Chapter 83: Bloody Picky Hammer! (Patreon)

They cared not; they had done it before, after all. Why would Asgard be very different to Jotunheim? Well, they worried that perhaps a magical item too strong would stop them. But, still, they did not halt their efforts.

And a moment later, it all paid off. In a brilliant flash of light, a hybrid of a Portkey and realm-crossing portal activated, and magic surged around them, exploding runes and flinging dirt everywhere. A metre in front of Harry sat his prize: Mjolnir. Luckily, it had not brought Thor with it.

He smiled and walked over, wrapping his hand around its handle and heaving with all his might. Nothing happened.

"Bloody picky hammer; I'd have you know I'd be a perfectly good king. I'm better than Odin in every way. For example, I'm fifty-percent less blind."

The hammer didn't respond.

With a shrug, Harry waved his wand at it, muttering, "Nihilus Cadus Fieldo."

Ever so slowly, the hammer rose into the air, the charred dirt around it following suit. Dragging the zero-gravity field behind him, Harry stepped onto his waiting boat and took off west, towards the Mariana Trench.

-------------

Chapter 38

Harry idly tapped the side of his glass, watching as the liquid instantly froze, and then became solid again with the next tap. Vodka froze at a significantly lower temperature than human blood, so it was good practise—not that he particularly needed any practise with this kind of magic. With each year's passing, he became better at killing things.

Now, he was quite confident that he would be able to beat Thor. That said, he wasn't exactly expecting to ever need to beat Thor. As far as he could tell, his revenge on Thor for causing Loki's "death" has worked. Mjolnir lay at the bottom of the Mariana Trench, coated in a dozen anti-summoning spells and fifty tons of depleted uranium; it had been there for over six months.

So far, no one had come looking for it, as far as Harry was aware, but six months wasn't exactly a long time to Asgardians. For all he and Loki knew, they might've been on Earth right now or coming soon. He might've been able to place Bifrost-detecting wards over New Mexico, but the world was a considerably larger area to cover.

'Do you honestly think this'll work?' Harry asked.

'Maybe. SHIELD found us twice before. They should be able to do it again if we expose ourselves enough.'

'Perhaps. I still think it comes at too great a price.' He sighed at his reflection. 'I mean I have to be blond.'

'I'm sure that's horrible for you. But perhaps being blond part of the time for a few weeks is a worthy sacrifice if it means that we are made aware of threats before they attack us.'

'You know me, Loki; any sacrifice is too much for me—unless, you know, it's other people sacrificing stuff for me, like their lives, or blood or animals or babies. Makes me feel more godlike.'

'Well, you won't feel very godlike if you get killed by an Asgardian or a random alien.'

'Don't tell me what I will and won't feel.'

Harry withdrew from his thoughts as the chair next to him was drawn back and someone sat in it. He glanced up and down the bar, seeing that plenty of the seats were free. Only a few people were in the room, sitting off in isolated tables and looking as though they were trying too hard to look normal.

He smiled and looked to the person sitting next to him. Much to his disappointment, it wasn't Agent Coulson. Rather, it was a suspiciously attractive red-haired woman—and that wasn't to say that he hadn't seen better dozens of times before; it was just that women attractive as this one didn't tend to hang around in seedy bars in Rome at four in the morning unless they were prostitutes.

This woman probably wasn't a prostitute—not one poor enough to be working in such a shady place, at least—judging by her perfectly white teeth and perfect skin and the multitude of weapons she was probably carrying. She practically screamed SHIELD agent.

'Or maybe you're being paranoid,' said Loki. 'Again.'

'That wasn't my fault—the ice cream vendor was suspicious-looking.'

Harry grinned at the woman. "So, you come here often?"

She smiled back at him. "I—" she began in Italian.

"Don't worry," Harry interrupted. "I'm not hitting on you. If I was, I'd be using one of my pick-up lines. I'd probably be saying something like, 'Hey, babe, is your dad in prison? Because if I was your dad, I'd be in prison.'"

The woman blinked.

Harry frowned. "Do you not understand or something? I was implicating that if I had the opportunity, I would have molested you in your adolescence or childhood, even if I was directly related—"

"I understood."

"Okay. Did you understand the implication that I'd also molest you now, as well? That's not a rape threat, by the way—I save those until they've rejected me twice."

From the way that the woman was yet to run away screaming, Harry guessed that she might be a SHIELD agent. Or was into this kind of stuff. Or was a prostitute who really wanted to get paid.

'I can hear a faint voice,' said Loki. 'She's wearing an earpiece.'

'Maybe she's talking to her pimp.'

'Turn away for a moment and find out.'

Naturally as possible and still gripping his glass, Harry glanced at the other men sitting in the room, catching sight of a few earpieces. He somehow doubted that they were all prostitutes.

'I felt her put something in your drink.'

Harry smiled inwardly. It seemed as though even SHIELD agents weren't trained to accommodate for superhuman senses—not super-hearing or super-touching

"Anyway," he said to the woman, "what's your name?"

She smiled at him. "Natalia. And yours?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Muhammad Lee."

'That doesn't sound fake. At all.'