Two objects thump lightly against his chest, and he nearly scoffs -- and then the power courses through them.

Thor is used to strength, effortless and surging, ready to be called upon; he's used to feeling electricity under his skin, the power of thunderstorms and lightning at his beck and call. He knows well the exhilaration of a lightning strike coursing through his body and on to Mjolnir's target.

This is like that, except it isn't his, and it's only pain.

He tries, automatically, to direct the half-familiar jolt, but nothing will obey him. His muscles clench and judder, his teeth clack together, and this strange not-lightning sears its way through, and drops him into blackness.