"Captain America lifted Thor's hammer?"
In the shadows at the edge of the facility, Ben ghostly form emerged partway from the ground, his head and shoulders materializing as he observed the incredible scene. Even in his Ghostfreak form, he couldn't hide his fascination with what he was witnessing.
Ben had seen this moment coming, though that didn't make it any less remarkable to watch. He'd always known Steve was worthy—had been from the very beginning. There was something about the man's character, his unwavering moral compass, that made him a natural candidate for Mjolnir's enchantment.
The mechanics of Thor's hammer were absolute: either you could lift it, or you couldn't. There was no middle ground, no partial worthiness. Ben remembered from his knowledge of future events that in another timeline, Steve had actually been able to lift Mjolnir during a party, but had pretended otherwise to spare Thor's feelings. Their friendship had made Steve choose discretion over demonstration.
But right now, there was no friendship between Steve Rogers and Thor Odinson. Just a stunned god watching a mortal wield his most treasured possession.
Far away in Asgard, the All-Father was not experiencing any particular emotional turmoil about the situation. Loki's machinations had forced Odin into the Odinsleep earlier than planned, leaving him in a state between consciousness and rest. Even so, his awareness extended far beyond the golden halls of his palace.
In ages past, seeing a mortal lay hands on one of Asgard's greatest treasures would have sent him into a rage that could shake the Nine Realms. But now? Now he felt something closer to... satisfaction.
After all, he had been the one to place the enchantment on Mjolnir. The spell would not lie or make mistakes. If this mortal could lift the hammer, then the mortal was worthy—and perhaps that would teach Thor a lesson he desperately needed to learn.
Of course, Odin had no intention of allowing a Midgardian to permanently claim an Asgardian artifact. He would find a compromise solution when the time was right. But for now, this development might be exactly what his stubborn eldest son needed to experience.
There was another observer, however, who was far less pleased with this turn of events.
Loki sat upon the throne that had once belonged to his father, his lean frame draped across the ornate seat with calculated casualness. The horned helmet on his head caught the dim light filtering through the great hall, its pointed crown-like appearance a mockery of the authority he'd seized through deception.
From the moment of Thor's exile, Loki had been monitoring his brother's every move. Watching Thor suffer and struggle had brought him a deep, vindictive satisfaction—payment for a lifetime of living in the golden prince's shadow.
But this? This was intolerable.
A mortal lifting Mjolnir wasn't just an insult to Thor—it was a direct challenge to Loki's own ambitions. Odin's enchantment had essentially declared that whoever could lift the hammer possessed the qualities of a king. The worthiness to rule Asgard.
Loki needed that recognition. Craved it. He had to prove that he was the rightful heir, not some pathetic mortal from a backwater realm.
His grip tightened on Gungnir, Odin's spear, as murderous intent filled his thoughts. The weapon's ornate head gleamed with barely contained power.
"I am the King of Asgard!" he declared to the empty hall, striking the base of the Eternal Spear against the floor. The sound echoed through the vast chamber like a thunderclap, but there was no one left to hear his proclamation.
The mortal would have to die. Immediately.
Back on Midgard, Thor stared at the scene before him with the expression of a man watching his entire world collapse.
"How can this be..." he whispered, his voice barely audible.
The devastation was complete. First his godly power, then his exile, and now even Mjolnir had abandoned him. He was truly nothing—less than nothing.
Coulson, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with excitement.
"Captain! I knew you could do it!" The agent's professional composure cracked entirely, revealing the fanboy underneath. "I mean, if Thor's hammer really chooses people based on worthiness, who else on Earth would qualify besides you?"
As he spoke, Coulson was already reaching for his communication device to relay this development to Director Fury. The implications were staggering—if they could study the hammer, understand its power source...
"Captain, how do you feel?" Coulson asked eagerly.
Steve stood silently for a moment, then opened his free hand. Instantly, blue electrical arcs danced between his fingers, crackling with godly energy.
"I feel like I can control all the lightning," Steve said slowly, his brow furrowed in concentration.
The power flowing through him was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. It reminded him of that first moment after emerging from the super-soldier treatment—the sudden awareness of strength and capability far beyond normal human limits. But this was something else entirely. This was godly power, ancient and vast, coursing through every fiber of his being.
If he'd possessed this kind of strength fighting Dr. Animo and his mutant animals in Manhattan, those creatures wouldn't have stood a chance.
But as he reveled in the newfound power, his gaze fell on Thor.
The Asgardian prince had slumped against the nearest wall and slid down to sit on the ground, his golden hair falling around his face like a curtain of defeat. Every line of his body spoke of complete despair.
"How could this happen..." Thor called out to his hammer, but Mjolnir remained silent and still in Steve's grasp.
It was over. He had lost everything—his throne, his power, and now even his most treasured companion had chosen another. Thor knew with bitter certainty that he could never reclaim Mjolnir now. As a powerless mortal, how could he possibly challenge someone who wielded the very strength that had once been his?
But then, to Thor's amazement, Steve carefully placed the hammer back in its original position.
"It seems what you said is true," Captain America said, his voice heavy with complexity.
The moment Steve had truly lifted Mjolnir, he'd felt the absolute certainty of its judgment. The hammer didn't make mistakes. If it had accepted him, then everything Thor had claimed was real—the gods, the other realms, all of it.
But for Steve, that certainty came with a heavy burden of self-doubt. Was he really worthy of such power? Worthy of being chosen?
Seventy years had passed since his supposed death, and in awakening to this new world, Steve had been forced to confront uncomfortable truths. The propaganda stories about his war service had painted him as a perfect hero, but he knew better. He'd made mistakes, compromised his ideals, failed people who counted on him.
And his country—the America he'd fought and died for—had done things in the intervening decades that made him question everything he'd once believed in.
Was he truly worthy? The question gnawed at him.
Coulson watched Steve release the hammer and felt a spike of panic.
"Captain," he said quickly, positioning himself between Steve and Thor. "We can't prove that what he's saying is true. Even if it is, we need to consider whether it would be dangerous for Earth if he regains his power."
Coulson's words carried weight. Thor had made no secret of his disdain for humanity, referring to Earth as Asgard's territory and its people as subjects. What would happen if this arrogant prince regained godlike power? Would he respect Earth's sovereignty, or would he try to enforce some kind of cosmic feudalism?
Steve understood the logic, but he couldn't bring himself to steal another man's property—even if that man was an otherworldly prince with questionable attitudes toward human rights.
The truth was, Steve had been struggling with moral questions ever since learning about America's actions in recent decades. The wars, the interventions, the compromises made in the name of national security. It was difficult to find anyone he could discuss these doubts with, so he'd kept them buried deep inside.
He sighed heavily, his internal conflict playing out across his features.
That's when the attack came.
The space behind Steve began to ripple and distort without anyone noticing. Reality itself seemed to bend, and then a tall, lean figure stepped through the dimensional rift.
Loki had abandoned his royal Asgardian attire for a more subtle approach—a well-tailored suit and long coat that would let him blend in among Midgardians. But the silver dagger in his hand gleamed with otherworldly sharpness as he drove it toward Captain America's back.
The blade bit deep into Steve's lower back, just above his kidney. He let out a sharp cry of pain and surprise, his enhanced reflexes kicking in immediately. Gritting his teeth against the agony, he spun around and swung his shield in a devastating backhand strike.
But the shield cut through empty air.
Loki had already twisted away like smoke, his form becoming insubstantial for just long enough to avoid the counterattack. The bloody dagger gleamed as he pulled it free, and then he vanished entirely from where he'd been standing.
A moment later, Loki reappeared on top of the highest structure in the facility, looking down at them with cold satisfaction.
When Thor saw his brother, tears of joy streamed down his face. Through all his despair, hope suddenly blazed to life in his chest.
"I knew you wouldn't abandon me!" Thor called out, his voice cracking with emotion.
The relief was overwhelming. After everything that had happened—the exile, the loss of his power, the humiliation of seeing a mortal lift his hammer—at least he still had Loki. His brother had crossed the vast distance between realms to rescue him.
But even in his gratitude, Thor felt compelled to object to his brother's methods.
"Loki, I know you want to save me, but you shouldn't have hurt this mortal!" Thor waved his hands frantically, shouting up at his brother. "Midgardians are too fragile for such attacks!"
Loki glanced down at Thor with barely concealed contempt and said nothing. His brother's naive concern for their enemies was exactly the kind of weakness that had led to this situation in the first place.
Hidden in the shadows, Ben watched the drama unfold with keen interest. His ghostly form remained perfectly concealed as he observed the unfolding confrontation.
This was his chance—the opportunity he'd been waiting for. With both Asgardian and Frost Giant genetics potentially within reach, Ben knew he had to act carefully. The genetic samples he could obtain here might prove invaluable for future transformations.
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