Who: Eric & Thor What: Exchange of information When: Day 2, 1920s Chicago Where: Lounge Warnings: Some language, Spoilers for Ragnarok Status: Complete
You didn’t have to say bar twice to Thor, he was well on his way to the hotel bar. Though, it seemed it wasn’t serving up much these days. Disappointing, he thought, walking into the lounge.
He was dressed much like a detective from the 1920s, not as put together. His sleeves were rolled, his hat placed at an angle. Nothing even remotely reminiscent of Thor from the comics. No Mjolnir in sight. His thumbs hooked into his holsters out of some habit, looking around for the person he was supposed to meet here.
“Hello?”
The response to that greeting came only as a rustle of feathers. Bran perched on the bar top, the ebony feathers of its breast ruffled as if annoyed by the sudden addition of presence. It’s beady, black eye focused on the large, muscular man and the wings of the too-large black bird flapped.
Next to where it was standing lay a tommy gun, an old-fashioned weapon that had shown up in Eric’s room much to his delight. His expertise with guns, and weapons of any type, was extensive. The bird gave him so many things and yet had taken that many (or more) away.
Light, good light, was a gift and the lights in the lounge began to flicker. The bird spread its wings and emitted a loud caw and the lights went out all together for a second.
When they came back on Eric was standing behind the bar, casually, palms placed on the counter for balance (though he was much like a cat in the sense that he could maintain himself just about anywhere) and he offered the Avenger a warm smile. “Thor!” He called softly, straightening up from where he’d been leaning. He lifted a hand and beckoned the man closer, “Come on. Come sit.”
His own hat was sitting atop the tommy gun, and though his jacket remained he was half-inclined to remove it considering the appearance of the other.
The missing eye and short hair didn’t phase him.
"It's Donald Blake," or at least his badge said as much. A slow smile spread across his face, despite the foreboding sense he got walking into the place. He eyed the light, his brow raising as it flickered. Odd. No worse than Loki's tricks.
He did cross the room, one arm across the top of the bar and the other extended in greeting, "Thor will do. You tell me I have illustrations of my adventures on Midgard?"
He was eager to see them, but he was easy to please.
Eric’s eyebrows arched upward, amused and almost sympathetically at the offer of a name other than what he normally went by. He’d call the guy whatever he wanted to be called, Eric didn’t really care. “You tell me what works and I’m happy to use it. No use going around ruining anyone’s identity of it can be helped.”
He normally didn’t touch people unless he was trying to kill them but this was a special case. As the hand extended outward Eric took it and shook. Thor couldn’t hurt him, he wasn’t worried about how intense the handshake might be. “It’s my honor to meet you in person,” Eric said, softly.
And then he pulled from the shake and smiled, “I did say that, didn’t I?” Holding up a single finger as a silent gesture to wait, he leaned down behind the counter, fumbled around for a moment and then brought up a wooden box filled with Avengers and Thor comic books. “There are more upstairs in the library, but this should hold you over. The Avengers ones aren’t just of you, but I can take those out if you’d rather not know. I don’t want to give you the wrong idea about any of the others. Things that happened here aren’t always true to life.”
Not quite so intense. Thor knew when to apply that god-like strength, it was warrior to warrior. What one could expect from a mountain of muscle, a very firm handshake. “Thor will do nicely, I’m unsure of where Donald Blake came from,” he knew. He just didn’t care to think of Jane at the moment.
He watched as Eric returned with the box, his curiosity getting the better of him as he plucked one comic book delicately from the mix. Tony nearly blew his arm off for taking his precious tomes out of their protective shields.
“Journey into the mystery, Starring the mighty THOR,” he read with some delight as he looks over the pictures, “he’s got a lot of hair. Look at that! They’re even got Mjolnir!” He was like a child again, pulling up a bar stool as he flipped through the pages, “They’ve made Loki look quite old, but still as scheming.”
“Thor it is, then,” the Dark Avenger replied, nodding. He figured that whatever issue Thor had with the alias was better left up to the Thunder God. Eric was full of his own secrets, he had no business prying any out of someone else.
He watched with pride as Thor went through the box and browsed the selections. Eric had owned a few of those himself, some action figures, just like any other boy his age would. “There’s something special in that box,” Eric said patiently.
When the box was available, Eric reached into it, dug around for a moment and produced a single Archie comic. “Here. This is for you. This whole box, too, but especially this.”
Eric could be giving when he wanted to be, for all of his mystery and faults he was loyal to this he called friends.
We should not be here came the voice of the bird in his head. Eric frowned visibly. You don’t get to tell me what to do today. This is a big moment. Eric replied internally. He is powerful. came the response. He’s Thor. He’s a God. You wouldn’t know him. I’ll show you some stuff later.
Thor continued to look on, noting the different Avenged comic books, there were some he didn’t yet know, but Captain America was always recognizable in that red, white and blue spandex. It was a most wonderful gift, one he would not squander should these events rise.
Were they the writings of some mad prophet? He glanced up with the one eye as Eric began to speak again. “Most wonderful!” he shouted as an Archie comic was placed in front of him. It was one of his favorites and he’d read them all.
The thunder god was busy thumbing through it as Eric frowned. He seemed to be having some sort of internal conflict that didn’t involve Thor. He could understand. He had them often enough.
“Thank you for this, your gift is very generous. Though I do not have anything in return,” his hands went to the box, almost as if he were afraid it was going to be taken from him, “if the hotel would provide it, I would be glad to bring you my coronation helmet for these items. It appears to be in the comics, I only wore it once, terribly uncomfortable thing.”
As Thor thanked him, Eric came back to reality. He smiled again and nodded, “You’re welcome, and you don’t have to give me anything in return.” He’d tried to eat the man last week, a bit of generosity was due. The offer had too much weight and Eric shook his head, “I couldn’t take that, but thanks for the offer. Something like that is made for better men than me. Your friendship is payment enough, I promise.” What was he supposed to do with a coronation helmet? He was far from a king, and that was far too much for a walking corpse from Detroit to handle. Zee might get a kick out of it, though.
“You give yourself little credit, “ he did take down a god afterall. Even if Thor had been completely out of his element. The gift was unnecessary, but he was appreciative nonetheless. He continued to thumb through them until he found one with the Hulk on the front, smiling from ear to ear. He’d give this one to Banner. “Call it the spoils of war,” the helmet was important to him, but any worthy person could wear it.
Or put it on their shelf. “Not everyone can say they ate the god of thunder. It’ll be a good story- I will drop it by your room.”
Apparently their version of war was different. Thor wasn’t a killer by nature, Eric was, but he was far from a predator. He didn’t kill for sport, not really. A lot of blood stained his hands.
“That might’ve been the Alien, but I’ll take the complement.” Had they been in any other situation Eric wouldn’t have been able to make a dent in someone as built as the God of Thunder. Sure, he was immortal, but he was used to fighting actual men his own size and nothing like a God or the Avengers. He had his own set of skills but no super power to advertise.
And he wasn’t advertising the fact that he ate Thor, either. That sounded wrong on so many levels. “Thanks.” There wasn’t any avoiding the gift, he’d take it and stash it somewhere in his room. There was no way he would’ve been worthy enough to wear something like that, not that he’d even try.
“Suit yourself,” Thor had always taken trophies from his fights. He had a moment of silence for all those trophies lost when his realm was obliterated- by one of his trophies. Irony. He paused when he came across a comic entitled Ragnarok, his eye scanning the page.
He wanted to ball the paper up in his hand, but curiosity got the better of him. He flipped open to the first page, following along in those tiny boxes. It was almost word for word, “sorcery,” he supplied, glancing at Eric. “You read these as a child?”
“I told you,” Eric said, patiently, “Those aren’t always true. People from Earth…” He said, then stopped, trying to think of words in Thor’s bank of terminology, “...Midgard. They draw and write these things. They don’t know you actually exist.” It may not have been word for word fact. “Yes, I did. If there are things that aren’t true….well, you could always show me.”
He’d never considered the fact that he’d be talking to one of his heros. It was He-Man, and then Thor (who looked sort of like He-Man), and then the rest of the Avengers.
Thor couldn’t play out any of these comics, but they were entertaining. He huffed a laugh, muttering, “Verily!” to himself. “Do they take me for a fool?”
He continued to chuckle as he flipped through the pages, “The only thing I can tell you is that, I no longer weird the hammer. My sister destroyed it.”
“I know,” Eric breathed. He knew the outcome of that. (There was no way he’d seen the movie) There was no way Miljnor would’ve survived that. “But you can still do thunder, right?”
“I don’t think the writers of this knew you actually exist. There was a Norse God named Thor, he controlled Thunder like you do. A legend.”
“Can I do thunder?” he perked up at the question, “I didn’t need the hammer, it was but a means of controlling this power. I feel worthy of my title now,” he held up a hand and lightning sparked through his fingers. He could turn it off and turn it back on. It came easy to him.
“Those legends were built on our truths, the people of Midgard mistook us for gods. My father never once steered them otherwise. We fought Ragnarok, it was not an end but a beginning.”
“You’re the God of Thunder, you can’t do thunder?” Eric was under the impression that Miljoner was a focal point, not something Thor needed. But he could’ve been wrong.
Eric watched the lightening crawl over Thor’s fingers. “You aren’t the God of Thunder for nothing. Are you?”
“Whatever you’ve been through, there are people that believe in you.”
“It matters not anymore,” Thor shrugged, that raincloud beginning to form over his head, “I am the god of thunder. Mjolnir was the focus for my powers, I didn’t need it after all.”
“They would be fools, I helped bring about the destruction of my realm. I can’t control fully yet, there are many things I do not know. My father lied to me as he did to Loki,” he paused on a page, looking over a picture of the allfather, “what other lies has he told me?”
Eric narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know what I’ve been through.” He didn’t care who or what Thor was, no comic book or story could ever really what he felt. What Shelly felt.
Bran cawed. It was unsettled.
“We all do things for a reason, whether we understand it or not.” He knew why he did what he’d done, to Avenge. “Keep reading.”
Thor wondered if his life only had entertainment value. He knew the other Avengers had a hard time taking him seriously when he tried being friendly. Anger got his point across. He kept up his pleasant attitude for appearances sometimes. He flipped the page to the comic book, his one eye coming to rest on Eric, “would you tell me your story?”
He didn’t expect the man to just jump right in. He seemed a bit standoffish, possibly offended that Thor had crushed his childhood hero.
“I don’t have the words for it,” Eric replied, frowning again. “I could show you.” He’d shown a few before, not many and especially not his heros. He wasn’t on the same level, what Eric did wasn’t on par with those that saved lives.
He wasn’t offended by Thor, it was the fact that the guy decided he knew what Eric had been through.
Thor wondered if this man could possibly be a seer, he’d been to them throughout his life. His people relied on knowing their future, even if they’d hoped it would not come to pass.
He closed the book, placing it very carefully into the pile with the others. The archie comic was gingerly set atop the rest. That was his most treasured possession at the moment. “Very well, be careful up there, I’ve been told there isn’t much going on.”
A jest. Thor knew a lot more than he let on. He opened his mind to Eric, not sure how he went about imparting knowledge on others.
Bran cases, flapping its wings.
Eric chuckled. “It doesn’t work like that.” This time it was with patience, not anger. He’d been working on curbing his anger.
Slowly, the Dark Avenger moved around the bar, pushing over the flap that separated them and Eric took the vacant seat next to the God of Thunder.
“Close your eyes,” he breathed, swiveling in the seat to face his hero. He didn’t care if Thor had one eye or both. It’d be the same.
When the man had complied, Eric shed the jacket, rolled up his sleeves and then set his hands on Thor’s face, thumbs gently over the man’s eyes, in consideration of the injured one.
When Eric closed his own eyes he filled the other man with his experience. Not just the visions but the experience, the feelings.
He showed Thor the apartment, how he’d walked in with a bag of groceries for supper only to be cut down by thugs. The way the men had hurt him, hurt Shelly...Eric let Thor feel everything, all of the pain and all of the emotions he’d felt. The gunshots and knife to the chest. The breeze he’d felt falling out of the window. The experience of climbing out of the grave to avenge….the anger, the revenge…
Thor bid himself relax as Eric came around to sit next to him. The last time he allowed someone this close, and that was not even with his permission, his hair had been shorn from his head- given a number and a new name. He took a deep breath, letting Eric take his face between his hands.
At was appreciative that he hadn't jammed his finger into his eye socket.
When the images came to him, he flinched. This was not like one of Heimdall's visions. He was seeing this firsthand, the pain he felt. The assault. Resurrection. Thunder rumbled overhead.
Every single moment he felt had happened to him and in that moment, he felt nothing but a need for vengeance. Storm clouds gathered in the lounge, following their master's pain and discomfort. It started to rain around them, a slow drizzle at first, then larger drops the more involved the scene got for him.
"Enough," he said very firmly, "Stop. I've seen enough."
He looked up at the mist above them, his brows furrowing in confusion as he tried to discern his feelings from that of the man in front of him, "I am... I am very sorry for your loss, friend." Thankfully the rain stopped before it did any real damage to his books.
When Eric heard those words EnoughStop He almost didn’t want to. He could’ve broken Thor just then, but he didn’t. He couldn't. Eric opened his eyes and pulled back, severing the connection. He could smell the rain, it reminded him of Detroit.
“Thanks,” Eric replied, sitting back. His hands fell to his lap. Bran flapped its wings. The rain was forced out of the clouds looming for a moment more and then the caw came to still it. Bran could call the rain if it chose. Eric said nothing. His eyes never left Thor.
What could you possibly say to something like that? Thor was beyond words. He felt sorrow down to his core for the man he’d only just met. What a gift, a terrible gift. He could not blame him for what came after, had Thor been in his position, he would’ve done the same.
Had he not sought vengeance for his mother and Loki? He knew all too well what he’d gone through. He didn’t think to mention his brother had faked his own death. He didn’t mention any of it at all.
“And what of the crows?” his people used ravens as messengers.
Eric’s eyes finally did divert. He cast a glance at the bird, watching it for a second. A look of fondness settled over him. “We owe each other nothing,” he began, smiling a little. Then his gaze fell upon Thor again, “He brought be back. His name is Bran, he’s a Death spirit. I don’t think he planned on being with me for this long..we’re sort of stuck together.”
He didn’t use Bran as a messenger, not really.
“Don’t feel bad if he’s not welcoming. He doesn’t like many people right away.”
Bran was still learning to feel. Emotions were foreign to it, after all the time spent with Eric it’d learned some powerful emotions but liking people still didn’t come easily.
“Hugin and Munin were slow to trust as well, they carried messages for us. Ravens. My brother taught them to speak and they followed me for ten years calling me ‘Blond Oaf’,” he chuckled, wiping away the rain on his arms.
He missed his home, but that was nothing to what Eric had come across in his life. He had his people and that was enough for him.
Eric listened to the tale. He was familiar with the birds from the illustrated stories. “Bran isn’t like other crows,” he explained, trying to choose his words wisely. “He’s a Death spirit. He brought me back.” Loosely Eric exposed their bond, he didn’t want just anyone knowing about it. There were few he trusted and even fewer he associated with.
Bran was all Eric had while he was here. Without the bird he’d be lost, he was so used to having the corvid around.
Thor turned his eye to the bird, not a suspicious look, but an admirable one. Powerful magic, he thought, but that was only scratching the surface. “I see, you are lucky then, to have such a spirit look after you,” death was a little iffy, his sister was death.
“A pleasure, Bran,” he said, a smile spreading across his face, “do you know Hela? She’s a rotten sister of mine, I’m sure you are much better conversation.”
Bran ruffled its feathers.
Eric smiled. “He doesn’t know your sister,” he said, looking at Thor. “You could show him if you want.”
They couldn’t exist without the other, the bird was the stem of the power.
Thor didn’t want to remember that horrible headdress. His family had a thing for horns, he couldn’t understand it. Hela was not a person he remembered fondly- still her legend would live on, if the spirit knew of her, perhaps he would warn Thor is she could possibly show up here.
“Same way, I assume? I don’t have any of those-” he furrowed his brows, “abilities? You may dig through my mind, if you wish. I would conjure the memories of my last days before here.”
He didn’t want to intrude. Eric didn’t expect anything from the Thunder God, the subject seemed sensitive.
“If you’re sure. I don’t want to intrude,” Eric replied. “I can take memories and feelings, or you can show me anything you want. Memories, thoughts, feelings.”
Who else would he tell this tale to? His friends were off in their own world, they hadn’t yet reached this point. His mother had once told him to never try and change what will always be so. He wouldn’t tell them anything.
Thor gave a nod, giving him the permission he sought to delve into his thoughts for that information.
Eric offered Thor a patient smile, shaking his head. “I won’t look at anything you aren’t willing to show me. That’s rude.” Rooting around in someone’s mind, even with vague permission like that, seemed wrong. Thor would show Eric what he wanted the Avenger to see, and Eric would not push for any more or any less. He wanted to Thunder God to trust him, and the path he’d been offered wasn’t the one which lead him to that end goal.
He turned to face Thor completely. Now that they were getting a bit more serious, Eric did a few things before initiating the exchange: he removed his jacket, sliding out of it easily to expose the matching shirt and tie covered by the vest and also the holsters for the guns tucked beneath his arms; he removed the holsters, set them aside and then reached out to pluck Thor’s own hat from the man’s head, which he also set aside. Peering into the mind could be dirty work.
“Just relax. I’ll help you focus,” he said, lifting his hands up. “Close your eyes.” When Thor did, Eric set his hands upon the man as he’d done a few moments before and when his own eyes were closed Eric opened the channels between them, willing to see whatever Thor wanted to show, thoughts, feelings, memories.
A sense of peace, calm, and focus left Eric in effort to assist Thor with the task of deciphering what exactly it was he wanted the Dark Avenger to see.
Thor was no stranger to sharing his thoughts with others, the seers of his own people were called in from time to time to ease troubled dreams and interpret their meaning. It wasn't long ago that he dreamt of Ragnarok, fire, annihilation, Surtur. The demon that brought about the final destruction of his home, reborn in the fires.
Conniving Loki, his brother. Liar, snake. Thor loved him dearly despite all of this, he treasured their moments together where they were not fighting. Just when he thought he could trust him, the man would betray him again, and again. He arrived on white horses to save as many as he could from their realm, and Thor had thought him dead again when he couldn't find him after the battle. His heart was broken all over.
It wasn't until he showed later that Thor found the strength to lead their people.
Hela was a card. Evil, seemingly indestructible death goddess. Annoying older sister that came in to break all of their toys. Mjolnir included. Thor was still broken up over that, and probably would never get over it.
He'd been through quite an ordeal, losing things precious to him. Ending up on Sakaar was no walk in the park. He was made a gladiator, and not by choice. Mighty Thunder God kept in line by threat of death. He obeyed to get back to his people in one piece.
He gave what he could to Eric, down to every horrible detail. The nightmares that plagued him. No feeling of bliss could measure up to his grief. It weighed heavy on his heart.
The images that flooded his mind were so vivid in detail even down to the last bit of feeling. He sorted through the thoughts, the memories, the experiences, taking his time to see each thing clearly, to savor it through Thor’s eyes. It was an intense feeling, overwhelming and nothing that Eric had ever experienced before in his sort time with these abilities. He felt a connection to the larger man, a sense of depth that he had an idea not many got to see.
Loki appeared in Eric’s mind, he could feel the love for the man stemming from Thor. The sensation of the betrayal crawled over his skin though it was overshadowed by the love of a brother to another. Eric had no siblings of his own so he’d never known the trials and the joy of being a brother to someone else. That heartbreak from the loss of someone so dear, of losing Loki, Eric knew that pain. He could empathize with it.
That swell of pride in knowing Thor was ready to lead, a Phoenix through the ashes of toil, Eric felt that surge. He was proud, too.
And then the vision of Hela came, the destruction of Miljoner and again that heartbreak for such a loss. The hammer played a big role in Thor’s life and to be without such a thing could shatter a man, and it had. Eric felt burdened by the weight of the sudden emptiness.
As the visions came Eric drew out some of that sadness and pain, pulling it into himself, and replaced it with focus and peace. He didn’t take it all, just enough to lessen some of the burden to a man who was suddenly becoming a very good friend.
Once the visions ceased, Eric broke the connection. He winced, opening his eyes. He felt as if his core was on fire from the emotions he’d taken but it only took a few moments before that feeling was gone. He’d long ago learned to compartmentalize those emotions, to hide them until he needed their power.
Gently, with a sense of friendship only, Eric brushed the side of his thumb over the swell of Thor’s cheek (he knew that men like them weren’t able to experience authentic, unburdened touch from others) before he pulled back entirely. He felt like he had a better idea of who Thor actually was, and not the way he was portrayed.
Thor wasn’t entirely sure what to say, he felt like a burden had been lifted, but his heart still grieved because of recent events. He felt he was sitting comfortable while everyone went through terrible trials. He was useless here.
Even as Banner had explained it, he still couldn’t help feeling like he was taken during a very critical moment away from the people that trusted him to keep them safe.
“Thank you,” he supplied, his eye downcast as he tried to process the transfer.
Eric was no good to anyone here, either. This Hotel stood between him and the man he needed to kill to end this, the one that’d started all of that stuff back in Detroit. The Dark Avenger was hiding his time, waiting for the right moment to leave here.
“You don’t have to thank me,” Eric said, not unkindly. “I wanted to help. You and I have a lot in common,” he explained, “We’re both not supposed to be here, we have things back home waiting for us, dependent on us, and being here isn’t helping anyone. But now I don’t feel quite as alone. Someone else feels the way I do about this place.”