Chapter 5
5:
In a different point view, Steve would find their arrangement utterly ridiculous bordering on comedic.
Imagine this: a little boy holding an absurdly large hammer against the rightfully larger, meaner, stronger and darker blonde owner of the said hammer. If this was a show, Steve would have laughed. It was something so surreal Steve swore he was still dreaming if not for the sweat running on his back, totally contradicting the harsh climate he was in now. He was breathing heavily, and Steve wished-oh God, please- that this was not another asthma attack. Steve was so going to be dead now, in his third short meaningless life. Wow, a third life. Who could have guessed he would live long enough?
"You do not deserve any explanation, mortal," Thor sneered. "You should only know that after this I will make it my personal goal and satisfaction to see you gutted and bleeding right before my eyes."
Steve let out a short exasperated breath. "Then before you try to end me, I deserve to know why I'm about to get killed! I'm not some game you hunt on open season!"
The bigger man stepped forward, stance still ready to pounce. Steve took the automatic step back. All of his concentration was being used up to make sure the hammer was not shaking even slightly. He knew that, based on some of the movies he and Bucky watched, that a trembling hand is a sign of fear and nervousness. Therefore it is an indication that you are weak, that you can be easily thwarted and defeated.
Well, Steve was not going to be that man. He remained his eye contact with Thor.
The smaller man could feel the tension thickening between them; the rage, fear, and silence all convalescing in the air, creating an barely breathable atmosphere. Every second that passes seemed longer with Steve's senses. The eyes that reflected his own were still full of pent-up rage, ready to be released again any minute from now. Why was the man so angry anyway? It wasn't Steve fault that the hammer chose him, although the reason why was still not given to him. Even though he is steadily weakening, he could feel the blood being pumped rapidly inside his system, anticipation on the move, ready to throw the hammer anytime the man would make his own move. Kill or be killed.
As Steve continued to carry the hammer, he could feel little electric currents flowing through his arms and all over his body, egging him on, rising his anger, feeding his blood lust. Then it dawned in him. He was not this, this man who would fight with arms and feet. The man who makes the first move, the first punch, the first kick. It can't be him. He did not want to hurt anyone, even if he could. If he could resolve this without any physical injury, then it would be the better option. More violence would not give him the answers that he needs, so maybe another option would work. The other man doesn't understand that, it seems.
Realizing that neither of them would not stand down, Steve put down the hammer. The other man raised his brows, but still did not change his stance. "That was a foolish move, mortal. Releasing your one true chance against me? Foolish indeed."
Steve shook his head. "There will be no more bloodshed. I just want to know what are you doing here and what you want. If you want to kill me, fine but at least tell me why all of this is happening to me." He could see the other man taken aback a little by his words.
"You will... give up your life... for an explanation?" The man was perturbed beyond words.
"No, I would not give up my life. In fact I would still fight for it. But if I would die right at this moment, at least give me some sort of... some sort of peace." Steve was adamant, he would get his answers. If he dies today, at least in his heart he knew he made a stand. Letting go of the hammer might not be the brightest decision, but Steve believed it was for the best. It was foolish enough to think he could use the hammer against its owner.
Steve saw the other blonde ponder for a bit. "I agree to your terms. However, after I tell thee all that I know, you will die by my hands."
The smaller man gulped, fear trying to block his throat, but still he replied. "No. I'll fight you."
Thor laughed, a booming degrading bone-chilling laugh. "You may have the power over my hammer for now, little mortal. However, it is the only advantage you have," he then shrugged, his looks still mocking Steve. "All right I agree, but I also want my answers."
Steve nodded in reply.
"... and we both know how this ends."
In his mind, Steve was trying to think otherwise, even if it was hard. "Can we start?" he said instead.
"Eager to die, are we?" Thor smirked a little. "Well then, we must make ourselves comfortable."
This is it, Steve thought. The last moments of my third life stuck in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with a man made up of rage and murder intent, owning a hammer that only Steve could carry. Life has turned to the bizarre.
*.*.*
James was dying of worry. It has been a few hours since Steve's... ascent, and James was so confused about what was happening. All he can remember about everything was a storm swept up almost half the city, thankfully with minimal damage and most of it can be seen right in front of their apartment complex where something-was it a hammer?- destroyed the asphalt road. The impact was felt in almost whole of Brooklyn and even parts of Manhattan, shaking the infrastructures and creating fear in the hearts of residents.
The worst thing was the hammer took Steve.
James could not have been mistaken. It was not an illusion of his eyes, or some hallucination. The hammer from the skies flew, tagging a helpless Steve. And all James could do during that time was stare. He could have done something, maybe try to pull Steve down or be joining Steve. He should have not been alone! Who knows what's happening to him now? It was his responsibility to keep Steve safe and what did he do? He just goddamned stared.
Going to the police also crossed James' mind. But what could he say? That his younger brother was kidnapped by a flying hammer? The worst thing that could happen to him was to be put in a straitjacket and locked up in a mental institution. At best, no one would believe him and probably thrown out disgracefully from the prison. He had never felt so helpless, ever since his own parents died. Who could help him find his younger brother?
As he sat in his bed doing nothing but think and stare at the dilapidated ceiling, James was half-afraid he about to go really insane. It was so quiet in the complex since most of the inhabitants moved somewhere safer. James stayed because he had nowhere else to go. His relatives were back in Indiana, and he did not have the money to travel. But most of all, he was grabbing that little chance of Steve coming back. Somehow leaving for Indiana felt more plausible.
He heard footsteps in the hallway. Maybe some folks went back for their stuff, he thought and paid them no mind until he heard a loud crash. In his living room. James hastily ran out of the room, prepared to fight whoever those people were. Probably burglars, trying to take advantage of the inhabitant's absence.
"Hey! What the fu-"
James stood frozen in his steps. There were men in black suits filling up the shabby living room, and all of their sunglasses-covered eyes were locked on James. Before James could comment about burglars looking so fancy nowadays, he felt a hard hit behind his neck and all he saw afterwards was black.
*.*.*
Trying to engage in a normal conversation with your future murderer is the weirdest thing that ever happened to Steve. Aside from flying in Cursed Hammer Air First Class, that is. He never even boarded in an airplane before.
Both of them opted to sit on the floor, with Steve nearer to the magical hammer. For his own safety, no matter how little that is. Thor, on the other hand, was leaning his back on the bed. Even just sitting, he radiated power, authority and a tad bit of irritation, most of which were targeted on Steve. He just stared back, still telling himself that the burly man does not scare him that much. Thor crossed his arms to add up to the menacing air he was putting on, most probably trying to break Steve's already shaky composure.
The silence extends between the two of them, and the howling winds outside didn't even deter their little staring match. Steve could feel the tension building up even more in the midst of the cold silence. They were back where they started, where no one was backing down from the challenge. Instead of fists and feats of strength, they were battling for who will speak their mind first.
And Steve was already tired. "What do you want to know?" he sighed, relenting.
Steve saw the little smirk was back. Damn this man. "How did you acquire my hammer?" Thor asked in a deep accented voice.
"How did you lost it?" Steve could not help but ask.
"I asked the first question, didn't I?" the other blonde retorted.
Steve huffed. "I told you, it fell from the sky and destroyed most of my neighborhood." Thor opened his mouth, but before he could even deliver second question, Steve spoke up. "How did you lose it?"
"I was not finished yet mortal," the other man protested.
Steve raised his brow. "It's my turn," he retorted simply.
"How do you know it is your turn?" Thor continued. "I said I am not finished yet."
Steve scowled. "That is unfair, sir."
"How can that be unfair?" Thor was relentless. "I have the right to ask as many questions as I see fit."
Now Steve was irritated. "As I've said that is unfair. I thought you want to know about what happened to me and the hammer, and I want to know where you came from and why I am the only one who can carry your hammer. Can't this be a peaceful exchange of information?"
"You are the only one who can lift it for now," the bigger man corrected. "And I am a prince, a crown prince to be exact. You should have bowed down before my benevolence, but your insolence hindered you so. You were lucky I did not strike you right there and then if my hammer was in my hands."
Now this was out of the line. "Prince? Of what?"
"Asgard!" Thor exclaimed, like Steve was supposed to know about this. "The land of the Aesir!"
Steve was a getting a little bit more confused. "What is an... a-a-a...?" That was a tough word, and Steve never listened to grammar school way back. Steve was not even sure that word existed in the English language.
"Aesir," Thor clarified, a little miffed. "An aesir is- you are asking too many questions, mortal!"
The sudden outburst startled Steve, and made him a little wary. He was edging closer and closer to hammer. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.
Another stretch of silence followed, and this time it seems neither of them wants to speak another word. Their conversation was going nowhere. All they do is argue and argue at every point. He could even talk to someone he had a fistfight with just a day before. If Bucky was here, he could have carried on with the conversation like nothing ever happened. Hell, Bucky could charm every girl at every bar they went through. His charm made him a famous amongst the women of Brooklyn, and his humor gained him many friends in every corner of the city. Sure he might be a little hot-headed and impatient, but he was a man who knows how to carry himself well. Steve could remember that one time he played with a police officer-
Wait, that's it!
"Hey," Steve began, clearing his throat, hesitance palpable through every word. "Uhm, do you mind if we play a little game?"
Thor raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
"Do you mind playing Twenty Questions?"