Alvin sat on the floor of the Restaurant's Basement, taking stock of the things he'd carried around for years—the things he'd accumulated bit by bit since four years ago, in case they might come in handy.
The first gun he'd bought from one of Alexei's underlings, probably made in the former Soviet Union...
A switchblade he'd taken off a punk who'd tried to rob him...
An M500 Magnum he hadn't used in ages, a Remington he used now and then, and an Assault Rifle whose name he couldn't remember...
A drink voucher for a Strip Club. Yeah, he definitely had to destroy that...
And all the odds and ends he'd accumulated over the past four years: food, loose change, tableware, clothes, and so on. They'd all come from his habit of packing things away...
Setting aside all the worthless stuff, the remaining big-ticket items included those ninety-five sets of Chitauri gear Supergiant had used to buy her way out of Hell: Flying Motorcycles, Combat Armor, and Energy Weapons.
There had originally been a hundred sets. Then he'd given two to Stark and three to Ivan...
After the battle in Hell, he'd hastily scavenged a bunch of things from the battlefield that looked powerful. For example: a Red Boomerang the Hell Demons called an "Enslaver," Surtur's Soulstone, some Stones whose purpose he couldn't figure out, armor, weapons, and all sorts of other junk.
Oh, and there was also the "Eternal Flame" Odin had entrusted to him in Hell. That thing had given him a beautiful set of eight-pack abs.
He'd given most of the Red Boomerangs to Stark. The old man had used the Hell Parasites inside them to manufacture a red melee suit of armor that was unbelievably powerful.
He just didn't know when Stark would make the Battle Axe