The flight to New Mexico was on a standard SHIELD transport plane, utilitarian and no-frills. Besides me, there were six other people on the mission:
Agent Clint Barton sat near the cockpit, cleaning his bow with methodical precision. I'd heard about him—SHIELD's best marksman, tactical specialist, and apparently someone who preferred arrows to bullets for reasons I didn't fully understand yet.
Dr. Erik Selvig, an astrophysicist, was reviewing data on his laptop with intense focus. Next to him was his assistant, a young woman with dark hair and an energy that seemed barely contained even while sitting still.
"Darcy Lewis," she'd introduced herself earlier, offering a handshake. "PhD student, political science, but apparently I'm qualified to hold Dr. Selvig's equipment and say 'wow' at sciencey things."
"Alex Carter, SHIELD consultant."
"Ooh, fancy. What do you consult about?"
"Crisis management, civilian interface, general 'please don't panic' duties."
"So you're the guy they send in to stop people from freaking out when weird stuff happens?"
"Essentially, yes."
"Cool. I'm the girl who says inappropriate things during weird stuff. We should get along great."
I liked her immediately.
The other three were SHIELD agents—standard security detail, competent but not particularly chatty.
Coulson had briefed me before departure: "The town is Puente Antiguo. Population around five hundred. They've reported unusual cloud formations, strange lights, and something fell from the sky last night. Local authorities called it in, and our satellites confirm significant energy discharge. We're investigating before the Air Force decides to."
Now, two hours into the flight, Barton approached me.
"Carter, right? Coulson's new consultant?"
"That's me."
"Heard about Monaco and the Stark Expo. You've got guts." He settled into the seat across from me, arms crossed. "But guts only get you so far. This mission might get weird. You ready for weird?"
"I've been training for weird."
"Good answer." He studied me with sharp eyes. "Coulson says you're competent in combat. That true?"
"Just finished advanced certification. Top three in my class."
"Top three's not bad. But certification and real situations are different. If something goes sideways, you follow my lead. Clear?"
"Crystal."
"Good. We'll get along fine then." He stood. "We're landing in twenty. Gear up."
═══════════════════════════════════════
NEW CONTACT ESTABLISHED
Clint Barton (Hawkeye)
Affection : 12/100 [Professional Assessment]
Status : Evaluating your competence
Type : SHIELD
Agent - Tactical Lead
Notes:
Protective of his team
Respects competence, dislikes incompetence
Will warm up if you prove capable
Key Avenger, valuable connection
Darcy Lewis
Affection : 18/100 [Friendly First Impression]
Status : Finds you likeable
Type : Civilian Consultant (Science Division)
Notes:
Intelligent despite self-deprecating humor
Observant, good instincts
Potential future connection
Currently just friendly
═══════════════════════════════════════
Puente Antiguo was exactly as I remembered from the movie—small, dusty, the kind of town where nothing much happened until a Norse god fell from the sky.
The impact site was about two miles outside town. Local authorities had cordoned it off, but SHIELD was taking over. Our convoy pulled up to find a crater with something massive at the center.
Mjolnir.
Thor's hammer sat in the crater, looking like an prop from a fantasy movie but radiating an energy my Enhanced Danger Sense picked up immediately. Not dangerous exactly, just... powerful. Ancient. Other.
"What the hell is that?" one of the agents muttered.
"A hammer," Darcy said. "Like, a really fancy hammer. Is that Viking? That looks Viking."
Dr. Selvig was already taking readings. "The energy signature is off the charts. Nothing like this in any database. The material composition is... I can't even identify it."
Barton approached the crater carefully, bow ready despite the seemingly inanimate object. "Carter, with me. Let's check the perimeter."
We circled the crater, looking for any signs of additional threats or anomalies. The ground was scorched in a perfect circle around the impact point, and the air felt charged with static electricity.
"You feel that?" Barton asked.
"Yeah. Like standing near a transformer, but different."
"Different how?"
"More... intentional? Like it's emanating from the hammer itself." I looked at the weapon. "You think someone's going to come looking for this?"
"Definitely. Question is when and what." He scanned the horizon. "We're setting up a perimeter. Research facility around the site, limited access. Coulson's orders are to figure out what this thing is and who it belongs to."
"And if they show up wanting it back?"
"Then we have a conversation. Hopefully diplomatic." He glanced at me. "That's where you come in, Mr. Civilian Interface."
Over the next two days, SHIELD established a temporary research facility around the crater. They brought in equipment, set up security, and began extensive analysis of the hammer.
Nobody could lift it.
Agents tried. Scientists tried. They brought in machinery, cranes, and vehicles. Nothing budged it even slightly. It sat there, immovable, as if welded to the planet's core.
"It's not a question of weight," Dr. Selvig muttered, reviewing data. "It's something else. Some kind of... security mechanism? A lock?"
"Or magic," Darcy suggested.
"Magic isn't real," Selvig said automatically.
"Then explain the hammer nobody can move that fell from the sky with weird energy signatures."
He had no response to that.
I kept my distance from Mjolnir itself, watching, waiting. Thor would arrive soon—probably tonight or tomorrow. He'd try to reclaim his hammer, fail (because he was still unworthy), and then things would get complicated with the Destroyer showing up.
That evening, the town was buzzing with activity. Word had spread about the hammer, and locals were curious despite SHIELD's attempts at secrecy. The diner in town—run by a woman I recognized as Jane Foster—was packed with agents, scientists, and curious locals.
I sat at the counter, ordering coffee and pie, trying to look like just another government employee rather than someone waiting for a god to show up.
"You're with the hammer people," a voice said beside me.
I turned to find a woman in her late twenties, dark hair, intelligent eyes, and an intensity that screamed "scientist on a mission." Jane Foster, if my recognition was correct.
"Consultant with the team investigating the anomaly, yes."
"Jane Foster. Astrophysicist. That's my research they're confiscating." She didn't sound happy about it.
"Alex Carter. And I'm sorry about your research. Government overreach is unfortunately common."
"Do you have any idea what you people are interfering with? Years of work tracking atmospheric anomalies, and the one time something actually happens, you swoop in and take over!"
"I understand the frustration—"
"Do you? Because I don't think you do. That hammer, the energy readings, the way it appeared—it matches my research perfectly. Einstein-Rosen bridges, theoretical wormholes. This could be proof of extraterrestrial contact or dimensional travel, and instead of scientific investigation, it's being treated like a military threat!"
She was working herself up, attracting attention. I activated Smooth Talker and Emotional Support, trying to de-escalate.
"Dr. Foster, you're right. This is potentially one of the most significant discoveries in human history. And I know having it taken out of your hands feels wrong." I kept my voice calm, reasonable. "But there's also a security concern. We don't know what came through that wormhole besides the hammer. There could be more. Could be dangerous. SHIELD's protocol is to secure first, investigate second, and then—hopefully—bring in experts like you for the actual analysis."
"Hopefully?" She laughed bitterly. "They're going to classify everything and bury it in some warehouse."
"Maybe. Or maybe someone like me advocates for proper scientific consultation." I met her eyes. "I can't promise anything, but I can try to get you access to the data. Provided you're willing to work within their security framework."
She studied me suspiciously. "Why would you help me?"
"Because you're right. This is too important to be locked away. And because I believe in science over bureaucracy when possible." I pulled out my SHIELD card. "Alex Carter, Level 3 Consultant. I have some pull. Not a lot, but some. If you're willing to play nice with SHIELD, I'll advocate for your involvement."
═══════════════════════════════════════
[Smooth Talker - Active]
[Emotional Support - Active]
CP Cost: -25
Jane Foster - Situation Analysis:
Current Emotion: Angry, frustrated, feeling powerless Needs: Recognition, involvement, respect for expertise Approach: Acknowledge feelings, offer practical solution, establish credibility
Success Probability: 78%
═══════════════════════════════════════
Jane considered for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll work with SHIELD. But I want full access to the data, and I want my name on any publications that come from this research."
"I'll make sure Coulson knows. That's the mission leader—Agent Phil Coulson. He's reasonable, and he values scientific expertise."
"Then I guess we have a deal." She offered her hand. "Thank you, Mr. Carter. For actually listening."
"Just doing my job."
After she left, Darcy appeared at my elbow. "Smooth. You totally just made Jane less likely to do something dramatic and stupid."
"That's the goal."
"You're good at this. The whole 'calm people down' thing." She stole a fry from my plate. "Also, heads up—there's a guy asking around town about the hammer. Big, blonde, looks like he walked out of a Renaissance fair. Might want to check that out."
My danger sense pinged. Thor was here.
"Thanks for the tip. Where?"
"Local bar, last I heard. Good luck!"
I texted Barton: Possible person of interest asking about hammer. Investigating.
His response was immediate: Do NOT engage alone. Observe and report.
Right. Because approaching an angry, depowered Norse god alone would be stupid.
I headed to the bar anyway, but carefully, staying back, just observing.
Thor was hard to miss—six feet plus of muscle, long blonde hair, wearing clothes that looked borrowed and ill-fitting, and radiating barely contained intensity. He was talking to locals, asking about "the satellite that fell from the sky."
"It's about fifty miles west of here," someone told him. "Government's got it locked down tight though. Nobody's getting near it."
"I will reclaim what is mine," Thor said with absolute certainty.
The accent, the bearing, the sheer conviction—this was definitely Thor, pre-humility lessons.
I stayed back, just watching. He was planning something. Probably going to try to infiltrate the SHIELD facility tonight and take back Mjolnir.
My phone buzzed. Barton: Carter, status?
Confirmed. Large male, late twenties, asking about hammer. Appears very determined. Suspect he'll attempt facility access tonight.
Copy. Return to base. We'll increase security and prepare for possible intrusion.
I took one last look at Thor—who was now arm-wrestling someone for information, naturally—and headed back to the SHIELD facility.
Coulson was waiting when I arrived. "You saw him?"
"Big blonde guy, thinks he owns the hammer, definitely planning to get it back. My money's on him trying tonight."
"Mine too." Coulson looked at the facility perimeter. "We'll be ready. Non-lethal response only—I want him alive and able to answer questions. Barton's coordinating security. You stay in the command center with Selvig and observe."
"Understood."
That night, I watched from the security feeds as Thor infiltrated the facility. He was good—took out multiple trained agents with hand-to-hand combat despite having no powers. The man knew how to fight, even powerless.
He reached the crater, approached Mjolnir, grabbed the handle, and pulled.
Nothing.
He tried again. And again. Desperation replacing confidence, then anguish as he realized the truth—he couldn't lift it anymore. He wasn't worthy.
The scene was painful to watch. A warrior king reduced to a powerless man, kneeling in the mud, having lost everything.
"Should we extract him?" an agent asked.
"Yes," Coulson said quietly. "But carefully. He's not a threat right now. He's just... broken."
They brought Thor in, restrained but unharmed, and put him in a holding cell. I watched as Coulson prepared to interrogate him.
"Want me in there?" I asked. "Emotional state assessment, civilian approach?"
Coulson considered. "No. Not yet. Let me try first. But stay close. If he's willing to talk, your skills might be useful."
The interrogation didn't go well. Thor was in denial, grief-stricken, insisting he was the son of Odin, prince of Asgard, here to reclaim his birthright. To anyone who didn't know the truth, he sounded completely insane.
Coulson was professional, patient, but getting nowhere.
"He's shutting down," I observed from outside. "Grief response. He's lost his identity, his power, everything that defined him. Standard interrogation won't work."
"What would you suggest?"
"Let him rest. Then send in someone non-threatening. Not an interrogator, just someone who'll listen. Sometimes people need to be heard more than questioned."
Coulson nodded slowly. "You're volunteering?"
"If you think it'll help."
"Let's give him a few hours. Then you can try."
Early morning, I entered Thor's cell. He was sitting on the bench, unchained now, staring at nothing. He looked utterly defeated.
"Hi," I said, sitting down casually across from him. "I'm Alex. Mind if we talk?"
"What does it matter?" His voice was hollow. "Talk or don't talk. I am nothing now."
"You're someone who tried very hard to get that hammer back. That's not nothing."
"I am—" he stopped, pain flashing across his face. "I was the son of Odin. Prince of Asgard. Wielder of Mjolnir. Worthy of that power. And now... now I am just a man. Mortal. Powerless. Cast out."
I activated Emotional Support, reading his state. Grief, identity crisis, confusion, but underneath—still that core of who he was. The man who would become the hero, he just didn't know it yet.
"Being 'just a man' doesn't make you nothing," I said quietly. "Some of the best people I know are 'just' human. No powers, no magic hammers. Just people trying to do good with what they have."
"You do not understand—"
"You're right, I don't understand everything. But I understand loss. Understand feeling like you're not who you thought you were." I leaned forward. "The question isn't who you were. It's who you're going to be now."
He looked at me for the first time, really looked. "Why do you care?"
"Because I think you're more than a hammer. More than power. And maybe the person who took that power away knows that too. Maybe that's the point."
He was quiet for a long moment. "My father... Odin... he cast me out. Said I was unworthy. I do not know how to be worthy again."
"Maybe that's something you figure out by being here. By being human for a while. Learning what that means."
"And the hammer?"
"Will be there when you're ready for it. If you're meant to lift it again, you will." I stood. "We're not your enemies, Thor. We're just trying to understand what's happening. If you're willing to talk—really talk, not interrogation stuff—maybe we can help each other."
He looked at me, something shifting in his expression. Not hope exactly, but less despair.
"I will consider your words... Alex."
"That's all I ask."
═══════════════════════════════════════
RELATIONSHIP ESTABLISHED
Thor Odinson
Affection : 22/100 [Cautious Respect]
Status : Lost, grieving, but listening
Type : Depowered Asgardian Prince
Notes:
First person to treat him as more than prisoner or crazy person
Responded to respect and genuine concern
Seeds planted for future relationship
He's starting to question his understanding of worthiness
Achievement: First contact with Asgardian
═══════════════════════════════════════
I left the cell and found Coulson waiting with Barton.
"Well?" Coulson asked.
"He's genuine. Believes everything he says. Whether it's true or psychosis, I can't say. But he's not hostile now. Just... grieving. I'd recommend releasing him."
"Release him?" Barton looked skeptical. "He took out a dozen agents."
"Unarmed agents who were trying to restrain him. He didn't kill anyone, didn't use excessive force. He was just trying to get to the hammer." I met Coulson's eyes. "He can't lift it anyway. He's not a threat. And keeping him imprisoned will just make him hostile. Let him go, keep surveillance on him. See what happens."
Coulson considered, then nodded. "Alright. We'll release him. But Carter, you're on observation duty. Stay in town, keep eyes on him, report anything unusual."
"Understood."
"And Carter?" Coulson almost smiled. "Good work. You got further with him in twenty minutes than I did in two hours."
"Sometimes people just need someone to listen."