A day wasn’t much time, Jim knew, but the Avengers swung into it like they were used to this.

Fury and Captain America spent time talking to Vendel and Blinky about everything they knew about Gunmar, from how long it took his blade to destroy someone’s mind to the tactics he’d preferred to use before he had been sealed away.

Claire and Jim’s parents would be brought down—Claire’s parents because they provided a strong emotional link, Jim’s mother because she wouldn’t stay away and could help provide medical care. Toby’s Nana remained on the helicarrier—she’d told everyone she trusted Tobypie and that they didn’t need her hobbling around getting in the way.

Jim had a terrible feeling that they hadn’t fooled her at all with the whole exchange student story.

Draal remained at home--he’d wanted to come, but Jim had pointed out that his house made for another place Claire could portal to if she needed to and if she did... Enrique and her safety would be Draal’s responsibility. Fury had decided to have several SHIELD agents stationed with Draal, so that the troll could assist if any remaining changelings tried attacking Arcadia.

Vendel was off trying to calm the other Trolls while Usurna grumbled and then left to gather extra security. Fury, if he’d had his way, would have flooded Trollmarket with soldiers, but…

“I don’t like it,” he’d told everyone. “But I have to deal with these trolls after Gunmar is gone.”

“Do not worry,” Thor said. “I’m certain that I, Tobias, and his valiant friends will be able to keep the peace.”

“Or pieces,” Jim muttered.

But then came the hard part. Talking to their parents. Mr. Stark had shown them a video of the entire confrontation with Gunmar. Ophelia was sniffling, Barbara looked pale, Javier looked like he wanted to murder someone.

“I’m sorry,” Jim said. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t known your daughter, the order never would have kidnapped Enrique, and none of this—”

“Stop.” Jim blinked as Ophelia and Javier stepped forward. The councilwoman stared at him for a moment. “It isn’t your fault. People like Gunmar, they want to make it your fault—like the man who murdered that poor clerk last year. He spent an hour telling the jury that he wasn’t responsible, that if she’d only given him the money, he wouldn’t have shot her.” Ophelia made a disgusted sound. “You didn’t take our son, you didn’t do any of this. Gunmar and his servants did, and no matter what happens, they are to blame.”

“She’s right, Jim,” Barbara said. “Captain America, you’ll…”

“We’ll do our best, Ma’am,” Captain America said. “But the Trollhunters will be on the front lines with us.”

Trollhunters. Not kids, Jim thought. He’d be thrilled if he wasn’t so terrified.

“If we have less than a day, we’d better get ready.” Barbara frowned. “Director Fury, can I go back to the helicarrier? I need to chat with my ex.”

[/hr]

Boredom was an unusual emotion for Walter Stricklander. In fact, for most of his life, the problem had been too few hours, not too many.

But now, as he bounced a little rubber ball he’d been given off the walls, he was bored.

And this would likely be his life. Walter had been jailed before, but humans who didn’t know what he was made for singularly poor jailers.

But not these ones. Shield knew what he was and how dangerous he could be. The corridors outside were illuminated by lights designed to mimic the sun as close as possible, so even if he somehow broke through the cell…

Not to mention that at some point that morning, he’d reverted to his trollish form.

It’s done. For good or ill, it’s done. Some of the changelings had made lives, some of them to the point that the Janus Order wondered if they’d be loyal—the usual solution was to give them the offer of breaking ties with their families or being ordered to arrange an accident.

Some of those changelings had fled rather than carry out their orders.

I wonder if your families see you as monsters or loved ones, now?

“Walter,” Barbara said.

Walter rolled over and frowned as he stared at the woman. “Barbara, what an unexpected surprise. I thought you had said you were never going to speak to me again.”

“Jim is going to fight Gunmar.”

That brought Walter to full attention. “Is Jim mad? He will die.”

“Gunmar found out, and he has Enrique—the child you replaced.”

“The Avengers will be going with him?”

“And Claire. Don’t ask me why or anything else about their plan.”

“I wouldn’t. But why are you here?”

“You said you were affectionate to me. If you could help Jim, I can… Ask Director Fury to—”

“Director Fury would no more listen to you than he would me. There is nothing he would not do for his nation—his people. I’m afraid, Barbara, that you are making a promise you cannot carry out. But I didn’t ask what you might do for me—why are you here?”

“You have to know some weakness.”

“Gunmar is one of the most powerful trolls to ever live. He has no weakness, not in the sense of some Achilles heel he is unaware of. Atlas is fighting him?”

“Atlas mocked him and threatened to make him a laughing stock if he didn’t accept.”

“Heh. Jim is too good for his health. The fight with Mr. Palchuck was for similar, albeit lesser, reasons.” He paused. “In the material you retrieved from my office, there is a stone in a box with a golden symbol on it. That is the third Triumbric stone. Vendel or Angor will know what to do with it.”

“Will it save—”

“No. At most, it will give him a chance. But no Trollhunter has ever defeated Gunmar, and there is a reason for that.”

“Then why?”

“Nothing I can say or do will matter to my position. I will remain here or in another prison for the rest of my life unless Director Fury or his successor decides to remove me in a more permanent manner.” He sighed. “And so, for perhaps the first time in my life, I can make a decision without worrying how it will benefit or harm me. Oddly enough, for being in a prison cell, I am freer than I ever have been.” He looked up and smiled. “So be grateful, Barbara. In almost any other situation, my fondness for Young Atlas would not have mattered to me. Here it does, because, well, what else do I have to gain?”

“That’s a terrible apology,” Barbara quietly said.

“But it is, for perhaps the first time in my life, an honest one.” Stricklander’s lips quirked. “And not even fully selfless. Jim may hate me, and he may be willing to see the changelings punished for what they have done, but I doubt he will permit Director Fury or the Trolls to kill all of them for safety’s sake.”

“You think he can stop them?”

“Oh Barbara, your son started out as a fifteen-year-old who didn’t even understand what he had. I have been manipulating affairs for hundreds of years. Yet here I am, in no small part due to his actions. Fury or Vendel, I think neither one would underestimate Young Atlas. They are, after all, wiser than me. But you’d best get the stone. I doubt you have much time.”

“I will.” Barbara turned, then paused. “For what it’s worth, you’re right about Jim and the rest of the changelings.” Then she left, leaving Walter alone with his thoughts.

Usurna glared as her soldiers brought the caskets to her. On the lower levels of Trollmarket, where the Krubera had their quarters, there were no prying eyes.

“My Lady, the Order stands ready,” Otto said. “But yes, your soldiers and we can kill all the inhabitants of Trollmarket, down to the smallest whelps.” If he was disturbed by that, he didn’t show it.

Know your place, Impure. Of course, without their ability to shift form, they were only useful as cannon fodder for this battle, after with Usurna’s soldiers would dispose of them, leaving her as the only witness to Thor and humanity’s treachery. The only reason that she did not kill them now was that only a small minority of her subjects knew of Usurna’s true allegiance. Only a hundred or so soldiers were with her, not enough to ensure that no citizens of Trollmarket escaped, and it had to be all of them.

“But, how can we defeat Thor?”

“You are that afraid, impure?”

Otto did not step down. “He is the son of Odin. If you desire to kill all of those who can gainsay our story, some of us will have to survive to tell our own version.”

“And survive we will,” Usurna said. “We have fought Asgardians before.” She slowly opened the casket, and Otto stared at it before he hissed in disgust at the leprous crystal.

“What is that?” he asked.

“The fleshbags have so very many legends. But some are garbled accounts of the truth. This is a fragment of Jörmungandr’s heart—its heartstone. We have two of them, forged by our darkest rites in the days of the war—but Gunmar was banished before they could be used. Now, I unshackle them!” she said and made a short, sharp gesture. Soon the fragment was growing, overflowing the casket, the crystalline growths touching the floor. “We will open the other one now, and soon, two of Jörmungandr’s scions will rise, and Thor will either die or be far too busy to worry about protecting the other trolls or the fleshbags. He will have no choice, not if he wishes to keep them from growing to their full power and reaving the humanity he cares so much for—”

“But, but, but—My Lady! What of Asgard?”

“Have you seen Odin? Their armies? Thor is here because he enjoys a fight and he is fond of his pets. Asgard cares not for this world. We merely must deal with him. And even if the humans burn Arcadia with their weapons, it will help us and prove to all trolls that Gunmar’s way…”

“Is the only way.”