Lucas thought about Captain America.
Based on his understanding, Steve Rogers was definitely not perfect. He was a relic from seventy years ago, often stubborn in his thinking, and sometimes selfish in his own way.
But a few flaws couldn't overshadow his brilliance.
Sure, maybe he didn't know he could jump out of a plane without a parachute in the beginning. But he was willing to dive on a grenade to save his squad, or crash a plane into the ice to save millions. In that sense, he was just like Tony Stark.
Tony had a mountain of issues—ego, alcoholism, reckless behavior. But when it mattered most, he was willing to carry a nuke into a wormhole. He turned his life around and walked the path of a hero until the very end.
The reason public opinion on Cap was so polarized was that people put him on a pedestal. They treated him like a saint, a robot without emotions or needs.
So when he showed a crack in the armor—when he made a selfish choice or kept a secret—people couldn't handle it. They called him a hypocrite.
The world was funny like that.
A villain like Loki could do evil things his whole life, but if he did one good deed at the end, he was "redeemed." The Prodigal Son returns. Everyone claps.
But a hero like Cap could do good his whole life, and if he made one mistake, all his past sacrifices were erased. He was cancelled.
Lucas knew he was just an ordinary guy. He didn't have high moral standards for others. In his eyes, Steve Rogers was selfless enough—certainly more selfless than Lucas himself.
If you asked Lucas to sacrifice his life for strangers? He'd hesitate. He'd probably refuse. The most he could promise was to do what he could within his means, to live with a clear conscience.
That was the difference between a "Superhero" like Cap, Thor, or Iron Man, and a "Street Hero" like Lucas. They had that noble spark. He just had common sense.
That spark was exactly what Mjolnir recognized. That was why Cap could lift the hammer and even use it to briefly overpower Thanos.
That was Lucas's take on the "Admin Privileges." As for why Black Widow could lift it in some comic runs? Lucas didn't know the full details. He could only guess.
Based on that logic, Lucas was ninety percent sure he couldn't lift Mjolnir. He wasn't selfless enough.
But that didn't stop him from wanting to try. It was a legendary artifact, after all. Who wouldn't want to touch it?
Of course, to the real heavy hitters of the universe, Mjolnir was just a tool. Odin used it in his youth, then passed it down like a hand-me-down toy. Hela crushed it like a styrofoam cup. They didn't need it.
Only Thor—or rather, the current God of Hammers—relied on it so heavily.
As long as Thor believed his power came from the hammer and not his own bloodline, he would never truly be the God of Thunder. He'd just be a guy with a really nice weapon.
Rumble.
Suddenly, the sky above the town darkened. Clouds swirled into a supernatural vortex, boiling with terrifying energy.
"The Destroyer is here?" Lucas narrowed his eyes, shielding them from the sudden wind.
Right on schedule.
Loki was making his move to kill Thor.
The Thor franchise really was just a bloody family soap opera. You kill me, I kill you, you love me, I love you. Rinse and repeat.
Especially Loki, the "Third Princess of Asgard." He was such a tsundere. Deep down, he desperately wanted Odin's approval. He wanted to belong.
He'd eventually die trying to save Thor from Thanos, sacrificing himself for the glory of Asgard.
But right now? He was trying to murder his brother without a shred of hesitation.
The sheer brutality of it was hard to reconcile with the "redemption arc" Loki they'd see later. Maybe that's what they call character growth.
Outside the town, a massive beam of rainbow light tore through the sky, slamming into the desert floor. The shockwave rattled windows miles away.
"It's here!"
Inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, Fury and his team felt the ground shake.
They rushed outside.
"Hold your fire! Do not engage!" Fury barked orders immediately.
He knew what was coming. The Destroyer.
Lucas's diary had made it clear: this thing was indestructible. Bullets would bounce off. Missiles would tickle it. It had no weak points exploitable by conventional weapons.
Except for Thor, no one here stood a chance.
Attacking it would just be suicide.
"Let Thor handle it. It's his fight," Fury muttered, though his hand hovered over his sidearm.
In the distance, a towering metal giant walked out of the dust cloud. It moved like a machine, heavy and unstoppable, kicking up a sandstorm with every step.
Fury watched it approach the base, his expression grim.
It was terrifying on video. In person, it was a nightmare.
The sheer scale of it, the aura of oppression it radiated—it was on a completely different level than anything he'd seen before.
It was easy to see why this was Asgard's ultimate weapon. A walking apocalypse.
"I wonder if a nuke could stop it," Fury thought, narrowing his single eye.
If it were a technological weapon, he'd bet on a nuke. Physics usually won.
But magic? Magic cheated.
He couldn't guarantee a nuclear strike would work. And if it didn't, he'd just have an angry, radioactive Destroyer to deal with.
Humanity had plenty of big guns. But against a civilization like Asgard—one that could travel between stars and build weapons like this—Earth's arsenal felt like sticks and stones.
"The ability to leave your home planet is the benchmark of a mature civilization," Fury mused.
Alien gods were landing in his backyard.
When would humanity finally be ready to leave the cradle?