Changes of destiny
"Why did we bring the depressed lunatic with us?" Tony asked, pointing at Thor, who was still sitting in the corner of the small-town bar, head down. He hadn't spoken a word, nor did he seem to hear anything around him.
Owen, starving after the battle, had dragged everyone along to get some food. And by "everyone," he meant Tony, Banner, Thor, and—for some reason—Barton. Most likely, they'd sent Barton to keep an eye on Thor… or to spy on all of them. Frankly, Owen didn't care.
"Hey, if it turns out he really is the god of thunder, I'd love to see your face," Owen said with a half-smile directed at Tony.
"I think you're the one who got played," Tony replied, rolling his eyes. "Sorry, but I don't have time to sit around with a bunch of sweaty guys. I've got a fabulous mansion waiting for me, probably with a gorgeous CEO in it."
"Tell her I said hi," Owen called after him.
Tony just raised a hand in farewell as he walked out the door.
"What do we do about him?" Banner asked, glancing over at Thor.
Owen didn't reply. Instead, he stood up and walked toward the Asgardian.
"How much longer are you going to stay like this? You're supposed to be a god, right? Didn't know a single hit could turn you into such a pathetic wreck," Owen said coldly, staring him down.
"You know nothing," Thor murmured without lifting his gaze.
"Oh yeah? You lost your power because of some divine punishment, or whatever. So that's it? You just give up? Physically, you're strong—but mentally… tsk tsk," Owen said with disdain.
"What do you know?!" Thor snapped, finally lifting his head. "To be a god, and then reduced to a mere mortal… Odin's proud son, now just another human. I've faced enemies that would bring Midgard to its knees! And now, if they came again, I'd be kneeling right beside you."
"Is that so?" Owen asked, unshaken. "Well, I'm the kind of guy who'd rather die standing than live on his knees. Fight to the end... wasn't that the path to Valhalla? I always thought you used it as a metaphor—never surrender, even with death at your door."
The words took Thor by surprise. He blinked.
"You know of Valhalla?" he asked, intrigued.
"Well… in this world—Midgard, like you call it—your kind are just myths: Thor, Heimdall, Odin, Loki..." Owen replied calmly.
"You seem to believe me… not like the others you're with," Thor muttered, surprised.
"Those two need to see it to believe it," Owen said with a grin. Then he leaned slightly closer. "But here, in this world, rejecting an idea just makes it easier for reality to catch you off guard. There could even be a sleeping giant the size of a planet at Earth's core."
With that, he turned and walked back toward Banner and Barton.
Thor watched him silently, intrigued by the strange mix of logic and madness coming from the mortal's mouth.
"Hey Barton," Owen suddenly said. "Tell Coulson to evacuate the town for a couple of days."
"Evacuate? Why?" Barton asked, frowning.
"Just a hunch," Owen replied with a calm smile.
"We can't evacuate an entire town over a hunch," Barton protested, crossing his arms.
"SHIELD's the only one with enough manpower in the area. We're still recruiting. Tell Fury that if I'm wrong, Vitae will never again interrupt a SHIELD op. Or bother them."
Barton gave him a long look… then nodded. "Fine," he said, quickly walking off—almost like he'd been waiting for that excuse.
Meanwhile, Owen let out a small, mocking grin. "But if something does happen… well, sorry in advance. We'll be terrible neighbors."
"Do you really believe him?" Banner asked. "That he's a god… the actual Thor from Norse mythology?"
"A hammer fell from the sky. Made of some unknown material. Then a guy shows up saying he's Thor, dressed like he just stepped out of a Wagner opera. Even if it's a fraud, isn't that interesting?" Owen replied with amusement.
Barton returned quickly with confirmation: Fury had approved the operation, and SHIELD agents were already mobilizing.
Suddenly, as they were talking, Thor stood upright with a look of surprise and joy, staring at a nearby wall.
"Loki… brother, you came," he said, his voice filled with emotion.
Owen, Banner, and Barton all turned their heads—but saw nothing. Barton raised an eyebrow. Banner looked like he'd just confirmed Thor was completely crazy. Barton even smirked slightly—at least SHIELD would be rid of Vitae for a while.
But Owen frowned. In his eyes, strange shadows began to form. A barely visible silhouette started to emerge, slowly gaining definition. He focused his gaze.
While Thor continued speaking—words now muffled in Owen's ears—he saw the figure take shape: a man with dark hair and elegant clothing. Finally, he heard the voice.
"Father is dead," Loki said.
"Then take me to Asgard. You can do that," Thor pleaded.
"I'm sorry, Thor. The frost giants declared war because of your attack. You must take responsibility. I…"
Before he could finish, Owen cut in.
"So the god of lies and deceit decided to visit our humble world," he said calmly, standing up.
Barton and Banner looked at him in confusion.
Loki's brow furrowed when he noticed a mortal could see him—and worse, was speaking to him directly. But he held back. He hadn't come to fight.
"You can see me?" Loki asked softly.
"Perfectly," Owen replied. "And hearing your lies just makes your title even more fitting." He smiled. "You know, in our world, there's a funny story about Loki… and a horse…"
Loki, enraged, shot a bolt of energy at him.
Owen dodged easily, stepping aside just in time.
"Don't you dare talk about that!" Loki roared, his face twisted with fury.
"Oof. Touched a nerve, did I?" Owen said, grinning provocatively.
Banner and Barton jumped to their feet as the wall behind Owen exploded. Loki was beginning to fully materialize.
They both stared wide-eyed. Barton already had his bow in hand and activated the hidden cam in his chest—habit since the last time they dealt with superpowered beings. He never went on a mission without a recorder and locator in his suit.
Loki glared at them… then turned back toward Thor.
"That's it, brother. I see you're making friends among the Midgardians… That's good," said Loki with a smile that masked venom. "Because you won't return to Asgard until the war with the Frost Giants is resolved. And with Father dead… that might take a while."
With that, he vanished like a poisonous whisper, leaving behind a chilling silence.
Thor remained motionless. The words struck his mind like hammer blows.
Odin… dead?
And he wasn't there? He wasn't by his side in his final breath?
Maybe... maybe it was his fault.
The depression wrapped around him again, heavier than before, like an unending storm.
Then Owen spoke, cutting through the atmosphere with his blunt tone.
"Hey, did you seriously believe him?" he asked, looking at him like he was an idiot.
"Why would he lie about that? He's my brother," replied Thor, a faint spark of anger in his eyes.
"Well… it's not like they call him the god of lies and deception for fun," Owen shot back, raising an eyebrow. "Has he never lied to you before or what?"
Thor went silent for a second… and then remembered.
"That's true… Loki's pulled off even worse pranks," he said, both confused and embarrassed. "Like that time he stabbed me when we were kids… or when he made me fall off the castle roof."
"Pranks?" Owen repeated, his expression a mix of disbelief and mockery. "Sure… a stabbing. Hilarious."
Thor didn't know what to say.
"Bah, whatever," Owen muttered, losing interest. Then he turned to Barton. "Seems like my hunch wasn't that far off," he added with a crooked smile.
Barton didn't reply. He just sighed inwardly. He could already feel Fury's fury coming… but let Coulson deal with it.
Thor, still deep in thought, frowned.
"If it's a lie… then what kind of trick is Loki playing now?"
"Good question," said Owen. Something still didn't sit right, something that nagged at him.
He stared at Thor, eyeing his outfit as if suddenly noticing something odd.
"Hey… one thing."
"What?" asked Thor, snapping out of his thoughts.
"Why are you dressed like that? Couldn't you find normal clothes?"
Thor looked down, seeing the battle attire he'd worn since Odin cast him out.
"What do you mean? This is my combat gear. Since I fell, I've been wandering a scorching desert, living off what I could find, drinking water from plants…"
"You didn't meet anyone out there?" asked Owen, frowning deeper.
"No. As soon as I reached the town, I heard talk of Mjolnir… and walked back into the desert," Thor replied naturally.
Flashback – Days earlier…
An improvised fair was taking shape around the mysterious hammer. Competitors of all kinds gathered with hope, ambition, or plain curiosity to try their luck at lifting it.
From a luxurious car lent by Hammer Industries, a young man with an arrogant gaze stepped out slowly. His eyes regarded everyone around him as filth.
"Hmph… stupid apes," he muttered with disdain. "Only a true king is worthy of lifting the hammer and claiming Thor's power. If I can do it, all my plans will accelerate."
His voice oozed arrogance. Then he smirked with scorn.
"Odin probably sent it just to test Thor… but it would be fun to steal it in front of everyone. Not like he can complain or even show up. The Sorcerer Supreme took care of that."
The young man walked toward the hammer, but someone stepped in his way.
"Hey, get in line!" someone yelled angrily.
The young man, unfazed, reached into his jacket and pulled out a pistol.
"Do I really need to queue?" he asked with a smug smile.
People murmured. Some stepped aside, others glared, but no one acted.
"Leave him be, Tom. He's just another idiot. Let him try," said a man, tired of the drama.
"Tsk, whatever," Tom muttered, stepping back.
The young man reached the hammer confidently. He placed both hands on it… and pulled.
Nothing.
He frowned. Pulled again with both arms. Still nothing.
The silence gave way to stifled laughter.
Face red with rage, he adjusted his jacket and stormed off without looking back.
That young man was Brian. He climbed into the car, furious, and sped off toward the town, then set out for New York.
On the way, something caught his attention.
A white van, parked not far off, with antennas on top. He recognized it instantly.
He hit the brakes.
He got out, scanned the area—no Jane Foster or Professor Selvig in sight.
He opened his trunk, grabbed something… and tossed it under the van.
He grinned with malice.
"I can't kill them… plot armor and all," he sneered. "But if Thor never meets his little girlfriend… I wonder how much he'll suffer."
He pressed a button.
The van exploded behind him in a violent fireball.
Brian cackled maniacally.
"HAHAHAHA! Without help, I wonder how much that stupid god will suffer. And Jane Foster… not bad either. Maybe I'll add her to my harem."
With that, he hit the gas and disappeared down the road.