Issue #1
February 2012

"Journey Into Mystery"

Written By Curt Fernlund

Somewhere in the Barents Sea
Nordkapp, Norway

The storm raged about him…

Thick leaden clouds rolled ponderously overhead, a roiling dark blanket that stretched out across the sky from horizon to horizon. Gale force winds lashed at the land, their unfettered fury churning the frigid seas into a maelstrom that would shatter the strongest vessel, smashing all on the rocky coast. A driving sleet pounded down, swept by the winds with the force of bullets fired from a gun. The freezing rain and hail had driven humanity to shelters that barely withstood the fury of the tempest. They huddled in their homes, praying to whatever gods there were for salvation against nature’s power, little realizing that the very gods they prayed to were the cause of their terror.

And still the thunder rolled…

Lightning crashed to earth, scarring the land with blazing devastation. Fires raged, instantly quelled and sparking madly across the land. The staccato glow of flashing light blinded any that dared look. The booming perpetual roar of thunder deafened any that might have heard the lone voice that cried out in the fury of the storm-

“Loooo-keeee!”

Loki…

He stood on the highest stone overlooking the cold gray sea at the mouth of the fjord Porsangen. Here he could see all. He could feel the dying land that had once been his home. He could hear the cries coming from deep within the earth; the screams of the ravaged land, the raped and pillaged waters. It was the farthest point north of that land that had once been his realm, the very tip of the lands now known as Scandinavia. It was a bitter and dismal shadow of the world he once knew.

But that had been long ago. Another world that lay all but forgotten in the memories of a few; a handful of the eldest and ancient. Doddering old men that swapped tales of glory about the gas-flamed hearth in the local Starbucks, sipping frothy latte’s and gumming croissants. The last of the Vikings…

The Lord of Storms raised his hammer high once again as the anger welled within him. Lightning danced across the churning waves, arching across the waters, enveloping the loan structure that stood far and away in sight. The oilrig seemed lost and fragile against the fury of the storm, a skeleton of some ancient beast frozen in the northern waters. He could hear the plaintive cries of the men that still clung to the structure, trapped by the tempest that he had created. He curtailed his rage, holding back the desire to unleash his might against that which stood before him. Destroying the man-made structure would in turn destroy the seas and too the very land on which he stood. It was not the fault of those that lived here- not entirely- and they should not suffer his own failures. He turned the storm away, letting his anger cleanse the lands instead.

He was the God of Crops and he felt every blow that sundered the land. Every scorch left behind as the lightning flashed left its mark on his soul. The screams of the verdant fields frozen beneath his onslaught tore at his heart. He thrived on the pain that he was inflicting, purging that black and unfeeling sore that his soul had become. It was catharsis! It was renewal! He had been away for so long…

He reached out, scanning the bleak and barren landscape for the one that he sought. He was one with the storm, his psyche stretching beyond the horizons and more. He was one with the land, though it ignored his call for the most part as he had been absent so long. There were others that had taken his place, filling the void that he had abandoned when his followers; his worshippers had abandoned him in the machine. It was the way of Man to thrive and expand of course, and his father had warned him that the day would come when they might fully turn their backs on his wisdom and guidance. His way had become obsolete and redundant. The men no longer took to the seas to conquer and expand. Now they were one with the oceans simply trying to survive. They had chosen their path long ago, and he had let them.

And now he was but a memory and myth. He was a forgotten hero of legend, a face twisted by time and bestrewed by generation. He was as nothing, a no one in their midst.

That would change…

“Thor!”

The God of Thunder watched as the small craft rose out of the misty shadows to hover uneasily before him. It rocked in the wild winds, its metallic frame gleaming as lightning crackled about it. It was a man-made construct, efficient and functional for what it was but dreary in comparison to the Viking Longships of old. It was a box-like thing made of cold hard steel bearing the emblem of its loyalties; the four-pointed shield emblazoned in red-white and blue trapped in the clutches of an eagle rampant. The logo and sigil of SHIELD!

“You’re a hard man to get to, son!” the staticky, metallic voice boomed over the crash of thunder, garbled and rumbling in its own right. “Not hard to find, mind you. We figured you’d be at the center of the storm. Now how about you put down that hammer and let’s parley a bit? Where’s the radio we gave you?”

Thor, God of Thunder and Lord of the Storm stared at the fluttering craft, watching as his winds buffeted it about. Light blazed from the vehicle, a beam spot-lighting him, other lamps setting the land to glow, cutting through the darkness. The amplified voice was barely audible in the rage of the gale, the howling winds drowning out the sound of the man that was seemingly trying to gain his attention. Thor stared with disdain, a smile playing his lips as he envisioned the craft exploding when struck by his unfettered rage. He let the smile fade, raising Mjolnir high, calling back the winds-

“Gone… What do you want?”

The voice crackled, “Whoa! Ease up, son! We’re here to help! Why not call off the storm an’ I’ll fill you in on what we got?”

Thor stared at the craft, watching as it floundered in the winds, trying to remain stable. “What have you found?”

There was static for a time, and Thor started to turn away. He should have known not to ask the likes of these for aid. Mankind was a fickle and selfish lot, and did not deserve his guidance.

“Seems you been lookin’ in the wrong place, boy. Your brother ain’t even in Europe, let alone Norway.”

“You lie!” Thor turned to eye the craft once again. He imagined just how easy it would be to destroy the vehicle, to slay the lying, pretentious scum that dwelled therein. “This land was my brother’s home just as it was mine. Where else would he go?”

“Well, unless your brother’s a total joker that figures he can rule the world by cornering the fish industry, then he’s in New York City running a global corporation right where he should be. Our data processing division ran a scan of acronyms and pseudonyms on the Internet just for the fun of it and they came across a Mister Hikui Kagi running the Millenium Corp out of Manhattan. Hikui Kagi is a pretty straight forward translation of your brother’s name as you gave it.”

“Loki…”

“There ya go! Now how about you call off this storm an’ we’ll take a little trip?”

Thor sagged, lowering his hammer to his side in defeat as he considered just how the trickster had fooled him again. He had returned to Midgard knowing that his half-brother had returned as well with delusions of ruling the planet that once upon a time was their home. The peoples of Earth were in need of a guiding hand he had said, but Thor knew that a life under Loki’s rule would be a life of oppression and slavery. Loki wished to rule over all; Midgard and Asgard and all of the Nine Realms. He would stop at nothing to gain his heart’s desire.

The mighty Thor knelt and tapped his hammer to the rain-drenched earth. Almost immediately the winds died and the thunder ceased to roll. Lightning flickered and died away as the seas started to calm. The thick and heavy clouds began to disperse as the rain died away becoming a soft, warm shower and eventually a lingering mist that blew away on the breeze. The God of Crops touched the lands and felt the pain of the earth. He concentrated, sending his strength and compassion through the tortured ground, healing the scars that he had created in his anger as he had searched the Northern Realms for his wayward brother. He felt the world sigh as growth returned and the land renewed at his command. His people would thrive for a new season, though he knew that he would not be thanked.

Thor stood and waited as the craft circled, looking for a suitable place to land on the rocky prominence. He heard Dugan’s amplified voice telling him to stand clear but he ignored it, his thoughts once again drifting to his brother and the mischief that he was no doubt about. Loki had to be stopped!

He had to be slain…

“Is this guy for real?”

Sharon Carter stared into her monitors, adjusting the gain as she tried to focus on the energy source before her that was wreaking havoc on her instruments. She could not seem to get a positive lock on the man standing just a few yards away outside the craft, but the energy grids were going wild, the gamma and ionic readings flying off the scale.

“Fury says he is.” Dugan shrugged, focusing his own attention on setting the laboring craft safely to ground in the diminishing winds. Carter could see the older man starting to sweat, the effort of fighting the storm for so long telling on his face, if not in his voice. Finally the transport settled though, rocking slightly in the soft earth as the gyrostabilizers adjusted the pitch and evened out the landing gear to compensate for the rough terrain.

“Well, I don’t know what Fury told you, but as near as I can tell this- Thor- doesn’t exist. At least not according to my equipment.” Carter frowned, leaning in close as one of her monitors started to fade with snowy static despite her best efforts to correct the imaging. “Near as I can tell he’s just a big nexus of electrical energy that occasionally solidifies into something that vaguely resembles a human being.” Disgusted, Agent Carter finally flicked off the finicky equipment, relaying what information she had gathered back to the home base in New York. She sighed in defeat, settling back into her command chair and drawing a cigarette from a crumpled pack half forgotten in a pocket of her flight suit. She lit it, holding in a thick plume of smoke, letting it ease the mounting tension that she was feeling before exhaling with a long, contented sigh. It had been so long. She hated defeat, and her own weaknesses; her inability to solve the question of the self-proclaimed ‘God’ and her lack of will to cope with it.

“So, what’s his story, Dugan?” she asked, watching the tall, burly man in armor as he strode across the prominence towards the transport. “Is he a god or what?”

Dugan laughed. “Damn, Carter. You been reading the propaganda again? This yahoo ain’t no more a god than I am. Nah, what yer lookin’ at there, Carter is the world’s most certified- an’ powerful- nutcase. He’s the world’s first registered, corporately financed altered human ta boot. Beat out Shell Head by a couple a’ months.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was, Carter. His real name’s Jake Olsen, an’ he worked for the Millenium Corp for a few months until he volunteered for some in-house testing. I dunno what all was done ta the poor guy, but the files say that when he came out he was like this; bigger an’ stronger an’ apparently able ta control the weather some how-“

“And he thinks he’s the reincarnation of the Norse god, Thor.” Carter rolled her eyes, crushing her cigarette in the small tray built into the arm of her chair and leaned forward again to get her equipment back online. She saw Dugan’s shrug at her last comment and knew that there was more to the story, but she would have to wait for it as the man in question was climbing the boarding ramp and into the rear of the SHIELD transport. She tried to put her questions out of her mind as she followed Dugan through the pre-flight checks, waiting patiently while the ‘god’ got his ass settled in the back. She wondered however how Fury had found out about the alleged God, and why this Hikui Kagi was so willing to loan him out to the Ultimates Program?

One thing she knew however was that she definitely needed to see those files…

Hikui Kagi openly stared as his secretary bent forward over his desk and refilled his coffee cup. He was not so far removed from Humanity that he could not appreciate some of their baser attributes. He smiled…

Helena Jordan stood and smiled coffeepot in hand. She was a comely wench with her breasts barely contained within a tight black brassiere and a light silk blouse. She displayed a pleasing amount of cleavage, and Kagi had noted her firm, round ass on a number of occasions. She was a handsome woman, Nordic by her looks, and thus worthy, and if luck favored her she would know his manliness soon enough.

“Will there be anything else, Mister Kagi?” she smiled a wide flash of strong white teeth, waiting obediently for further orders. Kagi liked that-

Bend over and hike up your skirt, bitch! I want to look at your ass…

Kagi smiled as the woman’s eyes went blank and she turned about on her heel. She bent at the waist and proceeded to pull her skirt up, revealing her round, plump buttocks for his viewing amusement. It was so easy, too easy-

Stop! Go back to your desk. Forget this…

Helena Jordan stood upright again and let her skirt fall back into place. Without a word she left Kagi’s offices, closing the door behind her. Hikui Kagi laughed-

“Monkeys…” he smirked, picking up the remote for his wall-mounted wide screen television and adjusting the volume to a hearable level. He had the wide screen split into four, each focusing on a news channel of types; CNN, HNN, MSNBC and NY-1. At some point over the past hour each had touched on the sudden and unexpected storm that had erupted off of the coast of Norway in the Barents Sea. They were likening it to a Force Five Hurricane, though no station, no meteorologist had the slightest clue or explanation to fathom why and how it had inexplicably arisen. The storm had shut down all water traffic in the area as well as closed operations on all oil derricks and refineries off of the Norwegian Coast. The peoples of Lapland had been ordered to evacuate to the south, or at least defend against the encroaching storm. They were expecting the worst, but Kagi knew better. He had been watching his ‘brother’ via an expensive and highly illegal satellite link and knew just when to cut power to his little toy.

It was barely ten minutes later when CNN announced that the mysterious storm had blown itself out as quickly as it had begun. They were speaking on their satellite phones with one of their operatives that was going into great detail over the devastation in the storm’s wake. Apparently there had been no fatalities and few casualties. The land had weathered the storm well, but there was millions of dollars of damage to the man-made structures that lined the coast in the heart of the storm. Kagi smirked. His pitiful ‘brother’ had of course healed the land. He was supposed to be the God of Crops after all, though few seemed to recall that little fact. The people would suffer a bit however. They would have to pick up the pieces of his tantrum- his misguided followers and worshippers such as they were. All of his bluster and glory had been for nothing. If the dolt had bothered to think and read he would have found his quarry in the space of a few heartbeats by simply opening a phone book.

Idiot…

Kagi knew of course that that would have spoiled the façade far too soon. He had spent a good deal of his fortunes on his new toy’s development and would hate to have it all come grinding to a halt before he was ready. Before it was time.

Hikui Kagi stood, picking up the delicate porcelain of his coffee cup as he strolled about the confines of his lavish office. He took in the luxurious surroundings, breathing deeply the soft fragrance of his antique mahogany desk and the Norwegian wood that paneled his office. The carpeting was a Turkish import and quite expensive, intricate in detail and weave. The furniture was decadent; mahogany again covered in plush, kid skin leather dyed a rich black. He had a state of the art entertainment system built into the wall that cost thousands of dollars and a computer inlaid into his desk that connected him to the world at large. He had learned much in the long years that it had taken him to build up the Millenium Corporation. Long years to rebuild what his grandfather had created after the last world war and what his father had subsequently run into the ground in the past three decades. Technology had been the key- and science in all its myriad wonders. A pity the old man could never understand that.

Kagi rolled his wide shoulders and settled the soft silk of his Armani tailored suit back into place on his muscular frame. He eyed his image in the dark smoked glass encasing the entertainment center and nodded, smiling at what he saw. It was a good body that his ancestors had given him. He was handsome of course, beautiful really with his dark, chiseled features and raven-black hair swept back and tied in a short tail. His dark brown eyes glistened like embers in a fading fire alive and intelligent. He was no ‘god’ of course, despite the twist he had put on his name, but he knew that there were women that would kill for his attention. He knew that there were men that would bow down and pay him homage for his slightest whim. He had the power after all, in more ways than one.

Hikui Kagi was one of the world’s richest men. That was a given fact proven time and again in financial circles around the globe. He was also one of the most brilliant, in a league with the likes of Richards and Stark in the technological fields. Who was the better man there however seemed always debatable, not that it would truly matter in the end. In the end there was one outstanding fact that set him quite literally above those other, lesser men…

Hikui Kagi was a mutant! His grandfather had been on the fringes of Nagasaki when the second atomic bomb had fallen. Kagi assumed that that had been the deciding factor that had altered his genes inevitably. The X-Factor had killed his father however, the inborn radiation eating him away to nothing in the end. He was a lesser man and hardly worthy as he had proven. He had died a well-deserved and painfully lingering death; a hollow, crippled shell of the wife-beating bastard he had been in his youth. Kagi the son had beaten the father in the end, just as he had beaten Stark and Hammer and all the rest in other ways.

But it was a hollow victory. Defeating the greatest minds that humanity had to offer was really no victory at all. The flatscans were shortsighted due mostly to their bustling, fleeting lives. Kagi’s goals were more lofty and stretched far into the future. There were a few of the monkeys that gave him a bit of sport; Stark and Von Doom, Richards and Shaw, but overall they were as nothing to him. He might lose the occasional financial battle for show, but it was all for nothing. His superior mind could easily read and manipulate their thoughts as though they were animals being led to the slaughter. But where was the glory in putting down a mad dog?

Kagi had laughed at that. It had come to him then in bed one night months ago, in the throes of passion. It had been a vision of crystal clarity sparked by the low drone of the television flickering in the background. It had been a story on CNN about yet another mutant that had appeared in some backwater community in one of the southern states. A boy that had caught fire and burned down half of his town, slaughtering his parents in the process before some ignorant policeman shot him dead. That was where the future lay- not in some shallow unmarked grave in a potter’s field, but in mutant kind! It was just a simple matter of exploiting the available resources. But how?

His first thought had been to go out and gather those others who were like him. Form a brotherhood of sorts and use the pooled abilities and powers for his own ends. He had dismissed that foolish notion quickly enough. As his name implied, Kagi was a trickster, his best work always accomplished behind the scenes and in the shadows. He did not want to save the rabble- he wanted to use them.

It had been a fluke in the end that had created his warrior. Was it a well-timed coincidence that had changed the lowly subordinate of Millenium Corp, Jacob Olsen into a being of unrivaled strength and durability? Was it fate? Whatever, the unexpected explosion in the Hoboken branch of Millenium Power had somehow altered the man’s very atomic structure, expanding his mass to a point and in turn making it more dense as well. The explosive force of the ionic energies had recreated Olsen into a super powerful force in his own right. It had left him also quite mad.

It had been a simple matter for Kagi to manipulate the man’s thoughts, displacing the ionic-born imbalance, the madness in his brain and twisting it in a way that might prove useful. Kagi’s mutant abilities were tailor made for altering a man’s thought processes, and Olsen had proven to be little challenge at all. All that was required was a new and semi-plausible template to pattern the man after. The answer as to which of course was as obvious as the name on Kagi’s desk plate. Olsen would become Thor!

It took time of course. The history was already there in books and on the Internet, and Kagi had the financial resources to produce all the necessary trappings. A suitable uniform to be developed, like the garish costumes of the last century’s war heroes such as Captain America. Thor’s hammer- Mjolnir- proved a bit harder to construct; unbreakable and somehow tied into the weather. It had taken the R&D Division in Tokyo to solve that problem, finally linking the prototype Adamantium-laced war hammer to the experimental weather control satellite being tested over the Eastern Seaboard of Asia. It had taken time, and patience, but that was one thing that Hikui Kagi had learned over the years.

He had learned patience after all…

Thor stared silently out of the window watching as the sparkling seas rolled swiftly by far below. They were flying at speeds that might well rival his own; racing away from the sun faster than sound itself could keep pace. The human craft- a SHIELD Transport Dugan had called it- was truly remarkable and only served to emphasize just how far mankind had come in the short term of his banishment.

Memories rolled through the Thunderer’s mind like the churning waves that passed silently beneath the craft. The past few years were dark and cloudy in his mind’s eye, and the God of Thunder strained to recall what he could of his recent life. He had spent a mortal’s span growing as a child in the home of parents that had reared him, apparently from birth- such was the power of the All Father. Where once he had been the mightiest of warriors he had grown to be lame in mortal guise, little suspecting his true origins. Still he had struggled and persevered, excelling in mind where his body had failed, becoming a skilled and popular scientist and surgeon among the mortals.

He had built a life, and by Odin’s will he had learned the humility that he had lacked before, apparently, as by stroke of chance he had regained his immortal heritage and memories, but losing so much more in the bargain. He remembered his travails and trials as a mortal, but the faces of those that had guided his youth were lost in shadows. Conversely, other images and faces flashed in his mind, the visages of friends that he did not now recall, their names seemingly forgotten. The only constant that remained throughout seemed to be the alluring image that had captured his heart, that name branded forever on his tongue. Jane Foster…

There was one other of course, a name and image as sour to him as Jane’s was sweet. That which had plagued him throughout eternity- that of his foul brother, Loki! It had been the God of Mischief that had awakened him from Odin’s imprisonment of mortal form somehow. The Trickster had done so for his own ends of course, endangering Thor’s one true love in order to spark the faded embers of his smoldering memories. Thor had saved the girl of course, but vile Loki had fled before the Thunderer could wreak his vengeance, cur that he was!

Thor had searched; faring to the Golden Realm of Asgard itself only to be turned away, his questions unanswered. The Lord Odin it seemed was sleeping and unaware of the Thunderer’s recent return and the Guardian of Bifrost would not let the royal son pass the Rainbow Bridge by Odin’s last decree. Once, the Lord of Storms would have fought his way through to Odin’s very bed, assaulting the Host of Asgard in the process. But he had learned humility on Midgard, trapped in the crippled form of mortality, as was the All Father’s wish. In the end Thor had turned and left Asgard’s gleaming spires behind. There were other means…

The Humans had grown in wisdom over the years. No longer the warmongers that he recalled from his true youth, many had turned to the ways of their science. They had found the means to project images across the globe and had actually traveled into space to walk on their desolate moon. They had found the cures to many of the diseases that had plagued them so in years gone by. They had learned to live together- if not in harmony, then at least in an uneasy alliance of sorts. Thor would turn to them for aid; humbly seeking his mad brother’s whereabouts as they had so often called on him in the past.

Thus he had found SHIELD; or rather SHIELD had found him. He had been using his Oneness with the Earth as the God of Crops, scanning the lands that had been his home in the past when the man Dugan and his superior had approached. There had been tense moments, the Thunderer suspecting these terse and gruff men to be agents of his brother. In truth and time however Thor had seen through the façade they presented and knew them for the good that they represented. They had vowed to help him in his quest to find Loki, requiring his vow of future aid in return. Having nowhere left to turn the Thunder God had accepted their terms, and now it seemed that they had delivered on their promise-

“Three minutes to New York!”

The man, Dugan glanced back from the piloting of the craft to give Thor a reassuring nod and a brief smile. He was a big man with fiery eyes and hair, the slightest lilt of Celt on his tongue. He was aged, but fit, an old warrior that would have done the Aesir proud. He had piloted the swift craft from Norway in the space of a few short hours, thus saving Thor the energies of the journey. The Thunder God suspected that he might have made the way faster under his own powers, but in truth the flight would have been draining and he had yet to rediscover the other mysteries of his Uru hammer that would have aided him on such a venture. In the end he had acceded to the man’s wishes, accepting the aid of he and the woman at his side.

Agent Carter was young by their standards, but a comely wench indeed. She had the long, unkempt golden hair of the northern women and a fiery nature to match as well. Too, she seemed intelligent and headstrong as most maidens of Midgard did in this brave new world that Mankind had raised. Thor mused that she would have been a fine Valkyrie in days of old, reminding him even of fair Sif! Now she stared at a small glowing screen that plotted their course across the face of the globe, trying her best to ignore the noble godly presence that sat shortly behind her. Thor could sense her desire, and hated to disappoint one as lovely as she, but his heart belonged to another. He would release her gently when their mission was over and Loki was no more…

“Fury’s cleared us for entry into Manhattan’s air space,” Carter said as the horizon darkened with the smudge of land. “We’ve got clearance to land at UN Plaza, just a stone’s throw from the Millenium Tower.” Agent Carter glanced back to see if Thor was paying attention and the Thunder God smiled, leaning forward to see better out of the main window-

“Which is this Millenium Tower?” he asked, watching as the woman touched a small plastic stick to the monitor set before her. The view on the tiny screen flickered and changed, the point where she touched glowing as a silhouette of Manhattan’s famous skyline appeared. The glow surrounded one tall structure, a towering minaret that mimicked the true building in reality. Carter pointed towards the building that loomed in the distance-

“That one! The one with the transmission spire on top.” Thor nodded-

“Then I shall take my leave here and go on ahead to confront my brother. A battle between gods is no place for mere mortals. Open this contrivance that I may depart in peace!” Thor stood, crouching slightly as the horns of his helm scratched at the roof of the transport. The vehicle had apparently not been constructed with a god’s stature in mind.

“Hold on, son!” Dugan cut in as he quickly adjusted the path of the transport against the Thunderer’s suddenly shifting mass. “Why don’t you just settle down and we’ll get ya right to the boy’s front door. Ain’t no reason ta do this alone.”

“Nay! I thank thee for thine aid but I shall confront my sibling on mine own terms. Open this craft now, or I shall do so myself!”

Dugan sighed. “All right. Hold on…”

Thor watched while the two agents quickly ran their hands across the controls of the craft. He could feel the pressures within the transport adjusting and watched as the man and woman both donned small, plastic masks over their mouth and nose. The woman was speaking into a small radio of sorts in a language that he did not understand. Thor was about to ask when Dugan cut in again-

“Open the hatch, Carter. All clear!”

The woman nodded and touched a series of buttons. Thor felt the sudden rush of wind as a slit of light suddenly appeared and quickly widened. There was a deafening roar; the drowning sound of the engines mixed with the gale force race of air slipping past. Thor felt the brilliant cold as he stepped to the gaping hole now in the side of the craft. He nodded at the pair, then leapt into space…

The Thunder God started to fall, watching as the SHIELD Transport rapidly sped away. It rocked wildly for a short distance, but then righted itself under the sure guidance of the two pilots. When he was certain that all was well with his new allies Thor took up Mjolnir and started to whirl it about overhead.

Faster and faster he spun his weapon, propelled not only by his mighty muscles but the magicks of the Uru metal as well. Slowly he felt his massive weight starting to slow, eventually to stop. He hovered there over the sea for a moment, scanning the land and the city still away in the distance until he spied his goal- the great tower that was the fortress and home of his brother. He smiled and shifted position, redirecting the whirling force of Mjolnir as he hurled the hammer forward. He held on as the mystic might of his weapon shot out to carry him on his new path. Lightning crackled in his wake and thunder boomed as he quickly sped past the SHIELD craft, laughing as it rolled in his passing.

He felt alive again! Truly alive, the call of battle singing in his ears, the rage of vengeance boiling in his blood. Loki awaited him no doubt, the lust upon him as well. It would be a glorious battle! A war to remember! The bards would sing the tales of this day for time untold! Woe be to any that stood before his righteous wrath!

Let evil beware…

The Mighty Thor was back!

To Be Continued…

Next Issue: The Ultimate Quest continues as the Iron Man joins the fray. Be here for Chapter Two: Tales of Suspense!