senses of humor working at cross-purposes.
"In Asgard? Aye! The court sings nightly; rousting ballads, tawdry tavern songs, the laments of the Valkyries when no soul perishes on the field; we have many songs that echo around our halls, ten thousand years of skalds and poets contributing to the culture of my home," Thor tells Kara. He lands heavily outside a low, narrow restaurant called #1 Shwarma, and walks inside with the doors flung out of his way.
"Mustafa! My friend!" Thor booms, grinning and walking with his arms up in greeting. The owner looks at Thor and waves at him, including Kara in his smile.
Thor undoes the hammer on his belt and sets it atop a table, as if claiming it, and then walks to the counter. "Ten of your shwarma plates, my friend, and a cup of the 'Coca-Cola'. And whatever it is that my friend Supergirl desires," he says.
He pays with several gold coins, not bothering to count them; the proprietor looks a little guilty, but doesn't say anything as he clears his throat and slowly scrapes them into the register.
"Amazing," Kara laughs, grin flashing at the image of a feast hall full of people singing and feasting. It's nice to imagine that some parts of fairy tales can be true. She follows Thor inside, raising a hand to wave to the proprietor before she crosses her arms over her chest, the corners of her eyes crinkling in surprised amusement at the order.
"Just one for me, thanks. And a coke, please. Oh, and fries," she adds quickly, pointing at a display on the counter. "Is that…baklava? Maybe some of that, too." She steps over toward the table, leaning over to peer at the hammer with her arms still crossed. No touching! "So a hammer, huh?"
"One of everything! We have labored hard, and we feast well. In fact, food for all!" Thor booms, throwing a hand into the air imperiously.
The restaurant's lone occupant looks up, a little startled, then applauds nervously all his own.
He walks back to Kara, burly, bare arms crossed on his thick chest. "Aye, 'tis my hammer and singular weapon— Mjolnir," he tells her, a mischevious grin on his face. "'tis said that the power of Thor is contained in that weapon. It is me, and I am it. I'll wager any forfeit you care to place, though, that you cannot lift it. Mighty you are, but—" he flexes one massive bicep at Kara, slowly curling it until the slab of muscle stretches against the skin. "I think you have not the power to hoist the hammer."
Kara quirks a brow, looking up toward Thor then back to the hammer with a wry smile. "Anything?" she asks as she straightens from inspecting it, starting to walk around the table instead. "That's a big bet, Mister Thor. On the one hand, you look like the sort of guy who thinks with his muscles," she teases. "On the other hand, you did just watch me stop a train. Help stop a train," she corrects with a tilt of her head.
"So if we could both stop a train, then why would you be able to lift the hammer but I wouldn't? Oooh, is it a psychic thing?" she perks up. "Like, you're going to hold it down with your mind or something? Is that what you mean by part of you? Is the hammer not real, it's just something that exists because you're thinking about it?"
"The hammer 'tis real, and solid as anything," Thor says, reaching for it with one hand. He tosses it by the handle in a little circle, catching it neatly; he slaps it against his palm, and the taps it against Kara's shoulder -very- lightly. "Nay, 'tis no psychic compulsion, my young friend. I shan't stop you or /touch/ the hammer. It's as real as you or me," he tells her, and sets it on the table again. "And aye, any forfeit you wish," he says, grinning wider at her little slip. "If thou are so mighty that you didn't need /my/ help to stop the train, then surely, you shan't need aid with this?"
Kara squints a bit at the hammer, clearly suspicious, but much too curious to just let it go. "Oh, this is a trap," she says with complete certainty, reaching out to nudge back at the hammer when he taps her with it. "I don't know what the trick is, but I am one hundred percent sure there's a trick here. So."
She turns back to the table, arms crossed over her chest. "Bet you ice cream," she declares. "If I can pick up the hammer, then you owe me ice cream. If I can't, then I owe you ice cream. Deal?"
"I am most fond of ice cream! A bargain we have," Thor says, grinning wide at her temeritty giving way to confidence. "Lift away, my friend; give it all the effort you can manage. Who knows? Perhaps you /are/ mighty enough to lift it," he remarks, stepping well back so there can be no possible suspicion of interference or cheating.
Kara gives the hammer one more look, circling the table one last time, before she nods to herself and reaches out for the handle. Just a light tug at first, testing. Then a deeper pull. A curious look. And both hands!
Of course, Mjolnir doesn't move. At all. And the table under it budges only with a great effort, threatening to bend under Kara's fingers before the hammer does.
It's not until Kara throws the full of her weight into it that Thor laughs and shakes his head, grin splayed wide over his rugged features. "Nay, my friend, I am sorry— when Mjolnir was created, the All-Father himself presided over the enchantment. The runes read— 'Whomever holds this hammer, if they be so worthy, shall have the power of Thor'."
He waits for Kara to release the hammer, then picks it up and flicks it in a whirring spin to catch again. "None but my Father may take my hammer and move it, save I give them permission to do so," he says. "And 'tis permission I give only in the most dire of circumstance."
"Wait, so it's magic?" Kara seems more excited about that than disappointed that she couldn't lift it, grin spreading. "That's great. I mean. Kind of weird, and hard to believe, but that's really cool. You have a magic hammer," she declares, gesturing to him with both hands.
"I'm going to gloss over the 'not worthy' part, because that sounds a little less cool, but the magic hammer part, that's really neat." She leans over the table to inspect the surface, rubbing at it with a thumb as if that's going to take the dent out from pulling against the hammer. "I owe you an ice cream, o wielder of the magic hammer. Even if it's cheating," she winks.
"Ah, 'tis not cheating— I merely said, you could not /lift/ it. Not why," Thor reminds Kara, setting the hammer back down. "Who knows? Perhaps one /is/ strong enough to lift the hammer by main strength; but the enchantment permits only the worthy to wield Mjolnir."
The shwarma starts arriving, and Thor sits at the table, rubbing his hands with an eager smile as the food arrives on multiple hands all at once.
"Come, join me for meal, my friend! We'll have creamed ice on another day."
Kara drops into her own seat, even if she has to reach over and poke at the handle one more time. Just because. "Oh, thanks," she grins to the owner as the food shows up. "It looks really good." She reaches for a napkin, spreading it over her lap before she starts in on her own food. "So, if you have feast halls, and magic hammers, and all that back home, how come you're here stopping trains?"
Thor just dives into the food, eating messily. Table manners aren't a big deal wherever he's from, apparently. It's not appalling…but he's not meticulously tidy, either.
"My home is Asgard, a world many millions of miles from Earth. This world, and many others, are part of my father's rule— the 'Nine Realms', as they're called. We shepherd and protect them from threats and dangers, and provide order. Myself, preferring Midgard, has spent many a year upon these climes, and grown fond of the ways of mortals," he tells Kara. "I sense you are not a human, though; there is a strangeness about you I cannot quite put my finger 'pon, but I'd wager you're mortal in appearance only, aye?"
"No schwarma in Asgard, huh?" Kara asks around a mouthful of her own food. She's relatively tidy, but she's definitely worked up an appetite. "I'm…probably…mortal," she answers, wrinkling her nose. "It's complicated? I'm not from around here, no. I'm from a place very far away. But…" Her smile fades a bit, expression growing more serious. "It's gone. So. This is home now, and since it turns out I've got these abilities, well. I'm going to take care of the place, you know?"
"Nay, my friend, and so I treat myself when I am visiting," Thor tells Kara. He's loud. One of those people who sounds like he might be a bit deaf and is five decibles more than needed.
"A transient, then. Well, Midgard is a realm that accepts many, regardless of origin or caste," he tells Kara. "I'm pleased to hear you've found a home here, regardless of the situation that prompted it. If you have the power to fix a problem, and you encounter one; you have a moral obligation to aid in resolving it. You humans call it 'Nobless Oblige', I believe."
"Not so transient, really," Kara says ruefully. "I mean, my ship's not going anywhere, and I'm not sure where else I'd go even if it did work. So this is home now. I don't know about noblesse oblige, so much as just…Well, that's doing the right thing. Which isn't always easy. I mean, sometimes doing the right thing isn't nice to people, or makes people feel worse. Have you heard about all the trouble they've had in mutant town? People get scared about different, too."
"Is not Mutant Town a microcosm of this world?" Thor asks, with a brow lifted in query. "The history of mortals has ever been one of exclusion— arbritrary lines dug in grass, marked on paper. Colors of skin and accents of the same language— which is ludicrous," he says. "Even whether or not some great beast or god of your mythologies is real. People do not merely /fear/ difference; they attack it. One of mortalities great failings," he says, shrugging one brawny shoulder and going for some fries.
"They can be better, though," Kara says with absolute confidence, still eating. "They have it in them to be truly good people. They just need someone - or someones - to show them the way. And maybe to keep the subway trains from falling off the tracks in the meantime," she adds with a close-mouth, full-cheeked grin around a mouthful of food.
"Hah! Hahahahah!" Thor booms with laughter, throwing his head back. "Indeed, my friend," he tells Supergirl. "I have seen immense nobility from humans with power, and tremendous courage from mortals with such fragile lives. Perhaps 'tis why I return to this realm time and again; to see what mortals do with their passing half-score of decades."
Kara pauses, head tilting. "Wait, so you're not just from another place with your magic hammers and feast halls and singing, but you're, like…immortal?" she asks, taking another bite as she reaches for her coke. "What's that like? Do you get bored? I feel like by the time you're, like, three centuries old, things have to be pretty repetitive."
"'tis all I have known, so I can place no qualifers upon it," Thor admits, shrugging. "My life is not so different from one day to the next. Asgardian children perhaps start slower than mortals, but there are members of my family who have lived from before a recorded history in most parts of your world. We remember when the first humans cultivated land and scribed their thoughts on clay," he chuckles. "I recall myself visiting this land when bronze weapons were a fashionable new invention," he grins. "So it is perhaps a way of living longer, but I know not if the quality is better."
"Huh." Kara reaches for a napkin to wipe her hands, then suddenly goes still, stiffening as she looks toward the door. "Hey, uh, not that this isn't good, but it sounds like there's a traffic accident on the bridge that could use some help. You up for another round of saving the day?"
Thor perks, but Kara's hearing apparently far outstrips his. "Hmm. Another accident? Mortals, always rushing when they should show caution," he says, with a weary grin that fades to an excited laugh.
"Very well! Come my friend; let's off to save the day once more," he says, abandoning the table. He turns four paces away and extends a hand at Mjolnir; it flies into his grip. He winks at Kara, and with a cape-tugging acceleration, flies towards the direction she indicated.