Chapter 7: The First MCU Jump: New Mexico and a Mjolnir Moment
[SYSTEM MESSAGE: CURRENT TP: 200. SKILL: ENHANCED SUPER-SPEED (50-100 MPH), LIGHTNING CONTROL (MINOR). INVENTORY: MARK II BOOT REPULSOR (PROTOTYPE), BOX OF INTERDIMENSIONAL DONUTS (EMPTY).]
The desert air of New Mexico hit me like a dry, dusty fist the moment I stepped through the portal. It was a stark contrast to the humid, salty breeze of National City. The sun beat down relentlessly, baking the red earth and the sparse, scrubby vegetation. Above, the sky was an impossibly vast, clear blue, stretching out to an endless horizon. This was it. My first deliberate jump to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. No turning back now. This wasn't just a casual hop across Arrowverse Earths; this was a complete paradigm shift. A new set of rules, new powers, and a whole new level of "don't screw this up."
"Okay, Adam, remember the mission. Thor. Exiled. Worthy. And probably really, really hungry. My meta-knowledge tells me he's somewhere around Puente Antiguo. And SHIELD is crawling all over the place, like ants at a picnic, only the picnic is a divine weapon and the ants have guns. Stealth is key. And by stealth, I mean 'don't accidentally portal into a SHIELD black ops meeting and get tranquilized and then spend the rest of my life in a super-max prison designed for cosmic weirdos.' That would put a real damper on the whole 'saving the multiverse' thing."
My Enhanced Super-Speed was a godsend. I moved with a newfound fluidity, covering ground quickly and silently, my footsteps barely disturbing the loose gravel. I kept to the shadows of the scattered mesas and rock formations, my senses heightened, scanning for any signs of human (or Asgardian) activity. The dry wind whispered past my ears, carrying the faint scent of exhaust fumes and distant construction. It didn't take long. A small, dusty town appeared in the distance, a cluster of buildings baking under the relentless sun. And then, the tell-tale signs of a large, government-sanctioned excavation site. SHIELD. Definitely SHIELD. The perimeter was alive with activity: jeeps, tents, floodlights, and a steady stream of agents moving with purposeful urgency. It was a highly organized chaos, a stark reminder of the clandestine power structure of this universe.
I found a vantage point on a rocky outcrop, overlooking the site. There it was. Mjolnir. Embedded in the crater, radiating a subtle, almost palpable, aura of power. It looked exactly as it did on screen, a mythical artifact brought to life, a testament to otherworldly might. It was surrounded by a perimeter of agents, scientists, and what looked like a very confused local sheriff, probably wondering how his small town became the epicenter of an extraterrestrial incident. And there, pacing agitatedly outside the perimeter, was Thor Odinson himself. He looked exactly as I remembered: broad-shouldered, long blond hair slightly disheveled, and a face etched with frustration and a profound sense of loss. He was trying to get past the agents, clearly desperate to reclaim his hammer, but his powers were gone. He was just a man. A very strong, very angry man, wearing mismatched Earth clothes that looked several sizes too small.
"Poor guy. Losing your hammer and your powers? That's like losing your car keys and your dignity all at once. Been there, buddy. Well, not with the hammer, but definitely the dignity. And the car keys, on multiple occasions. He looks utterly miserable. Perfect. Time for me to be the weirdest ray of sunshine he's ever encountered."
I watched for a while, observing the dynamics. Jane Foster, brilliant and exasperated, trying to reason with Agent Coulson, her passion for science clashing with his unwavering adherence to protocol. Erik Selvig, looking bewildered but supportive, a calming presence amidst the escalating tension. And Thor, constantly testing the perimeter, his frustration growing with every failed attempt, a primal roar sometimes escaping his lips as he was rebuffed by mere mortals. This was the perfect window. He was isolated, vulnerable, and clearly in need of… something. Something that wasn't a lecture from a SHIELD agent or another fruitless argument about particle physics. He needed comfort. And he needed a hint of the extraordinary that might just spark his hope.
My TP balance was at 200. Not a fortune, but enough for a strategic purchase from the System Market. I brought up the holographic display, navigating to "Consumables." I found what I needed, exactly as planned: a "Six-Pack of Premium Earth Beer (Assorted Brands)" for 30 TP and a "Family Pack of Pop-Tarts (Strawberry & Brown Sugar Cinnamon)" for 20 TP. Fifty TP total. A small price to pay for a first trade with a literal god. The beer was listed as "premium," guaranteeing it wouldn't be some cheap swill. The Pop-Tarts were a classic, universally beloved (or at least, widely recognized) comfort food. This wasn't just about the items; it was about the gesture.
"Okay, Adam, this is it. First MCU contact. Don't fanboy. Don't quote the movies. Don't ask for an autograph. Just be the mysterious, slightly quirky stranger who happens to have exactly what a disempowered Asgardian needs. And maybe a little wisdom, if he's open to it. And try not to look too impressed by the fact that you're literally standing in the middle of a movie scene."
I waited until dusk, when the SHIELD presence thinned slightly, their shifts changing, the desert growing cooler. Thor had retreated to a more secluded spot, sitting alone on a large, flat rock, staring at the distant crater with a look of profound despair, his shoulders slumped. The light of the setting sun cast long, lonely shadows. It was the perfect moment.
I opened a small, almost imperceptible portal behind a large boulder, stepping through silently. My enhanced speed allowed me to move without a sound, my footsteps muffled by the soft sand, approaching Thor from behind. The air still carried the faint scent of dust and desert sage.
"Rough day?" I asked, my voice calm, but with a hint of genuine empathy. I made sure to sound conversational, almost like a fellow traveler who just happened upon him.
Thor startled, spinning around with surprising speed for a mortal, his fists clenched, ready for a fight. His eyes, usually radiating power, were narrowed in suspicion, scanning me up and down. He clearly hadn't heard me approach. "Who are you? How did you get here?" he demanded, his voice a low growl, filled with the frustration he was barely containing.
I raised my hands in a placating gesture, holding out the six-pack of beer and the box of Pop-Tarts. "Relax, big guy. No threats here. Just a traveler. And I've seen that look before. The 'my entire life just got turned upside down and all I want is a decent meal and maybe a hug from my mom' look. Though, I figured beer and Pop-Tarts might be a good start. Far more effective than brooding in the desert, I find."
Thor stared at the offerings, his brow furrowed in confusion. He clearly didn't recognize the items, but his gaze lingered on the vibrant colors of the Pop-Tarts box. "What... what are these?" he asked, his voice still wary, but with a hint of curiosity.
"These, my friend, are the nectar of the gods," I said, a slight grin playing on my lips. "Or at least, the nectar of Earth. This, the golden liquid, is beer. It helps you forget your troubles, temporarily. And these," I held up the Pop-Tarts, emphasizing the colorful packaging, "are Pop-Tarts. They're like tiny, rectangular slices of pure joy, best served toasted, but still pretty great cold. Trust me on this. They've saved many a mortal from the depths of existential despair."
He took them, cautiously, his large hands dwarfing the packages, his calloused fingers brushing against the cardboard. He sniffed the beer, then the Pop-Tarts, a faint scent of berries and sugary glaze reaching his nose. He uncapped a bottle of beer, took a long swig, and his eyes widened. "This… this is good. Strong. It burns, yet it invigorates!"
"Told ya," I said, tearing open a Pop-Tart for myself, demonstratively taking a bite. "Now, about that 'gesture of goodwill.' I'm a bit of a collector of unique experiences. And I happen to know you have something very unique. Something you can't seem to get to right now." I gestured vaguely towards the distant crater where Mjolnir lay, a subtle, almost imperceptible nod.
Thor's gaze hardened, his attention snapping back to the hammer. "My hammer. It is beyond your reach, mortal. And beyond mine, it seems. By my father's decree." There was a deep, underlying pain in his voice, a raw vulnerability that few ever saw.
"Oh, I know," I said, taking another bite of my Pop-Tart, chewing thoughtfully. "Believe me, I've tried. In my dreams, anyway. And in several very vivid fanfictions. But I'm not here to steal it, or even to lift it. I just… I'd like to touch it. Just for a moment. As a… a unique experience. A connection to something truly legendary. In exchange for the beer and Pop-Tarts. Call it a very unconventional trade. A cosmic barter, if you will."
He stared at me, then at the beer in his hand, then at the Pop-Tart. His mind, clearly, was struggling to comprehend the absurdity of the situation. A stranger, appearing out of nowhere, offering him comfort food, and asking to touch his unliftable hammer. It was so utterly bizarre, so unexpected, that it almost had to be genuine. It bypassed all his usual warrior instincts and suspicion.
"You wish only to... touch it?" he finally managed, his voice laced with a mixture of amusement and genuine confusion. "No power? No glory? Simply to... touch it?"
"That's it," I confirmed, finishing my Pop-Tart and licking the sugar from my fingers. "No strings attached. No hidden agendas. No obscure prophecies about a chosen one. Just a simple exchange. Comfort for a curiosity. What do you say, Thor Odinson? Deal?"
He considered me for a long moment, then a slow, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. It was the first genuine smile I'd seen on his face since his banishment, a flicker of his old, boisterous self. "You are... a strange mortal, traveler. Perhaps the strangest I have met on this realm. But you offer good drink. Very well. A deal." He stood up, towering over me even in his diminished state.
I followed him, keeping a respectful distance, as he approached the SHIELD perimeter. He spoke briefly with a few agents, his commanding presence, even without his powers, seeming to override their standard protocols. They were wary, but they let him pass, granting him a small window to approach the crater.
We reached the edge of the crater. Mjolnir lay there, gleaming faintly in the moonlight, its iconic shape silhouetted against the night sky. Thor stood beside it, then gestured for me to approach, a hint of his ancient nobility returning.
"Go on, mortal," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Touch the mighty Mjolnir. And know that you are the first to do so since my father cast me out. Take care, for its power is great, even in its slumber."
I approached the hammer, my heart thumping with a mix of awe and anticipation. This was it. The legendary Mjolnir. A weapon of gods, an icon of an entire cinematic universe. I reached out, my fingers brushing against the cool, smooth metal of the handle. It felt… solid. Immovable. And absolutely, positively, unliftable. There was a faint hum, a resonance that vibrated through my fingertips, but it was purely passive. I tried to apply a tiny bit of pressure, just to see if even a fraction of its weight would shift. Nothing. It might as well have been fused to the Earth's core. My adaptable body felt no strain, no feedback, just the undeniable reality of its unyielding nature.
[SYSTEM MESSAGE: FIRST TRADE INITIATED! CHARACTER: THOR ODINSON. ITEM OFFERED: SIX-PACK OF PREMIUM EARTH BEER, FAMILY PACK OF POP-TARTS. ITEM REQUESTED: TOUCHING MJOLNIR.]
[SYSTEM MESSAGE: TRADE ACCEPTED! TP EARNED: 200.]
[SYSTEM MESSAGE: SKILL ACQUIRED: LIGHTNING CONTROL (MINOR). A nascent ability to generate small electrical discharges and manipulate minor ambient electrical currents. Requires focus and external energy sources for significant effects. Can be upgraded with TP or through further trades.]
A familiar hum, a surge of energy, but this time, it felt like a distinct crackle, a faint static electricity running through my veins, making the tiny hairs on my arms stand on end. It wasn't painful, or overwhelming, just a new, distinct sensation. Not enough to summon a storm, but definitely enough to make my hair stand on end. Or perhaps, to charge my phone in an emergency. Or maybe jump-start a car. Practical. I liked practical.
I pulled my hand away from Mjolnir, a genuine grin on my face. "Well, that was... electrifying," I quipped, trying to sound casual despite the internal surge of power and the immense satisfaction. "Definitely a unique experience. Thanks, Thor. You're a true gentleman. And a scholar. Of Pop-Tarts. I have a feeling your luck is about to turn around, by the way. Keep an eye on the sky. And your friends."
Thor actually chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to shake the very desert air. He took another swig of beer. "You are welcome, strange traveler. May your journeys be as... interesting as your tastes. And your prophecies. You speak with a strange wisdom."
I nodded, then, with a subtle glance around to ensure no SHIELD agents were looking, I opened a small portal behind me and stepped through, disappearing as quickly as I had arrived, leaving barely a ripple in the desert air. I left Thor standing there, a half-eaten Pop-Tart in one hand, a beer in the other, staring at the spot where I had vanished, a look of profound bewilderment slowly spreading across his face. The last thing I heard before the portal closed was him muttering, "Pop-Tarts... a most intriguing Midgardian delicacy."
"Okay, Adam. First MCU trade: success! I've got Lightning Control, more TP, and a new friend who probably thinks I'm a magical snack delivery service. This is going to be easier than I thought. Or, you know, much, much harder. Probably both. But at least I got to touch Mjolnir. That's a story for the grandkids. If I ever have any. And if they believe me."
Back in my National City apartment, I checked my new skill. Lightning Control (Minor). It was a start. Not quite summoning thunderbolts, but enough to, say, charge my phone in an emergency. Or maybe jump-start a car. Practical. I liked practical. The subtle hum of electrical energy felt almost natural, a new layer to my adaptable physiology.
My TP was now at 400. Time to start thinking about my next big play. And I knew exactly who it needed to be. The armored genius. The man who would eventually build Ultron and try to save the world with a snap. Tony Stark. This was going to be fun. And probably involve a lot more sarcasm. And hopefully, less desert.