Chapter 58

  Arc 5 - Ch 11: Worthy?

  Date: Thursday, June 2, 2011.

  Location: Shield field base, outside Pueiguo, NM

  Amora the Entress stood under a magically jured shield. The dome isoted her from the relentless downpour that had turhe surroundi ndscape into mud. Through her sg mirror, she observed Thor's progress as he fought his way through the human military encampment. The god of thunder's bat prowess was still evident, even stripped of his Asgardian powers.

  Amora's gaze lingered on the broad-shouldered man that now barred Thor's path to his hammer. The man cut an imposing figure, eck to toe in bck with a half-mask obsg his features. She reized him as the one referred to over the radio. The one ordered to guard Mjolnir.

  Mirage.

  Mirage ehe dimihor, who remained a force to be reed with, even without his Asgardian might. But the masked man gave no ground aurargeted strikes of his own. They appeared evenly matched, with Mirage nding more blows than he received.

  Amora was more ed about the archer, hidden above with an arrow nocked. He was under orders not to interfere, but stopping an arrow at a distance was a greater challehan stopping a brawl. For now, the oute of his trial seemed to rest solely on the csh between Thor and the dark soldier. Her sg mirror focused on the esg melee. The ensuing fight between Thor and Mirage was intense, but Amora soon realized Mirage was merely toying with Thor. As the fighting progressed, Mirage tio outmatch Thor in hand-to-hand bat.

  For a moment, Amora sidered intervening, mistaking Mirage for an Asgardiao his formidable fighting skills. She oised to act, ready to ehor's trial remained untampered, but hesitated as she watched Mirage knock Thor to the ground near Mjolnir.

  She smiled at the sight of Thor approag his ented hammer. This was the crux of his trial, the pivotal test of his worthiness. Amora watched ily, eyes fixed on the sg mirror's surface, as Thor extended his hand toward the hammer, that symbolic embodiment of his power and rightful heritage. This was his defining moment, the culmination of his jouro prove himself worthy.

  Amora's breath caught ihroat as she watched Thor, the mighty Asgardian prince, reajolnir. His eyes were wide with a desperate, fragile hope that made Amora's heart ache.

  But despite Thor's mighty heaves, the legendary hammer did not budge from its resting pce. It remained as immovable as the sadness now settling onto Thor's broad shoulders.

  His hand dropped to his side, limp with defeat. Amora could almost feel the devastating loss reverberating through him. Where there had once been an aura of fidend strength was now only a haze of despair. This was not the Thor Amora khe boisterous, unyielding warrior who ughed in the fapossibility. The man before her was diminished, stripped of his pourpose.

  Even Mirage seemed affected by the solemn se. Though his expression artly hidden behind his mask, Amora detected a sympathetic tilt to his head.

  When the human soldiers detaihor, he offered ahe prince allowed himself to be restrained and led away, head bowed uhe staggeri of this failure. Mirage watched pensively as Thor disappeared from view, then turned his attention to Mjolnir. He studied the immovable hammer with a ptive air.

  Amora kept her focus on Thor as he was escorted away, no doubt to be questioned by the humas of SHIELD, acc to their heraldry. The onvincible hero now id low. She wished to reach through the mirror to offer fort, but such tact was forbidden.

  Thor sat handcuffed iark interrogation room, the very picture of defeat. His muscur frame seemed diminished, weighed down by the crushing disappoi of his failure. Across from him stood Agent Coulson, his posture rexed yet professional, his keeaking in every detail of the crestfallen figure before him. Though Coulson's expression remained impassive, he felt a twinge of empathy for the stranger's obvious distress.

  Coulson broke the heavy silence, his tone versational yet probing. "Not many people do what you did back there. Taking down highly trained agents like that? Impressive." Coulson tinued, "You made hardened professionals look like a bunall cops. It takes serious skill to manhahem so easily. The kind of skill that es from specialized training. Care to tell me where you picked up moves like that?"

  Thor stared straight ahead, no response.

  Uerred, Coulson persisted. "Let's see...Cheya? Afghanistan? No, you look more like a soldier of fortuo me. Was it South Africa? Eastern Europe? Men with your talents write their own paychecks these days."

  Still, Thor remained silent, his eyes clouded and distant.

  Coulson leaned in, his voice l. "Of course, there are certain anizations who pay handsomely for someoh your...expertise. The kind of groups that don't miing their hands dirty."

  Thor tio stare bnkly ahead.

  Coulson sighed and sat back, studying the unmoving figure before him. "Who are you?" he asked pinly.

  After a long pause, Thor spoke, his voice leaden. "Just a man."

  Coulson stood, adjusting his tie. His expressiorayed nothing as he delivered his parting words. "We have ways of finding out what we want to know. Do this the easy way. It'll be better for both of us." With that, he left Thor aloo wrestle with his iurmoil.

  Thor sat motionless, his head bowed uhe oppressive weight of despair. The bnk walls around him seemed to close in, mirr the numbhat had settled upon his soul. Lost in ption, Thor did nister the arrival of another presen the room. "I thought he'd never leave," said a familiar voice, pulling Thor from his brooding. He looked up sharply to see Loki standing before him, etched across his brother's pale features.

  "Loki?" Thor uttered in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

  Loki's green eyes were grave as he replied, "I had to see you." His tone held a sense ency that set Thor's mind rag.

  Thor searched his brother's face, his own creased with fusion and worry. "What's happeell me!" A sudden fear gripped him. "Is it Jotunheim? Let me expin to Father—"

  "Father is dead," Loki interjected solemnly.

  Thor froze, struumb by Loki's words. He stared at his brother in stunned disbelief. "What?" he finally mao choke out, the single word barely esg his stricted throat.

  "Your banishment, the threat of a new war... it was too much for him to bear," Loki tinued, his voice heavy with implication.

  The full impact of Loki's revetion smmed into Thor, f the air from his lungs. A swell of anguish rose within him as the notion took hold that he could be responsible fing about his father's end. Grief and guilt torted Thor's features as he struggled to absorb the devastating news.

  Loki approached, his expression sympathetic. "You mustn't bme yourself," he said gently. "I know you loved him." Loki's green eyes bored into Thor's. "I tried to tell him so, but he wouldn't listen."

  With words chosen to deepen Thor's despair, Loki went on. "It was cruel to put the hammer within your reach, knowing you could never lift it again." Loki's voice held a note of sotion, even as his message sought to rob Thor of all hope.

  Thor stared straight ahead, his eyes unfocused and haunted. Loki's words washed over him, threatening to pull him further into the dark abyss of despair. The god of mischief pressed on, twisting the khe burden of the throne has fallen to me now," he decred.

  At this, Thor lifted his head, some small ember of hope flickering in his electric blue eyes. " I e home?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

  Loki firmly responded, "The truce with Jotunheim is ditional upon your exile. Mother has forbidden your return." the words struck Thor like a physical blow, their finality leaving the fallen prince feeling utterly defeated.

  Thor lowered his head in acceptahe reality of his perma banishment from Asgard sinking in fully. He was well and truly beaten, both in spirit and circumstance.

  Sensing the gravity of the moment, Loki added softly, "This is goodbye, brother. I'm so sorry."

  Thor lifted his head once more to meet his braze, his expressioched with resignation. "No, I'm sorry," he replied heavily. "Loki... thank you for ing here." Thratitude was sincere if tinged by sorrow.

  Loki allowed his face to reflect the heartfelt emotion he did not feel. "Nothing could have stopped me," he said solemnly.

  Just then, Agent Coulsoered the room. Thor looked up only to find that Loki had vanished as quickly as he had e. He was left to grapple with the harsh reality of his situation, alone and adrift in this strange mortal realm. Exiled, powerless, and now seemingly abandoned by his family and his home realm of Asgard. The weight of despair pressed down upon his broad shoulders, threatening to crush the fallen prince.

  Amora's pierg green eyes narrowed in ption as she tio peer into her sg mirror, sidering the implications of Loki's parting words to his brother Thor. Had some moal events transpired in Asgard in the brief time since she came to Midgard, or was the god of mischief merely spinning an artful web of lies aion? ossible motive could Loki have for misleading the bahunder god in such a manner? Perhaps it was a calcuted maneuver, inteo manipute Thor's emotions; to give him the push he o prove himself worthy. Or was this what Heimdall was trying to warn Amora about? Was she a pawn in a sinister plot to ehat Thor's exile from Asgard would tinue indefinitely? If this golden opportunity for Loki meant Thor's perma exile, would it lead to her exile as well should he fail?

  With a wave of her slender hand, the Sorceress redirected her magic mirror's focus, turning its gaze away from the crestfallen Thor. The gss surface swirled with colors and runes as the sg spell shifted, before clearing to follow Loki. Amora watched the priurned-king ily through the mirror, sing for any telling sign or clue that might hint at Loki's geives and the hoy of his words to Thor. Subterfuge aion were well-known arts to the Entress, and she sought to dis the truth of the dark-haired Prince's motivations.

  Ihe bustling SHIELD pound, agents and stists worked diligently to repair the area surrounding Mjolnir. Amidst their activity, Loki casually approached the on, unseen by the oblivious mortals. An unreadable mix of curiosity and intrigue pyed across his features as he stood before Mjolnir, his gaze fixed on the hammer. He seemed to wrestle internally with an unspokeion, but Amora read his expression. Could he, as the ag ruler of Asgard, lift this hammer himself? Could he do what Thor could not?

  Was Loki worthy?

  Loki reached down slowly, almost hesitantly, and grasped Mjolnir. He exerted effort, straining to raise the hammer, but it remained motionless as if rooted to the very earth itself. Frustration and humiliation flickered across the dark prince's features as he released his grip and stepped back, eyeing the hammer with pt and disappoi. After a lingering moment, Loki turned on his heel and strode away, leaving Mjolnir where it y.

  this se unfold through her ented sg mirror, Amora was struck by the revetion that despite being the ruler of Asgard, Loki was deemed unworthy by Mjolnir. This realization raised intriguing questions in the sorceress's mind about the true nature of worthiness and power. But before she could pte further, Amora's gaze was drawn elsewhere. Amongst the agents and stists busily w to repair the pound, one figure remained distinctly focused on Loki's surreptitious as.

  Mirage.

  While the others tiheir tasks oblivious to the dark prince's presence, Mirage seemed acutely aware, his attention fixed on Loki's arrival and failed attempt to lift the hammer. His perception marked Mirage as different from the other mortals.

  As Loki vanished, returning to Asgard, Amora's intrigue only deepened. Ag on her burgeoning fasation, the sorceress employed her magical abilities to teleport atop the sturdiest structure in the makeshift SHIELD encampment. From this elevated vantage point, she could observe the unfoldis directly with her own eyes. She watched ily from her perch as Mirage finally moved from his stationary position below. He approached Mjolnir with purposeful steps.

  As Mirage reached for the mystical hammer, a brilliant fsh of lightning split the gloom, illuminating the night sky and lending an air of gravity to the se.

  Mirage paused, gng upward as if sensing the moment, or questioning the meaning behind the sky's outburst. Then, resolve hardened his features as he ed his hand around Mjolnir's short handle and squeezed. Brag himself, muscles c in his arms, he pulled. To Amora's astonishment, the hammer shifted slightly, scraping over the muddy earth. Another crack of thunder roared overhead, as if in respoo this moal effort.

  The SHIELD agents nearby, who had been engrossed iasks, now stopped and turo watch the incredible se unfolding. Their eyes were wide with awe and disbelief.

  Mirage, perhaps spurred on by the very sky lending its support, tightened his grip and pulled again. The strain was evident in every line of his body. His muscles bulged, teeth gritted from the exertion. Once more, Mjolnir inched across the ground. The air surrounding the encampment seemed electric, charged with anticipation.

  Shouting, Mirage summoned every ounce of strength in his mortal fripping the hammer with both hands, corded muscles standing out, he pulled with wild abandon. Mjolnir shifted slightly again, but despite this herculean effort, the hammer remained rooted.

  Amora found herself holding her breath. The sight of this Midgardian ing so close to lifting Mjolnir was wholly ued. It raised troubling questions about Mirage's true nature and the extent of his might, setting him apart from the other mortal men.

  Mirage released his grip on Mjolnir, letting his arms fall limply to his sides as he stared down at the immovable hammer. His chest heaved with exertion and his muscles quivered from the interain. Though the object had shifted slightly under his efforts, it remained firmly stuck to the ground.

  Failure.

  The word reverberated through Mirage's mind as he pted the mystical hammer that had denied him. He had summoned every ounce of strength and will within himself, only to be found unworthy.

  In the charged silence following his herculean attempt, the assembled agents looked on in awe and no small amount of wariness at this unexpinable feat. Though Mirage had not fully lifted Mjolnir, the fact that it had budged at all was astonishing.

  No one spoke a word, perhaps afraid to break the spell of the moment. The night air still hummed with energy, as if the very sky was weighing what had just transpired.

  Mirage stared down at his hands, flexing his fingers slowly. He leaned his head back, looking toward the night sky. The clouds still swirled and rumbled, eg the tumult of emotions and questions stirring within him. He stared into the roiling expanse and wondered. A nearby rumble of thunder seemed to affirm his musings.

  Though Mirage ultimately failed to lift Mjolnir, his ability to shift the hammer was no small feat. That he succeeded where gods had failed did not escape the notid fasation of the Entress. There was more to this mortal than enhanced perception and impressive fighting skills. Much more. Amora watched Mirage depart, her emerald eyes trag his movements until he was lost from view amongst the milling agents. She drew her powers close and vanished in a swirl of emerald mist, reappearing a breath ter beside the legendary hammer where it y dormant.

  Alone now with the relic of legend, Amora reached out a slender hand to caress the worher grip. She could feel the thrum of power tained within the uru metal, like the heartbeat of a slumberi. The Entress khe legends surrounding the hammer better than most. The on's true power came from the God Tempest. The stories say that the God Tempest was an elder god that took the form of a great i. When it threateo destroy Asgard, Odin battled the God Tempest for days, and o was weakened, Odin trapped it in a block ranted by the dwarves of Nidavellir. Then, the dwarves fed the uru into Mjolnir in the heart of a dying star. Even her vast mastery of Asgardian magic paled in parison to the primordial forces tained within Thor's hammer. She'd heard of the Allfather's entment from Loki, that the worthy could lift Mjolnir.

  Amora eyed Mjolnir thoughtfully, pting if her vast mastery of Asgardian magic could override the Allfather's entment. Perhaps, just for a moment, she might provide the ter to Odin's spell. After all, the Allfather was not truly an enter ic-wielder himself. Odin had full access to the Odinforce, an almost infinite power source. By eling the Odinforce, he could perform feats akin to magic. However, Amora was a true sorceress, skilled from years of tutege under Asgard's greatest mystics. She ranked among the most powerful spellcasters in the realm.

  With her talent, could she hope to override Odin's brute-force magic with a more elegant solution?

  Her fiingled as she drew forth her power, weaving the emerald strands of her magic to ralize Odin's binding.

  But try as she might, the hammer would not budge. Odin's magic held strong, far out of reach of her skills. Sighing in frustration, Amora released her spell and drew back her hand. For all her vaunted power, she could not make it budge even a fra.

  This failure ignited her curiosity. She fouhoughts returning to the masked man. What manner of man was he to possess sunate worth? Was it strength of character that allowed him to influence Mjolnir as no Asgardian could? Or had fate marked him freatness in ways beyond her uanding?

  Amora realized this was no longer a mere curiosity. Disc Mirage's true nature had bee imperative. This unremarkable mortal had dohe impossible, and she o uncover his secret. The Entress now burned with the desire to peel away the yers of mystery surrounding the one called Mirage.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Tysed bato the base, not surprised, but still disappoihe possibility of being deemed worthy enough to wield Mjolnir had sparked hope aement within him when the legendary hammer first shifted under his grip.

  As he walked, his thoughts turo his meta-knowledge from his past life. Others had lifted Mjolnir; Vision and Captain America. With Vision, it's unclear if it really 'ted' as lifting the hammer. It's possible that he was able to lift it because of his strength of character. However, it is nearly as likely that he could do so because he was an artificial being, not truly alive.

  Captain America's first attempt to lift the hammer was a better metric to sider. Tyson believed that during Age of Ultron, Cap's initial failure stemmed from humility; he was worthy and capable, but didn't lift Mjolnir out of a desire to preserve Thor's self-worth.

  But now, refleg on his experieyson was forced to re-examihat notion. Had it truly been a self-imposed restraint, or had ot been worthy then? If that was the case, what nuances of worthiness eluded Cap and now himself?

  The true question was… What did being worthy even mean?

  Tyson turned his thoughts inward, sifting through memories aa-knowledge, attempting to uhe mystery of Mjolnir's worthiness.

  The obvious metric was Odin's judgment of whether someone was worthy. However, there was no way to know whether his, or Captain America's, existence had even been noticed by the Allfather, without speaking to Odin, which was off the table.

  Instead, Tyson focused on the qualities that might define one as worthy in Odin's eye. A warrior's spirit? An honorable heart? Tyson believed he reasonably fulfilled both criteria, though that couldn't be all. Thor possessed these qualities and was still, for the moment, not worthy.

  So he sidered the circumstahat led to Thor's banishment and those that would restore him to his full might.

  Seeking battle with the Frost Giants led to Thor's banishment in the first pce. Then, sacrifig himself to stop the Destroyer's rampage made him worthy.

  This led Tyson to a few possible characteristiot aggressively seeking war, humility, selflessness, sacrifice, restraint, and wisdom.

  Tyson's thoughts circled back to Captain America's first attempt. Though honorable, and a mate warrior, Cap had still been a soldier, moving from eo enemy; Loki and the Chitauri, HYDRA, Ultron, Tony, and ultimately the gover itself. Captain America didn't have a life beyond the fight. If self-imposed restraint hadn't prevented Captain America from lifting Mjolnir, then it was likely that mi.

  This forced Tyson to refle his as since arriving in this world.

  He believed he had met many of the criteria to be sidered worthy. Defending Xavier's Institute from Stryker's invading forces, though greatly outnumbered, and being captured and tortured, had shown selflessness, sacrifice, and battle prowess. He had killed, but so had Thor during his many years as a warrior, and presumably, Captain America had during World War 2.

  Overall, Tyso his as had been honorable. He had not sought battles, yet her had he avoided them. He had showraint and mercy, sparing his ehis bance of humility and readio fight when needed seemed in lih the requirements for worthiness.

  But then, he was forced to ask… had he behaved honorably throughout his time here?

  Perhaps at first.

  However, after gaining Jason Stryker's powers, he trolled and maniputed Ivan Vanko and Curt ors. Perhaps turning them away from their paths was the right thing to do, but there were so many others he'd maniputed. He'd used his powers on dy Moon's mother, Lady Bullseye, that HYDRA CEO, so many others he couldn't t, and eve Sitwell, just earlier today.

  Did he even possess wisdom? He'd stolen half a million dolrs worth of gold, putting him on SHIELD's radar. He'd maniputed the Four Season's ma into giving up their best suite for him to live in.

  Yet, the hammer had allowed him to shift it briefly. Tyson wondered if that indicated something deeper. Uhe others who tried to lift Mjolnir, Tyson tained multiple psyches… residing within him. Perhaps he was worthy. But taining Sabertooth, Jason Stryker, or even Rogue was holding him back.

  Or maybe… Tyson was overthinking things.

  Captain America may have been worthy during the events of Age of Ultron, just as he was during Endgame, and always had been. And the simple truth might be…

  Tyson was not.

  These thoughts occupied Tyson's mind as he made his way toward Coulson. The cept of worthiness was not straightforward and would tio gnaw at him for some time. He repyed the moment he ed his hands around the hammer's handle making him wonder what inner virtue he cked that had made the mystical hammer deem him unworthy.

  It seemed there were things he o atone for. Virtues he o cultivate. And maybe even, his own power he o learn to trol before he could be sidered worthy.

  — Rogue Rept—

  Coulson stood with several agents around him, versing with a newer as Tyson approached.

  "Donald Bke," Coulson said, a hint of skepticism fv his words. "That's his name?"

  The newer nodded, "Doctor Donald Bke. He's part of my research team."

  Coulson's expression remained ral, but the set of his shoulders, the way his weight shifted slightly ba his heels. He wasn't buying it. "You seem to have some dangerous coworkers, Dr. Selvig," Coulson remarked mildly.

  Selvig held up both hands in a pg gesture. "Oh no. Donald isn't dangerous, just...troubled." He dropped his hands and his expression turned regretful, sympathy in his voice. "The seizure of our work hit him hard. It was years of his life, gone in an instant when SHIELD took over the site. He got depressed, and started drinking heavily... well, I'm sure you know how it goes." Coulson said nothing, silently prompting Selvig to tinue expining. "He's a good man," Selvig insisted early. "Brilliant physicist, one of the most insightful minds I've worked with. But this whole situation has been hard on him. His as today were... out of character." He spread his hands, appealing to Coulson's reason. "Surely you uand the turmoil he's going through?"

  Coulson's expression remained nonittal, giving no indication of his thoughts. But he weighed the stist's words. Selvig resisted the urge to fidget uhat assessing look, keeping his expression open.

  Coulson did not indicate that he accepted Selvig's expnation. "Uh-huh. You mind if we take a moment to verify his identity?" he asked politely, though his tone made it clear it was not a request. He motioo a tei statio a nearby puter terminal to run a sear the name Donald Bke.

  Selvig acquiesced with a small sigh, realizing he had little choice. "Certainly," he said, spreading his hands in a ciliatesture. As the tei initiated the search, Selvig tinued his ear attempt to expin Bke's perspective. "You uand how a man could go off like that, 't you?" Selvig appealed to Coulson's reason. "I mean, a big, faceless anization like yours, ing in with their jack-booted thugs and just taking private property..." he trailed off for a moment, then added, "Well, that's how he described it, anyway."

  After a thoughtful pause, Coulson pointed out, "That doesn't fully expin how he mao tear through our security so easily," he said, leaving the implicit question open.

  Selvig scrambled for an expnation, somewhat facetiously, "Steroids. He's a bit of a fitness nut, you know." He gave a small shrug, trying to rationalize how Bke could have exhibited such extraordinary fighting ability.

  Oei's monitor, a DMV record from the State of New York appeared, showing "Dr. Donald Bke" as the name and dispying a lise picture of Thor. It was obvious that the photo had been taken on a cellphone. A fshing graphic appeared on his s.

  'SHIELD Security Analysis in Progress...'

  Coulson watched over the man's shoulder, scrutinizing the information as it appeared. A security alert fshed over the image.

  'Security Alert: Falsified Data.'

  After a long moment, he turned back to face Dr. Selvig. "It says here he's a medical doctor," Coulson stated ftly, refereng the details on the DMV record still dispyed oei's monitor. But he didn't give any indication of the security analysis results.

  Selvig nodded slowly, his mind rag to adapt to the ued situation. "He is...or rather, he was," Selvig expined after a brief hesitation. "He retly made a career ge. Switched over to physistead. He's quite brilliant in the field, truthfully." Selvig's response was an attempt to weave a pusible narrative around Thor's assumed identity.

  Selvig then made a tentative request, his tone ear and hopeful. "If you would just release him to me, I promise to keep a close eye on him."

  Agent Coulson sidered Selvig's words for a long moment, his sharp gaze sizing the stist up as he deliberated over the decision. Finally, he gave a curt nod to one of the nearby agents.

  "Release Dr. Bke to Dr. Selvig," Coulson instructed briskly.

  The tei looked up sharply from his monitor, visibly surprised by Coulson's decision. Coulson, however, was quick to add a dition to his order. "Make sure he stays in town for the few days, in case we o speak with him again," Coulson said.

  Relief washed over Selvig's anxious features. "Thank you," he said early, shaking Coulson's hand. This had gone far better than he could have hoped.

  As the heavy metal door shut behind Dr. Selvig as he was escorted to Thor, Coulson turo Tyson. "Impressive work out there," he remarked. "A dozen of my best men couldn't bring that guy down, but you ma without breaking a sweat."

  Tyson shrugged, "Just doing my job, sir. I'm not sure if Director Fury informed you, but I'm an expert at handling weird shit."

  Coulson studied him a moment longer before jerking his head toward the hallway. "Let's go keep an eye on them."

  Tyson mumbled, "Damn, not even a smile."

  They emerged just as Selvig guided the muscur 'Donald Bke' toward an old pickup truck. Coulson called out, halting their progress.

  "Keep him away from the bars, Doctor. The st thing we need is a repeat of that brawl."

  Selvig called back, "I will. You have my word."

  As the two men piled into the vehicle, Tyson saportunity. "I trail them for a while. With my abilities, they'll never know I'm there."

  Coulson sidered it briefly before nodding. "Not a bad idea. Go ahead, but keep your distance. With Barton ihe camp is secure."

  Tyson headed toward an SUV leisurely, sliding behind the wheel and king the engine. He knew Selvig's destination; there was only oown for miles. As long as he hung back out of sight, her the doctor nor his panion would suspect a tail, plus he had illusions to mask his presence if necessary. Tyson pulled out slowly, following in Selvig's tracks.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Thor and Dr. Selvig sat across from one a the bar, each with a mug of beer and a shot of whiskey before them. Without hesitation, Selvig tipped his shot into his beer and drank deeply, eager to dull the edges of ret events. Thor watched his panion closely and mimicked the a, p the harsh liquor into his ale and drinking it down in one long pull.

  Selvig regarded Thor with a wry twist to his lips. "Seems Darcy's a terrible intern, but a talented hacker," he remarked, aowledging the unventional way they had mao free Thor from SHIELD custody.

  Thor met Selvig's gaze, his blue eyes ear. "Thank you for what you've done," he said sincerely.

  Selvig waved away the thanks with a shake of his head. "Don't thank me. I only did it for Jane's sake," he replied gruffly.

  Curiously Thor asked, "Are you in love with her?"

  "Of course not!" Selvig scoffed, quick to dismiss suotions. "Jane is like a daughter to me. Her father and I taught together at the uy. He was a good man." Selvig's voice held a note of old sadness. "But like Jane, he never listeo reason."

  Thor absorbed this quietly, ruefully refleg, "her did I." He thought of all the times he had stubbornly ignood sel.

  "I don't know if you're just delusional or if there's something to all this. Frankly, I don't care at this point." Selvig said skeptically, "I just care about Jane's welfare. I've seen the way she looks at you."

  Thor met the older man's gaze. "I swear to you, I mean her no harm."

  Selvig searched Thor's face for a long moment befiving a gruff nod, apparently satisfied. "Good. In that case, I'll buy you one more drink, and then you'll leave town tonight."

  The Asgardian prince sidered Selvig's terms, his stormy eyes clouded in ption. After a prolonged silehor ined his head in acquiesd took a long draught from his mug.

  "I had it all backward. I had it all wrong," he mused, his resonant voice tinged with revetion. Thor's tenance was grave as he reflected upon the humbling jourhat had brought him to this bar.

  Selvig studied him closely, noting the subtle transformation. This was not the same cocksure man Darcy had hit with their truck. The man before him now was more introspective.

  Selvig offered, "It's not a bad thing, finding out that you don't have all the answers. That's when you start asking the right questions."

  Thor took in the stist's words, reizing their fual truth. "For the first time in my life, I have no idea what I'm supposed to do," he fessed pinly.

  Selvig said, "Anyone who's ever going to find their way in this world has to start by admitting they don't know where the hell they are."

  The simple profundity of the statement resonated with Thor, who aowledged it with an ination of his golden head. Their meaningful exge, however, was interrupted by the unwele approach of a drunk and belligerent towhe man reized Thor from the diner earlier that day. Swaying tipsily, he leered, "Hey, I know you, man... You were in the diner with that hot girl." he said crudely.

  Visibly irritated by the man's inappropriate ents, Thor maintained his posure. Rising to his full imposi, he stated firmly, "I have no quarrel with you. But she's a dy. You should be more respectful."

  The drunk's aggressio uerred by Thor's warning. "And you should shut the hell up, princess," he spat mogly.

  Selvig watched the exge unfold with growing , expeg the t Asgardian to react violently to the insult. But to his surprise, Thor remained calm and resolute. "I will not fight him," he decred, showing a restraint that impressed Selvig.

  Emboldened by Thor's nonviolehe sneering drunk pressed further. "Then it'll be easy to kick your ass," he slurred, swaying unsteadily on his feet.

  Before the situation could deteriorate into a brawl, Selvig quickly intervened. Rising from his seat, he pced himself firmly between Thor and the p townie. Holding his hands up in a pacifyiure, he urged, "Gentlemen, please. Let's keep our heads here."

  In a sudden, ued move, Selvig, bolstered by his beer-balls, swiftly headbutted the drunk. Thor looked on with newfound respect, clearly impressed by the stist's bold a.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Coulson had instructed Selvig to keep Thor away from bars and predictably, that was exactly where they went first. Finding the seedy bar where Thor and Selvig had gone for drinks proved no challenge for Tyson. He'd even takeime to ge from his wet e into his normal clothes. But upon approag the garish neon sign embzoned 'Cheeks,' he couldn't help muttering sardonically under his breath, "Cssy."

  It wasn't just a bar… It was a strip club.

  Stepping iyson was immediately met with a ing se. Dr. Selvig had just headbutted an aggressive local unscious, an uncharacteristically forceful act from the mild-mannered physicist. Tyson paused in the dooruzzling over what could have led to su altercation. Before he could process the situation further, the downed man's panions rushed toward Thor and Selvig.

  Tyson watched in dismay as the first local's meaty fist collided with Selvig's jaw, knog the physicist bato the dingy bar. He dashed forward to intercept the impending brawl. The man who had struck Selvig received a swift punch to the face from Tyson, crumpling unscious to the floor.

  More angry locals closed in, hungry for vengeayson pivoted as the sean swung wildly, dodging the blow. In a blur of motion, Tyson drove his elbow into the man's soft gut before chopping the back of his neck. The man colpsed like a sack of bricks. The pair rushed Tyson in unison. He ducked under a wild haymaker, fist thudding into the first man's abdomen. As the man doubled over wheezing, Tyson spun, eling his momentum into a crushing roundhouse kick. His foot ected with the sean's chest. Both assaints hit the ground hard.

  The st of the towood motionless, eyes widening as he witnessed his friends swiftly dispatched by Tyson's devastating strikes. Raising his open palms in surrender, he stammered "Alright, we get it." Tyson dismissed the man, allowing him to help his groaning friends away.

  Throughout the brief but intense skirmish, Thor had remained alongside Selvig, a spectator. For o was not the thunder god at the ter of the battle, as the newer effitly dispatched the unruly locals. Thor watched, impressed by his pete aggressive de-escation. Patrons slowly resumed their drinking and the atmosphere began to settle. Selvig, gradually rec from the punch to his jaw, lifted his head to survey the aftermath. The aggressive locals were scattered and moaning on the floor around them.

  The stranger sat beside them at the bar, casually pg several hundred-dolr bills on the worn wooden surface. The bartender's attention was instantly drawn, no doubt by the money and the ret bar fight. "I'll cover their drinks and the cost of damages. Bring another round ohe man said.

  Thor nodded in aowledgment, gratitude evident in his blue eyes. He turo face the newer, taking in his muscur frame and direct gaze. "Thank you, friend," Thor rumbled.

  The maended a gloved hand in introdu. "Tyson," he said. Thrasped the proffered hand in a firm handshake, feeling the strength coiled in Tyson's grip.

  Responding, "Thor."

  The bartender quickly returned with three more boilermakers, the gsses hitting the scarred wooden bar with heavy thuds. Tyson's mismatched eyes met Thor's over the drinks. "Now I believe you owe me a story," he said with a hint of humor. "The one about the guy you fought that was bigger than me."

  Thor paused, momentarily fused. Then a flicker nition lit his bearded face as pieces fell into pce; the man's mismatched eyes, height, and strong build. "You were in the mask earlier at the camp," Thor rumbled. Tyson nodded.

  Thor studied him for a long moment, appreciation repced with wariness. This newer had helped against the locals, yet his motives were unclear. Thor asked directly, "Why are you here?"

  Tyson answered, "I'm a sultant. The military brings me in for weird… situations. And this qualified as weird." His expnation was straightforward, yet still left musaid. Thor remained guarded, unsure if this man was friend or foe. Then Tyson's somber face cracked into a grin. "But to answer your question… I'm here to drink, fight if needed, and see beautiful women… if any ever take the stage." He lifted his boilermaker in salute as Thor chuckled, some tension easing from his broad shoulders.

  Tyson's amiable, straightforward answer had shifted the atmosphere from straio almost panionable. Nearby, Erik Selvig gently probed his bruised jaw, still rec from the powerful blow dealt to him only minutes earlier.

  Tyson, leaning forward with i, prompted, "So, what about that tale you promised?"

  Thor's face kled into a grin. Grabbing his mug, he unched into a vivid narration of his invasion of Jotunheim, the icy realm of the frost giants. He described leading the charge into the frozen wastend, his patriots battling the t, ferocious giants by his side. Thor reted with pride how he had fearlessly fronted Laufey, the king of the giants, provoking chaos that had nearly ignited a war between Asgard and Jotunheim.

  As Thor cluded his tale, Tyson stared back, clearly impressed. "How big are these frost gialy?" he asked.

  "Easily three times your height," Thor replied matter-of-factly.

  Tyso out a low whistle, envisioning the scale. Signaling to the bartender, he casually pced another hundred-dolr bill on the worn wooden bar. "Another round, please," Tyson requested.

  When the drinks arrived, Tyson lifted his mug in a toast. "To you, Thor Odinson," he procimed. "May you find whatever you're searg for here oh." His words marked a gesture of respect for the Asgardian priranded in a world far from home.

  Thor raised his mug in respohe Asgardian and human warriors toasting one another in a show of newfound camaraderie. As the night wore on, they tio share stories and drinks, their boisterous ughter filling the dive bar. Selvig's eyes grew heavy, either from the alcohol or the blow he took earlier, his head drooping closer and closer to the worn bar top.

  When it seemed the astrophysicist was nearing the point of colpse, Thor extended his hand to Tyson in a gesture of gratitude and respect. "Thank you for the drinks, tales, and aid this night, Tyson the Mirage," Thor rumbled, his voice resonating with sincere appreciation.

  Tyson firmly grasped the proffered hand, returning the se. "The pleasure was all mihor Odinson," he replied. "I wish you well on your sojourn here oh."

  Effortlessly, Thathered the inebriated Selvig in his arms, hoisting the smaller man over one broad shoulder. Selvig offered no protest in his current state, head lolling as Thor carried him from the bar. The prirode into the night, bearing his friend.

  Left alo the bar, Tyson lingered for a moment longer, finishing his drink as he mulled over the evening's events. He had decided it was time to take his leave, then, the atmosphere underwent an abrupt transformation.

  The overhead lights dimmed while spotlights mounted along the perimeter of a small stage flickered to life, redireg the attention of all those present toward the elevated ptform. Tyson realized his assumption that the strip club operated solely as a bar on this partiight had been mistaken. As the opening notes of a sultry melody began to py from hidden speakers, a figure emerged from the curtains and made her way onto the stage, unduting with the music. The spotlight captured her, demanding the focus of every lingering patron. Tyson found himself momentarily transfixed, his pns to depart temporarily fotten.

  She was striking, so much so that she seemed almost out of p the seedy club. An emerald bikini with ats of shimmering gold adorned her slender yet shapely frame, atuating every curve. Her long, golden hair cascaded down to her hips ile waves. As she moved, her dance was both seductive and mesmerizing. Eaent flowed effortlessly into the as if she were an integral part of the melody. The most captivating aspect of her performance, however, was her eyes. They locked onto Tyson with an almost tangible iy, as if she could reach out and caress his soul with nothing more than her gaze. The hint of mystery within those emerald depths drew Tyson in, holding him captive in a near-hypnotic trance.

  Tyson found himself utterly ented by her presehe rest of the seedy bar seemed to fade into the background, being the backdrop of her fwless performaime seemed to slow to a crawl as he watched her dance, unaware of the moment he had risen from his barstool and sat at the edge of the stage. With the gap between them closed, Tyson was pletely captivated by the lithe, blonde dancer. Each sway of her hips and arch of her back drew him deeper into her siren's entment.

  Her body bent and twisted in time with the provocative rhythms in a dispy that was both athletid intensely erotic. Yet underh the raw sensuality in those hypnotic motions, there was an undercurrent of something more.

  Something… magical.

  It lurked there in her eyes, in the ile that teased the ers of her full, red lips. Tyson leaned forward in anticipation, hungry to catlimpse of that primal essence behind the facade. She had him now, heart and soul, and they both k. He was already hers for the taking.

  As she dahe woman leaned down towards Tyson, her presence mao be andi inviting. Despite the pounding music filling the room, her voice was clear as it reached him. "What's your name, handsome?" she asked in a pyful tone.

  "Tyson," he replied, momentarily uo form more plex thoughts.

  As she tio dance, her eyes never left him, and Tyson could not look away from her hypnotic stare. "Hello, Tyson. What brought you here tonight?" she asked casually, though her question held an undercurrent of true i.

  Tyson responded openly, "Oh, just some weird shit out in the desert earlier today. Found a magical hammer lodged in the ground that belongs to a fallen Nod hor. No big deal, pretty normal day for me," he answered breezily, the words flowing effortlessly from his lips under her spell. As soon as he finished speaking, he blinked, unsure where this sudden urge to reveal his secrets had e from. But the dang woman just ughed, a rich, musical sound that returned his thoughts from surprise solely to her presence.

  "Is that so? You certainly lead aing life, Tyson," she purred, regarding him now with unveiled fasation lighting up her exotic eyes. Tyson wondered what about this woman pelled him to lower his guard and speak so freely.

  Amora the Entress smiled subtly as she listeo Tyson's did response, pleased at his willio divulge information. Though she appeared merely a dancer, her guise roving effective at gathering intelligence from this intriguing man. Seamlessly weaving her questioning into the hypnotic rhythm of her dance, Amora probed gently, "And the hammer. Could you lift it?"

  Tyson's expression became visibly troubled for a sed time, his willpower straining against her entment. Sensing his internal struggle, Amora raised her hand in a graceful flourish that blended seamlessly into her dance, yet eled a reinfort of her magic's hold over him. Unnoticed by Tyson, the rerength of her spell eased the tension within him once more.

  "I thought for a moment that I could, but I couldn't. I'm not sure why," he fessed, a flicker of remembered hope and subsequent disappoi in his voice as he revealed his brief belief that Mjolnir would yield to his grasp. She maintaihe hypnotic ce of her dance, ensuring her magics kept Tyson's guard lowered and his secrets flowing freely.

  "Don’t be disappointed, you’re very impressive for this… pce," Amora reassured him. As the sultry melody of Amora's danded, she leaned in, her body unduting sensuously. Her voice was a siren's whisper, intrigued and beguiling. "I'll be seeing you soon," she murmured, her lips nearly brushing his ear. With a ile, she turned and sauntered gracefully off the stage, hips swaying.

  Tyson shook his head as if emerging from a daydream. His memory of the past few minutes was hazy, lost in a fog of magid desire. He recalled only impressions. A dancer of such stunniy she rivaled, perhaps surpassed any other woman in his mind. And the sehat she had taken a particur i in him.

  With a nont shrug, he left a hundred-dolr bill oage for the nameless entress.

  Stepping out into the night, Tyson walked away briskly. The memory of the incredible stripper lingered, her beauty and magism imprinted in his mind. But the details of their enter, her true identity, and the subtle ws of her magic remained hidden, lost in the sensual haze of her performance.

  AN: Sorry for the te posts. I’m on vacation for the wo weeks. Patrohe chapters on time because I schedule them in advance. Public releases happen when I get to them.

  Question for reviewers

  Why do you think Tyson wasn’t worthy?

  Behind the ses

  - Imagine my pleasant surprise when I was researg for this Arc to find that the bar se was actually filmed at Cheeks, a strip club in Santa Fe. That’s right folks, I didn’t make the strip club part up, that was all Marvel.

  For those of you ied in supp my writing.

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