<div class="floatleft">(http://data.whicdn.com/images/12895752/Natalie-Portman_mid_large.jpg)   </div><strong>Name:</strong>Jane Foster<br/><strong>Title:</strong>(future) Stark Industries Consultant<br/><strong>Locale:</strong>Ontario, Canada<br/><strong>Time:</strong>4:00 pm, Eastern Time<br/><strong>Tags:</strong>Everyone,<strong>Thor</strong><br/><br/><hr/><br/>Jane slammed the door of her trailer shut behind her with a sigh, tossing her notebook onto the already crowded table - if the tiny space of mica countertop could be<em>called</em>a table. She’d been trying all day to transcribe a few interviews she’d held with the Ojibwe, but they were still (perhaps rightfully so) reluctant to speak to her, and what progress she did make in conversation was impeded by her own halting command of the language.<br/><br/><em>Maybe she was going about this the wrong way.</em><br/><br/>She dolefully dug out a can of beans from the cabinet but decided against heating them on the stove. Her work had spilled over into the “kitchen,” and moving all of it would take more energy than she had. Jane leaned against the stove and ate her beans cold, straight from the can.<br/><br/><em>God, she really needed to clean this place up. It was a complete mess.</em>Her eyes roamed over the chaos that was her living and research space, mentally playing a game of Tetris to try, in vain, to decide where to put things in the cramped confines, when something caught her eye.<br/><br/>A blip. On one of her monitors.<br/><br/>Her heart skipped a beat. That could only mean one thing. Jane shoved the can of beans aside and hurried over to the equipment, studying the signature pattern reflected on its screen. Her new gear was hardly as good as her old stuff, and she was missing a lot of basic components, but there was no mistaking it. A wormhole.<br/><br/>Jane couldn’t tell exactly<em>where</em>though with her current set-up (and cursed SHIELD under her breath for that), but by the looks of it, the wormhole had appeared almost an hour ago and had vanished in the same time frame. So, it could be either very good news or very bad news. And there was one easy way to find out.<br/><br/>She flipped open her laptop, grateful for the camper’s wifi. It didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for. Twitter was already all abuzz with a pic some teenager from Kansas had snapped of a blonde man, wielding a hammer and looking very,<em>very</em>out of place with the Hawaiian scenery in the background.<br/><br/>Jane giggled through her nose, unable to hold back her elation and mirth.<em>He always has to make an entrance, huh?</em><br/><br/>There was no way to tell where Thor was<em>now</em>though, but Jane had a few good ideas of where to look. Tomorrow morning, she had an new job to do.