Thor's fingers curled tightly around the handle of Stormbreaker, his knuckles whitening as he stared directly into Luke's eyes.
There was no fear in his gaze, only raw sincerity.
"I really want this axe," Thor said, his voice steady. "Tell me what to do. I don't have any money… but I'm serious about this."
The tension in the room shifted.
Though the Lucky Cat perched beside the counter was a formidable force of fate and fortune, even it couldn't create wealth out of thin air.
After all, as the old saying goes, even the cleverest cook needs ingredients to make a meal.
If the customer had no money, there was simply nothing for the Lucky Cat to attract.
But Luke?
Luke simply smiled.
He hadn't been aiming for Thor's wallet to begin with.
Even if the thunder god somehow managed to borrow 900 billion, Luke would never sell him that axe. Because that wasn't the real goal.
His target… was the hammer currently in Sharon's hand.
Though Mjölnir had now bonded with her, recognizing her as its rightful master, that bond alone wasn't enough, not for what Luke had in mind.
Without Thor's active consent, any transfer of the hammer would still be seen as theft, and robbery against the royal family of Asgard, no less.
Thor was reasonable. You could talk him into things, or, worst case, Wanda and Sharon could beat him into reason.
But Odin?
That was an entirely different story.
Luke did not want to wake up one morning and find the Allfather of Asgard floating outside his window, beard blazing, spear in hand, looking for payback.
He wasn't even sure if his system could handle that level of cosmic crankiness just yet.
And even if he could win… he'd still feel kinda bad. Probably...
Luke's smile faded slightly.
A rare moment of guilt and hesitation played across his face.
He let out a slow, regretful sigh as he patted Thor's shoulder with practiced sympathy.
"Honestly," Luke said, his tone heavy, "I'm not some heartless merchant. We've got a good bond, you and I. I want you to have a weapon that suits you because as my friend you deserve the best."
He looked away, as if struggling with the weight of his next decision.
"So… how about this…" he sighed, "...we do a trade. You give me that unusable hammer… and I'll give you this powerful, handmade Stormbreaker in return."
There was silence.
Thor's face contorted with visible conflict.
He glanced out toward Sharon, who was casually holding Mjölnir like it was just another accessory. The hammer glowed faintly in her hand, completely content with its new master.
"That hammer isn't just mine," Thor muttered, his voice uncertain. "It's the property of Asgard. Trading it away… Father might get furious."
Luke raised a hand to stop him mid-thought.
He turned and plucked something garish from a nearby shelf, a flamboyant, oversized golden-red cape that shimmered like disco ball sequins.
"Well then," Luke said with a solemn nod, "Let me sweeten the deal."
He held the cape out with both hands, reverently, like a priest presenting a sacred relic.
"This… is one of the store's treasures. And because we're friends, I'm throwing it in, free of charge."
He pointed toward a massive price tag pinned to the cape. The number of zeroes stretched across the tag like a long distance phone number to the other side of the universe.
Thor blinked. Then blinked again.
Slowly, the hesitation on his face melted into a look of awe.
"My friend," he said, reaching for the cape with a wide smile, "you truly understand my taste!"
He admired the cape's shine with childlike joy. The bold colors. The absurd extravagance. It screamed Asgardian royal flair.
And from the price tag alone, it had to be powerful. Maybe even enchanted!
Luke swung the cape over Thor's shoulders with a flourish.
The two men grinned at each other, like two con artists pretending not to be.
From the sidelines, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, and Clint Barton stood frozen.
Hill tilted her head. "...Did that just work?"
Fury muttered, "I don't even know what's real anymore."
And just like that, the matter of Thor's hammer was resolved.
But no one left.
Because now Wanda had taken over.
Like a seasoned vendor at a street market, she approached each of the agents, eyes sparkling, voice smooth.
"You're Hawkeye, right?" she said sweetly to Barton. "Your archery is famous. But sweaty palms? That's a real threat to precision. We just got new anti-slip gloves in, high-tech, stylish, and blessed by our Lucky Cat. Want to try a pair?"
"Director Fury!" she turned next, smiling brightly. "You're a loyal customer. And guess what? We've got a whole new line of eye patches with you in mind. Memory-foam interior, stylish outer layer, and even UV protection. Come pick one!"
"And you must be Maria Hill. Sharon talks about you often, but don't worry, no secrets or anything classified. But I think you'd look amazing in our latest jewelry sets. Elegant, discreet… very field-agent chic."
The three agents were powerless under the barrage of charisma and charm.
Moments later, each of them was sifting through shelves, inspecting gloves, rings, and eye patches like tourists in a souvenir shop.
Luke, meanwhile, leaned back into his gaming chair, one leg crossed over the other, lost in quiet thought.
The past two days had been... intense.
But also fruitful.
He'd finally gotten what he wanted, his favourite weapon in the world of Marvel: Mjölnir.
Even if he couldn't use it himself anymore.
He looked toward Sharon. She was stronger now, safer. She had Mjölnir, and the Thunder Physique. A perfect complement to Wanda.
They were both incredibly powerful now.
But what about himself?
The thought hit him, bitter and sharp.
He was the weakest person in the store.
Every battle lately, every moment of danger, he'd been hiding behind the two women who cared for him.
And that, frankly, stung his pride a little.
He wanted to be the one to protect them, not the other way around.
Even for everyday stuff, like picking up Stormbreaker, he had to rely on Wanda.
This just couldn't go on.
But unfortunately, his system only mutated objects around him, it stubbornly refused to do anything to his own body. Almost as if it wanted him to stay weak and dependent.
'Fine,' He thought grimly. 'Then I'll just find my own way to power.'
He sat forward in his chair, brows furrowed.
In the Marvel world, how do people get strong?
The Iron Man suit? Maybe… he could always swindle one out of Tony. But still, it's not wearable 24/7, and without it he would still be a normal person.
The Super Soldier Serum? Average results, the only reason Steve kept playing a role was because of the protagonist halo and plot armor. He felt like it wasn't nearly enough in this absurd universe.
Wakanda's Heart-Shaped Herb? Too hard to get for the current him, and even that had its limits, not really better than the SSS.
And then, like lightning, it struck him.
His eyes lit up.
He shot up from the chair and made a beeline for Fury, who was currently comparing two eyepatches and frowning about which one inspired more respect.
Luke grabbed his arm and pulled him aside.
"Director Fury, quick question," he said, all smiles. "Would you say we're... friends?"
Fury's eye lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.
This was the moment he'd been waiting for, the favor hook.
"Friends?" he said proudly. "Absolutely. You can always count on me."
He practically puffed up his chest. If Luke needed something, then he'd have even more leverage to keep him close to S.H.I.E.L.D.. He was already mentally preparing to bleed a little, as long as it kept this dangerous man close.
Luke grinned wider.
"Great. I've got a small request. Nothing big, right up your alley."
"Just say it," Fury said. "I'll take care of it."
Luke leaned in casually.
"I want you to find someone for me."
Fury nodded, already pulling out his phone.
"Who?"
Luke smiled faintly. "Aldrich Killian. Just a not-so-famous scientist."
…
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