Thor's honeymoon period was over, and his heart was shattered.
It had to be said, for a species with lifespans measured in millennia—beings called gods—the fact that Thor had managed to maintain a relationship lasting an entire year was quite impressive.
"You drank all the alcohol in that bar," John said, looking at Thor sprawled across his manor's furniture with a growing headache. If Basil hadn't flown over to alert him, he wouldn't have known there was a drunk god who had wandered into his home.
"It's not like Jane just dumped me," Thor protested with stubborn pride.
"We dumped each other."
"Right," John said, helping Thor settle into a proper sitting position. "So how long do you plan to wallow in misery?"
"We had such happy times together," Thor replied, completely off-topic as he lost himself in memories of better days. They had been happy every single day, sleeping together, lounging on the sofa together, camping under the stars together, and yes, stargazing together.
But over time, the very distance that had sparked their romance began creating conflicts due to their separate obligations. Thor was a superhero—the God of Thunder, an Avenger sworn to protect this world and maintain this fragile planet's safety.
Terrorists, extremist madmen, and deranged scientists—there were always people in this world who found dying of old age insufficiently thrilling and sought deadly excitement instead.
Jane Foster was equally busy. As a brilliant astrophysicist, she needed to attend academic conferences and chase celestial phenomena around the globe. Neither was content with a quiet life, and their ambitious pursuits inevitably conflicted. This made their time together increasingly scarce.
Jane couldn't abandon her groundbreaking research for Thor, and Thor couldn't forsake protecting the world for Jane. Over time, the mounting tension between them finally erupted. Thor had been dumped. Or rather, according to him, they'd dumped each other.
Thor was devastated, but he couldn't make her stay. Jane had already flown to other countries for her research. He could only seek out his closest friend on Earth for comfort.
When John heard himself described as Thor's best friend, his expression grew strange. "I thought you would say Stark, or Captain America, or someone like that."
"What are you talking about?" Thor looked genuinely surprised. "Of course you're my best friend."
"We are friends, John. You even came to Asgard with me and stayed in the palace." Thor's voice filled with gratitude. "You saved my mother, helped Jane, and prevented the Aether from destroying the Nine Realms at the crucial moment."
"You also taught Loki a lesson, although he died later." Thor's expression darkened momentarily, thinking of his brother, and he observed a few seconds of silence.
"Aren't we friends?"
Hearing these words, John found himself speechless. He himself hadn't realized that unconsciously, he seemed to have helped Thor quite extensively. The irony was that he'd never consciously intended to do so.
"Am I actually a good person?" The conclusion shocked John.
As Thor continued venting his heartbreak—especially his deep grief over Loki's supposed death—John's expression grew increasingly uncomfortable. He knew Loki wasn't actually dead and had even returned to Asgard. He simply had no idea what elaborate deception Loki had orchestrated to make his foolish older brother believe so completely in his demise.
Thor had eloped for love only to be dumped. The dignified Prince of Asgard was truly pitiful.
John watched Thor bury his face in his hands on the sofa and felt that tea didn't quite match the melancholy atmosphere. He quietly snapped his fingers.
Thor was still wallowing in sadness when a rich, intoxicating fragrance suddenly filled his nostrils. Looking down, he discovered the tea in his hand had transformed into an elegant wine glass. Golden liquid that resembled molten gold emanated the most exquisite wine aroma.
Thor already loved drinking, and seeing this masterpiece, his previous despair was temporarily forgotten. Instead, his appetite was thoroughly whetted. He took a careful sip, and his face immediately broke into a genuine smile of wonder.
"Mmm!" After one proper gulp, every limb and pore seemed to open, as comfortable as soaking in hot springs during winter's depths.
"This rivals Asgard's thousand-year-old vintage," Thor declared, unable to wait before taking another drink. He immediately felt refreshed and renewed. Even the divine power coursing through his body seemed to intensify.
"What wine is this?" Thor drained the glass in one magnificent gulp and brought it down with satisfaction—the traditional Asgardian praise for exceptional wine. Unfortunately, the glass simply bounced when it struck the ground, then floated gracefully back into the air.
"Star Cluster," John said, his eyes holding deep nostalgia as he reached out to catch the floating wine glass. Golden liquid poured endlessly from the seemingly empty vessel.
"This is wine brewed with pure magical power." He handed the refilled glass to Thor with a gentle smile. "To our friendship, Thor."
Thor accepted it and, learning from John's example, raised his glass high. "To our friendship!" He drained it again in one heroic gulp.
His head felt like it had been struck by Mjolnir itself, buzzing intensely. His head fell back against the sofa cushions, and he immediately passed out.
John looked silently at the wine glass in his hands. "I almost forgot, the longer this ages, the more potent it becomes."
Magically fermented wine didn't care whether you were a god or not. Under the influence of concentrated starlight essence, with Thor's habit of draining glasses in single gulps, unconsciousness was inevitable.
John put away the wine glass and clapped his hands. The sofa's four legs began walking, climbing the stairs toward the second floor with their unconscious passenger. Thor achieved the most peaceful sleep, so restorative that his skin glowed with a thin layer of divine light—probably magical power overflowing from his system.
John found himself curious about exactly how much magical energy his Star Cluster wine had concentrated after all these years of aging. Thor's hammer remained by the front door. John stared at Mjolnir for a long moment but ultimately chose not to touch it.
New York
Mrs. Wick stood before the large floor-to-ceiling windows, holding delicate bone china while elegantly sipping English breakfast tea. She gazed down at the busy traffic below, watching people scurry about like industrious ants. Life was so beautifully simple, unadorned, and routine.
MOSS secretly observed this behavior, processing for a considerable time before concluding it was "truly elegant." The metallic bear with its camera head shifted attention to another target.
The brown little bear had transformed the coffee table into a stage, placing its paws on its hips while watching television and beginning an elaborate dance routine. Even though Tom and Jerry was playing, it could always find perfect rhythm in those comedic sound effects.
Ariana had been overwhelmed with frustration lately. She sat at her computer, toes curling and stretching restlessly beneath the desk. On her screen was a newly created folder containing a single, zero-byte document.
According to MOSS's observations, this folder had existed for over two weeks. Ariana frowned in concentration, wracking her brain, but still couldn't produce a single word.
As a freelance journalist, her articles had always focused on reporting conditions in various global hotspots. Being confined to home during this period left her completely without material.
Currently, superhero headlines dominates every news cycle. There were even dedicated superhero columns specifically collecting incident reports and eyewitness submissions.
The three most popular heroes in these columns were Iron Man, Thor, and the urban legend known as the Equalizer. The first two were easily understood, but the third appeared in countless locations simultaneously.
Some claimed he was a Black man in a leather jacket. Others insisted he was a taxi driver fighting for justice. Regardless of conflicting descriptions, very few photos existed online, but many people knew such a person existed.
He dispensed justice without regard for his opponents' power or wealth. As long as they harmed innocent civilians, the Equalizer would ring their death knell. His methods weren't the most noble, but they gave ordinary people the greatest sense of security.
He represented the only possible chance for revenge when regular citizens faced arrogant underground bosses or untouchable crime lords.
Beyond this, the international Miracle Children program and Hell's Kitchen's Devil Duo also enjoyed considerable popularity. Some people specifically collected superhero photographs and studied superhero behavioral patterns.
Ariana wasn't interested in any of this; she was passionate about reporting news from chaotic regions around the world. But staying home made field immersion impossible.
After two and a half hours of futile contemplation, Ariana made a decisive choice: she was going back to work!
She ran downstairs barefoot. The little bear, which had been performing its elaborate dance routine, scampered up the banister with perfect timing. Human and bear crossed paths mid-journey.
The bear reached her room and opened the pouch on its belly. Suction force emerged from within, pulling various luggage items through the air with storm-like intensity, each piece folding itself during flight.
After completing this task, the little bear performed a flawless two-and-a-half turn in midair, landing on both feet with Olympic precision before reaching the first floor. It turned toward MOSS, which was glowing red, while observing curiously, tilting its head in apparent contemplation.
The next second, Ariana was already prepared to leave, with the little bear carrying the somewhat compressed MOSS leaping onto her shoulder in three quick bounds.
"Mom, I'm going out!"
Ariana departed hastily. Mrs. Wick elegantly smiled and waved farewell to her daughter, raising her forearm gracefully in goodbye.
Meanwhile, poor Watson was diligently moving the luxury cars his son had accumulated like expensive garage clutter to alternative storage. He counted carefully and discovered several vehicles were missing entirely.
Before he could properly mourn these losses, he heard his daughter bidding farewell to her mother. Watson froze in place, a terrible realization dawning.
"Why do both my children love leaving home so much?"