Civil War Prose Novel Read Free Page A

reminded Tony of another duty, so he clicked over to email. Scanned a couple hundred messages: charities, contracts, old friends, old supposed friends who wanted money, invitations, Avengers business, financial statements…
    …there it was. Confirmation of his own testimony before the Metahumans Committee, next week. That was an important one—there’d be no long-distance flight to blow off steam that day.
    The Committee had been formed to investigate abuses of superhuman power, and to recommend standards and regulations to govern the actions of metahumans. Like many Congressional committees, it served largely to score political points for its members. But Tony had to admit that, as the world had grown more dangerous, super-powered beings had become less and less popular among civilians. As the highest profile Avenger with a publicly known identity, Tony felt a special obligation to make sure both sides of the issue were heard.
    Below, a passenger ship was just pulling into Pelham Bay. Tony waved down at them, and a few tourists waved back. Then he soared up and out, over the wide expanse of the Atlantic Ocean.
    Scattered ships below, at first. Then just waves: massive, rolling, a pure, endless display of natural power. The sight calmed Tony, focused him. Slowly, the real source of his anxiety rose to the surface of his mind.
    Thor.
    The messenger from Asgard, home of the Norse gods, had appeared suddenly. Twelve feet tall, massive and stern, hovering in a mist of smoky fog above Avengers Tower. Tony had greeted the messenger on the roof, with Carol Danvers—the Avenger called Ms. Marvel—hovering just above. She floated tall and graceful, her body lithe and strong in flowing blue and red. Captain America stood with them, in full uniform, alongside Tigra, the orange-furred cat-woman.
    For a moment, the messenger said nothing. Then he unfurled a parchment scroll, yellowed with age, and began to read.
    “RAGNAROK HAS COME,” he said. “I AM SENT TO NOTIFY YOU OF THE THUNDER GOD’S FATE. YOU WILL SEE HIM NO MORE.”
    Tigra’s eyes went wide with alarm. Captain America, teeth gritted, stepped forward. “We’re ready. Tell us where to go.”
    “NO. IT IS DONE. RAGNAROK HAS COME AND PASSED, LAYING WASTE TO ALL ASGARD.”
    Tony flew up into the air, confronting the messenger directly. “Look,” he began.
    “THOR HAS FALLEN IN BATTLE. HE IS NO MORE.”
    At those words, a terrible, sunken feeling had taken hold of Tony. He felt dizzy, almost tumbled out of the sky.
    “I AM HERE OUT OF RESPECT FOR WHAT HE MEANT TO YOU. BUT HEAR ME: THIS IS FATHER ODIN’S FINAL MESSAGE. FROM THIS DAY, THERE WILL BE NO FURTHER CONTACT BETWEEN MIDGARD AND ASGARD, BETWEEN YOUR REALM AND OURS.
    “THOR IS DEAD. THE AGE OF GODS IS DONE.”
    And with a peal of dull, echoing thunder, the messenger was gone.
    That was four weeks ago. Now, soaring out over the ocean, Tony heard the words again in his head: THE AGE OF GODS IS DONE.
    Well, he thought. Maybe. Maybe not.
    Tony had grieved for Thor, this past month. The Avengers had discussed their sorrow and also their frustration: After dozens, hundreds of battles together, their friend and comrade had apparently died alone, in a war fought far away, on some other plane of existence entirely. Not only had the Avengers been powerless to help their friend, but they probably couldn’t even have perceived the battle that took his life.
    Now, though, Tony began to realize that something else was nagging at him. Thor hadn’t just been his friend; the thunder god had been the linchpin, the very center of the Avengers. Tony and Cap were both strong-willed men, each with his own strengths and flaws: Cap was ruled by heart and instinct, Tony by a faith in the power of industry and technology. Several times since the founding of the team, they’d almost come to blows over some matter of strategy or sacrifice. And each time, Thor had spoken up with that booming voice that left no room for argument. He’d