After James returned, Coulson reported to HQ: their team was complete, operational, and ready to deploy again. For now they were on standby, and nobody wandered off without clearance.
James mulled that over, then called Kyle.
"Kyle. How's the stock situation?"
Kyle Robert's voice came through with a bit of irritation. "Boss, I've been calling you for a month. Where the hell have you been?"
He barreled on without waiting. "League Games shares are selling hot. Expensive, yeah, but demand hasn't cooled at all. After the auction, ten percent of the shares are sold—but you're not here, and there's no signature to sign them off."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Well, my work's a bit… special, that I can't disclose" James said into the phone. "So don't complain, if the shares are sold, bring the documents to Washington, I'll sign them."
He ended the call and rang his contacts to line up the rest.
The next day, Kyle and Phillip arrived in Washington. James stepped out, signed the paperwork, and the sale got finalized.
League Games carried an estimated market value of $350 billion. One percent of shares equaled $3.5 billion on paper—though it wasn't publicly listed yet, which meant the price moved at a premium. Demand was insane.
Kyle had ultimately split the ten percent into ten separate blocks and sold them as auction items.
Final result: $40.5 billion in cash.
James stared at the figure, then moved on. Money was just a means to an end.
He called Tony Stark soon after.
"Hey Tony. Did you send me the bill?"
"Not yet," Tony said. "I knew you sold some shares, but I didn't hand you the invoice when you were off-world, and I didn't have any time when Odin visited."
"Thats fine, can you send it now?" James said. "I'll transfer the money. I'll list it as an investment expense while I'm at it. A nice clean tax shield."
Tony snorted. "Since when do you care about tax breaks?"
"I don't invest for tax breaks," James said flatly. "I take tax breaks when I'm investing anyway."
"It's a weird philosophy," Tony said, "but fine, I respect it. The invoice is in your email. A rough estimate of $1.2 billion—mostly equipment procurement. Once we're operational, there'll be fixed costs and… surprises."
"Then I'll send $2 billion," James replied. "Phillip will run oversight and I've got an assistant—Evelyn Salt. She'll follow up with you."
"You have an assistant?" Tony perked up immediately. "Is she hot?"
James didn't miss a beat. "She is, and she's secretly from the CIA. We don't really get along, I give her tasks and she completes them. Being a secret agent with all those skills really makes them useful."
Tony sounded genuinely offended on James's behalf. "Why is the CIA interested in you?"
"They're interested in S.H.I.E.L.D." James's tone went colder. "So drop it, let's build the platform."
He ended the call, made a few more calls to lock funding and legal coverage, then shelved it.
With all that done, he had Agent missions to do.
Thankfully, his personal logistics were handled.
In the briefing room, the team pulled up the new case file.
In a Norwegian national forest park, someone had pushed through restricted woodland. When a deep-forest administrator tried to stop them, one of the women struck back—sending the administrator flying.
Launching over ten meters in the air.
That's not possible with normal human strength.
James recognized the pattern immediately. If this had happened before Asgard, it would've been problematic.
Now that he had made an alliance and access to Asgard things would go much easier.
The Quinjet did a vertical take-off from S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ and flew to Norway.
Local police had controlled the perimeter, but the S.H.I.E.L.D. branch had already taken over the scene. With James en route, Simmons began scanning the recovered equipment and sending data to the aircraft, Fitz ran analysis in real time, and Coulson interviewed the injured administrator.
James wanted this handled fast.
With the Winter Soldier plot not far off, The team would need all the training time they can get.
Either S.H.I.E.L.D. or Hydra was going to fall.
As they reviewed location models, Coulson pointed at the markings.
"This matches symbols tied to Asgardian warriors," he said. "James—you were there for a month. Do you recognize these?"
James nodded. "A berserker's staff. Used by old Asgardian combat roles, not so common anymore. I didn't get deep access to their history, and the palace crowd doesn't exactly socialize with berserkers."
Coulson turned to Skye. "Any internet hits?"
Skye pulled the feed onto the main display. "Jacob Nystrom and his girlfriend, Petra Larson, leaders in Norwegian paganism."
A video played: the pair directing followers as they vandalized property. At the end, they traced words in flames in the ground:
WE ARE GOD
James's gaved the video a look of scorn. "A bunch of cultists."
Coulson exhaled. "Alright. That weapon gives ordinary people strength—but it's incomplete. We need an expert."
He didn't hesitate. "When we found Mjölnir in New Mexico, I consulted someone with serious authority on mythology—Professor Elliot Randolph."
With a direction to their next task, they boarded the BUS, diverted for Seville, Spain.
Randolph welcomed them warmly when they arrived at his office.
"Professor," Coulson said, "we need your help."
He produced a replica model and handed it over. Randolph did a careful examination, then offered several key insights.
Coulson moved to leave, but James stopped him.
Coulson frowned. "James?"
James didn't answer him, he looked at Randolph instead, calm and almost amused.
"It's interesting," James said, "that an Asgardian warrior is teaching on Earth."
Coulson's confusion deepened.
Randolph stared at James as he did a slow blink in confusion.
Coulson trusted James's instincts more than Randolph's acting and sat back down.
James equipped the ceremonial armor he'd worn in Asgard. A sword rested at his waist.
He drew it, stepped toward Randolph, and laid the blade gently on his shoulder.
Randolph dropped to one knee as per ritual.
"Berserker Elliot Randolph," Randolph said in a noble deep voice, voice stripped of a professor's tone. "At the command of my lord."
Coulson stared, stunned.
James sheathed the sword. The armor dissolved back into storage space.
"Rise," James said. "I'm not here to expose you, what you're doing is thoughtful—for someone who chose exile."
Randolph rose cautiously, eyes sharper now. "I didn't expect a knight to appear, and you… you don't sound Asgardian."
"I'm not," James said. "I'm from Earth. I spent a month in Asgard, the Dark Elves attacked, so I did my part. For helping defend Asgard and eradicating the Dark Elves, Odin knighted me."
"It's mostly symbolic," he added.
"So that's how it is," Randolph said, absorbing the info. "I didn't expect Odin to knight an Earthling. You must have made the greatest contribution in that war."
Now that introductions have been settled, James came back straight to the point at hand.
"This weapon is yours. You know best where it was hidden. We need the remaining two pieces before they end up in the wrong hands, and we'll use the staff as bait to catch the people already going after it."
Randolph nodded immediately. "Yes, I will cooperate with you. I can find them—easily, but… I hope you don't send me back to Asgard."
James didn't blink. "Don't worry, Asgard's in an alliance with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers now. Communication is only going to increase."
Randolph grabbed his backpack and fell in with the team. As they moved, he asked, a little worriedly, "Did Asgard lose much in the war?"
James glanced at him. "They can rebuild."
Randolph let out a breath of relief. In a cheeky move James said "Maybe I should recommend you as Odin's adviser."
"No," Randolph said instantly, shaking his head hard. "No, I cannot accept. I'd be called a coward, a failure. Asgard only respects achievements through battle."
Breathing a little to steady himself. "That's why I stayed on Earth." then gave a humorless smile. "You won't believe it, but before I joined the palace guard, I was a stonemason. Breaking rock, day and night."
He looked forward, remembering the times, like he'd told himself this story a thousand times.
"It wasn't due to hunger, Asgard has everything. It was sheer monotony, It made me numb, then the palace started recruiting for a campaign against the Frost Giants. I signed up, we won, and when it was over…"
He shrugged. "I didn't go home, I just stayed."
They listened as their vehicle carried them to the airfield and then up again—heading for the next location.
On the plane, Skye, Fitz, and Simmons leaned in with questions. Randolph knew Asgard better than James did. James had only lived inside the palace area for a month. Randolph had lived and went all over.
The second component of the berserker staff was easily found, Randolph had retrieved it without hesitation, and they moved on to the third.
Because the second location was urban, James didn't want a fight there, so they didn't linger.
Before the next drop point, James looked at the team.
"You three stay here, Randolph and I will go in. We wait for the bait to get a bite, and we'll be back when it's done."
Skye frowned. "Why can't we go? We can defend ourselves now."
Randolph answered before James could. "Firearms have limited effect against what you'll face. This isn't your fight, only a knight—and someone who understands these weapons—should handle it."
James didn't correct him.
They drove to an old church—Randolph's first anchor point. Inside, they went straight to the final piece.
It was still there.
James let out a sigh. "It's good that it's still there."
Randolph looked at the 2 pieces now combined, then at James. He flexed his shoulders like he was stepping into a memory. "The Berserker's power is extreme. With all three parts combined, I can fight an army alone." He set the weapon down.
"Take it. Let me show you what it means to be a Berserker of Asgard."
James frowned. He stepped forward, and picked it up himself—a violent emotion slammed into him like a wave.
[Cognitive interference detected. Regulating autonomic response. Hormonal balance corrected. Combat clarity stabilized.] Cortana's voice was immediate.
Randolph stared at him, genuinely alarmed. An Earthling taking a Berserker weapon should've been a disaster.
James didn't move. He just stood there, still, letting the Raging impulse hit and die.
Then he looked back at Randolph. There was no anger, no haze from the emotional influx of the staff.
Randolph felt cautious. "You… weren't affected?"
"Of course I was," James said lightly. "For only a moment."
He looked down at the weapon. "How do you think I got knighted?"
Randolph swallowed his surprise.
James's hands twirled the staff and the weapon vanished to his storage space.
Randolph blinked in disbelief. "Incredible, where did it go? That technology doesn't exist in Asgard."
James smirked. "Magic."
Randolph's eyes narrowed. "A new tech?"
James gave him a look. "Yeah, that."
Footsteps echoed.
James looked where the sound came from.
A group stormed into the church—faces twisted with anger and zeal. The cultists.
At the front: Jacob Nystrom and Petra Larson.
Petra held a Berserker piece in her hand.
Jacob pointed at James. "Did you take the rest of the artifact?"
James nodded once. "Yes, hand over what you've got, then surrender."
Jacob laughed, the cultists laughed with him.
James moved before their laughter faded.
His adrenaline spiked as the world slowed, he moved in a blur.
Petra's grip was suddenly empty.
The last piece was now in James's hand.
Randolph stared, stunned. He could barely follow his movement—and for sure couldn't replicate it. Berserkers had power, but James had speed.
And in that instant, Randolph understood why Odin had made an exception.
James lifted the piece up, the other two pieces brought out as well.
All three parts glowed—then locked together with a deep, metallic snap.
The completed Berserker Staff pulsed red, heavy with heat and danger.
James didn't waver from the surge of power.
He swung, testing the weight like it was a training staff.
Then he went forward.
The metal rod moved like a battering ram and hit the crowd head-on.
These people were enhanced—stronger than normal—but they still couldn't stand in front of him.
One sweep sent multiple bodies airborne. They hit the wall and dropped, unconscious.
Randolph started to move in to help, then stopped. James's swings were too wide and too fast, getting close meant getting hit.
In under a minute, all the cultists were taken care of.
James stowed the weapon again and pulled out his phone.
"Coulson," he said. "I need transport and an escort. We've got detainees."
He ended the call and glanced at Randolph.
"The weapon was fun to wield," James said. "With a long reach and bursting with power."
Randolph exhaled, still watching him. "I just didn't expect it to not break your mind."
"It can't," James said.
He didn't explain why.