Warning! Power at 85% and dropping!
"Crap."
The rock monsters continue to pound away at my armor, the power supply going down and the armor cracking with each blow. I struggle and fight off as much as I can, but then I remember the first rule of business: Don't waste time focusing on a problem you can't solve.
"Computer, shift 45% power to thrusters."
Done
My boots blast off, sending me roaring out of the monster's grip and blasting out through the ground.
"Iron Man to anyone who's listening. Got banged up, but I'm alright. I need anyone who's willing and able to help me rescue Thor. Can't do this all by myself."
Ulik watched Iron Man shoot into the sky and snarled. The Avenger was apparently retreating. Good, let him run. Soon the disgusting mortals would have no where left to run to.
Raising his voice to addresss his warriors Ulik demands that preparations be made for the inevitable mortal counter attack and all around him trolls spring into action. Some erect massive barricades by knocking over walls and buildings or piling up buses and trucks on the street. Others take up defensive postions around the city while more go about directing the near mindless Rock Giants, herding them into predesignated positions.
At various street corners and on roof top high above Ulik's warriors also begin setting up bizarre, futuristic looking canons. The magical canons are a gift from the Trolls' ally, they will keep the skies clear as Dark Wheel does its work and pulls the now all but abandonded city of Chicago under the earth where it will serve as the Rock Trolls' new home and base of operations.
It is all very satisfying and the invincible one would take great pride in the efficiency of his warriors were his mind not mostly occupied with thoughts of Thor.
The beastial champion smacked his rough lips together in something akin to delight as he steals a glance at Mjolnir, still lying at his feet and the thought of Thor laid low. He knows better than to try to lift Thor's hammer for himself. He only hoped King Gerridour would have the restraint to leave something of the hated Odinson for Ulik to rend apart with his own hands.
****
While Ulik relishes his moment of triumph, outside the city limits General Thunderbolt Ross is anything but pleased as he picks himself up off the ground after being punched by Hawkeye.
"Blasted heroes" he muttered to himself as an aide took hold of his arm and attempted to help him up "All that power and no discipline at all."
"I'm all right dammit!" he adds as he yanks his arm free of the aide. "Someone get me a secure line to the Avengers comm frequency."
"Already done sir." says another aide as says as he hands Ross a walkie talkie.
The general says nothing as he takes the equipment, flicks it on and holds it to his mouth.
"Alright Avengers you've had your fun, now its time to listen up." The General said, sharply, authoritatively "You rush head long into that city trying to save your friend, you'll end up dead, or maybe you'll succeed, but either way you will have done nothing to save this city. Now the US ARMY has a plan and you're the big punch part of that plan, so if you want to save this city and your friend, you'll bring your butts back to me so we can get our counter attack in gear. Otherwise my men will have to do it on their own and I don't need to tell you how many lives that will cost."
With that Ross clicks off the radio and waits, hoping that his words have the desired affect.
****
As General Thunderbolt Ross continues to wait another leader of warriors finds that his wait is at an end.
Deep below Chicago, in massive echoing caverns hastily dug by the Rock trolls' giant slaves, mills an army of toiling trolls and at its center, towering above the rest in a throne of bone and skulls sits Gerridour, King of the Rock Trolls.
The King takes great satisfaction in the relentless grinding of the massive gear behind him. The Dark Wheel, constructed from bark stripped from the World Ash itself, continues its work uninterrupted, unchecked, and with every turn of its dark magic infused mechanism the city of Chicago sinks deeper into the abyss.
But now a trophy perhaps even greater than the entirety of the city is brought before Gerridour and the King leans forward eagerly in his throne as the unconscious Thor is hauled before him, still trailing blood from his wounds.
Gerridour smiles as the Odinson is roughly strung up on a cross in a clearing before his throne and he rises to his full height and retrieves a barbed spear from a stone table beside him.
"Wake him." He says with a dark glee.
*****
ASGARD
A hastily assembled council of war gathers in one of Odin's halls. Tensions run high here as they do throughout the Golden Realm.
Some of those gathered here call for immediate action, for the sounding of the horns of war and for the soldiers of Asgard to march forth from her walls, to root out the rabble who besiege her and to rush to the aid of Thor.
But others do not share this point of view. Those who are closest to Thor remind the gathering of the Thunderer's orders, remind them of how nothing will be gained if Asgard moves now, and proves to the mortals that they are right to be afraid.
The debate is heated, intense and it threatens to spill over into violence if not for the Lady Sif who raised a slender hand, calling for silence, and recievies it as she rises to her feet.
With Thor gone, Sif who is for all intents and purposes Queen of Asgard, commands in his place and as she speaks she knows that her words will not be easy for the others to accept.
"Brothers." she says "Do not let emotion and anger cloud your judgement search your hearts and you will know the truth. The Armies of Asgard must not march to war this day."
She gives no reason, for every reason has alredy been given and her words are received with silence and a smattering of murmurs before a voice speaks up.
"And what of the King? Do we intend to abandon him?"
"No." Sif says, shaking her head forcefully "I said that Asgard's armies cannot march to war, for we cannot risk making enemies of the mortals, but if the recent visit by Lord Ares has shown us anything it is that the mortal cordon around our city is not impenetrable. A single warrior may breach it unseen and aid our King."
She looked around the room, her eyes steely daggers that locked onto each man's gaze as she scanned around, insuring that her next words would not be challenged.
"I will go to Thor's aid myself."
****
New York
In the abandoned headquarters that serves as the base of operations of the villianous Absorbing Man and his mysterious benefactor, that very same benefactor watches a television broadcast and scowls, forming deep creases in his long face.
"Cursed Trolls." He says as he watches the news feed and sees his own shadow canons being moved into position "Damned mongrels couldn't wait for the order to go."
"Wazzat?" Creel asks quizingly, having never before seen his employer show any frustration
The red suited employer simply ignores Creel's query and turns his attention back to the mystical Executioner's axes suspended in the gothic looking contraption in the center of the warehouse.
You had better succeed Gerriodour he thinks to himself and if you do not Thor had better kill you, for you have compromised my plan with your recklessness I will kill you myself.
