“That is the situation as it stands…” In a long, windowless conference room, Alexander Pierce, former S.H.I.E.L.D.
director and current Minister of the World Security Council, sat at the head of the table.
He stared at the life-sized holographic projections of his subordinates seated along the sides, his expression grim.
“The existence of the gods has been confirmed.
All three princes are eligible to inherit the throne, but the most likely candidate is the eldest, Karsa, the God of Light.
However, the five major powers have decided to support Thor.
This puts him directly at odds with our interests.” “Are you suggesting we…
pivot and align ourselves directly with the most promising candidate, the God of Light?” Baron Strucker adjusted his monocle.
As a high-ranking Hydra official and the director of the Sokovia base, he was a pragmatic man.
“That is my intention,” Pierce replied after a brief silence.
“According to Kingpin’s testimony, Loki’s only real asset beyond his physical strength is his talent for illusions.
His combat prowess is nowhere near Thor’s.
If we are to select an ally, why choose anything but the strongest?” “But,” Baron Zemo interjected, crossing his arms, a flicker of hesitation crossing his handsome face, “the intelligence you provided states that the God of Light is a tyrannical, arrogant monster.
I have never been good at dealing with that type.” “Come now, how arrogant can he be?” Pierce dismissed the concern.
He had dealt with plenty of ego-driven psychopaths; S.H.I.E.L.D.
had perfected the art of manipulating such people.
He would soon regret that confidence the moment he actually met Karsa.
Arnim Zola sat in silence, listening.
As an elder of Hydra, his voice carried the most weight, yet he remained motionless, neither agreeing nor dissenting.
“Dr.
Zola,” White Hall prodded, “do you have any input?” Zola blinked, reflexively adjusting his glasses—a human habit he had retained despite his existence as a digital consciousness.
“When Red Skull ordered me to study the Tesseract, I discovered it had another name: the ‘Dragon’s Jewel.’ It was once the treasure of the All-Father Odin, lost to Earth by chance.
You all know the magnitude of the Tesseract’s energy.
To control such an item speaks to the depth of Odin’s power.
A being capable of rivaling that power, like Karsa, is clearly beyond our current metrics.” Zola’s tone was clinical.
“I believe Karsa is the inevitable victor of this succession war.” With Zola’s assessment, the decision was made.
“Then we begin preparations.
We must ensure the God of Light sees our sincerity.” The secret meeting concluded, and the holograms blinked out one by one.
Meanwhile, in an Indian slum… “Why did you bring me here?” In a cramped, filthy alleyway, Thor walked through the dense crowd, his gray trench coat, shirt, and slacks drawing stares from the locals who were captivated by his golden hair and piercing blue eyes.
“There is a ‘big guy’ hiding here,” Natasha said, leading the way without looking back.
“His strength is comparable to yours.
If you want to defeat your brother, you will need his power.” “Oh?
Midgard has such individuals?” Thor sounded skeptical.
Humans were synonymous with frailty; among the Nine Realms, they possessed the lowest innate constitution, bolstered only by the rare magician.
With the Ancient One perpetually occupied with interdimensional threats, Thor doubted he’d find a warrior of note here.
Clint Barton offered a quick explanation: “Our target is Bruce Banner.
A mild-mannered biologist.
A gamma experiment mutated him; when he gets angry, he transforms into a giant green monster.
Indestructible, boundless strength, and utterly mindless.
But make no mistake, his raw power is formidable.” Thor nodded, though his expression remained unconvinced.
Still, he followed them to the outskirts of the slums.
Banner was currently moonlighting as a physician, treating the impoverished victims of a disease outbreak.
Natasha had used a young girl as bait to draw the kind-hearted man into the open.
Banner appeared, tense and wary, fearing another tactical team sent by the U.S.
military.
However, years of yoga had granted him immense emotional control, and he didn’t trigger a transformation upon sight.
Natasha stepped forward.
“We are from S.H.I.E.L.D., not the military.
Please, Dr.
Banner, don’t be alarmed.” “You used deception to lure me into a trap, and now you ask me not to be alarmed?” “It’s not a trap,” Barton said, flashing a warm smile and opening his arms to show he was unarmed.
“There are only three of us.
I prefer to call this a ‘friendly meeting.'” “Fine,” Banner sighed.
He was a good man who knew the destruction the Hulk was capable of; he was always in a state of self-restraint.
He sensed no immediate malice from the trio.
He took several deep breaths, centering his emotions.
“What do you want with me?
What are you going to do with me?” “That’s a harsh way to put it,” Natasha said, her tone softening to put him at ease.
“Earth is facing a crossroads.
Whether we succumb to tyrannical rule or forge a future of freedom depends on our next steps.” She gave a concise, factual summary of the ‘King’s Trial.’ It took Banner a long moment to process the absurdity of it all.
He pointed at Thor, who was standing there with a dim-witted, friendly grin.
“You…
you’re telling me he’s a god?” Thor waved a hand, laughing like a simpleton.
“You stand before Thor Odinson, son of Odin, the God of Thunder.” “That’s not a very funny joke!” Thor’s display failed to convince Banner; to a man of science, the ‘God’ claim was more ridiculous than his gamma experiments.
Barton shot Thor a look.
“Give him a demonstration!” “Fine,” Thor sighed.
He extended his hand, and the four of them stood in a tense standoff, staring at one another.
Three seconds…
five seconds…
ten seconds…
Twenty seconds passed, and nothing happened.
The silence grew incredibly awkward.
Even Thor felt the sting of embarrassment.
“It…
it takes a while sometimes.” Just as he finished, a sonic boom shrieked from the heavens.
Before any of them could react, a black shadow descended like an intercontinental missile, crashing toward them…
BOOM!
The wooden shack was torn apart by the impact.
When the dust settled, Thor was clutching a hammer—Mjolnir!
With the hammer in his hand, a blinding shimmer of light enveloped him; in a second, the ‘casual tourist’ had vanished, replaced by the armored, cape-fluttering majesty of the Thunder God.
At the same instant, a deafening, furious roar erupted inside the room.
Natasha and Barton’s expressions shifted instantly.
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