A ship roars into view, guns firing at Hela's army of undead.
"Friends of yours," Heimdal informs them, but Thor doesn't have any idea who they could be--he doesn't have any friends who have spaceships that aren't already here.
He doesn't have to wonder long—a hatch opens on the side of the ship and someone flies out of it, smashing through a pack of Hela's soldiers. A blue fog surrounds a few more dead soldiers and flings them off of the rainbow bridge
There's just a lot happening—someone is standing on the hull of the ship—that's still flying, still swerving in the air—and is firing bolts of energy from a bow—is that a soul bow? Whoever it is is good. But there's also someone flying around who looks like they could be the Hulk's son—the Hulk, and not Banner, and there's a blur of green and white that keeps carrying people into the ship.
The one with the punching lands between Thor and Valkyrie, giving the Valkyrie a once-over before going, "Hey. How you doin'?"
"Hit on the hot chick later, America! Sorry," the woman shooting the soul bow turns to Valkyrie. "You're hot. I mean. Shit. She's rude. Sorry. Crap." She turns back to shooting.
"Who are you?" Thor bellows over the din.
"We're the Young Avengers!" She yells back while shooting a skeleton behind him.
"What? That doesn't make any sense!"
"Hey, chill." A young man floats down from the sky, red cape swirling as blue light surrounds his hands. He reminds Thor a bit of that wizard fellow from Midgard. "Loki called us."
"That does not make me feel better!"
Thor has lost an eye and watched his home explode into bits when the Young Avengers—if that's even their real name—make their way to the bridge of the ship.
"Hey!" Says the woman from the hull of the ship. "Thor, right?"
Her team is behind her, along with two men who must have been flying the ship because they don't look familiar.
"Sorry. Who are you?"
"I'm Hawkeye." She extends her hand to him and Thor stares at it, then her.
"No, no. Hawkeye is a man, who lives on a farm and has three children—six children?--three children? He has children."
"We're both Hawkeye."
"Ah. Right. Yes, of course." Thor fidgets with his eyepatch, and Hawkeye clicks her tongue.
"You know who you remind me of right now?"
"Odin," the not-Hulk answers her.
"No."
"A pirate?" This from one of the white-haired men.
"No."
"Nick Fury."
"Oh, my god, no, shut up, all of you. You remind me of Lucky. My dog only has one eye, and, like, best dog ever. So you're in good company. What with. The one eye and all." She trails off, only now seeming to realize that this might not have been the most comforting choice of words.
Thor clears his throat, mostly for something to do. "Well. Thank you, of course, for helping rescue my people. But how did you know to come?"
"Loki called us."
"Loki?"
"Yeah. You know. Trickster, asshole, no common sense, uses magic but likes to bitch when other people do?"
"That does sound a bit like my brother," he admits.
"Yeah. He called us. And we were in the neighborhood--"
"We were most definitely not in the neighborhood," one of the men points out, the magic one.
"We were metaphorically in the neighborhood--"
"That's not a metaphor." This time she's interrupted by a man with thick glasses and dark skin.
"Oh my god Prodigy. It is, whatever, it's a figure of speech. The point is that Loki called and asked for help, so we came. It's what we do."
"You come?"
"Oh, whoa." Hawkeye throws her hands up as her entire group gives similar gestures or steps back. "That's not the best way to phrase that, but okay, it's more that when people ask for help--"
"You come."
"Okay, now I think he's just hitting on me," Hawkeye mutters to the one she called Prodigy.
"Dude." This comes from one of the men with white hair, and it seems strange that there's more than one of those on a single team, but who is Thor to judge? "I feel like you're doing that on purpose. Stop."
Thor hides his laugh behind a cough. "Stop what?"
"Loki called for help, we answered," says the one who looks like the Hulk. "That's it."
That seems a little strange, if not unbelievable. "You came to help Loki?"
"Well, and the people of Asgard, too," the wizard points out. "There were innocent people to save."
"Are you not of Midgard, then?"
"What, like earth Midgard? We're from there." Hawkeye stops and considers. "Well, most of us were born and raised there, except Noh."
One of the white-haired men raises his hand, as if in salute.
"And you don't fear Loki as the man who tried to enslave your planet?"
"Oh, I see what the problem is. No, that was a different Loki. Sort of. Kind of?"
"That guy was a dick," chimes in the one with white hair and who is absurdly fast.
"That was—Prodigy, which Loki was that, did we decide?"
"God of Stories." Not Prodigy, the fast one.
"No. King Loki, I thought we decided." This is Prodigy.
"Creepo King Loki?" The wizard asks. He looks puzzled.
"Look you can add creepo to any of Loki's titles, and it's not incorrect."
Loki finally makes his way over to them, rubbing his hands together. "Ah, yes. Hello...team."
"Point being," the woman continues, ignoring Loki's attempt at joining the conversation. "That was a ninety percent dick Loki. Not like ours, he's what, only sixty-five percent dick."
"Your Loki," Loki says, looking rather pleased at the choice of words.
"Yep. Not our Loki. This asshole, however--" she slings her arm over his brother's shoulder, and Loki actually smiles "He's ours."
"I was sort of this me then," Loki starts.
"Shut up, nerd," the one named America snaps, stomping over and ruffling Loki's hair as though he was a child. "You're more this you now than you are that you."
"See, that literally made no sense, and nobody's saying anything, but when I use metaphor wrong, you're all jumping down my throat."
"So, uh. How do you know my brother, again?" Thor asks when it becomes apparent nobody else is going to give him more information.
"They're friends," Loki says. "From work."