Nick Fury wasn't the type to give things away for free. He was a spy, a hoarder of secrets and assets.
But this time, the cost of keeping the hammer was too high. An intergalactic war with Asgard wasn't on his quarterly budget.
Plus, if Thor joined the Avengers, the hammer was technically still "in the family."
"Boss," Hawkeye whispered, eyeing the blonde giant. "You're just... giving it to him?"
Thor glared at Hawkeye. This was the man. The arrow-slinger who, in another life, had ended his existence.
"You," Thor growled, pointing a finger at Barton. "Don't think your little toy bow impresses me. My archery is superior! I have hunted beasts you cannot imagine!"
Fury frowned. How did he know Barton uses a bow? Barton was currently unarmed, wearing standard fatigues.
Unless...
Fury's single eye narrowed. The pieces clicked. Thor's knowledge. His hostility towards Barton. His unusually polite approach to Fury.
"You have a diary too," Fury stated, not asking.
Thor froze. He had assumed he was the only one blessed with the magical book.
"You speak of Lucas's tome?" Thor asked cautiously.
"I do," Fury nodded. "And Tony Stark has one. And Natasha Romanoff."
"Ah," Thor relaxed, a grin spreading across his face. "So we are... brothers in knowledge? Fellow chosen ones?"
He summoned the diary from his chest, the holographic projection flickering into existence. Fury did the same.
The two men—one a mortal spy, one a depowered god—shared a nod of mutual understanding. They were part of an exclusive club: The People Who Know How Screwed the Universe Is.
"Do you know its origin?" Thor asked, his voice losing its arrogance.
"No idea," Fury admitted. "It just appeared. But the author, Lucas, seems to know everything. Past, present, future. Multiverse."
"He calls you 'Egghead'," Thor pointed out helpfully.
"And he calls you 'Hammer God'," Fury shot back.
"Touché," Thor grunted.
"Regardless," Thor straightened up. "I just want my weapon back. I want to be Thor again. Being a mortal is... inconvenient. The hunger. The fatigue. The lack of lightning."
"Go ahead," Fury gestured to the containment unit. "It's waiting for you."
"Excellent," Thor beamed. "You have performed well, Midgardian. When I regain my power, I shall grant you a boon. Perhaps a horse. Or a goblet of mead."
Fury resisted the urge to roll his eye. The arrogance was suffocating. It reminded him of Stark, but with more muscles and less engineering.
Thor strode into the center of the crater. The rain from the previous night had dried, leaving the hammer sitting on a pedestal of hardened earth.
Mjolnir. His friend. His partner.
"You know," Thor said over his shoulder to the watching agents. "My power is focused through Mjolnir. Once I lift it, the storm will return. Do not be alarmed by the thunder."
"We know," Hawkeye muttered under his breath. "Hammer God."
Thor winced. He heard that.
"I am the God of Thunder!" Thor corrected sharply. "The hammer is merely a conduit!"
"Sure, buddy," Hawkeye smirked. "Whatever you say. Just lift the damn thing so we can go home."
Thor turned back to Mjolnir. He took a deep breath.
"Father," he whispered. "I am ready."
He reached out. His hand wrapped around the leather-wrapped handle. It felt familiar. It felt right.
He pulled.
Nothing happened.
He pulled harder. He put his back into it. He groaned with effort.
The hammer didn't budge. Not a millimeter.
Thor's smile faded. Panic set in.
"No," he whispered. "No, no, no."
He grabbed it with both hands. He planted his feet. He screamed at the sky.
"AAAAAAAAHHH!"
Still nothing.
He fell to his knees in the dirt, exactly like he had in the video. Defeated. Broken.
"I am... unworthy," Thor sobbed.
Behind him, Hawkeye leaned over to Fury.
"So," Hawkeye whispered. "God of Hammers it is."
"Without the hammer," Fury noted dryly, "he's just... a guy named Thor."
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