In the real world, Tony blinked rapidly, his expression caught somewhere between embarrassment and defensive indignation. He held up one finger emphatically. "God! This must be Hulk's issue! It definitely isn't Banner's!" His voice rose slightly as he tried to make amends for himself, to defend the quality and sizing of his custom-tailored wardrobe. "My clothes are perfectly sized! Hulk just... stretched everything out! That's the problem here! Not my fashion choices!"
Captain America pressed his hand firmly over his mouth, his shoulders shaking as he tried desperately not to laugh out loud. His eyes were watering with the effort of containing his amusement. The whole situation was just too ridiculous, too absurd not to find funny.
Wanda rolled her eyes dramatically and crossed her arms over her chest. She emphatically did not want to discuss the question of whether Tony's intimate apparel was too small or Hulk's anatomy was too large. This was not a conversation she had any interest in participating in. Some things were better left unexamined.
Natasha, ever the professional observer, glanced at Banner's pants on the screen with a critical eye. She studied them for a moment, then shrugged slightly. She honestly couldn't see any difference from the outside—the fit looked normal enough from her perspective. But then again, she wasn't the one wearing them.
The men present in the real world all simultaneously lowered their heads, suddenly finding the floor absolutely fascinating. Then, after a few seconds of strategic silence, they lifted their gazes and continued to look at the screen as if absolutely nothing had happened. There was a tacit, unspoken agreement among them to skip over this topic entirely and never speak of it again. Some subjects were best left in the realm of uncomfortable silence.
[On screen, Thor adjusted the dirty rag on his head, pulling it forward to better cover his distinctive features. His blonde hair was mostly hidden now, though a few strands still peeked out. He looked somewhat ridiculous, but function mattered more than form at this moment.]
[He turned to Banner, his voice taking on that encouraging, almost coaching quality. "You're good! You look fine! Come here! Follow me closely! Come on!" He started moving forward, gesturing for Banner to stay close. His voice became more serious, more reassuring as he continued. "Listen, we're going to Asgard! You don't have to worry about Hulk anymore once we get there! All right? You'll be safe! We'll figure everything out!"]
["All right!" Banner nodded in agreement, accepting Thor's plan even if he didn't fully understand all the details yet. His expression showed cautious trust.]
[But as soon as Banner turned around to follow Thor's lead, a projectile came flying through the air from somewhere in the crowded street. A ball of compressed green powder—some kind of celebratory smoke bomb—struck him directly on the head with a soft POOF. The powder exploded outward in a cloud, covering Banner's face and upper body in a fine layer of bright green dust.]
[Banner stood there bewildered for a moment, blinking against the powder. He reached up and pulled the remnants of the smoke bomb from his hair, spitting out the fine particles that had gotten into his mouth. The taste was acrid and chemical. He coughed, trying to clear his throat.]
[All around them, the sound began building—a chant, rhythmic and enthusiastic: "Hulk! Hulk! Hulk..."]
[On the street ahead, Thor and Banner could now see clearly what was happening. A large parade was taking place—a massive gathering of citizens celebrating their missing champion. Hundreds of people, perhaps thousands, were walking through the streets. They held various Hulk-shaped dolls—some crude, some surprisingly detailed. There were Hulk banners, Hulk masks, people painted green. The entire display was a chaotic celebration of Sakaar's greatest gladiator.]
[The crowd was dense, enthusiastic, and completely blocking the street they needed to use.]
[Thor looked at the massive crowd gathering ahead and his stomach sank. His internal voice was screaming warnings. "Oh! This is not good! This is really, really not good!" His mind raced through their options, none of them particularly appealing.]
[He turned his head and glanced behind him, checking their other exit options. His blood ran cold. Standing just a few dozen feet away, a patrol soldier in Grandmaster colors was stationed at an intersection. The soldier held a large weapon—some kind of energy rifle. His head was turning slowly, scanning the crowd, clearly looking for something. Or someone. His gaze began moving in Thor's direction.]
[Thor's eyes widened in alarm. He was so frightened that he immediately wrapped the rags more tightly around his face and head, pulling the fabric down to cover as much of his features as possible. He hunched his shoulders, trying to make himself less noticeable, trying to blend into the crowd.]
[He stood there frozen for a moment, then realized he needed to keep moving forward into the parade. That was their only option now—they couldn't go back. He turned around to tell Banner to follow him closely and stay calm.]
[But when Thor turned around, Banner was gone. Simply gone. Vanished into the crowd.]
[Panic seized Thor immediately. "Banner! Banner!" He began shouting his friend's name, his voice rising with anxiety. He pushed forward into the mocking, celebrating crowd, trying to spot Banner's distinctive appearance among the sea of aliens and green-painted revelers. His head swiveled frantically left and right.]
[Thor walked through the dense crowd, physically pushing past celebrating citizens who were too caught up in their Hulk worship to notice or care about his rudeness. He kept calling out, kept searching, his concern growing with each passing second. Banner was unstable right now—one wrong trigger and he'd transform, and then everything would explode into chaos.]
[But Thor's voice was completely drowned out by the thunderous shouts of the Hulk fans surrounding him. The chanting had grown louder, more rhythmic, more all-consuming: "HULK! HULK! HULK!" It echoed off the buildings, creating a wall of sound that swallowed any individual voice. Thor might as well have been shouting into a hurricane.]
[Thor emerged from one section of the crowd and arrived at another street intersection. If anything, the parade was even larger here. The street was absolutely packed with people shoulder-to-shoulder, pressed together in a massive celebration. Citizens were constantly firing green smoke bombs into the air, creating clouds of colored powder that drifted down over everything like strange snow. The air itself had taken on a greenish tinge. Visibility was poor through the haze.]
[Thor climbed up onto a stairway for a better vantage point, using his height advantage to scan the crowd. His eyes searched desperately for any sign of Banner. Then, finally, he spotted him. There—about fifty feet away—was Banner, his dark hair and Tony's expensive clothes standing out among the more colorful alien attendees. He was being forced to move forward by the press of bodies around him, carried along by the crowd's momentum like a leaf in a stream.]
[Banner's head was turning frantically, clearly looking for Thor. Then his eyes locked on the figure standing on the stairs. Recognition and relief flooded his expression. "Thor!!!" His voice carried across the distance, barely audible over the chanting but visible in the shape of his mouth and the urgency of his gesture.]
[Banner tried to push against the crowd, to move toward Thor instead of being carried forward with the flow. He turned his body, attempting to navigate backward through the packed mass of celebrating citizens.]
[As a result of moving against the crowd's direction and not watching where he was going, Banner accidentally bumped hard into a large alien standing directly behind him. The impact was significant—Banner's shoulder colliding with the creature's chest.]
[The alien—a fearsome-looking being with mottled gray skin, prominent ridges across its forehead, and a mouth full of sharp, predatory teeth—immediately whirled around. Its eyes fixed on Banner with unmistakable hostility. It drew itself up to its full impressive height and glared down at the small human who'd dared to bump into it. Then it bared those sharp teeth in a threatening display, a low growl rumbling from its throat. The gesture was universal across species: back off or suffer the consequences.]
[Banner's eyes widened in alarm. He took a step back, his hands coming up in an apologetic, defensive gesture. His heart rate spiked. His breathing accelerated. He could feel the Hulk stirring inside him, responding to the threat, ready to emerge and deal with the danger.]
[Before the situation could escalate further, Thor arrived. He pushed through the last few citizens separating them and placed himself firmly between Banner and the aggressive alien. He moved Banner behind him with one hand, physically protecting him with his body. His stance was protective but not aggressive—he didn't want to start a fight, but he would finish one if necessary. His priority was keeping Banner calm, preventing the transformation that would doom them all.]
[Just as the alien took a threatening step forward, clearly about to attack Thor for interfering, something unexpected happened. The electric shock pad affixed to the creature's neck—one of the Grandmaster's obedience disks that all lower-class citizens and prisoners wore—suddenly activated. Blue-white electricity arced across its surface with a sharp CRACK. The alien's entire body went rigid as the current coursed through it. Its eyes rolled back. Then it collapsed forward, hitting the ground hard, completely incapacitated.]
[Behind where the alien had been standing, Valkyrie appeared. She stood with her hands on her hips, her expression cool and controlled. In one hand she held the remote activator for the obedience disks—clearly she'd triggered it deliberately. Her eyes met Thor's across the fallen alien's body.]
[Thor glanced down at the alien Valkyrie had so efficiently knocked unconscious, then back up at her. His pride was slightly wounded. "I... I was about to do that!" His tone suggested he'd had everything under control and her intervention, while appreciated, hadn't been strictly necessary.]
[Valkyrie tilted her head slightly, one eyebrow rising. Her expression was supremely unimpressed. "Yeah! Well! I did it first!" Her voice carried a hint of amusement at Thor's wounded ego. Actions spoke louder than intentions.]
[Thor decided to move past the minor embarrassment. "Great! That's... that's great timing!" He paused, his brow furrowing with confusion. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd left! I thought you wanted nothing to do with this whole situation!"]
[Valkyrie's eyes moved past Thor, noticing Banner standing partially hidden behind the thunder god's broader frame. Her expression became curious, calculating. She took a step to the side to get a better look at who Thor was protecting so carefully.]
[Thor immediately shifted his position, continuing to block her view of Banner. His body language became slightly defensive, protective. "What are you doing here specifically? Following us? I genuinely thought you'd left Sakaar entirely by now!"]
[Valkyrie's attention remained partially on the person Thor was hiding, but she answered his question.] "I have some unfinished business to take care of! Some loose ends that need tying up!" Her tone suggested these weren't pleasant tasks, but necessary ones.
[Valkyrie's gaze returned to the ridiculous rag wrapped around Thor's head and face. She nodded toward it, her expression shifting to something between amusement and secondhand embarrassment.] "This is..." She gestured vaguely at his head covering, clearly questioning his fashion choice.
[Thor pinched the fabric between his fingers, lifting it slightly as if displaying it with pride. "This is my disguise!" His tone suggested he thought it was quite clever.]
[Valkyrie's expression remained deadpan. She pointed at his face, which was still completely visible despite the rag.] "But I can see your face! Your entire face! Your very distinctive, very recognizable face!" Her voice carried barely suppressed amusement.
[Thor's hand immediately moved to adjust the cloth. He pulled it forward, covering his face completely with the dirty fabric. His voice came out muffled from behind it.] "You won't be able to see it this way!" He stood there with his face completely covered, essentially blind.
[Valkyrie raised her head slightly and looked away, her lips pressing together in a thin line. She clearly did not want to comment on his actions or point out all the ways this "disguise" was completely impractical. She'd already said her piece. If he wanted to walk around blind with a rag over his face, that was his choice.]
[After an awkward moment, Thor seemed to realize he couldn't actually see where he was going and adjusted the rag again. His face was visible once more, and he scrambled for a different topic—any topic—to move past this embarrassment.]
["Your hair looks great, by the way! I really like it this way! Did you just change your hairstyle? Or did you just wash it? It has a certain... shine... to it!" His voice was overly enthusiastic, transparently trying to change the subject and possibly curry favor.]
[At Thor's abrupt and painfully obvious attempt to change the subject, Valkyrie shook her head with an expression of pure speechlessness. She didn't dignify the comment with a response. Instead, she simply turned away and began walking, clearly expecting them to follow her to somewhere safer than the middle of a massive parade.]
[Banner, who'd been watching this entire exchange with growing confusion, tried to follow after Valkyrie. He took a few steps forward. But Thor remained standing still, his feet seemingly rooted to the spot. He was staring after Valkyrie with an expression that suggested he was processing something, trying to decide if following her was wise or dangerous.]
[Valkyrie noticed after a few seconds that neither Thor nor Banner had caught up. She stopped and turned around, looking back at them with an expression of impatience. She gestured sharply with one hand—a clear "come on, follow me, what are you waiting for?" motion. Then she turned and continued walking, not waiting to see if they'd comply.]
[As they moved through the streets following Valkyrie's lead, Banner's natural curiosity got the better of him. He kept glancing at Valkyrie, studying her with the analytical eye of a scientist observing an interesting specimen. Finally, his thoughts spilled out in a stream of questions.]
["What's that in her eyes? That expression? Is it guilt? Determination? Are those the memories of people she once fought alongside? People she lost?" His voice was thoughtful, processing out loud. "She's beautiful, clearly powerful, and there's something about the way she moves—a certain courage, or maybe it's more like resignation? The bearing of a warrior who's seen too much?"]
[Valkyrie, who could hear every word of Banner's rambling psychological analysis, felt her eye twitch with annoyance. The man wouldn't stop talking! Every thought that entered his head apparently had to exit through his mouth! It was exhausting just being near him!]
[After several more minutes of Banner's non-stop chatterbox analysis, Valkyrie finally had enough. They'd entered a room—one of her safe houses scattered throughout Sakaar's lower levels. The moment the door closed behind them, she whirled around and demanded:] "Who is this person?" [Her finger pointed directly at Banner, her expression making it clear his verbal diarrhea had worn out any welcome he might have had.]
[Thor hesitated for a moment, clearly trying to figure out how much to reveal. Finally he said somewhat awkwardly: "He is my friend!" The words came out defensive, protective. Whatever else Banner might be, Thor valued him as a person, not just as the Hulk.
Banner, ever oblivious to social cues when nervous, jumped in immediately. "Who? Me? I'm Bruce!" He gave a small, awkward wave. "Bruce Banner! Doctor Bruce Banner! Seven PhDs! Uh, nice to meet you officially!"]
[Valkyrie stared at Banner intensely, her eyes narrowing as she studied his features. Something about him nagged at her memory. She pointed her finger at him, her voice becoming more certain.] "I think I've seen you somewhere before! Your face is familiar!" [She tilted her head, trying to place where and when.]
["I feel like I've seen you somewhere before!" Banner echoed her thought, his own expression showing recognition. Perhaps they'd crossed paths during the parade? Or maybe he'd seen her when he was Hulk? The memories were frustratingly unclear.]
[Valkyrie let the mystery sit unresolved for now. She had more important things to discuss. She gestured for them to sit, then positioned herself where she could see both of them clearly. She turned to look at Thor with an expression that had become deadly serious. Gone was the sardonic amusement, the detached drunken haze. This was the Valkyrie of old—focused, purposeful, resolved.]
[Her voice was steady and clear as she began speaking, each word carefully chosen.] "Listen! I've been living in a daze for so many years—centuries, really—just trying to forget the past! Drowning it in alcohol, drowning it in pointless fights, drowning it in anything that would make the memories fade even a little bit!" [Her expression showed the weight of those centuries, the exhaustion of running from yourself for so long.]
[She continued, her voice becoming almost confessional. "Sakaar is a great place for that, you know? It's perfect for indulging in alcohol, for forgetting the past, for quietly waiting for death to finally catch up with you! No one asks questions here. No one cares about who you used to be. You can just... disappear into the crowd and waste away!"]
[Thor looked at her with genuine concern, his expression serious and earnest. "I think you're drinking too much! It'll kill you sooner or later! Your liver isn't immortal even if the rest of you mostly is!" His voice carried real worry—not judgment, but care.
Valkyrie's response was calm, matter-of-fact, without defensiveness or shame. "I'm not planning on quitting drinking yet! That's not where I am!" She wasn't ready to give up that particular coping mechanism, and she wasn't going to pretend otherwise.]
[Thor made a small sound—"Oh!"—but didn't push the issue further. He recognized that everyone dealt with trauma in their own way, and lecturing her wouldn't help. He simply nodded, accepting her honesty.]
[Valkyrie took a deep breath, then changed the subject to why she'd actually brought them here. Her expression shifted again, becoming harder, more determined. Her hand unconsciously moved to touch the place where her Valkyrie mark was hidden beneath her bracer.]
["But... I don't intend to forget anymore!" Her voice gained strength as she spoke, conviction growing with each word. "I can't run away anymore! I've been running for so long—centuries of running, of hiding, of pretending I'm not who I am! And I'm done! I'm finished running!" She met Thor's eyes directly, her jaw set with determination.]
[She continued, her voice taking on an edge of cold fury.] "So... if I'm going to die! Well! If death is coming for me anyway, then I'm going to face it on my terms! I have to use my sword to pierce the heart of that murderous old witch first! Hela took everything from me—my sisters, my purpose, my home! If I'm going down, I'm taking her with me!"
["Good!" Thor's face broke into a genuine smile, his expression showing profound relief and satisfaction. He was genuinely happy that she had figured this out, that she'd realized avoiding the problem wouldn't solve anything! She was choosing to face her demons rather than drown them!]
["Yeah!" Banner, standing awkwardly to the side, didn't quite understand the full context of what was happening or who this "murderous old witch" was, but he recognized the emotional weight of the moment. He responded with supportive enthusiasm, trying to show solidarity even if he was confused.]
Back in the real world, Tony's eyes narrowed as he processed what he was seeing. His genius-level intellect immediately began running probability calculations. "Oh! It looks like she might be in trouble!" His voice carried certainty. He leaned forward in his seat, his expression becoming more focused. "That declaration—choosing to fight instead of hide—that's going to have consequences! The Grandmaster doesn't seem like the type to let perceived disloyalty slide!"
Valkyrie, sitting in the real world and watching her own future unfold, felt her stomach tighten with understanding. She naturally realized the implications immediately. "Looks like I have to hurry!" Her voice was tense, urgent. The woman on screen who made this choice was still operating in normal time, but she had the advantage of foresight. She could see the consequences coming before they arrived.
But Valkyrie knew with absolute certainty that she couldn't leave Sakaar on her own. She needed help—both to escape the Grandmaster's reach and to actually accomplish anything meaningful once she reached Asgard. She wasn't foolish enough to think she could take on Hela alone. That had been tried before. It had ended with all her sisters dead.
Fortunately, in one of the earlier scenes, Korg had mentioned on the screen that he wanted to plan an uprising against the Grandmaster. That comment had lodged in her mind, sparked an idea. Those prisoners had long been unwilling to be enslaved by The Grandmaster—she knew that from years of observation. They were just waiting for the right spark, the right moment, the right leader to give them hope that rebellion might actually succeed.
So before her betrayal of The Grandmaster could play out on the screen and become widely known, Valkyrie had taken action. She'd contacted Korg—that gentle stone man who spoke of revolution with such earnest optimism. She'd found him in the lower levels where the gladiators were kept between fights.
Although there was no Thor present in her timeline to act as a middleman or character reference, Korg was the kind of person who would stand on the side of whoever helped him and his fellow prisoners. His loyalty wasn't to individuals but to causes, to justice, to the simple principle that slavery was wrong and freedom was worth fighting for.
So even without Thor's involvement, Valkyrie had still successfully instigated the prisoners to rebel. She'd given them what they'd been waiting for—information about the Grandmaster's security protocols, about patrol patterns, about weapon storage locations. She'd given them hope. She'd given them a plan. Most importantly, she'd given them someone who believed they could actually win.
When The Grandmaster learned of the uprising—when his precious gladiatorial games were interrupted by rioting prisoners, when his carefully controlled population began rising up—he had flown into an absolute rage. Reports described him screaming, throwing things, his theatrical personality fracturing to reveal the tyrant underneath. He'd ordered all his soldiers to deploy immediately and deal with the rioting prisoners with whatever force was necessary. They were to crush this rebellion before it could spread, to make examples of the ringleaders.
And he'd specifically demanded that Valkyrie be captured alive. Not killed—alive. He wanted a public execution. He wanted to make a spectacle of her betrayal, to show everyone in Sakaar what happened to those who turned against the Grandmaster. It would be theatrical, drawn out, designed to inspire maximum fear and prevent any future rebellions.
On Earth, in the present moment, Thor heard Tony's warning words and immediately understood the implications. Valkyrie needed their help now—not in some hypothetical future, but immediately. The timeline was compressing. Events were accelerating. He stood up from his seat and turned to look at everyone gathered in the real world. His expression was serious, but his eyes held excitement—the thrill of impending action.
"Everyone! Are you interested in another alien war?" His voice carried enthusiasm mixed with the gravity of the situation. He wasn't ordering anyone to come, wasn't demanding their help. He was asking—inviting them to join him in yet another dangerous mission, this time on an alien planet they'd never visited before.
"Oh! We have to leave right after we just got back!" Tony's voice carried mock complaint, but he was already moving. He shook his head with an expression of fond exasperation—this was his life now, apparently. Constant crisis, constant deployment, never a moment's rest. "Jarvis! Bring my armor! The Mark 45—full power, all weapons systems! We're going to Sakaar!"
Rhodes tilted his head, a combat-ready grin spreading across his face. "Yeah! My armor has been thirsty for a long time!" His hand flexed unconsciously, already imagining the weight of his weapons systems. "Been too quiet lately! Time to remind the universe that War Machine is still in business!"
Steve Rogers—Captain America—clapped his fists together with a solid, satisfying sound. The impact echoed in the room. His expression was pure determination, the look of a man who'd chosen his side and would see it through. "Let's go kick that old guy's ass!" His voice carried righteous anger at the Grandmaster's tyranny. "Nobody enslaves people on our watch! Time to introduce Sakaar to some Earth-style justice!"
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