Seeing that he couldn't lift Thor's hammer with one hand, Hawkeye Barton assumed he was simply too weak.
So he immediately gripped Mjölnir with both hands and pulled with all his might—but the result was unchanged. The hammer didn't budge an inch.
"How can this tiny thing be so heavy? This isn't scientific. It's… unnatural."
Barton stepped back, brow furrowed, as if physics itself had betrayed him.
"No wonder Loren didn't take it," Natasha mused, arms crossed. "He probably couldn't lift it either."
"He's surrounded by women who could level cities with a thought," Barton added. "If even they left it behind, this hammer must weigh more than it looks."
"It fell from space and isn't made of any known terrestrial material," Coulson said, kneeling to inspect the runes etched into the stone beneath it. "Its density might be off the charts. We should bring in someone who actually understands this kind of tech—or magic."
Coulson tried lifting it himself. Nothing happened.
"Stark and Banner, then," Natasha said.
Barton tilted his head. "If Banner goes full Hulk… he might actually manage it."
Natasha's eyes narrowed instantly. "Forget it. Bruce still can't fully control the Other Guy. If the Hulk wakes up here, it's not just a mess—it's a catastrophe."
"Agreed," Coulson said firmly. "Let them analyze it, sure. But no transformations. Not unless we're facing an extinction-level threat."
Banner had joined the Avengers in good faith, but his volatility remained. Until he stabilized, they wouldn't risk pushing him over the edge.
"Secure the perimeter," Coulson ordered. "No one approaches without clearance."
As SHIELD agents moved to cordon off the crater, Lauren and his entourage were already back at Morgan Manor, Loki bound and unconscious in a reinforced cell deep beneath the estate.
---
Loki awoke to cold iron bars and the faint hum of suppression fields. He lunged for the gate, fingers curling around the metal.
"You insolent worm!" he snarled. "I am Loki Odinson, son of Odin, rightful heir to the Asgardian throne! Release me at once—or my father will raze this pathetic mudball from the sky!"
Outside the cell, Loren sat calmly on a stool, one leg crossed over the other. He didn't flinch.
"A moment ago, you claimed to be the new God-King of Asgard," Loren said, voice laced with dry amusement. "Now you're hiding behind your father's name? Did you realize no one here cares about Odin's title? Or is it because… you finally remember he's not even your real father?"
Loki froze.
That truth—his deepest shame, his most closely guarded secret—had only recently been confirmed to him by Odin himself. No mortal on Midgard should know it. No one.
Yet this Earthling spoke it like common gossip.
"How…?" Loki whispered, eyes wide with disbelief and dread.
"You think Asgard is some hidden paradise?" Loren chuckled, leaning forward. "I've walked realms older than your nine. And compared to them? Asgard's just another gilded cage."
Loki's hands trembled—not from fear of imprisonment, but from the terrifying realization: this man knew too much.
"Who are you?" Loki demanded, voice cracking. "How do you know these things? Speak, or I'll—"
"Or you'll what?" Loren interrupted, rising slowly. "Cast an illusion? Trick me with shadows? Go ahead."
As Loki's fingers twitched with nascent magic, Loren's ring pulsed with azure light.
In an instant, an invisible force clamped around Loki's throat, lifting him off the floor. The God of Mischief gasped, clawing at the air as his feet dangled.
"This ring grants me telekinesis," Loren said coolly. "Among other things."
He flicked his wrist. Loki slammed into the reinforced wall with a bone-rattling thud, then crumpled to the floor, coughing.
"Your arrogance is exhausting," Loren said, walking closer. "You lost to a squad of maids. You were dragged here like a stray dog. And still, you bark like a king?"
He crouched, meeting Loki's furious glare with a half-smile.
"The God of Lies… and yet you can't even lie to yourself. You wanted Thor's throne not because you deserved it—but because you were afraid you'd never be enough."
Loki's breath hitched.
Then, defiant to the end, he tried to scry Loren's true nature—peel back the veil with Asgardian magic.
But instead of a soul or a form, his senses hit a void. Loren appeared as shifting mist, untouchable, unreadable.
Loki had never encountered anything like it.
Loren's eyes narrowed. He'd felt the intrusion.
"You really don't learn, do you?" he muttered.
This time, he didn't go for the throat.
Instead, telekinetic energy slithered into Loki's body—targeting one very specific, vulnerable point.
Loki's eyes bulged. His face went pale, then crimson.
"Wha—? No! Wait—oh gods, stop! I can't—!" He clutched his abdomen, knees buckling. "Toilet! I need a—agh!"
A soft, mortifying pfft escaped him.
Loki's entire body locked up in horror. He pressed his hands over his backside, legs squeezed together, face burning with humiliation.
Loren stood, brushing dust from his coat.
"You asked who I am," he said, voice dripping with mock solemnity. "Very well. I am Aaron—God of Embarrassing Conse
quences."
"..." Loki didn't speak. He just stared, utterly broken—not by pain, but by indignity.
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