The City of Angels is Slowing Becoming the City of Gods
So! This was the City of Angels, here in the realm of the mortals! Truly a place of wonder!  It was easy to see why the daughters and son of Thor had chosen such a location for their home in the mortal world.  True, great-Uncle Pluto was said to have his fingers in this city, but the same was supposedly said of many of the gods of the Underworld.  In truth, it mattered little.  Whatever demons might arise, they were surely no match for the son of Hercules!

He had the address of the compound where he was supposed to go.  And his father had said he would speak to Tony Stark of his coming, as soon as he could.  Granted, battle, women, drink, and song did tend to distract his father, but small matter.

So lost in thought was Argo, the Almighty Son of Hercules, that he did not notice the mortal conveyance coming at him as he crossed the street. It skidded to a stop--not that it could have harmed his godly form--and the driver climbed out, well muscled, for a mortal, fist shaking in anger. "Hey! What do you think you're doing? Why don't you watch where you're going? I oughta clock you one good!"

Argo regarded him with a boisterous laugh. "Thou art welcome to try, friend! I wouldst love to share the Gift of Battle with thee!"

"What're you? Some kind of nut?"

"Nay! I art Argo, the Almighty! Son of Hercules! Here to drink thine mortal beer, seduce thine mortal women, and battle thine mortal super-villains!"

He considered something. "Though not, perhaps, in that order."

"Great," the man said, rolling his eyes.  "A nut job.  Inna skirt."

Argo lost his jovial mood.  "Thou wouldst insult the scion of Hercules, Lion of Olympus?  The raiment of Argo the Almighty art forged from the finest Olympian-steel!"

The man backed away slowly.  "Oookaaay, I'm just gonna step away now before you start going on about gladiator movies..."

He got back in his car, and pulled around Argo.

"Most strange, " Argo mused to himself, as he continued to cross the street.  

The second crash, however, was not his fault.  A larger mortal vehicle, a semi-truck screeched through an intersection further up the road as its breaks began to fail.

One leap carried Argo in front of it.  He braced himself and put his hands forward, bending his knees ever so slightly.  The truck slowed... then stopped completely, all without harm to the driver or spilling the contents of its trailer, marked with strange symbols he did not immediately recognize, but still seemed to convey some form of danger.

The crowd was still for a moment, and then the clapping began.  Argo grinned mightily, his hands up in the air, drinking in the praise.  There were several comely women in the crowd, all looking quite impressed.

Perhaps meeting the Asgardians could wait a time.