"Has the dust finally begun to settle, I wonder?"
Loki wore that signature sly, knowing smile as he lounged in his private chambers in Asgard, emerald magic swirling around his scrying pool as he observed events unfolding on Midgard. "That idiot Thor... he's never quite as simple to deal with as everyone assumes, is he?"
"Underestimate him?" Loki scoffed and shook his head, genuine amusement dancing in his eyes.
The universe had a particular way of punishing those who made that fundamental error. You might hear Thor being called thick-headed or impulsive throughout the Nine Realms, certainly—but no one who had survived an encounter with the Crown Prince of Asgard ever claimed he was ineffective in battle!
If his combat prowess were truly as lacking as his intellect sometimes appeared to be...
Then how in Hel's frozen domain had he single-handedly carved a path of conquest through the Frost Giant armies and walked back to Asgard with barely a scratch?
A few mortal mutants dare to underestimate the son of Odin?
Did they genuinely believe the title God of Thunder was merely ceremonial—some empty honorific bestowed by primitive worshippers rather than a statement of fundamental cosmic truth?
"X-Men, they call themselves?"
Loki's eyes narrowed dangerously, a glint of almost predatory anticipation shining through his typically controlled demeanor.
He could already visualize those foolish creatures being reduced to scattered fragments beneath Mjölnir's unforgiving weight. For once, his brother's characteristic overkill might prove rather... entertaining.
"Perhaps I should maintain this connection," he murmured to himself, conjuring a comfortable chair with a flick of his wrist. "One rarely gets to witness such spectacular mismatches."
"D-Director—sir!"
"Something's drastically wrong with our assessment! That supposedly delusional subject... I mean, the individual self-identifying as Thor—he's not just mentally unstable, there's something fundamentally different about his energy signature!"
"He's not merely transforming—he's generating and channeling actual lightning from the atmosphere!!"
Agent Coulson burst through the security doors into Fury's command center, his normally composed demeanor completely shattered as he stumbled over his words in uncharacteristic alarm.
Under normal protocol, charging into the director's private monitoring station in such a state would have earned him a legendary dressing-down and possible disciplinary action from Nicholas Fury himself.
But at this particular moment?
Fury clearly had far more pressing concerns than enforcing decorum.
Eyes widened to their limit, expression frozen in a rare display of genuine shock, he stared at the high-definition monitor with an intensity that would have melted lesser technology.
The brilliant white-blue light from the screen reflected off his features, making his dark skin appear ashen, almost ghostly.
Even through the advanced S.H.I.E.L.D. monitoring equipment—
You could almost physically feel the reverberating bass of distant thunder as it rolled across San Francisco.
"Get me everything we have on weather manipulation technology," Fury ordered, his voice unnaturally quiet. "And contact Dr. Foster immediately."
On the global live stream, visible to millions:
A narrow, graffiti-covered alleyway in San Francisco's historic Chinatown district.
Dressed in an immaculately tailored emerald green suit that probably cost more than most people's monthly salary, Valmont had identified what he believed to be the perfect target of opportunity.
"Hey, boss... remind me why we're crouching behind these dumpsters? My legs are going completely numb, and this suit wasn't designed for stealth operations..." Ratso complained, misery etched into his unshaven face.
"Absolute imbecile!" Chow adjusted his designer glasses with a huff of superiority. "The boss obviously has his sights set on that strange man's equipment. That medieval armor? I'd wager my entire collection it's either a legitimate historical artifact or a masterfully handcrafted museum-quality reproduction. Either way—astronomically valuable to the right collector. Could fetch millions at a private auction!"
"You mean antique armor worth actual cash?" Finn's eyes lit up with immediate greed. "So we're going to acquire it? Convert it to liquid assets through the appropriate black market channels?"
Compared to the vague, nebulous promises of mystical talismans and cosmic rewards being dangled by their Dark Hand superiors...
Something tangible and immediately monetizable had a much more straightforward appeal to career criminals.
"I certainly don't intend to pay for it!"
Valmont delivered his trademark line with practiced menace, a predatory grin spreading across his aristocratic features as he rose to his full height and stepped forward into the alley.
And it wasn't just the intricately crafted armor that had caught his experienced eye.
That ornate hammer the strange man carried? Clearly a priceless artifact—perhaps even a one-of-a-kind historical treasure from some ancient Nordic civilization!
To give credit where it was due...
Valmont's insatiable avarice had granted him an almost supernatural intuition for identifying valuable objects. The moment his gaze had fallen upon Thor's hammer, his acquisitive instincts had locked onto it with laser-like precision.
"Hey, costume boy! This is what we professionals call a robbery!"
"Hand over all your fancy gear right now! We're the Dark Hand, you know—the most feared criminal organization in the city!"
Smirking with malevolent confidence, Chow, Ratso, and Finn spread out to surround Thor from three directions, cracking their knuckles theatrically and embodying every cliché of stereotypical thugs from a B-grade action film.
As comic relief henchmen went—they were absolutely perfect in their mediocrity.
Unfortunately for them...
They had made the cosmically poor decision to select Thor Odinson, Crown Prince of Asgard as their intended victim.
"You dare attempt to rob me?"
Thor's expression darkened ominously, storm clouds instantly beginning to gather in what had been a clear sky moments before. This represented the first time in millennia of existence that any being had possessed the sheer audacity to attempt stealing from him directly.
He hadn't yet experienced Odin's humbling "Trial of the King" from the myths that would later circulate—so at this particular stage of his development, Thor possessed the legendary temper that had once made entire realms tremble.
"How DARE you defile the sacred honor of Asgard with your petty criminal intentions!"
"In the name of the God of Thunder, you shall face the purifying judgment of the lightning!" Thor growled, his voice dropping to a register that seemed to vibrate the very concrete beneath their feet.
With a casual gesture of his right hand—
Crackling blue-white energy began dancing between his fingertips, expanding rapidly into blinding arcs.
No Odin-imposed limitations, no suppressed divine capabilities—just a group of ordinary human criminals confronting a fully empowered Asgardian in his prime.
Zzzzzap—
BOOM!!
Blinding lightning descended from the suddenly darkened sky with apocalyptic intensity.
Thor had casually deployed what he considered the equivalent of a warning shot, yet it struck with the approximate voltage of several hundred thousand volts—enough to power a small city.
Silver-white lightning cascaded from the swirling clouds above, connecting directly with the Dark Hand operatives. In an instant, all four men were transformed into smoking, twitching figures—their bodies blackened and hair standing on end from the massive electrical discharge.
"Hic—"
Valmont, being marginally tougher than his underlings due to years of martial arts training, managed a single hiccup, a small arc of residual electricity visibly sparking from between his lips. His once-pristine green suit was now reduced to charred tatters, and the distinctive acrid smell of ozone and burnt fabric permeated the alleyway.
Then, finally unable to withstand the massive neurological shock—
He collapsed with a heavy thud against the concrete.
Thud.
Thud.
One after another, the Dark Hand operatives dropped like dominoes in rapid succession. Their expressions suggested they never even registered what had happened to them.
Thor looked down at them with mild disappointment. "Is this truly the caliber of warrior this realm offers to challenge the Son of Odin? Most disappointing."
"What the absolute hell!? What in God's name did we just witness?!"
"OMG! That was actual lightning! Did I seriously just see a man summon lightning from a clear sky with a gesture?!"
"Wait wait wait—wasn't this guy supposed to be some delusional cosplayer according to the intelligence reports? How is he suddenly demonstrating genuine supernatural abilities?! Is this entire invasion system just an elaborate practical joke? Is today secretly April Fools' Day or something?!"
"This is why disinformation is so goddamn dangerous! Which incompetent intelligence agency classified him as a non-threat?! It's not the cringe factor that poses the danger—it's the superpowered cringe that's absolutely lethal!"
"Holy... this guy's the real deal after all. The X-Men are walking into serious trouble if they confront him with their current strategy!"
The blinding thunderbolt that had illuminated the San Francisco alleyway didn't just light up millions of screens around the world.
It seared itself permanently into the consciousness of every single viewer watching the livestream, fundamentally altering their understanding of what was possible.
The comment sections across every platform detonated with activity.
All the previous mockery and derision about Thor being a delusional medieval LARPer evaporated instantly, replaced by stunned expressions of genuine awe and not a small amount of fear.
And amid the digital tempest of reactions, one thoughtful message scrolled almost unnoticed:
"Hey... is it actually within the realm of possibility—I mean, just hypothetically speaking... could he genuinely be THE Thor from mythology? He's literally commanding lightning at will, and it completely aligns with the thunder god archetype described in Norse literature."
The message drifted across countless screens like a quiet revelation.
And suddenly, the online frenzy paused, a moment of collective realization spreading like ripples on still water.
The atmosphere in living rooms and monitoring stations worldwide turned cold with the implications.
Was it genuinely conceivable...?
That gods and mythological figures actually existed beyond ancient stories?
What did that mean for humanity's place in the cosmos?
"Impossible! This is absolutely, categorically impossible!!"
Nick Fury flat-out rejected the notion, his expression hardened into granite-like conviction.
Throughout his career, he had witnessed advanced alien technology, personally encountered the shape-shifting Skrulls and blue-skinned Kree, even observed the classified resurrection project in Tahiti...
But!
He, Nicholas J. Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., categorically refused to accept the existence of literal gods walking among humans.
As for the extraordinary abilities this "Thor" had just demonstrated?
"It's clearly an advanced form of superpower!"
"This is definitely some variant of energy manipulation we haven't cataloged yet!"
"Most likely dealing with a powerful mutant possessing weather control abilities—combined with a psychological condition that manifests as the delusion of being Thor from ancient Norse mythology..."
"That HAS to be the explanation!" Fury insisted with absolute certainty, though the slight tremor in his voice betrayed his underlying doubt.
There was simply no way he was going to incorporate actual Norse deities into his worldview without irrefutable evidence. Even then, he'd likely classify them as particularly powerful aliens masquerading as gods.
With Earth thoroughly mapped by satellites, oceans explored to their depths, and human footprints already marking the lunar surface—if gods truly existed as traditional mythology described them, science would have discovered evidence by now... unless they were simply advanced extraterrestrials misinterpreted by primitive cultures.
Fury narrowed his eye at the streaming footage, growing increasingly suspicious that this entire spectacle might be an elaborate deception orchestrated by previously unidentified enhanced individuals.
"Hill," he barked, "get me everything we have on electromagnetic field manipulation and atmospheric ionization technology. And put our Norse mythology expert on standby."
"Superpower manifestation?"
"Perhaps a mutant who spontaneously awakened thunder manipulation abilities?"
Professor Charles Xavier frowned deeply, pressing his fingertips against his temples as he attempted to telepathically reach across the continent.
He had initially arrived at the same conclusion as Fury—assuming they were witnessing a particularly dramatic manifestation of mutant abilities. He wasn't prepared to accept the "divine Thor" narrative without substantial verification.
"Pfft. Amateur hour."
"It's merely basic lightning manipulation," Storm commented dismissively, arms crossed over her chest.
This level of electrical discharge? She could easily replicate or exceed it herself given appropriate atmospheric conditions and a few moments of concentration.
In fact—
If granted sufficient time to fully charge her mutant abilities and manipulate the surrounding weather patterns...
"Just atmospheric electricity? Please, I can summon an entire coordinated thunderstorm system—exponentially more powerful than that isolated flash..."
She was just about to complete her confident assessment—
When something occurred on the livestream that silenced her mid-sentence.
A sudden, dramatic shift in the camera feed—
And Storm felt the distinctive chill of profound unease race down her spine...
Like a seasoned chef who suddenly realizes they've severely underestimated the heat of a particular pepper and are about to experience culinary humiliation.