New York by Gehry
Dansende Ekorn og Andre DumheterAuthor:
Right, I actually went and checked to be sure this time… Buffy the Vampire Slayer
, Angel: the Series
, and all associated characters belong to Fran and Kaz Kuzui. With a myriad of writers, artists, and editors, actual rights are a nightmare when you go near a comic book universe. Suffice it to say that Marvel Entertainment LLC owns all of the property printed in their comics, along with the television and movie adaptations of said same property. Not mine, don't sue, and so forth and so on.Summary:
"There is a Zumba class being held on the roof of a nine hundred foot tall building in the middle of downtown Manhattan. Led, as best I can tell, by a teenage girl with incisors that would put Yvonne Strahovski's to shame."Joe's Note:
With the recent launch of my Blue Belle art ChipIn
, I decided to start revealing a bit of previously secretive content that was released in alpha form to the recommenders of Blue Belle
. After all, it's hardly fair to ask you to invest in art of characters that a bunch of you have never met before, is it? Please keep a careful eye on the date stamps; the first chapter will actually occur before the events of When Kate Met Buffy
while the rest occur after it. They all fit between the current last chapter of Blue Belle
and the start of Hockey Knight in Boston
December 6, 2011
New York by Gehry
New York, New York
"Party rock is in the house tonight! Everybody just have a good time!"
"…what the hell is that?" "And we gon' make you lose your mind. Everybody just have a good time!"
"Zumba, Stark. A Columbian dance fitness program dating back to the Nineties. It's a mixture of dance, aerobics, martial arts, and belly dancing, I think. I'm surprised you've never heard of it; a number of major celebrities swear by it. Jennifer Lopez, Eva LaRue, Natalie Portman, Emma Watson…" "Party rock is in the house tonight! Everybody just have a good time!"
"I know what Zumba is, Coulson." "And we gon' make you lose your mind. We just want to see you…"
"Then why did you-" "Shake that!"
"There is a Zumba class being held on the roof of a nine hundred foot tall building in the middle of downtown Manhattan. Led, as best I can tell, by a teenage girl with incisors that would put Yvonne Strahovski's to shame and a furry, three foot long tail growing out of her ass. Whose students appear to be divided into two groups: squirrels and young women who enjoy shopping at Freyja's of Asgard." As they approached their destination, Stark decelerated and banked sharply, slowly circling the building so he could get a better look. "Now, let's ignore the squirrels for a moment, mostly because I really don't want to contemplate why squirrels have taken up Zumba. It has the potential to break my brain, and that's worth too much intact. I can't help but notice there are a number of young women on that roof, Coulson. Not that I'm complaining or anything, but I thought you said we were coming to meet with a Norse goddess. Singular. That's an entire pantheon down there. Although I've decided that I'm not going to argue about the goddess thing anymore, because those bodies are definitely out of this world."
Agent Phil Coulson sighed before pointing to a clear patch of roof a few yards to the northeast of where the women - and squirrels - were exercising. "Please set us down before they hear you and start flinging spears. Explaining your untimely death to Directory Fury will be bad enough. I don't want to have to do it while recovering from a punctured lung." Scoffing at that, Stark finished his current lap of the building before coming in for a landing at the spot Coulson had indicated. How long would it be until the first Quinjet was delivered? Not nearly soon enough, he decided. Maybe… no, there wasn't a position he could think of that would allow Agent Danvers to carry him without things being incredibly awkward.
Landing nimbly on his feet as Stark abruptly dropped him, Coulson shot the man an irritated look as he strode past, red and gold Mark IV armor whirring with each step. Catching sight of him, the bushy-tailed instructor groaned before leaning down to turn off the boom box sitting next to her, which in turn brought the class to an abrupt halt and had its members - humanoid and squirrel alike - turning to look at the cause of the disruption. They stared at Stark, who stared back for a few seconds before thrusting a finger out at a particular buxom blonde on the right side of the group. "That woman over there… looks like Power Girl. I doubt any of you know enough pop culture to understand what I'm talking about, but I felt that I should point it out."
Coulson took a moment to straighten his suit, smirking as he glanced over at the woman Stark was drawing attention to. She actually did bear a striking resemblance to the DC character; he found himself wondering if it was a coincidence that her name was Kára or if she'd met Gerry Conway during one of her previous visits to 'Midgard'. Spotting a statuesque redhead making her way toward them, he abandoned both his ponderings and concerns over his appearance as he moved to intercept her. While he couldn't say he 'knew' either of them the way he knew the few friends and close colleagues he had, Coulson knew Thrúd Thordóttir and Tony Stark well enough to know that letting them interact could only end poorly.
As she cleared the ranks of her companions, Thrúd's curious gaze wandered up and down Stark's armor a few times before moving on to where Coulson stood. "Hail, son of Coul. Why comest thou to be our welcome guest?"
Before Coulson could reply, the exact thing he'd been dreading occurred. "Why didn't you tell me it was Talk Like Shakespeare day, 'Son of Coul'? Hang on, I want to give it a try. Broad rumps delight me, and none may say me nay! When a maid passeth by with a passing slender waist-" On the other hand, the inevitable embarrassment that would come from requisitioning Danvers as a method of transportation couldn't possibly be as bad as this…
"Art thou mocking me, metal man?" Thrúd's form wavered, attire shifting rather abruptly from deep blue workout clothes trimmed with silver to a rather intimidating suit of armor that shared the same color scheme, a long blue cape trimmed with fur falling from her shoulders. Raising one hand, she drew a truly massive broadsword from the scabbard on her back. Coulson had seen it before in more peaceful times, back when the runes engraved along the blade hadn't been glowing with an unearthly blue light. "Thou sawest how my sire dealt with the Destroyer in the wasteland, son of Coul. Thou shouldst teach the contrivances of thine own smithcraft to bear themselves gently, lest they meet a like fate."
Lunging forward, Stark slapped Thrúd's sword off to the side before invading her personal space, poking a finger against her chest as the faceplate of his helmet slid upward. "Hey! First of all, Thor-Girl, I'm nobody's 'toy'. Secondly-" Suddenly, his body jerked upward a few inches and Stark let out a grunt before tipping over sideways, curling into a ball as he clutched at his groin. "Uncalled for."
Actually, Coulson thought it was perfectly called for. And rather amusing. While he respected Stark as the scientific genius that he was and recognized his importance to Director Fury's plans, the man was still an insufferable jackass at the best of times. So… odds were that it wasn't a fatal wound. Stark could stay where he was while Coulson finished with business. "Two things, Lady Thrúd. Firstly… while there technically isn't a law against owning a flying horse in New York, we tend to frown on them defecating on cars from nine hundred feet up. It tends to startle motorists pretty badly, not to mention the mess… and the smell…"
"Such things mind us not in Asgard … but all may see that this be not Asgard. Perchance the valkyries can land their steeds on the grassy sward on the fifth floor? Youngsters like Eir passing well; she could remain with the mares to oversee." Thrúd looked over at a smaller, slimmer redhead who was perched atop a nearby vent, 'Eir' nodding her assent. "’tis well. What more?"
Reaching into his pocket, Coulson pulled out a rather plain-looking black cell phone. While most people would deride the gift of a simple flip phone in the era of smartphones, it would suit their purposes nicely… and if a similar phone could survive Agent Romanova's antics, it could likely endure anything Thrúd would do to it. "As much as I enjoy our chats, Director Fury would prefer a more efficient way of contacting you. When it makes noise, open the two halves like a book and raise it to your head." Just in case even that wasn't clear enough, Coulson demonstrated the process for her, making sure to show Thrúd how to properly orient the phone. "He should call you before the battery runs out. If not, I imagine we'll be seeing each other again."
Thrúd nodded and held out her hand, waiting as Coulson closed the phone and placed it in her palm. "I await with eagerness another meeting with thy leader, so that I may learn whether fate hath ever faced him with 'motherfucking snakes on a motherfucking plane'." Coulson's jaw dropped at that and Thrúd spread her arms wide. "At our first meeting I bade thee know that the Bifröst was no more. None hinder the valkyries as they move in their own way between the worlds, but I am stranded here. Have been stranded here. Thinkest me all unknowing of the ways of Midgard, Coulson?"
"So the old-fashioned speech..?"
"Nothing more than an affectation, meant to enhance my otherworldly persona." Shaking her head, Thrúd banished her helmet back to wherever it had come from before reaching up with her free hand, twirling a strand of hair around one finger. "I could, like, talk like this if it would, like, make you more comfortable."
Barely managing to suppress a shudder, Coulson added another mental note to the cluttered bulletin board in his mind: ensure Thrúd and Agent Morse were never allowed to meet. "I'd rather you not, if you don't mind."
Thrúd offered the faintest of smirks at that, the glowing runes on her sword extinguishing as she returned it to its scabbard. "If it please thee." Her armor rippled and reverted to her workout attire, the redhead turning and walking towards her companions as she called back over her shoulder to him. "With those tasks done, must thou away to other deeds, son of Coul, or wouldst thou fain drill with us a while?"
"Agent Romanova convinced me to try Zumba with her once. Wasn't really my thing. I'm more of a Tae Bo man, personally."