I paced the plastic facility that SHIELD had set up. I turned back and forth across the damp ground, jumping every so often when lightning frightened me out of my thoughts. One thing in particular had been eating at me since the first moment I had admired the hammer. How had I known what it said? It made no sense. It was just a symbol, nothing more, but the words that I had spoken were not my own.
I let out a long, drawn out breath, running a hand through my loose brown hair, dark tendrils cascading down my back. Huffing in frustration, I sank down into a chair as I watched the scientists poke at the hammer with all sorts of tools. The science behind it was very technical and very boring, so I hadn't bothered to ask exactly what they were doing. All I knew was that an 0-8-4 was never a laughing matter despite how hard I tried.
When you thought about it, the whole idea of a large metal hammer landing in the middle of the New Mexican desert was laughable. And the fact that it must have hit so hard to not only create a crater but be stuck in the ground was a completely new thing entirely. It was so absurd.
I was just about the only one to find the humor in such an odd situation. The scientists were two busy probing the hammer to care, Coulson was too busy waiting on the scientists to come up with results, and Clint Barton, the only other tolerable person in the facility was currently in some sort of crow's nest as far away from everyone else as he could get.
Standing up, I took to wandering the plastic coated halls in search of something interesting. I had a bad feeling that nothing could be as interesting as the hammer, but the scientists did a pretty good job of sucking the fun out of that. The facility was relatively empty outside of the hammer excitement. Every so often a burly guard would come storming through, but mostly I was alone.
I didn't mind the solitude. Often times I thrived when the only living thing around me was my very own flesh and blood. Unfortunately, company was usually the only real way to get quality entertainment, so that was what I set out to find.
I was wandering the perimeter of the barbed wire fence when I noticed a patch that had been cut and folded up, creating a gap large enough for a bulky man to squeeze through. My eyes widened at the thought.
"Shoot," I whispered, tapping once on my earpiece. "Coulson, can you hear me? It's Bryn. There's been a security breach."
I didn't bother waiting for a response. Instead, I cracked my knuckles, clambering back through the plastic wrapped halls in search of the intruder.
I heard him before I could see him. The unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh, yelps, and the occasional thud of the fighting was unmistakable. I headed right towards it, raising my fists up in defense. I walked past several of the guards, either out cold or too busy nursing superficial wounds to keep after the intruder. As I rounded the last corner, I spied a large, blond haired man approaching the hammer. How curious. His stride was confident, his mouth parted in an expression of hope. He reached down, large hands encompassing the handle. He tugged.
The hammer didn't budge. Not an inch.
The man collapsed onto his knees, letting out a cry. His blue eyes radiated despair as he was surrounded by agents and escorted to the small holding room. I watched him leave, his eyes never leaving the hammer. It was as if he felt some sort of right to the hammer, as if it were his.
A warm hand was placed on my shoulder and I looked up. Coulson looked down at me, a small smile dancing across his lips.
"You let him make it all the way," I stated, the truth obvious. "You had Barton, he could have taken him down easily with an arrow to the leg, but you let him make it to the hammer. Why?"
The agent smiled again. "I wanted to see what he would do," he said as if he had given me the answer to all of my questions.
I groaned, following him as he made his way to the holding cell. "What made you think he would do anything special with it?"
He paused, turning around and looking me straight in the eye. "That, my dear Bryn, is for me to know and you to find out."
