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114 Mjölnir
🕑 Added 2025-08-15 18:15:03 +0000 UTCThe Avengers remained in the Secretariat Building for several more hours after Steve’s address. Their presence was in high demand with world leaders from every continent approached them with gratitude, questions, proposals, and even selfies. It was a blur of handshakes, symbolic toasts, and carefully worded conversations.
Tony charmed dignitaries with his eccentric personality, exchanging jabs with diplomats like they were old poker buddies. Thor was surrounded by a crowd of awestruck admirers, alternately laughing heartily and recounting sanitized versions of intergalactic battles. Bruce tried to remain invisible, but his intellect still drew curious minds. Clint kept things light with dry jokes.
Steve, meanwhile, shook more hands than he could count. His speech was already being hailed as a historic moment of the century. Eventually, as the sun dipped beneath the Manhattan skyline, the Avengers politely disengaged from the throng of attention and slipped into their transport. There was only so much diplomacy a superhero could endure before needing a drink, a shower, or a well-earned nap.
The formalities were over.
Now, it was time to party.
While the others scattered to their rooms to change into something more casual, Harry opted to keep things simple. He loosened his tie and left his jacket behind, strolling back out in just his tuxedo shirt with his top button undone and his fitted black pants. It wasn’t exactly casual, but it worked for him. Besides, he knew exactly where he wanted to be.
He found Natasha already in the bar area of the common room, standing with her back to the lounge as she mixed herself some cocktails. The soft bar lighting caught the shimmer of her silk dress, the off-white fabric hugging her figure like it was tailored by magic itself. Her hair was swept to one side, elegant yet effortless.
“How’d a nice girl like you wind up working in a dump like this?” Harry asked as he slid onto the barstool across from her, resting one elbow on the counter and loosening his cufflink with the other hand.
Natasha smirked as finshed shaking her drink. “My fiancé owns the place,” she said coyly, “but he’s not around as much as I’d like him to be.”
Harry leaned in, playing along. “Sounds like you’ve got lousy taste in men, kid.”
“Oh, I do.” She poured a drink slowly for herself. “But this one’s… different. He’s got a heart of gold, listens even when he pretends he’s not, makes me feel safe when I’m surrounded by chaos.”
Harry smiled faintly, but didn’t interrupt.
Natasha glanced at him as she set down the bottle down. “And unlike everyone else I’ve ever worked with, this guy? He’d rather learn how to make crème brûlée than win another war.”
Harry chuckled. “He sounds amazing.”
“He is,” she said softly, grabbing a second glass and pouring him a generous measure of whiskey. “I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”
She slid the glass toward him, and their eyes met as he took it.
“To domestic life,” Natasha said, raising her glass.
Harry clinked his against hers, their fingers brushing. “To domestic life.”
They drank, letting the silence linger between them.
Once they’d both taken a sip, Harry leaned back slightly and changed the topic of conversation, “The assembly went well.”
Natasha tilted her glass thoughtfully, letting the ice swirl. “Hmm.”
“That doesn’t sound like a full endorsement.”
“It’s not,” she replied bluntly, then sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, Steve was great. Poised. Honest. People felt what he was saying. But...” she trailed off, searching for the right phrasing.
“But?”
“It still felt like a call to arms more than a defense of our actions,” she admitted. “He spoke about ideals, not outcomes. No mention of the Hydra cells we’ve dismantled. The officials we’ve helped get arrested and prosecuted. The resources we’ve diverted to disaster zones. The intel passed to world governments.”
Harry nodded, letting her vent. She wasn’t angry, just frustrated.
“We’ve been vigilantes, sure. But we’ve done real good. And the speech needed numbers. It needed receipts. People trust words, sure but they believe statistics.”
“That’s not Steve’s strong suit,” Harry said, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “If we wanted facts, stats, a strategic outline… then you would’ve been the perfect candidate.”
Natasha scoffed softly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I mean it,” Harry replied. “You would’ve dismantled doubt like it was another Hydra cell.”
She exhaled through her nose but the tension in her shoulders gave her away. “Maybe I should’ve taken the lead then,” she muttered as her eyes fixed on the amber in her glass. “Because as good as Steve was today… emotions fade. They always do.”
Harry didn’t interrupt.
Natasha continued. “The passion, the unity, it’ll fizzle out by next week. And the skeptics, the politicians, the armchair analysts? They’ll dissect every word he said. Take things out of context. Twist the message. That kind of misinformation spreads like a virus.”
She looked up at Harry finally, her expression was a mix of worry and realism. “We did the right thing, but I don’t think the world is going to remember it that way.”
Maybe,” Harry replied gently. “But we don’t need to justify every single thing we do.”
Natasha arched a brow, waiting.
He set his glass down. “If we start bending to every critic, every politician, every armchair philosopher with a Twitter account, we’ll never move. There will always be someone who thinks we went too far, or not far enough. That we acted too soon, or too late. It’s endless.”
Natasha folded her arms, listening to Harry’s arguments.
“I’m not saying we shouldn’t be accountable,” Harry continued. “We owe that to humanity. But humanity doesn’t speak with one voice. It never has. You can’t ask seven billion people for permission every time you try to save them.”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Natasha said quietly. “I’m saying we have to show them we’re not above consequences. That power doesn’t mean immunity.”
Harry looked at her, soft but firm. “And I’m saying we can’t afford to keep apologizing for fighting the battles no one else can.”
There was a pause.
“I know where this road leads,” she murmured. “You think we’ll always be trusted. I think that trust can vanish overnight.”
“And I think,” Harry replied, “that if we keep doing what’s right, it’ll be enough.”
“But we should’ve still mentioned numbers,” Natasha said with a pout, poking the rim of her glass like it had personally failed her.
Harry grinned. “Then why don’t you just release an Avengers Annual Report? You know, full of humanitarian efforts, cost-benefit analyses, mission success ratios, maybe throw in a couple of Venn diagrams, pie charts, a scatter plot for dramatic flair…”
Natasha choked on her drink mid-sip. “Are you serious?”
Harry leaned forward like a kid presenting a science project. “Dead serious. We’ll include sections like ‘Aliens Punched per Quarter,’ or ‘Hydra Bases Blown Up Without Collateral Damage.’ Imagine the graphs and photos. I am sure JARVIS can click a lot of photos of us fighting the good fight.”
Natasha burst into laughter, setting her glass down before she dropped it. “Who’s going to write that? More importantly, who’s going to read it?”
“We’ve got dozens of SHIELD agents drowning in paperwork already,” Harry countered, completely unfazed. “They love that kind of punishment. I’m just giving their data a more glamorous purpose. Besides, who reads half the legislation passed in this world anyway? No one. But it’s about optics, remember?”
Natasha gave him a long, amused stare. “You’re actually making sense. That’s the scary part.”
Harry sipped his drink. “It’s the accent. Makes everything sound more reasonable.”
Natasha chuckled and shook her head. “Alright, fine. I’ll run it by Hill. If there’s one person who’ll go wild over line graphs and footnotes, it’s her.”
Harry raised his glass. “To boring bureaucracy, saving superheroes from slander one spreadsheet at a time.”
Natasha clinked her glass to his. “God help us all.”
Harry nodded, ready to launch into another clever quip when Natasha reached across the bar and pressed a finger gently against his lips.
“You know,” she said softly, “we’re done with Hydra now.”
Harry blinked, her touch freezing him in place. “Hmm,” he hummed in agreement, his words muffled beneath her fingertip.
“And,” she continued, her voice dropping just slightly, “we’ll be getting married pretty soon. Once all the post-Hydra logistics settle.”
“Yes,” Harry whispered, watching her eyes more than hearing her words now.
There was a moment of silence between them. Like the quiet before a sunrise. Then Natasha asked, quietly, as if it was something fragile, “Do you want to go to Asgard?”
Harry straightened slowly, brows raised in surprise. He studied her carefully, realizing the weight behind her words.
“You mean… actually go? For healing?”
Natasha nodded, her smile was tentative and unsure.
Harry's gaze softened, the corner of his mouth curling upward. “Okay,” he said, without hesitation. Natasha’s smile bloomed fully now into a rare, real, radiant smile.
Harry leaned in, slowly, deliberately, as if the world had stopped spinning just to let this moment happen. And then their lips met soft at first, like a promise whispered into skin. Then deeper but not rushed, not desperate, just two people who had fought so long finally letting themselves have something.
But just as things began to heat up, Natasha gently pulled away, her smirk returning like a shadow. “You do know you still have food to prepare for tonight, right?”
Harry groaned, his forehead resting dramatically on the bar. “You wound me.”
“Save the theatrics for dessert, Potter.”
Still grumbling, Harry stood up from the stool, but not before sneaking one more kiss on her cheek. “Fine. But only because I like to impress your friends.”
“You’re impressing someone,” Natasha called as he walked off. “Mostly yourself.”
Harry tilted his head questioningly, “So when were you thinking?”
“After the honeymoon,” Natasha replied smoothly.
Harry’s brow rose with curiosity, and he leaned a little closer. “Oh? We’re talking official now?”
She grinned, taking a slow sip of her drink. “I have this safe house near a lake in Norway. Secluded. Quiet. Gorgeous view. I was thinking maybe… after the wedding, we disappear for a while. Just the two of us. No Avengers duty, no phones, no internet, no world. You, me, and your magic tricks.”
Harry’s lips curled into a lopsided smile. “That sounds dangerously perfect. Just the two of us in the woods? I like this idea of yours.”
“You better,” Natasha replied, “Because I’m not letting anything interrupt it. We’ve both earned a break. A real one.”
He was about to toast to that when she added, softer this time, “And maybe, about a month after that… we go to Asgard. Visit Odin and Frigga. See if there’s anything they can do about… me.”
Harry’s expression softened instantly, the playfulness giving way to understanding. He reached out, gently threading his fingers through hers.
“You know I don’t care whether we can have kids or not, right?”
“I know,” she said quietly, “but I still want it.”
Harry nodded, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles before leaning in, clearly aiming for more.
But Natasha stopped him with a palm against his chest, her smirk both apologetic and warning. “Not now. Phil, Rhodey, and Maria will be here any minute.”
Harry gave her a full-on puppy dog face. “Just one kiss.”
Natasha raised an eyebrow. “You and I both know it’s never just one kiss. You start that now, and we’ll end up canceling the entire party.”
Harry groaned dramatically, leaning back on his stool. “So cruel.”
“Cruel would be letting you kiss me and then walking away,” she said, taking another slow sip of her drink. “Now go. Kitchen. Food. Or there will be a revolt.”
Harry stood up with exaggerated reluctance, groaning like a man asked to slay a dragon before dessert. “Fine. But when everyone’s stuffing their faces and moaning about how good the food is, I’ll just sit in the corner thinking about what could’ve been.”
He turned with a dramatic flair and promptly tripped after a few steps.
“Bloody hell!” he stumbled, catching himself. Looking down, his eyes narrowed. “Oh, come on. Why does Thor leave his stuffs lying around like an overgrown toddler?”
Natasha glanced up from her drink, amused. There, sitting in the middle of the walkway like a forgotten kettlebell, was Mjölnir.
Still grumbling, Harry bent down, grabbed the hammer by its handle, and hoisted it one-handed with hardly any effort. Just a quick pick-up, like he was scooping up a dropped umbrella.
“Tell them to clean up after themselves, would you?” he muttered, placing the Asgardian forged weapon neatly on the coffee table like it was a rogue remote control, then disappeared into the kitchen with a casual, “Back in a bit.”
Natasha stared at the hammer for a moment. Then with a shrug, she went back to sipping her drink and tapping on her phone, shaking her head. Both of them were unbothered and blissfully ignorant of the seismic rule he’d just broken, Harry hummed something under his breath as he opened the fridge, while Natasha scrolled through Pink’s discography finding a song that she liked.
Within the hour, the team, had gathered in the common room as they indulged in casual talk. Thor was already sprawled out across one of the large couches, wearing a tight-fitting black T-shirt that barely contained his biceps and a pair of rugged jeans that made him look like a Norse god cosplaying as a lumberjack. Beside him, Steve sat in a soft navy Henley and well-worn denim, looking like a man who still hadn’t quite figured out how to relax, but was trying. Bruce kept to the corner, sipping slowly from his glass, his grey tee and olive pants almost blending in with the background.
Clint was perched on the arm of the couch, flicking a toothpick between his fingers while making casual jabs at anyone within reach. Tony, on the other hand, hadn’t even bothered changing, still in his suit from earlier, though the tie had vanished and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone. He looked like a Wall Street exec who’d wandered into a frat party. Rhodey and Phil Coulson mirrored the same look: business casual with a dose of Avengers swagger.
The coffee table, yes, the one that now also casually housed Thor’s hammer, was lined with platters of expertly crafted finger foods. Bite-sized beef wellingtons, truffle sliders, smoked salmon on brioche crisps, and some sort of glowing cocktail jelly that Harry had definitely made as a surprise. Everyone had a drink in hand, most notably mugs of thick, golden Asgardian mead that Thor had asked for.
It was warm. It was lively. It was family. The kind of night that made you forget the world had ever needed saving. And in the kitchen, Harry was still humming. He was the only one missing from the lounge, happily tucked away behind the open archway. Dressed in his shirt sleeves, apron tied loosely at the waist, wand occasionally stirring something mid-air behind him, Harry was in his element.
He wanted to cook for the team tonight because this was how he showed love. After everything they’d been through, a home-cooked meal felt like the most powerful kind of magic.
Back in the common room, the others were content to lounge, sip, snack, and wait. Every now and then, someone glanced toward the kitchen, waiting for the inevitable call: “Dinner’s ready.”
But for now, they let Harry work. Because they all knew, when he called them to the table, it’d be worth the wait.
As another round of mead was poured, Phil’s gaze drifted toward Steve, who was chuckling softly at something Thor had said.
“I just want to say,” Phil started, “that speech today? That was one for the history books.”
Steve blinked. “You think so?”
“I know so,” Phil replied with assurance. “The internet forums are flooded. Social media's calling it the 'New Dawn Address.' The UN stream has over ninety million views. And trending hashtag: ‘#StandWithTheAvengers.’” He held up his phone, screen lit with thousands of glowing comments. “Steve, that speech might’ve just restored faith in a lot more than just the Avengers.”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “Huh. And here I thought the people came for my good looks.”
“They stayed for the speech,” Coulson deadpanned, then turned back to Steve. “You didn’t just explain what you do, Cap. You reminded people who you are. And why we fight.”
Rhodey nodded. “The brass back at the Pentagon had mixed notes but even they agreed it was the most honest piece of diplomacy they’d seen in years.”
Clint leaned in from across the couch, swirling his drink. “Yeah, Steve, you even got Laura tearing up. She texted me during it—‘Tell Captain America that I’d vote for him twice.’”
“That’s illegal,” Tony muttered under his breath.
Bruce chuckled. “Still sweet, though.”
Steve smiled modestly, his cheeks tinged pink. “It was the truth. That’s all.”
Thor raised his mead with a broad grin. “A worthy toast, then! To Rogers whose words today stirred hearts across Midgard!”
Everyone raised their glasses, even JARVIS chimed in from the speakers: “Cheers, Captain.”
From the kitchen, Harry’s voice called out faintly over the clinking glasses: “And hurry it up with your toasts, dinner’s almost ready!”
Tony looked around. “He’s been in there for ages. I swear, the man’s inventing magic-infused soufflés or something.”
Coulson chuckled. “Let him cook. He’s earned it. You all have.”
“So, no Pepper tonight?” Hill asked as she sipped from her glass and glanced around the lounge.
Tony shook his head. “Nope. She’s busy running the largest tech empire on the planet. Something about quarterly earnings and making sure Stark Industries doesn’t accidentally buy Luxembourg.”
Hill raised an eyebrow. “Right. Totally normal CEO things.”
She turned to Thor. “And what about Jane? Where’s the lady of thunder?”
Thor let out a good-natured chuckle. “Ah, Jane… She’s currently coordinating telescopic arrays across three continents. The convergence data alone has made her the foremost expert on cosmic anomalies.”
Tony leaned forward on the couch, smirking. “Cute. My girlfriend builds rockets and designs clean energy for half the planet.”
“Yes,” Thor replied, nodding, “but mine might win a Nobel Prize.”
“She turned down a teaching job at Culver, didn’t she?” Clint chimed in. “Pretty sure she’s on some UN science advisory board too.”
“Still not as cool as single-handedly revolutionizing global energy.” Tony added smugly. “With style.”
Thor huffed. “Jane once mapped a wormhole using only a broken laptop and a chalkboard.”
Tony squinted. “Pepper negotiated international accords while shutting down a hostile takeover while wearing Louboutins.”
Maria watched the two and grinned. “Wow. You two are really doing this.”
Thor and Tony answered in unison, “She started it.”
Natasha leaned toward Steve and whispered, “Is it weird that this is kind of adorable?”
“Kind of,” Steve replied. “Mostly just weird.”
“Anyway,” Hill interrupted, amused, “I’m sure Jane and Pepper are just devastated to be missing out on this testosterone showcase.”
Thor crossed his arms, eyes twinkling. “Still. Jane is better.”
Tony’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?!”
“Objectively,” Thor added with a proud tilt of his head.
Tony turned to Bruce. “Tell him Pepper’s better. Come on, back me up here.”
Bruce held up both hands, backing away. “Nope. Not touching that with a ten-foot gamma pole.”
Laughter still echoed around the lounge as the conversation drifted from girlfriends and Nobel prizes into familiar and absurd territory. Somehow it landed on Mjolnir.
“Fifty bucks says it’s a trick,” Clint declared, leaning back in his chair as he eyed Thor’s hammer, which now sat innocently on the coffee table where Harry had left it earlier. “Some kind of alien tech magnet or biometric lock.”
Thor looked entirely unbothered, sipping from his mead. “Oh no. It’s far more than that.”
“‘Whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the power,’ blah blah... whatever, man. It’s still a trick,” Clint scoffed.
Thor raised an eyebrow and gestured grandly toward the hammer. “Please, be my guest.”
Clint blinked. “Seriously?”
“Oh, this is happening,” Tony said, grinning as he nudged Bruce. “Finally, something entertaining before dinner.”
“This is going be beautiful,” Rhodey muttered, leaning forward with a grin.
Natasha smirked faintly and swirled the whiskey in her glass. She leaned closer to Steve and murmured under her breath, “Ten bucks says he pulls something in his back.”
Steve chuckled quietly. “You’re on.”
With a theatrical sigh, Clint pushed himself up. “You know I’ve seen this thing in action, right? This isn’t going to end well.”
Tony raised a glass. “Clint, you’ve had a tough week. We won’t hold it against you if you can’t get it up.”
That earned a fresh round of laughter from the room, Natasha just shook her head with a hint of amusement in her eyes.
Clint stepped up, cracked his knuckles, and wrapped both hands around Mjolnir’s handle.
The room leaned in, holding its collective breath.
Clint strained. Muscles tensed. Face reddened. His feet began to slide on the rug.
Natasha raised her eyebrows in mock concern. “You’re going throw out your back before you lift that thing.”
With a grunt of defeat, Clint let go and slumped back into the couch. “Still don’t know how you do it,” he muttered, shooting a glare at Thor, who offered only a smug chuckle and a shrug.
Across the room, Natasha’s gaze lingered on the hammer for a second too long. She didn’t say anything. Not yet. Instead, she took a slow sip of her drink, a subtle smile forming at the corner of her mouth. This night was already turning out to be more entertaining than she expected.
“Smell the silent judgment?” Tony quipped, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt as he eyed Mjolnir with mock offense.
Clint didn’t even look up. “Please, Stark, by all means.”
Tony rose with exaggerated elegance, brushing invisible lint from his shoulder like a knight preparing for battle.
“Oh, here we go,” Natasha muttered into her glass, watching him with a glint of amusement.
Maria Hill smirked and leaned back on the couch. “This should be good.”
“Uh-oh,” Rhodey murmured with a grin. “Somebody cue the fanfare.”
Clint folded his arms. “Um-hmm.”
Tony strode toward the hammer with all the self-importance of a man about to solve gravity. “Never one to shrink from an honest challenge,” he said as he came to a stop beside it. He crouched, examining the hammer like a puzzle cube he was just about to solve.
“It’s physics,” Tony declared, eyes sparkling.
“Physics!” Bruce echoed with mock seriousness. “You’re going to out-science a magic hammer?”
Tony held up a finger as if delivering a TED Talk. “Thor’s a myth. Mjolnir’s an equation. And I happen to be the solution.”
Thor raised an eyebrow but said nothing, enjoying the show.
Tony gripped the handle, took a deep breath. “If I lift it, I then rule Asgard, right?” Tony asked, turning to Thor with narrowed eyes.
Thor gave an approving nod. “Yes, of course.”
“I will be re-instituting Prima Nocta,” Tony said with a completely straight face.
A beat of silence passed. Bruce covered his face with one hand. Rhodey groaned.
Tony ignored them, setting his jaw and tugged.
Nothing.
He pulled again, this time with a grunt. The hammer didn’t so much as wiggle.
“Alright. That’s fine. That’s fine.” He turned and marched out of the room.
“I think he’s going for the suit,” Clint muttered.
“Definitely going for the suit,” Steve agreed.
Just as the laughter died down from Tony’s failed attempt, Phil Coulson set his drink down and cleared his throat.
Everyone turned.
“No way,” Clint said flatly. “You want to try?”
Phil shrugged, straightening his tie with deliberate calm. “What? I’ve waited my whole life for this moment. I feel like this is the kind of thing that happens once. Like a lunar eclipse. Or Fury actually saying ‘please.’”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Rhodey chuckled.
“Dead serious,” Coulson replied, stepping forward with the confidence of a man who’d read every file on Asgard and probably memorized Mjolnir’s inscription. He walked over to Mjolnir, adjusted his stance like he was approaching a priceless artifact in a museum, and after cracking his knuckles, reached down to grasp the handle.
He pulled.
Nothing.
He grunted softly and tried again, adding a little back-into-it motion. Still nothing.
“Maybe it’s stuck to the table,” he offered.
“It’s not,” Thor said smugly.
Phil gave one last half-hearted tug, then stood up, adjusting his suit cuffs. “I’m just saying… maybe it’s waiting for the director-level clearance.”
Rhodey smirked. “Or maybe it prefers field work.”
A moment later, Tony reappeared with one red-and-gold gauntlet already locking onto his arm. The soft whirrrr of servos accompanied his return to the coffee table.
“Now then,” he announced, grabbing the hammer with the gauntlet’s mechanical grip. He pulled.
Nothing.
He activated the full thrust of the repulsor engine. And still, the hammer didn’t move.
Mjolnir remained, completely unimpressed.
Tony let go, panting just a little. “Okay. That’s... interesting.”
“I guess physics has left the chat,” Bruce offered.
Rhodey, ever the dependable wingman, stepped up beside Tony with a dry grin. “Alright, let’s show them how it's done.”
Both men now sported armored gauntlets. Tony’s sleek red and gold, Rhodey’s heavy-duty gray; as they positioned themselves on either side of Mjolnir like they were preparing to deadlift a car.
They grabbed the handle together.
“Are you even pulling?” Rhodey grunted after a few seconds, sweat starting to bead at his temple.
Tony shot him a look. “Are you on my team or not?”
“I’m representing!” Rhodey huffed. “Now pull!”
“Okay! One… two—”
They heaved with synchronized effort, teeth clenched, gauntlets sparking slightly from the strain.
The hammer didn’t budge a millimeter.
They both collapsed backward with a defeated groan.
Thor took a slow sip of his mead, unbothered. “You make a good team. Just not that good.”
Then Bruce stepped forward with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He took a deep breath, hunched his shoulders, and let out a theatrical roar, more goofy than terrifying, as he flexed his arms.
Everyone froze.
For a split second, there was dead silence. Natasha’s hand even twitched toward her sidearm.
“Huh?” Bruce said, blinking innocently. “Too soon?”
A few snorts of laughter followed, mostly from Tony and Clint, while Thor gave an amused grunt. Maria Hill gave him a deadpan stare. “Maybe a little.”
“Alright, alright,” Bruce muttered, hands raised in surrender. He crouched, reached for the hammer... and immediately stood back up. “Nope. That’s enough embarrassment for one day.”
Next up was Steve, quiet and composed as ever, with that effortless humility that made the others lean in a little closer.
“Let’s go, Cap. No pressure or anything,” Tony teased, swirling his drink.
“Come on, Cap,” Rhodey added, half-mocking, half-curious.
Steve said nothing. He simply stepped forward, adjusted his grip, and wrapped his fingers around the handle of Mjolnir.
He pulled.
Just a little.
The hammer shifted, barely a fraction of an inch, but it moved.
Thor’s eyes went wide. His smile froze.
For a beat, the entire room held its breath.
Then Steve let go, shaking his head with a humble chuckle. “Guess it’s glued down.”
Thor let out a boisterous laugh, just a bit too loud and a bit too relieved. “Yes! Yes, of course. A trick of the light!”
Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Nothing,” he echoed, though his voice had lost some of its usual smugness.
Clint leaned toward Natasha. “Did it just move?”
Natasha smirked but said nothing, sipping her drink like she’d just won a bet no one else knew about.
“And?” Bruce prompted, glancing toward Natasha.
“Widow?” Tony added, eyebrows raised, lips twitching into a smirk. “You going to give it a shot?”
Natasha didn’t even flinch. She simply shook her head in a slow and deliberate motion while her expression was unreadable.
“Oh, no. That’s not a question I need answered,” she said coolly, swirling the ice in her glass. “I already know who can lift the hammer… and who can’t.”
A beat passed.
Tony blinked. “Wait, what does that mean?”
Nat just gave him the faintest smirk, then turned back to her drink, leaving the room buzzing with curiosity and zero answers.
“All deference to the man who wouldn’t be king,” Tony said with exaggerated gravitas, pointing at Thor, “but it’s rigged.”
“You bet your ass,” Clint added, raising his glass in solidarity.
Maria Hill arched an eyebrow, feigning scandal. “Steve, he said a bad word.”
Steve sighed like a disappointed dad. “Really, Tony? Did you seriously tell everyone about that?”
Tony spread his hands innocently. “What? It’s adorable. Cap’s 106 and still flinches at a four-letter word.”
Clint chuckled. “It’s like watching a golden retriever try to file taxes.”
Tony smirked and leaned toward the hammer again. “Still say it’s tech. The handle’s imprinted, right? Biometric lock. Thor’s fingerprints, DNA, voice recognition, some fancy Asgardian encryption.”
“Oh, please,” Rhodey groaned. “Next you’ll say it has a Stark OS update.”
Thor, who’d been enjoying the whole spectacle with amusement, finally stood. He reached down and, with a casual flick of his wrist, spun the hammer in a blur before catching it.
“Yes, well,” he said, flashing a smirk as he tossed it lightly from one hand to the other. “That’s a very compelling theory. But I prefer a simpler explanation.”
He held the hammer aloft and let the silence draw out before finishing:
“You’re all not worthy.”
A chorus of groans and protests erupted instantly.
“Rigged!”
“Fake hammer!”
“I was pulling!”
“This is biased!”
Thor just grinned, enjoying the chaos like a proud older brother.
Natasha sipped her drink with a knowing smile. “Told you guys I already knew the answer.”
Suddenly, a high-pitched screech tore through the room like microphone feedback, only sharper, deeper and more sinister. Everyone flinched. Glasses rattled on the table. Natasha’s Pink discography music cut out with a crackle of static.
Tony instinctively reached for his tablet. “That wasn’t us,” he muttered, scanning for the source.
Before anyone could speak, one of the Iron Legion suits limped into view from the far corridor. Sparks crackled from exposed wiring. Armor plating was torn and blackened, its movements jerky and unnatural like something wearing the corpse of a machine.
Its eyes glowed red.
“What the hell?” Rhodey whispered.
The suit stopped in the center of the lounge, its head turning slowly as it scanned the room. Then, in a voice warped by static and metal, hauntingly cold and almost sad, it spoke.
“Worthy…” it rasped, voice echoing from the suit and the Tower’s sound system in unison. “No. How could you be worthy?”
A pause.
“You’re all… killers.”
Comments
Gabriel Harris
But otherwise, I loved the chapter! :) and I’ll have a new chapter updated on mine for you to check out by tomorrow
Gabriel Harris
I think it should be made known Harry can lift the hammer
