A little treat from a work-in-progress... (No, not a full story, just a big nanoStep. A microStep?)
Thor clung to the stainless steel spire as he called lightning down to his hammer and unleashed it again at the Cheltauri forces pouring through the portal above Manhattan like blood gushing from a mortal wound. His brother Loki's misshapen army seemed endless, and Asgardian though he might be, Thor still had his limits. After a minutes-long barrage of continuous lightning strikes that would have humbled a hurricane, the god of thunder was forced to pause for breath in the face of the invaders.
As he drew in deeply of the befouled air above New York City, the unending torrent of one- and two- and three-man flying sleds paused to allow a half-skeletal leviathan of metal and fire to enter the world of men. As it undulated ponderously in its headlong dive toward the city below, need forced Thor to take one more deep breath in anticipation of the demands he was about to place upon himself again. Steeling himself, he tightened his grip on the spire and raised his hammer once more...
When a feminine voice behind him shouted "Supreme! Thunder! DRAGON!" and bolt of lighting as great as any he had ever called roared past him. As it homed in on the Cheltauri leviathan it expanded and took on the form of a great wyrm of old, its jaws wide and its talon-tipped forelegs spread to rip its foe to shreds. It did not strike the leviathan so much as engulf it in a brilliant explosion that left the vehicle/creature plummeting from the sky. The leviathan seemed doomed to shatter a score of buildings, doing as much destruction in its death as it might have hoped to accomplish alive -- until a pink streak of light shot up out of the city to meet it. The crippled leviathan impossibly halted in mid-air, rolled, and suddenly hurtled as if thrown toward the harbor and the open sea beyond. The pink streak reappeared, shooting upward and into the open portal.
"Go, Mirai!" shouted the female voice. "Give'em hell!"
Gripping the stainless steel so tightly it began to crumple under his fingers, Thor turned slowly to find himself facing a girl -- no, a woman -- floating in the air some yards away. She was tall, at least as tall as Sif, and more voluptuous. As beautiful as any Asgardian woman, she was dressed in an outfit as abbreviated as any he'd seen on a mortal woman in this age: a tight, tiny dress of white trimmed with green and a bit of incongruous pink. Her long chestnut hair was done up in a high ponytail, and a golden tiara with a brilliant emerald cabochon topped with a tiny antenna graced her brow. From her waist to the short, low-heeled boots she wore, her body was sheathed in a roiling, coruscating blue-white glow that was visible even in the bright sunlight.
And small whipping, cracking wisps of lighting streamed along the sides of her head from her glowing eyes.
"Well, hello there, handsome," she said with a flirtatious smile. "Nice hammer. What do they call you when you're at home?"
Thor blinked and shook his head for a moment before confirming that, yes, there was a flying woman there. "I am Thor Odinsson of Asgard," he shouted over the wind. "Who are you?"
"Thor?" The woman's smile shifted from flirty to a full grin. "What a coincidence. I'm Jupiter -- Sailor Jupiter." She inclined her head and raised an eyebrow. "Care for a little help?"
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.
Thor clung to the stainless steel spire as he called lightning down to his hammer and unleashed it again at the Cheltauri forces pouring through the portal above Manhattan like blood gushing from a mortal wound. His brother Loki's misshapen army seemed endless, and Asgardian though he might be, Thor still had his limits. After a minutes-long barrage of continuous lightning strikes that would have humbled a hurricane, the god of thunder was forced to pause for breath in the face of the invaders.
As he drew in deeply of the befouled air above New York City, the unending torrent of one- and two- and three-man flying sleds paused to allow a half-skeletal leviathan of metal and fire to enter the world of men. As it undulated ponderously in its headlong dive toward the city below, need forced Thor to take one more deep breath in anticipation of the demands he was about to place upon himself again. Steeling himself, he tightened his grip on the spire and raised his hammer once more...
When a feminine voice behind him shouted "Supreme! Thunder! DRAGON!" and bolt of lighting as great as any he had ever called roared past him. As it homed in on the Cheltauri leviathan it expanded and took on the form of a great wyrm of old, its jaws wide and its talon-tipped forelegs spread to rip its foe to shreds. It did not strike the leviathan so much as engulf it in a brilliant explosion that left the vehicle/creature plummeting from the sky. The leviathan seemed doomed to shatter a score of buildings, doing as much destruction in its death as it might have hoped to accomplish alive -- until a pink streak of light shot up out of the city to meet it. The crippled leviathan impossibly halted in mid-air, rolled, and suddenly hurtled as if thrown toward the harbor and the open sea beyond. The pink streak reappeared, shooting upward and into the open portal.
"Go, Mirai!" shouted the female voice. "Give'em hell!"
Gripping the stainless steel so tightly it began to crumple under his fingers, Thor turned slowly to find himself facing a girl -- no, a woman -- floating in the air some yards away. She was tall, at least as tall as Sif, and more voluptuous. As beautiful as any Asgardian woman, she was dressed in an outfit as abbreviated as any he'd seen on a mortal woman in this age: a tight, tiny dress of white trimmed with green and a bit of incongruous pink. Her long chestnut hair was done up in a high ponytail, and a golden tiara with a brilliant emerald cabochon topped with a tiny antenna graced her brow. From her waist to the short, low-heeled boots she wore, her body was sheathed in a roiling, coruscating blue-white glow that was visible even in the bright sunlight.
And small whipping, cracking wisps of lighting streamed along the sides of her head from her glowing eyes.
"Well, hello there, handsome," she said with a flirtatious smile. "Nice hammer. What do they call you when you're at home?"
Thor blinked and shook his head for a moment before confirming that, yes, there was a flying woman there. "I am Thor Odinsson of Asgard," he shouted over the wind. "Who are you?"
"Thor?" The woman's smile shifted from flirty to a full grin. "What a coincidence. I'm Jupiter -- Sailor Jupiter." She inclined her head and raised an eyebrow. "Care for a little help?"
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.