Chapter 33: The Weight of Mortality
Chapter 33: The Weight of Mortality
June 2, 2010 – Puente Antiguo, New Mexico
The desert wind whispered across the open roads, carrying the scent of dry earth and the lingering energy of the cosmic event that had shaken the land just the night before. The quiet town of Puente Antiguo, little more than a collection of aged structures and weary faces, had been thrust into a world far beyond its understanding.
And at the center of it all?
A fallen god.
Thor Odinson, once the mighty prince of Asgard, now a mortal man, stumbled along the cracked pavement. His feet dragged, his powerful frame hunched with exhaustion, his mind still wracked with confusion and betrayal.
His last memory was still seared into his thoughts—the cold disappointment in Odin's eyes, the crash of the Bifrost beneath his feet, and then the violent, gut-wrenching fall into the abyss of Midgard.
Now, here he was.
Alone.
Weak.
For the first time in centuries, he was nothing more than a man.
---
The Kindness of Mortals
The distant hum of a car engine echoed in the stillness.
A battered van slowed beside him, dust kicking up as it rolled to a hesitant stop.
Inside, Jane Foster, astrophysicist and scientist chasing the unknown, peered out through the windshield, her expression torn between intrigue and concern.
Beside her, Darcy Lewis, ever the skeptic, nudged her glasses up the bridge of her nose, eyeing the half-dressed man stumbling through the desert with thinly veiled amusement.
"So, do we pick up the giant homeless guy, or do we just let him do his dramatic wander in peace?"
Jane ignored her.
"Hey!" she called out, stepping from the vehicle. "Are you okay?"
Thor turned, his weary eyes meeting hers. For a moment, he just stared, as if trying to place where—or who—he was.
"I must go," he finally rasped.
Jane frowned. "Go where?"
Thor took a shaky step forward, his voice gaining a fraction of its former command.
"To my hammer."
---
Meanwhile – SHIELD & WHA Secure the Crash Site
At the crater where Mjolnir had crashed into Midgard, SHIELD and WHA had set up a high-security perimeter, floodlights casting long shadows over the desert floor.
Valeria Monroe stood near the edge, arms crossed, her silver combat suit gleaming in the artificial light. Around her, WHA operatives moved efficiently, securing the area while SHIELD agents—including Phil Coulson and Clint Barton—observed the embedded object at the center of the impact site.
Mjolnir.
It sat silently, its mighty form half-buried in the earth, unmoved by human hands, resisting every attempt to extract it.
"Still nothing?" Dash appeared beside her in a blue streak of motion, his arms crossed lazily.
"Not an inch," Valeria muttered, watching as SHIELD technicians struggled with the containment efforts. "Even their heaviest equipment can't budge it."
Coulson approached, his expression calm despite the unexplainable nature of what they were dealing with. "It's resisting all interference. No tech we have can analyze the material properly."
Barton, positioned on a watchtower nearby, spoke through his comm. "I'm just waiting to see who else is crazy enough to try lifting it. Might get a good laugh before the night's over."
Dash smirked. "Wanna take bets?"
Coulson ignored them, turning to Valeria. "And your people?"
She held his gaze. "We're observing. Nothing more."
Coulson nodded. "For now."
But they all knew something—or someone—was coming for it.
And soon.
---
The Journey to the Crater
Inside Jane's van, Thor sat in the cramped backseat, his broad frame barely fitting as he stared out the window, the distant glow of floodlights on the horizon calling to him.
Mjolnir.
His lifeline.
His salvation.
Jane glanced at him through the rearview mirror, her scientific mind desperate for answers. "You really think that hammer is yours?"
Thor's jaw tightened. "I do not think. I know."
Darcy let out a snort. "Yeah, okay. Because nothing about you says 'delusional' right now."
Thor ignored her.
Because as the van sped closer, he could feel it.
A tether pulling at his very soul.
Mjolnir was waiting for him.
---
Arrival at the Crater – WHA & SHIELD Stand Ready
The moment the van skidded to a stop, Thor threw open the door and leaped out.
His eyes locked onto the crater, onto the hammer sitting at its heart.
He ran forward, desperation fueling every step—
Only to be stopped in his tracks.
A wall of SHIELD agents raised their weapons.
And standing in the center?
Valeria Monroe.
"Restricted area," she said calmly, her silver armor gleaming beneath the artificial lights. "Turn around."
Thor's chest heaved, his rage barely contained. "That hammer is mine!"
Valeria studied him carefully, then gave a slow nod.
"Then prove it."
Thor narrowed his eyes, barely sparing her another glance before charging forward.
SHIELD agents looked to Coulson for orders, but he remained still.
"Let him try," Coulson murmured.
Barton, still watching from his high perch, gave a small grin. "This should be fun."
---
The Moment of Truth
Thor descended into the crater, the noise of the world falling away.
His breath came in sharp exhales as he approached Mjolnir, his heart pounding louder than the storm overhead.
Finally, he was here.
Finally, he would be whole again.
His fingers wrapped around the ancient grip.
He pulled.
And nothing happened.
Confusion flickered across his face.
He tried again.
He pulled harder.
Still nothing.
His breath quickened, his mind screamed.
He braced himself, using all his might, every last ounce of strength—
And again.
And again.
Until his knees buckled.
Until his strength failed him.
Until he collapsed, defeated, staring up at the sky, his soul fracturing under the weight of his father's judgment.
The hammer had not answered.
He was not worthy.
A cold gust of wind swept through the crater as Thor lay there, the realization settling into his bones.
And for the first time, he understood what it truly meant to be powerless.
---
SHIELD & WHA Intervention
Above the crater, Valeria watched silently, her expression unreadable.
Coulson exhaled. "Let's bring him in."
SHIELD agents moved in, guiding the broken man out of the crater and into the makeshift containment tent nearby.
Thor did not resist.
For the first time in his life, he had nowhere else to go.
---
June 2, 2010 – SHIELD Containment Tent, Puente Antiguo, New Mexico
The air inside the containment tent was cold, sterile—a stark contrast to the scorching desert heat outside. The soft hum of energy from various SHIELD monitors filled the silence, their faint glow casting shadows against the steel walls.
Thor Odinson sat motionless, his powerful form hunched over the table before him. His hands rested on the surface, palms flat, fingers barely curled—a man not restrained by cuffs, but by the weight of his own failure.
He had tried.
Again. And again. And again.
And still, Mjolnir had not answered.
His very soul felt… fractured.
For the first time in his existence, he had no purpose.
---
Observation & Discussion – SHIELD & WHA
Outside the containment tent, a meeting was taking place.
Phil Coulson, clad in his usual calm and collected demeanor, stood before a screen displaying real-time footage of Thor's attempt to lift Mjolnir. His expression was neutral, but the subtle tension in his jaw suggested intrigue.
Beside him, Clint Barton leaned against the table, arms crossed, his eyes sharp as they flicked between Coulson and Valeria Monroe, the WHA operative overseeing the operation.
"So that's the guy?" Barton finally said, tilting his head toward the monitor. "Big, blonde, likes to scream at the sky?"
Valeria barely glanced at him. "That's him."
Barton let out a low whistle. "Gotta admit, I was half-expecting him to bench press the hammer and start throwing lightning. Guess the bedtime stories were a little exaggerated."
Coulson exhaled, rubbing his chin. "Whether he's who he claims to be or not, that hammer—whatever it is—hasn't moved an inch. And if the crater readings are accurate, this thing didn't just fall out of the sky."
Valeria nodded, arms crossed. "Our scientists haven't even scratched the surface on what Mjolnir is made of. But there's something else."
Coulson turned his attention to her. "What is it?"
Valeria's dark eyes remained unreadable as she tapped a holo-pad, displaying encrypted data on the screen. "WHA intercepted transmissions an hour ago—classified Asgardian energy fluctuations. Someone else is here."
Coulson frowned. "You're saying we have another one of these guys running around?"
She gave a slight nod. "Not just anyone. It's a personal energy signature. We believe it's Loki."
Barton snorted. "Oh great. So, does this one have a hammer too, or are we gonna have to deal with magic tricks?"
"Magic and deception are one and the same," Valeria muttered, before meeting Coulson's gaze. "If Loki is here, he's not sightseeing. He's here for his brother."
Coulson considered this for a moment, then turned back toward the monitor. "Let him make his move. We'll be watching."
---
The Meeting – Thor & Loki
Thor remained seated, staring at his reflection in the metal table. His mind was a whirlwind of questions, of regrets, of shame.
His father had cast him down from Asgard. Stripped him of his strength, his title, his very identity.
Had he truly fallen so far?
The air in the tent suddenly shifted—a cool breeze that did not belong in the desert.
Thor's muscles tensed.
A soft shimmer of green energy rippled through the room, and when it faded, he was no longer alone.
Loki stood before him.
Dressed in his Asgardian regalia, elegant and composed, his emerald eyes held something between sadness and victory.
"Thor."
The name lingered in the air, heavy with meaning.
Thor's eyes widened, then he shot up from his seat, the chair scraping violently against the floor.
"Brother!"
Loki smiled—a tired, practiced smile. "It is good to see you."
Thor moved toward him, only to stop a mere breath away. "Loki—tell me, how fares the kingdom? How fares our father?"
Loki's expression darkened, ever so slightly.
"…He is dead."
Silence.
A sharp, cutting silence that froze the air between them.
Thor's breath hitched, his entire being shaking with disbelief.
"No…" He swallowed, his voice barely above a whisper. "That cannot be… Loki, tell me you are mistaken."
Loki's gaze lowered. "I wish it were so. But our father has passed, and with him… Asgard's throne now falls to me."
Thor stumbled back as if struck. His legs weakened beneath him, but he did not fall.
"This is my punishment…" he murmured, hands clenching into fists.
Loki's expression softened with false sympathy. "You should not blame yourself, brother. Father's final wish was for you to live, to find peace here in Midgard."
Thor's chest heaved, his mind screaming for answers.
His father was gone.
His home… his kingdom… was no longer his.
And worst of all—
He could not even hold Mjolnir.
He was nothing.
Loki stepped closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I know this is difficult to hear, but you must accept it. You must stay here and live among these mortals. It is the only way to honor Father's wishes."
Thor lifted his gaze, staring at the brother he had known for centuries.
And for the first time, he saw something different.
A flicker of something behind Loki's eyes.
A lie.
But in his grief, his heart refused to see it.
---
SHIELD & WHA Observe the Interaction
Outside the tent, the exchange was being watched.
Coulson, Valeria, and Barton stood behind a reinforced surveillance window, monitoring every word, every movement.
"He's buying it," Barton muttered, arms crossed.
Valeria's jaw tightened. "Thor is vulnerable. Whatever Loki's real plan is, he's setting the pieces into place."
Coulson nodded. "We wait. If he tries anything else, we act."
Valeria kept her eyes on the screen.
Loki was many things. A trickster. A deceiver. A manipulator.
And yet, even with all of SHIELD and WHA watching him…
She had a feeling he was still ten steps ahead of them all.
---
The Beginning of a Downward Spiral
Thor was left alone.
Loki had vanished, leaving behind only cold words and a heavy heart.
As he sat once more at the table, his fingers grazed the steel surface. His reflection stared back at him—a man who had lost everything.
Outside, the storm clouds gathered.
A storm with no thunder.
No lightning.
Only silence.
---
To Be Continued…
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