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Paradigm Shift	By : AlexPhoenix Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Avengers, The Views: 4123 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Marvel/Thor/Avengers universes. The only thing I own is Alex, Ronan, and their actions/thoughts. This is all for fun; not monetary values.

Chapter List
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A/N: I kindly request that if you enjoy the story, or if you want to give me a few pieces of constructive criticism, that you write a review. I love hearing feedback, and it would be greatly appreciated to hear your thoughts and feelings on my work. Thank you, and enjoy!

Chapter 1: Whirlwind Encounter of the Fourth Kind
     I sat in an open field, with only the stars and my thoughts to keep me company. I was miles away from the nearest town, and was pretty happy about it. Unless a wild cactus or a snake decided to randomly attack my reposed form, I wasn't too worried about having to rush to any emergency rooms. Despite there being an overabundance of things that could kill me, the New Mexico desert actually wasn't too bad at night. Well, if you had a jacket, it wasn't. You'd have to be nuts to sit out in the middle of a desert at nighttime without some form of warmth. Thankfully, I'm not completely crazy, so I'd brought a leather jacket to keep me from freezing my metaphorical balls off.
     Staring at the stars, I pondered my life and how I got to be sitting next to my car in the middle of a dry state. I didn't allow myself to ponder on that for too long, and instead ended up focusing on the beauty of the little gas balls that twinkled millions of lightyears out of my reach. It's unfair how such beauty is so unattainable. How it's so far from a person's grasp. Hell, I didn't even have to travel outside of Earth's atmosphere to find inaccessible treasures. There are castles in Ireland that I'd never be able to afford, or see; first edition books I'd never get to read, or hold; incredibly hot actors I'd never get to schmooze, or have sex with.
     I let out a heavy sigh and glanced over at my car. She was the one beauty that I was able to obtain. Her name is Phoenix, and she's a blood red 1969 Ford Mustang Fastback. She's my pride and joy in life, and really the only friend I've ever truly had. I'd bought her when I was eighteen. I'd used a lifetime of savings to get her, and had poured every ounce of my love into her steel frame ever since. I sighed again, turning my eyes back to the sky.
     "Man, Alex. You are one sad human being if a piece of machinery is your only friend," I murmured to myself. Something clicked in the back of my head and I perked up, realizing that I might've hurt my baby's feelings. I twisted around to pat her black wheel reassuringly. "Not that I don't love you, Nix. You're the best friend I could ever ask for."
     I sat there, petting her body with gentle, caring strokes, when a crack of thunder tore through the night sky. I snapped my head to look up, nearly giving myself whiplash from the sheer momentum of my head moving. The once clear view of the stars was now gone, replaced with a large, dark, glowing cloud. Lightning sliced the darkness like a sword slashing into a black silk veil. Thunder crashed and the sky pulsed a brilliant cerulean. Swirls of blue streaked through the perfectly formed gray mounds of vapor like a topaz borealis. The winds picked up, whipping sand, and my hair, in a violent whirl around my body. I managed to utter a very tactful "huh" before a brilliant flash of light blinded me.
     I fell backwards, shielding my eyes with my leather-wrapped arm and biting back a girly scream that threatened to escape my throat. I refused to girly scream! I was a badass, and badasses don't shriek like little girls. Never once had I heard Bruce Willis squeal like a 1950's housewife, and I intended to follow his example. Once I was sure that my retinas wouldn't be burned from my skull, and that the scream had died in my chest, I spun back around to scan my eyes over the now clear sky.
     I stood up, looking around for any sign of the storm that had appeared and disappeared like David Copperfield's elephant. There wasn't so much as a flicker of a stray lightning bolt or a random roll of distant thunder. The storm was just...gone. Like the last shreds of my sanity, the twister had vanished.
     I scanned the horizon, slowly turning around to look at everything the moonlight would allow me to see. My eyes fell upon a lump that I was pretty certain hadn't been there when I'd driven up. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the newly reformed darkness. It took another second for my brain to register that I was looking at a human form.
     "Christ on a cracker," I muttered. I broke into a sprint towards the motionless human, all the while wondering to myself exactly how many people in New Mexico find Christ Crackers on a regular basis. Hell, they reported it on the news enough that it seemed like an everyday occurrence. Then again, maybe I was misinformed. I think it says something about my character that my mind had decided to linger on Christian snack food rather than the fact that a person had just randomly popped up in the middle of the desert. Whether that something is good or bad, though, is beyond me.
     I dropped to my knees a few feet away, skidding along the sand until I was next to the unmoving mass of human, who was sprawled out on their stomach. They were wearing dark colored clothes, one article of which looked a lot like a trenchcoat. Their black hair was long and straight, curling out at ever so slightly at the ends. Or was it dark brown hair? Who could tell with the lack of light? Not me, that's who. Tentatively, I rolled the person on to their back, and nearly crapped my jeans. It was a man, and even in the darkness he was beautiful. He had a long, thin face with high, well defined cheekbones carved under his pale skin. His lips were thin, his nose was slim, and his eyebrows were dark and straight. Somehow, unattainable beauty was lying unconscious at my knees, and I was about to faint from the very prospect of being so close to it.
     Instead of fainting, I reached a hand out to shake the man's shoulder. My fingers brushed metal, and I pulled my hand back like the element had been heated by a blacksmith's fire. Who the hell wears metal on their trenchcoat? Who the hell wears a trenchcoat? I looked closer at his clothes. They looked like black and dark green leather, and had sporadic antiqued gold accents. Only, they were weird. I'd never seen any article of clothing look the way his did, with so many intricate criss-crosses and studs. Who was this guy, and where the hell had he come from?
     Instead of acting like a mild mouse again, I boldly shot my hand forward to grip the man's shoulder. And then I had a heart attack. His hand clamped around my wrist painfully, and I let out an unflattering girly yelp as I managed to lose my balance and fall from my knees to my ass. I could've sworn I heard the man say something as I yipped like a whipped puppy. But, I was far too busy being a whipped puppy to pay any attention to anything he had to say. My heart slammed against my ribcage so hard that it felt like someone was taking a sledgehammer to the inside of my chest cavity.
     "What the fuck?!" I cried, my voice about five octaves too high. I was pretty sure that only dogs could hear me. That, or I was going to shatter the creepy, hot dude's eardrums like they were a champagne glass at an opera house. Either way.
     "Silence, woman!" the man growled in a British accent. I was silent, snapping my mouth shut with a pop to be such. I wasn't entirely sure if I was silent because he'd told me to be, or because the sparkle of his eyes. They were captivating and commanded respect, even though I could only see the shine of them in the starlight. I had no idea how someone could possibly manage to command respect with their eyes when said optical receptors were shadowed by darkness, but he managed.
     "Where am I?" he asked, staring at me. I could feel the weight and fire of his gaze on me as if he were a magnifying glass, and I a doomed insect. I was almost expecting lasers to shoot out of his eyes. Any second now, he'd vaporize me into a pile of ash that the wind would promptly whisk away. Thankfully, no red beams pierced my being, and I remained intact.
     He sharply tugged on my wrist, sending a little thrill of pain up my arm. It, quite effectively, snapped me out of admiring his features in the moonlight. "Where am I?" he asked again, more insistent this time.
     I stared up at him, unblinking. "Middle of nowhere, New Mexico," I replied quickly, barely moving my lips.
     "On the planet Earth?" he asked. His eyebrows crawled up his forehead, and his chin dipped toward his chest.
     "Yes," I replied. He grinned wickedly, and I could've sworn I'd heard angels singing. Or maybe that had been the air rushing back into my lungs as he released his grip on my wrist. Either way.
     I pulled my wrist to my chest, resisting the urge to rub it as he looked around the open field. What was it that my mom had said about strangers? Ask them if they need a ride, or don't talk to them? Damn my crappy memory! I made my way to my booted feet, metaphysically shaking loose the feeling of my wrist still being in a vice as the man on the ground surveyed the open desert.
     "Here," I said, holding my hand out to him to help him up. He looked up at me with that impish smile still in place, but as his gaze slid down my arm, his expression turned to one of distaste. And here I thought I was being nice when I'd extended the wrist he'd crushed to help pull him to his feet. He, however, seemed to believe differently.
     "I do not need to you help me, woman. I'd pull your frail form to the ground in your attempt to get me on my feet," he growled, standing up. Holy hell, the man was tall. Then again, everyone was taller than me. I'm five foot three. Almost everyone I'd ever encountered had stood at least two inches taller than I did. This guy, though, had to be at least six foot two. Maybe he was right on the whole "pulling my frail form to the ground" thing, but now we'd never know for sure.
     I crooked my neck to look up at him and narrowed my eyes slightly. "Well, I guess we'll never know that for sure, now, will we? Unless you plop back down again."
     "I will not be plopping anywhere," he frowned.
     "Well, that's all fine and dandy. Too bad, though, 'cause now I'll never-" A lightbulb switched on in my brain about five minutes too late, blinding me in the same way the weird storm cloud had. I stopped mid-sentence, and cricked my head sideways to cast a puzzled glare up at the man. "Did you ask if this was Earth?"
     "Yes," he replied bluntly, walking past me. I stared out at the dark expanse of open field for a second longer before whirling around and following on his heels. Unfortunately for my short ass, his legs were long, so he was already halfway to my car by the time my stretched out gait allowed me catch up to him.
     "If you have to ask if this is Earth, then where the hell are you from?" I asked. I walked next to him, matching his fast pace with relative ease. Somewhere in the back of my head, I expected him to say that he was from Mars. His true reply, though, made me stumble for half a beat.
     "Asgard," he replied curtly. Where the hell was Asgard? Last I'd checked, England didn't have a town called Asgard. I was going to have to break out my world map.
     "Because that makes sense without any further explanation," I said sarcastically.
     He stopped in his tracks and glowered at me. I stopped in my tracks, spinning around on my heel to face him, and returned the favor. I crossed my arms over my stomach, waiting for further explanation. Big breasts tend to get in the way of arms-over-chest-crossing, so I tend to end up looking more like an uncomfortable child than a frustrated adult when I carry out said stance.
     "I am Loki of Asgard. Rightful king to the throne of Asgard," he said in a booming, authoritative voice. I could've sworn that London was where the throne of England was located. Not Asgard. Well, I didn't even know if Asgard was in England, so it was more probable than not that the English throne was, indeed, in London. My head was starting to hurt with all of this thinking.
     Pushing past the growing headache, I narrowed my eyes at him. "I'm Alex o'Connor of Florida. Rightful queen of sarcastic comments and bitchy undertones. And I'm assuming that since you didn't take my hand the last time I offered it to you that you won't accept it a second time."
     "That is correct," he stated simply.
     "At least you're honest," I said, raising an eyebrow at him.
     "Always," he said with a sly grin. He walked past me once more, and I heaved out a heartfelt sigh. Not only was he hot and unattainable; he was hot, unattainable, and hug-me jacket loony. No reasonably sane person would claim to be a king from some unheard of township. Just my luck.
I turned around to follow him again.
     "Alrighty then, Loki of Asgard. How did you manage to get way the hell out here? And what was that light show cloud thing? And what is up with your clothes? You look like a goddamn space Viking. Speaking of Vikings, did you know that Norse mythology has a god named Loki? He's supposed to be the god of chaos or mischief, or some shit like that. Any relation, Thunder-man?"
     Loki had reached my car before I had, and was staring at the crimson hood so venomously I thought he was going to peel the paint. His body was as still as Walt Disney trapped on ice, only Loki was full of hot tension instead of cold death. Anger rolled off of him in waves. He wheeled around to face me, his handsome face a stone mask of barely contained anger.
     "Do you ever shut up?!" he shouted, pounding his fist on Phoenix's hood. Without thinking, I lurched forward, grabbing his wrist. I ripped his hand away from my baby's frame, running my palm over the metal to check for any dents. A sigh of relief heaved from my chest when I found none. Once I knew that my car was free of knuckle marks, I turned furious eyes on the British space Viking.
     "Hit my car like that again and you'll never hear the end of it," I growled. Then, with a bob of my head, I added, "Ya know, until I killed you for hitting my car."
     The tall man stared at me with affronted indignation. The emotion changed to amusement within the space of a millisecond. "You honestly think you can kill me?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at my glower.
     "I'd honestly try, and that's good enough for me," I said, smoothing my hand over Phoenix's hood once more. I threatened the lives of people who drifted too close to her on the road. No one, not even a stranger, was exempt from the protectiveness I had for my car. She was my oldest, most cherished companion, which was more than anyone else in my life could lay claim to.
     Loki studied me for a second, an unrecognizable emotion passing over his shadowed face. "You'd really attempt to kill me simply for hitting your car?" I quickly pegged the unnamed emotion as realization. It's so nice when people understand just how serious you are, especially when it comes to threatening their lives.
     "Yes," I replied curtly. I muttered soothing words to my love, making sure I instilled in her my sincerest apologies about the mean man who'd knocked her around, before turning back to Loki with a resigned sigh. This guy may be a hot nut job, but at least I could be semi-civil while he was being a royal prick. After all, he had somehow ended up in the middle of the New Mexico desert, and that couldn't do anything good for a person's psyche. And maybe, just maybe, my civility would make him change his condescending tune. "I'm sorry I asked so many questions so quickly. You must still be reeling from . . . however the hell you managed to get out here. So, I'll ask one question at a time."
     "I do not have to reply," he stated dismissively. He stared out at the darkness beyond the hood, a sure sign that he meant exactly what he said. I frowned at him for a long second, wondering if he'd ever talked to his parents like that when he was a kid. I was guessing he hadn't because, though he may be whacked, he seemed to be in pretty good shape otherwise.
     "That won't stop me from asking," I said stubbornly. I folded my arms over my stomach and leaned my butt against Phoenix's body. My ankles crossed, and I was happy that I hadn't worn any jeans with holes in them for once in my life. It was simply too cold for destroyed denim. My black combat boots were probably dusted with a fine layer of sand, as was my ass. My jacket hugged the gentle swell of my arms. I was happy I'd thought to bring the jacket. Somehow a Led Zeppelin t-shirt just didn't cut it during a desert night. The jacket hugged my curves, wonderfully framing my hourglass figure. I'd been told on multiple occasions that I had a big ass, and tig ol' bitties. I was never sure if that was a compliment or an insult. I counted it as a compliment, especially when they asked how I got my waist to be so tiny.
     I stared up at Loki, and he returned the favor. My stare was stubborn and filled with its usual quiet determination; his was confounded and filled with wonder. His eyebrows were drawn down over his wide eyes, his mouth was set in a thin line. I could almost smell the smoke from the wheels whizzing around in his head.
     "Ask your questions, woman," he said after a few moments of whistling wind filling the silence between us.
     "How'd you get here?" I asked.
     "The BiFrost," he said, as if it explained everything. It didn't. For all I knew a BiFrost was a new car hot off the German factory line. It actually sounded more like Dr. Freeze's car, though, if I was being honest with myself.
     I stared at him expectantly, waiting for more clarification as to what exactly a BiFrost was. He, seemingly intelligent man that he might have been, picked up on my unspoken hint. His mouth quirked slightly and he rolled his shoulders backward, straightening his spine to stand taller. I fought away a frown, using the logic that everyone towered over me, therefore there was no need to get a Napoleon complex.
     "It is a rainbow bridge. It is how my people travel the nine realms of the universe," he said. "It allows us to go wherever we please."
     "And that's what the glowy cloud thing was?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. An alarm went off in the back of my brain, alerting me to the fact that I'd completely missed something. I backpedaled inside my own head. "Nine realms?"
     "Yes," he said, his lips twisting a little. "Asgard is one of the nine realms of the universe. It is where I am from. It is far from here. Farther, even, than your Milky Way. The BiFrost is how my people move between the realms." Well, at least he explained it a little. It didn't help me much, but it was something.
     "Okay," I nodded, trying to make as much sense of what I was hearing as possible. "The cloud thing must happen every time you use it then. Sounds like a fun deal. But, if you can go anywhere in the universe...why did you come to Earth? This place sucks."
     A smile finally broke free on his lips, defying his obvious attempts to keep the flash of teeth from coming to fruition. I was glad to see that my pessimism for my planet brought him an ounce of joy. Well, it wasn't so much joy, actually. It was more of a moderate cheer that brought on the stunted grin.
     "Your planet does not suck as much as you think," he said, still flashing a perfect set of pearly whites. I raised an eyebrow at him. Was he serious with that?
     "It doesn't? We have countries tuggin' on their jock straps to get out the itch of wanting to go to war, and sometimes they do go to war when they refuse to reach in and scratch their boys like intelligent human beings. We have reality stars who have no talents except shopping and throwing hissy fits that even two-year-olds would deem immature. We have crappy musicians who seriously need music lessons from Freddie Mercury. But, we don't have Freddie Mercury anymore because he died from fucking AIDS! We have AIDS! We have an abundance of ill-informed, ignorant, fatass douchebags who do nothing but suck up government money and pop out idiotic offspring. Our ecosystem is rapidly dying because of all the pollution that has been building up for centuries, which is helping in slowly killing the huge human population. One day on a New York City street makes you want to kill yourself and pray that the Hindus were wrong about reincarnation. As far as I can see, there are maybe, maybe, ten out of 6 billion people that are actually worth anything, and the only redeeming quality that this planet has is the raw beauty of untouched nature, which is rapidly being ripped to shreds by back hoes and CEO's trying to make a quick buck. So, why is it so great again?"
     In the splash of moonlight, Loki's eyes were wide. I could've sworn that they were twinkling in unison with the stars flickering overhead. His eyebrows were somewhere near his hairline, and his mouth twisted up in a smile so small that it looked like a shade of a smirk. Overall, he looked pleasantly surprised with my sudden rant.
     "Are you always this negative?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at me. He took a step toward me, letting a full-blown smirk slide into place on his lips.
     "No," I shrugged awkwardly. It's quite difficult to perform a smooth shrug when your arms are locked under your tits. "You just caught me on bad day."
     "Perhaps on a good day you'd see all that this world has to offer," he said, taking another step toward me. Oh, he was an optimist. We were going to get along just fine when I came down off of my pessimistic high.
     "Perhaps. But first I have to have a good day," I said. I tried my best to make a joke out of the cynical works by twisting my own mouth into a half grin.
     "Do you not have those often?" he asked. Apparently my attempt at lightening my words had failed miserably. The man hadn't even hinted that he'd caught on to the joke. I was going to have to work on my subtle humor. I was also going to have to work on where, exactly, to drop Loki off.
     "Not really. Do you need a ride somewhere? Or were you planning on staying out here all night?"
     His eyes widened again. Either I was surprising him some more, or he kept getting stabbed by a sand spur. I was going with the first one. Sand spurs tended to make people's eyes pucker, not widen. Actually, sand spurs tended to make people curse the very existence of sand. Okay, maybe that last one was just me.
     "Take me to the nearest hotel," he said. Well, he ordered it really. Even if he wasn't a king from another planet...er, realm, he certainly had the regal role down pat. I stared up at him, wondering how hard he hit his head when he fell from the BiFrost. I still thought it sounded like a car, or maybe even a biplane that was painted blue. The biplane would make a hell of a lot more sense. I pushed away from Phoenix, uncrossing my ankles and arms in one seamless motion. I took one large step towards the passenger side door and swung it open for his nutty highness.
     "Your majesty," I said wryly. Loki looked at me approvingly, and slid his tall frame into the car. I shut the door for him. I made my way to the driver's side door, all the while wondering where the hell I was going to take him. Pulling open my door, I plopped behind the wheel. I was reaching out to close the door when I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. Well, I caught a glimpse of my hair, really. Of course, how could I not, especially when the wind had effectively shaped it into a follicle tornado. I snapped back to look at myself in the mirror, happy as 400 year old clam that hadn't yet been found and shucked, that I'd installed a roof light.
     "Holy hell. I look like I just walked out of a hurricane," I griped, smoothing down my unruly dark brown locks. Frizz refused my attempts to flatten it, popping back up the second my fingers slid over the thick strands.
     I sunk my teeth into my full bottom lip as I concentrated on fixing the rat's nest that was my hair. Finally, I decided to screw it and ended up pulling it back in a messy ponytail. Pulling my hair away from my face tended to take emphasis away from my icy blue eyes, but I was okay with that if it meant that my hair wouldn't look like I'd taken styling tips from Doc Brown. My eyes would still be icy blue, and would still be framed by their thick black lashes. My usually ghostly pale skin was tinted pink from the cold, making my oval face look like a dyed Easter egg. My dark eyebrows were sticking up in all directions. I couldn't win. I was just grateful that my slim nose hadn't decided to start running. I hated sniffling every five seconds. I smoothed my eyebrows down and deemed myself acceptable enough to be seen in public. The fact that there was no public around to see me was completely beside the point.
     "Are you done?" Loki asked. I turned to find him staring at me impatiently.
     The second I gave him full view of my face, his expression changed. I could relate, because the second I saw him in the light, the wind rushed out of my lungs quicker than Mario Andretti hitting top speed on a race track. His hair was black, like I'd originally thought. It was slicked back from his face in a straight line of darkness past his shoulders. His skin was paler than I'd thought, though, and his cheekbones were less soft than the moonlight had made them out to be. His lips were a touch fuller than I'd thought, as well, yet were still thin and perfect. I scanned my way up his face, and had to bite my tongue to keep myself from gasping. His eyes were a bright, murky blue-gray, as though the waters of the Floridian Gulf had been thrust into his irises. They were a stark contrast against the darkness of his eyebrows and the paleness of his skin.
     His eyes widened when I turned my gaze on them fully, and his pupils dilated drastically. His lips parted slightly. I could've sworn I'd heard him release a subtly shaky breath. It was barely audible, but in such close quarters, there was no way I wasn't going to hear it. I clamped my own full lips together, hoping I wouldn't follow suit and let out a hopelessly dreamy sigh.
     Cool it, Alex, I thought to myself. He's just a good looking guy who's sitting in your car and gawking at you. There is no reason to freak out. Just be your normal, snarky self and everything will be peachy keen.
     I gathered my wits up, shoved them back into my ear holes so they could wriggle their way back into my brain, and turned my attention back onto my reflection. With a nonchalant shrug, I assessed myself in the mirror once again and said, as normally as I could, "This is as good as it's gonna get, so yeah."
     A whoop of victory lodged itself in my throat. I was proud of me for not letting myself turn into a gelatinous blob at his beauty. I was damn near certain that not many women could say that. I leaned out and pulled my door closed, nearly dropping my keys between the seats as I pulled them from the folds of my leather jacket when Loki said, "You look beautiful as you are." So much for not turning into a gelatinous blob! I was going to have to scrub Nix's seats!
     After a few minutes of clumsy fumbling and mumbled apologies, I was able to close my fingers around my keys properly. I fished them out from between the leather, trying my damndest to not turn my blushing cheeks up to face Loki. When I managed to glance up at the hot, crazy, unattainable dude, I found that his face was impassive, yet his eyes were expectant, like he hadn't just turned me into a bumbling moron. He was waiting for me to turn the car on and take him to a hotel.
     I mumbled out something akin to "thhhmsfmm" before obliging him by turning over the ignition and flooring it toward the nearest town. All the while, the whoop of victory died a slow, painful death behind my sternum.
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Paradigm Shift