Blackout | Matt Murdock

interlude | that time michaela got mistaken for an asgardian princess

It's one of those things that Michaela has dreams about, okay? Ever since the Avengers formed in 2012, she — like so many other members of their fanbase — has had dreams where she gets to meet them. Nothing risque or even exciting, really. Just little moments where she gets to introduce herself, maybe hang out with one of them like they're friends. Most of the dreams start with her magically working in Avengers Tower for some unknown reason, though; they don't generally take place on a mostly empty street corner of Hell's Kitchen, and they sure as hell don't involve her dressed as Blackout.

But here she is, standing three feet away from Thor, Prince of Asgard, God of Thunder, Avenger. Waiting for the light to change so she can make her way across the crosswalk. Because she spent all of last night out with Daredevil and it's barely six in the morning and she's not going to jaywalk at six in the morning. She's liable to get run over pulling a stunt like that when she barely keep her eyes open. So she's waiting. And so is Thor, for some reason. Next to her. In Hell's Kitchen.

Michaela subtly pinches herself, just to check, and — nope. Not a dream.

Fuck.

She's not even sure he's noticed her yet. He seems engrossed in his phone, which is. Not something she would have considered before now. Thor's tech savvy? He's been on earth for about three years now, on and off, so it makes sense that he'd familiarize himself with the technology that gets the most usage from the average person. Phones, computers, various household appliances. It's just. Watching him... she thinks he's playing Words With Friends, and that opens up a whole other can of worms about who he's playing with. She's thrown off, that's the crux of it. It's not something she expected to see today, least of all when she's this sleep-deprived and sore because Daredevil didn't slow the fuck down during his rooftop chase and she had to keep up with him and—

Ugh. She needs coffee. Really, really strong coffee.

That's probably why, without her conscious consent, her mouth opens and she hears herself say, "You're Thor, right?"

Thor — because it's obviously Thor, why is that even a question — looks up from his phone, turns slightly and squints down at her. Because he's, you know, about a foot taller than her. She isn't actually looking at him, no she's staring straight across the street, willing the light to turn so she can sprint away from this awkward encounter before she can make it infinitely more awkward. The hand is mocking her, she knows it, refusing to change to the walk symbol just so it can watch her suffer.

From her periphery, she sees him smooth out his curious, questioning expression into a slight smile, and even that is blinding, what the fuck.

"Aye," he says, "I am. And you are?"

She darts a look at him, internally panics about the possibility of him thinking she's staring at him, then looks right back across the street. "Oh, I'm... I'm no one. I. I go by Blackout, but it's not— I'm no one special or anything. Just."

"Blackout?" Thor slaps a hand down on his thigh, which scares the ever-living shit out of Michela because it's loud and she's dying, and turns his body to face her properly. "I've heard of your exploits! You valiantly protect this part of the realm, do you not?"

She's dying. She has to be dying. Thor knows who she is? "I..." Michaela pinches herself again. Still not a dream. "I. Yes, I try to... protect Hell's Kitchen. How do you know that?" She's not proud of the high squeak of her voice when she asks that question but she can't control it, so she lets it go. Mostly. She's sure it'll come back to haunt her years from now in some otherwise tranquil moment.