"Thor's little hands don't know where to put them!" The watching crowd erupted in laughter at Thor's somewhat helpless demeanor on screen. His awkward body language as he tried to navigate the situation with Hulk was endlessly amusing.
Star-Lord laughed heartily, slapping his knee. "Hulk's way of asking for favors is truly unique! Wouldn't anyone who saw this stop in their tracks? I mean, when a giant green rage monster blocks your path, you kind of have to listen!"
Banner looked down at the floor, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling more and more convinced that Hulk was just a three-year-old child trapped in an indestructible body. The realization was both humbling and mortifying.
"This woman really knows how to drink! She drank such a big bottle in one gulp? I guess she didn't even taste it!" Watching Valkyrie finish an entire bottle of alcohol in approximately three seconds flat, Tony—who also loved his drinks—was rendered utterly numb. His expression was one of genuine shock mixed with professional offense. In his considered opinion, this was simply a waste of perfectly good liquor! Good wine needed to be savored, appreciated, allowed to breathe! Not chugged like water after a marathon!
"Hahaha! That's how Asgardians are! We drink very heartily!" Thor laughed with obvious pride, his chest puffing out slightly. His people's legendary alcohol tolerance was something he took great satisfaction in, even if their drinking habits scandalized more refined palates.
Tony shook his head helplessly, muttering something about "barbaric drinking customs" under his breath.
Seeing that Thor couldn't convince Valkyrie through words alone but instead resorted to stealing the remote control from her hand, Natasha exclaimed with genuine surprise: "You've become smarter, Thor! You actually learned this trick! Using strategy instead of just brute force—I'm impressed!"
Tony laughed and added, "The most important thing is, he didn't get the direction wrong and knock himself down in the process! That's really rare for our favorite thunder god!" His tone was teasing but affectionate.
Thor immediately rolled his eyes at the jab. He was reckless, certainly, and prone to charging headfirst into situations—but he wasn't stupid! There was a difference between boldness and idiocy, thank you very much.
[On the screen, having acquired the remote control, Thor made his way back toward Hulk. The tension in Valkyrie's chambers had shifted. The thunder god's expression became more serious, more determined. This was no longer just about escaping Sakaar—this was about conviction, about purpose.]
[After solving the most fatal problem of actually getting the remote control, Thor visibly relaxed. His shoulders loosened, and his characteristic confidence began to resurface.]
[Thor turned to face Valkyrie, his blue eyes intense with purpose. His voice carried the weight of conviction as he spoke.]
["Just keep going! Stay here and help that madman enslave the people! Keep drinking! Keep running away! But I..."]
[Thor clapped his hands together sharply at Hulk, the sound echoing in the room. He gestured clearly, signaling for the green giant to throw the ball they'd been playing with earlier. Hulk, always eager to participate in any game, complied immediately.]
[Hulk threw the ball with tremendous force—far more than necessary for a simple game of catch. The projectile hurtled through the air like a cannonball. Thor, despite the excessive velocity, caught it smoothly with both hands, his reflexes still sharp despite his recent hardships. He turned his head to look directly at Valkyrie, his expression deadly serious, his jaw set with determination.]
["I choose to face my problems head-on! Instead of running away! Because that's…"]
[As he delivered this proclamation, Thor drew his arm back and threw the ball with all his considerable might at the reinforced glass window beside him. His intention was clear—a dramatic gesture to punctuate his heroic declaration. The ball flew through the air, struck the glass dead center with a resounding THUNK... and absolutely failed to break through.
Instead, it merely created a small dent in the surface, the supposedly unbreakable glass living up to its reputation. The ball then bounced back with equal force, rocketing directly toward Thor's face. It connected with his forehead with an audible SMACK, and the God of Thunder's eyes widened in surprise before he toppled backward, his dramatic speech cut off mid-sentence as he collapsed onto the floor in an undignified heap.]
[Looking at Thor—who had thought he was delivering such a powerful, heroic moment only to be literally slapped in the face by physics—Valkyrie tried desperately hard not to laugh out loud. She pressed her lips together firmly, but the corners of her mouth kept rising traitorously, twitching upward despite her best efforts. Her eyes sparkled with suppressed mirth as she watched the fallen god.]
[But Thor, ever resilient, jumped back up to his feet as if nothing whatsoever had happened. He didn't acknowledge the embarrassment, didn't show any sign of pain. Instead, he licked the inside of his cheek where he'd been hit, checking the damage with his tongue, then turned back to Valkyrie with renewed determination lighting his features.]
["Because that's what a hero does!"]
[Then, without a moment's hesitation or second thought, he pivoted and rushed directly toward the same cracked glass. He lowered his head and smashed through it headfirst with a sound of shattering, sending crystalline fragments exploding outward into the air around him. His body sailed through the opening, and he landed with surprising grace on the exterior surface of the Rune Tower below. He began sliding downward along the tower's slanted architecture, using his body weight and momentum to control his descent.]
[The tower's exterior was a marvel of Sakaar architecture—colorful, mismatched, covered in the detritus of a thousand worlds. Thor navigated it with the confidence of someone who'd spent centuries throwing himself off high places. He nimbly leaped from the tower to another structure, then to another, his movements fluid and practiced. He landed by repeatedly jumping sideways between narrow gaps, using walls and protrusions to slow his fall, each impact calculated, each movement precise despite appearing reckless. Within moments, he'd descended dozens of stories and reached the ground level safely.]
[Behind him, up in Valkyrie's room, Hulk's face appeared in the broken window. His eyes were wide with confusion and betrayal. He hurried to the jagged hole, his massive green hands gripping the edges as he leaned out precariously, and shouted with the plaintive tone of an abandoned child: "Friend! Don't leave!!!"]
[But Thor was already moving, his legs pumping as he ran at full speed down the street below. The roads of Sakaar were a chaotic maze—narrow alleyways filled with debris from countless worlds, discarded technology, makeshift structures, and the general refuse of the Grandmaster's domain. Thor wove through it all with singular purpose, his blonde hair streaming behind him, his stolen Sakaar clothing flapping in the wind. He headed directly toward the location where he'd hidden the Quinjet, his mind focused entirely on his mission.]
[The journey through Sakaar's underbelly was brief but treacherous. Thor navigated winding passages, jumped over obstacles, and finally burst into the clearing where the Quinjet sat waiting. The familiar lines of the Avengers' aircraft looked almost out of place among the alien architecture surrounding it.]
[He approached the fighter plane quickly, his hand reaching out to pat its hull almost affectionately. This machine represented home, represented Earth, represented everything he'd been separated from. He jumped up to the entrance of the craft with practiced ease, his fingers finding the manual release. The hatch opened with a pneumatic hiss, and Thor pulled himself up and inside, jumping through the opening into the familiar interior of the Quinjet's passenger bay.]
[After witnessing the high-energy scene where Thor was only cool for approximately three seconds before physics humbled him, everyone in the viewing room couldn't help but burst into laughter again. The contrast between Thor's heroic intentions and the comedic reality was simply too much.]
[This time, even Thor himself felt a little embarrassed. His ears turned slightly red as he watched his own failure play out on screen. He'd never quite realized that he could be so... funny. His self-image had always been more along the lines of "noble warrior" and less "slapstick comedy protagonist."
Fortunately, Thor didn't tend to dwell on such small details for long. His resilient nature and general good humor meant he recovered quickly from the embarrassment, shaking his head with a rueful smile.]
Tony, ever the engineer, said with genuine concern creeping into his voice, "The Quinjet's energy source might not last this long! It's already good enough that it managed to reach Sakaar in the first place! It'll be incredibly hard to fly it back through that wormhole! The power requirements alone..."
Captain America nodded thoughtfully, his strategic mind already working through the problem. "I hope Thor can find a way to solve this problem! But there are quite a few spaceships scattered around on Sakaar—we've seen them in the background of several shots. If all else fails, why doesn't he just grab one and use that instead?"
Thor pointed at Steve enthusiastically, his face lighting up. "That's a good idea! If that fighter plane can't be used, I'll grab one of those local ships and get into that wormhole even if I have to force my way through! Nothing will stop me from reaching Asgard!"
Tony glanced at him skeptically, one eyebrow raised. "I hope you don't crash it. Alien technology isn't exactly user-friendly, and you're not known for your delicate touch with vehicles."
Thor was supremely confident, waving off the concern with a dismissive gesture. "A mere spaceship can't faze me! I can take off with just a few clicks! How hard could it possibly be? It's all just buttons and levers!"
[On screen, Thor moved through the Quinjet's interior with purpose, making his way forward through the narrow passenger compartment toward the cockpit. His footsteps echoed in the confined space. When he reached the pilot's area and found the main control panel, he paused. The fighter plane had been parked in this location for an extended period—weeks, perhaps months—and the evidence was visible. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. Particles floated in the air as Thor disturbed them, catching the dim light filtering through the cockpit windows.]
[Thor reached forward and said, "All right! Come on!" His voice carried a mixture of determination and hope.]
[He pressed his palm against the control panel's activation pad. Immediately, the screen flickered to life with a soft glow, display panels illuminating in sequence. The Quinjet's startup sound hummed through the cockpit as various systems began their initialization protocols. The system quickly entered its security verification mode, requiring both fingerprint and voice recognition before it would allow flight operations.]
[A pleasant, automated female voice announced clearly through the cockpit speakers: "Welcome aboard. Voice activation required."]
[Thor leaned closer to the microphone pickup, speaking clearly: "Thor!"]
[There was a brief processing delay, then the system responded with an impersonal beep: "Access denied. Voice recognition invalid."]
[The confident smile on Thor's face suddenly disappeared, replaced by confusion and growing frustration.]
[He frowned deeply, his brows drawing together as he tried again with more specificity. Surely his full title would work. He pronounced each word carefully: "Thor... Son of Odin!"]
[Another processing delay. Another denial: "Access denied. Voice recognition invalid."]
[Thor's jaw clenched. He tried a different approach, invoking his divine status: "God of Thunder!"]
[The system remained unmoved by claims of divinity: "Access denied. Voice recognition invalid."]
[Growing increasingly desperate, Thor declared proudly: "The Strongest Avenger!"]
[The system's response was swift and brutal: "Access denied. Voice recognition invalid."]
[Thor's eye twitched. He modified his claim slightly, hoping perhaps it was a matter of phrasing: "The most powerful Avenger!"]
[Once again, the merciless electronic voice denied him: "Access denied. Voice recognition invalid."]
[Thor stood there in the cockpit, completely speechless after such a prolonged series of failures. His mouth hung open slightly in disbelief. He couldn't help but curse inwardly, his mental voice dripping with irritation: "Damn Stark!" Of course Tony would program the system to reject perfectly reasonable voice commands! This had his ego written all over it!]
[Then, almost desperately, Thor remembered something. His expression shifted as a memory surfaced—something Banner had mentioned once, perhaps? Or had he overheard it? His voice took on a different quality as he said with resignation: "Point Break!"]
[For a moment, there was silence. Then the system's voice returned, but this time it was welcoming and warm: "Welcome! Point Break!" The electronic tone almost seemed cheerful.]
[The entire cockpit came alive at once. "Haha!" Thor's face split into a wide, triumphant smile as he saw the system successfully boot up! Control panels illuminated in sequence, displays showing system readouts and flight status. The fighter's internal lights began to activate throughout the craft, bathing everything in a soft operational glow. The engines began their pre-flight warm-up sequence with a building hum.]
[But before Thor could feel happy for more than a few seconds—before he could even begin to celebrate his victory over Stark's security system—the entire fighter plane suddenly shook violently. The whole aircraft lurched sideways with a horrible metallic screech. Then, with a tremendous CRASH and the sound of tearing metal, a large hole was torn open in the tail section of the plane. Warning lights immediately began flashing red throughout the cockpit. Alarms blared. The structural integrity display showed critical damage to the rear of the aircraft.]
[Thor whipped around in the pilot's seat, his eyes widening in horror as he looked back through the cockpit door toward the passenger bay. There, framed in the torn opening at the rear of the Quinjet, was Hulk. The green giant stood outside the aircraft, his massive hands still gripping the edges of the hole he'd just created. His face was a mixture of desperation and determination.]
[Hulk's voice boomed across the distance, carrying clearly despite the various alarms: "Friend! Don't leave!!!"]
[Thor's expression transformed into one of pure terror. He held up both hands in a placating gesture, his voice rising with panic: "No! No! No! Stop!!!" He tried to convey the urgency through his tone alone—this was a delicate aircraft, not a toy!]
[But Hulk didn't care about delicate machinery at that moment. His emotional state had overwhelmed any sense of caution. He just wanted Thor to stay with him, wanted his friend not to abandon him in this strange place. Loneliness and confusion drove him forward.]
[Hulk's massive green body began forcing itself inside the fighter plane, completely ignoring the fact that the opening was far too small for someone of his immense size. His shoulders scraped against the torn edges, widening the hole further. As he squeezed through, his bulk immediately began damaging the Quinjet's internal components. Wiring sparked. Panels cracked. Support struts bent under the strain. The delicate avionics systems that kept the craft operational were being systematically destroyed by Hulk's careless passage through the narrow space.]
[Thor watched the destruction with mounting horror. "Stop!!! Stop breaking things!" His voice cracked with desperation. Each crunch of metal represented another critical system offline, another percentage drop in their chances of escaping Sakaar.]
[Hulk paid no attention to Thor's pleas. He continued forward through the aircraft's interior, his movements surprisingly gentle for someone causing such catastrophic damage. His voice was plaintive, almost childlike: "Don't go!" Each word carried genuine hurt. He extended one massive hand toward the cockpit, toward his friend.]
[The fighter plane was being damaged more and more with each passing second. Thor could see system after system failing on his displays. Red warning indicators multiplied faster than he could process. The structural damage alone might ground them permanently. He had no choice. "Come on!" Thor lunged forward desperately toward the control panel, his hands flying across unfamiliar buttons and switches. He pressed controls blindly, frantically, hoping something—anything—would distract Hulk or calm him down.]
[Under Thor's clumsy, desperate manipulation of the Quinjet's systems, his fingers accidentally triggered the communication and video recording system. He'd hit the playback function without realizing it. A holographic projection suddenly flickered to life in the cockpit space, and Natasha Romanoff's face appeared, rendered in blue-white light. The image was crystal clear, showing her intense expression, her distinctive red hair, her focused gaze.]
[It was Natasha's final message to Hulk, recorded at the end of the Sokovia incident during the Avengers' battle with Ultron. Her voice, preserved in digital format, began playing through the Quinjet's speaker system. It filled the aircraft with her familiar tones, calm and measured despite the urgent situation she'd been in when recording it.]
["Well done, big guy! We didn't know where Ultron was going!" Her voice was warm, proud, acknowledging Hulk's contribution to their victory. "But you were flying so high and so fast! So..."]
[In the passenger bay, Hulk had been continuing his advance toward the cockpit, ready to physically prevent Thor from leaving. But hearing that voice—that specific, familiar, beloved voice—he froze completely. His massive body went still. His green face, usually twisted with rage or simple-minded determination, suddenly transformed. His expression became soft, vulnerable, almost human. He stared at the holographic projection with wide eyes, completely transfixed. His mouth fell open slightly in wonder and recognition. Tears began forming in those large eyes, pooling at the edges before slowly tracking down his cheeks.]
[Natasha's recorded message continued, her tone becoming more urgent, more personal: "I need you to turn this plane around! Okay?" It was both a request and a plea. "We can't track you in stealth mode..."]
[Hulk took a step closer to the projection, drawn like a moth to flame. His hand reached out tentatively, almost reverently, toward the image of Natasha. His fingers passed through the hologram, disturbing the light particles.]
["So I need your help! Okay?" Natasha's voice carried such sincerity, such genuine need. Even in recording, even filtered through speakers and time, the connection between her and Hulk was palpable.]
[Inside Hulk's mind, Banner's consciousness stirred. Memories flooded back—not Hulk's simple, fragmented recollections, but Banner's complex, emotional human memories. He remembered their time together. The way Natasha had looked at him. The way she'd touched his hand. The lullaby she'd created specifically for him. Their quiet conversations. The understanding that had grown between them. Their relationship had been so profound, so deep, existing in that space between romance and friendship and something else entirely. The weight of those memories, the acute sense of loss and longing, brought tears flowing more freely from Hulk's eyes.]
[The holographic system began glitching, the ancient recording degrading. Natasha's image flickered and stuttered. Her final words began repeating as the system froze: "I need you... I need you..." The phrase played over and over, her voice catching at the same point each time, before the projection finally flickered out completely, leaving only empty air and the echo of her words.]