Gene emerged from the twisted spatial rift with Jane Foster in his arms.
When he had entered, the sky over Britain had been calm, with clear blue skies. But now—on his return—the heavens were an entirely different picture: thick clouds churned above, lightning carved the sky, and torrential rain hammered down on Gene's armored body.
"Skynet, did the UK's weather bureau forecast this storm?" Gene asked.
"Sir, there is no official report indicating any chance of rain today. This weather anomaly is abrupt and likely unnatural," came the AI's reply.
Gene's V-shaped visor pulsed faintly.
Moments later, wrapped in thunder and lightning, a familiar figure descended from the heavens like a comet. A deafening splash erupted as he landed, soaked red cape dragging across the ground. The figure rose from a crouch, his golden hair dripping wet, muscles tense with barely restrained emotion.
Thor.
The Crown Prince of Asgard had arrived.
His sharp gaze locked onto Gene—and more precisely, onto Jane Foster, slung over Gene's shoulder. Recognition flashed across his eyes.
He remembered this man. When Thor had first been exiled to Earth by Odin, this was the same mysterious figure who had dared to lift Mjolnir, and had even fought Odin himself to a standstill. The same man who had once stolen Mjolnir, and wielded a second Asgardian weapon gifted by Odin.
Suppressing the storm brewing within, Thor spoke at last.
"How is she?"
"She's not dead. Yet. But she's not far from it," Gene replied coldly. "The Aether has chosen her as its host, and it's draining her life force by the second."
"I need to bring Jane to Asgard," Thor said, stepping forward and holding out his hand. "We have the means to help her."
"You don't," Gene responded without hesitation.
He wasn't wrong.
In Thor: The Dark World, even Odin himself had admitted that while the Aether's powers were well-documented in Asgardian lore, there were no known methods to extract it from a host. Not even the All-Father could help Jane.
Worse still, Jane's arrival in Asgard was what alerted Malekith. It led to the attack on the palace, the death of Frigga, and a spiral of tragedy that rippled far beyond.
All of it… avoidable.
"If you really care about her," Gene said, his voice like steel, "then get out of my way. You can't save her. I can."
Golden magical energy began to gather in Gene's hand—he was preparing a dimensional portal.
Thor hesitated, emotions surging.
Like many Asgardians, pride was etched into his bones. That eternal arrogance, the belief that Asgard was superior to Midgard, ran deep. Despite the display of strength Gene had shown in the past—defeating Odin, wielding his hammer—Thor still couldn't let go of his instinct to act.
Especially when Jane Foster was involved.
Driven by that impulse, he hurled Mjolnir at Gene.
Gene sidestepped, casually raising a glowing magical disc to intercept the weapon. Sparks flew as Mjolnir collided with the energy shield.
"You're serious?" Gene asked, crimson light blooming in his visor.
He gently set Jane on the ground, then turned to face the god of thunder. His tone was calm, but beneath it was a tide of restrained power.
"Calm down, Asgardian. I don't want to fight you."
But whether it was Jane's presence or Thor's stubborn streak flaring up, he wasn't listening.
With a roar, Thor swung his hammer again, lightning dancing around it. This time, he didn't hold back—he remembered how Gene had once stood against Odin himself. Thor wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.
The hammer whistled through the rain—until a black-gloved hand caught it mid-flight.
Thor's eyes widened in disbelief.
Gene's armored fingers closed around the handle of Mjolnir as if it weighed nothing. The enchanted hammer—weapon of storms, forged in the heart of a dying star—was held aloft in his grasp.
And then... cracks began to spiderweb across its surface.
A hush fell across the field.
Magic surged through Gene's palm, crawling over the Uru metal like vines of destruction. Thor's shock turned into something primal—fear.
"There's no need for us to fight," Gene said coolly.
And then, without fanfare, he tossed Mjolnir to the ground like trash. The mighty hammer landed with a thud, sending a minor tremor through the earth.
"Asgard can't save Dr. Foster," he continued. "Following me is her best shot at survival."
He paused—then added, "And frankly, it's the best outcome for everyone involved."
Gene didn't mention it outright, but the consequences of allowing Thor to take Jane back were clear in his mind:
Frigga would die. Odin would imprison Jane. Thor would release Loki to save her. And eventually, Loki would manipulate events, leading to Odin's downfall and Ragnarok—the destruction of Asgard itself.
Oh, and let's not forget… after all that, the Reality Stone—the Aether—would be gifted to some clown named the Collector, who'd promptly lose it to Thanos without even putting up a fight.
So yeah—Gene wasn't about to let history repeat itself.
Unfortunately, Thor—who was more brawn than brain—wasn't about to stand down. The tension between them now burned like live wire.
"This fight was inevitable the moment you chose pride over reason," Gene said, his voice lowering to a cold rumble. "Fine then. Let's consider this a favor…"
He activated his combat protocols, magic crackling around him.
"…A lesson on behalf of Odin."
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T/N:
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