Nick Fury hadn't even had time to process it.
He'd assumed that the hammer in New Mexico was just some alien debris—maybe a hammer-shaped piece of a crashed ship. When Herman claimed to know the hammer well, Fury once again began to doubt his identity.
But once he realized what Herman was actually saying, Fury understood the truth was far more outrageous than anything he'd imagined.
Thor's hammer was one thing.
But now Odin, the All-Father, was in the mix?
Were aliens not fashionable enough anymore? Was the trend shifting toward gods and spirits?
"You're telling me that thing we found... really ties back to Norse mythology?" Fury's expression was a picture of disbelief. He suspected Herman was making some kind of cosmic joke.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. has dealt with enough supernatural incidents. Haven't you realized yet that this world is far beyond ordinary human comprehension?" Herman shot back.
"But... it can't be this far beyond," Fury muttered, his composure cracking as he studied Herman's face and realized he wasn't joking.
"I remember that Ghost Rider incident. That was intercepted by you, wasn't it? If creatures like that can exist, why can't gods? If there's a hell, then naturally there's also a heaven, and a divine realm."
Herman's voice was steady and calm as he regarded the director.
"Among those who walk the extraordinary path, there's a saying: all of Earth's faiths are devoted to a skyfather who truly exists."
"You mean to say not just Norse mythology, but any mythology with a system of belief... is real?" Fury felt his worldview—already shattered countless times—fracture yet again.
When he saw Herman nod with a faint smile, Fury wanted to scream "Motherfucker" a hundred times.
Aliens.
Mutants.
And the man before him—ridiculously powerful, his true nature utterly unknown, someone he had to treat like an ancestor of humanity itself.
To Fury, these things were chaotic enough already. Yet now this so-called ancestor told him they were only the tip of the iceberg?
Gods and demons hidden in the world, heavens and hells... Fury wasn't completely incapable of judgment. His mind instantly went to that flaming skeleton he'd once seen—the one Herman had called Ghost Rider.
If something like that could exist, why not heaven and hell?
And most damning was that scroll Coulson had brought back, proven to involve a demonic pact, already costing several S.H.I.E.L.D. scientists their lives.
With evidence like this in front of him, Fury had no choice but to believe. His disbelief before had been little more than stubborn denial.
"Give me a moment."
Even someone as mentally disciplined as Nick Fury was shaken. He leaned against Herman's desk and sank into the chair across from him.
"Today's been insane."
Inwardly, Fury had already muttered "motherfucker" countless times. If complaining fueled him, he'd have ascended into a cosmic deity by now.
"You definitely need a breather. And while you're at it, think about what kind of payment you owe me. That hammer belongs to the crown prince of Asgard."
Herman didn't rush him.
He propped his head lazily with one hand on the desk, looking relaxed. A bottle of fine wine materialized out of thin air, floating mid-air under his telekinetic control. Two glasses drifted from the cabinet and filled themselves.
"So you really do have other abilities."
Fury no longer had the energy to be astonished. He stared at the bottle pouring them both drinks. When a glass landed in front of him, he downed it in one gulp.
"Didn't I tell you? My genes can mutate at any time. See? That was another mutation just now." Herman's light tone carried teasing humor.
"Fine. With how absurd things are now, even if you told me you were some kind of god, I don't think I'd be surprised."
Fury took another glass.
He noticed the bottle never seemed to run dry.
Once, he'd have asked about it out of curiosity.
But now?
He didn't have the patience.
It was just endless wine.
Magic, no doubt.
If gods and demons existed, magic wasn't a stretch.
Fury felt only bitterness.
Back when he trained as an agent, they never taught how to handle supernatural crises. Being director of S.H.I.E.L.D. was turning out to be hellishly difficult.
"Hahaha~"
Herman chuckled at Fury's complaints.
Of course he was a god.
But there was no need to spell it out for Baldy. Judging from his current state, Fury clearly couldn't take any more shocks.
King of Agents?
Is that all?
"You can think of those gods as aliens from civilizations far more advanced than ours."
Herman knew well that among the Asgardians, only Odin's family could truly be considered gods. The rest were merely beings of higher civilization. His words made Nick Fury think of his pager.
That woman who could cross the cosmos—her power was almost divine. Calling such beings gods wasn't entirely wrong; they were simply aliens with strength beyond comprehension.
Fury always kept the pager on him. He slipped a hand into his hidden pocket, brushing against it for reassurance. At least he still had one trump card.
"Even gods live and die. What's so terrifying about that?"
Herman had already noticed Fury's little gesture.
He knew exactly what Fury's ace was—Captain Marvel, that "Cosmic Ultraman" who went around maintaining peace.
Her power was impressive, no doubt.
Some said it came from the Tesseract. Others claimed it was from some kind of energy bangle.
Whatever the truth, as one of the early heroes of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, her strength was respectable—easily three or four times that of Thor at his peak.
She could handle Thanos in his base state without issue, but compared to a Skyfather-level being like Odin, the gap was enormous.
Skyfather-level was a dividing line in the Marvel universe. If Herman ever managed to ascend to God-King, he too could reach that level in his base form.
For now, though, Herman was only quasi-Skyfather.
"That might not scare you—you've got the strength to make such claims," Fury muttered darkly, his ever-present paranoia surfacing.
"But we ordinary people are different. If those gods really are as powerful as in the myths, our technology is useless against them. We can't afford the consequences of provoking them."
"We can't just live like people of the past, hoping for divine mercy. Humanity's fate should be in our own hands."
That was Fury all over—thinking too much, lacking the strength to match it, and inevitably making a mess of things.
Herman wasn't interested in dragging the discussion out.
"Have you decided what kind of payment you'll give me?"
He cut the conversation back to business.
"What do you want?"
Fury threw the question back at him. After a pause, he adjusted his earlier request.
"Since that object already has an owner, we don't need to bring it back for containment. Just find out why it appeared on Earth."
"Even if it really is the Thor you claim, he wouldn't just throw his hammer down here for no reason."
Fury was clearly backing down.
He knew all too well what it meant to seize a crown prince's weapon.
As someone who always sought stability and peace, Fury had no intention of making enemies with a pantheon from Norse mythology.
He even worried that this act of casting the hammer onto Earth was Thor's way of declaring war. And from the myths Fury had read, Thor was far from a benevolent god.
"A wise choice."
Herman, of course, already knew the truth behind Mjolnir's fall.
The kid had been acting up.
Odin had simply decided it was time for a "lesson."
Naturally, Herman wasn't about to explain that to Fury. In fact, he was a little curious himself, tempted to head to New Mexico and see the hammer firsthand.
One Raven teleportation and he'd be there. Testing Odin's enchantments might make for a fun little trip.
"Can you beat Odin?" Fury asked with unease.
"You couldn't afford the price."
Herman smiled as he answered.
Of course he couldn't. Odin hadn't died from battle, but from the sheer burden of his own divine power consuming him. Herman was just a newborn totem god, a little stronger than Thor at best.
But not being able to win now didn't mean forever.
And besides, a fight would never happen.
Fury worried about Odin declaring war on Earth, but he didn't realize the truth—Odin, in his twilight years, only wanted to prepare a path for his son.
The journey to Earth was part of forging Thor's bond with the planet.
Without Odin's tacit approval, there was no way Loki alone could wield Odin's armor.
Odin the All-Father wasn't as simple as the films made him out to be. Nearing the end of his strength, on the brink of ascension, the last thing he'd want was to start a war.
After all, Ragnarok was already looming over Asgard.
"Alright then. Find out why Thor's hammer appeared and make sure no war breaks out. What will it cost us?"
Nick Fury asked gravely.
"I want those trolls online to start calling me Superman." Herman said his demand outright—what he most wanted at the moment.
Fury went silent for a while.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't omnipotent," he admitted sincerely. "We can't just rewrite public opinion."
The chants for Homelander were too loud.
Changing that image in people's minds would be harder than continuing to cover up the brutal truths of the world.
"Then I want the Tesseract."
Herman was blunt.
He'd already let Coulson know he was aware of it, so there was no worry Fury wouldn't understand the request.
Again, Fury fell silent.
After a pause he finally said with a wry smile, "Let's talk about shifting public opinion instead." There was no way he could hand over the Tesseract—it was his only hope of developing weapons to counter alien invasions.
"Didn't you just say you couldn't do that?"
Herman gave him a suspicious look.
"If you join my plan, we'll build a publicity campaign tailored just for you. Like the stunts Vought pulls in your TV series. Give it some time, and the public will accept you as Superman."
Fury still hadn't given up trying to recruit him.
Unfortunately for him.
"I'm not anyone's tool."
Herman refused again, firmly this time, his expression edging into impatience.
"Maybe you never meant to hire me at all?"
The sharp look in Herman's eyes made Fury's chest tighten.
"This really is difficult. The public already sees you a certain way." Fury hurried to explain. "But you don't have to join us. Just cooperate a little, do some superhero work, and we'll help you change the narrative."
That was basically asking Herman to work for free.
As expected.
Some people knew better than anyone what it meant to get played for nothing.
"Quit dreaming about ordering me around."
Herman stroked his chin, then gave another demand.
"If you can't clear my name, then at least make sure my newspaper becomes New York's number one in both circulation and influence."
That had been his real goal from the start. The whole "restore my name" thing was just a spur-of-the-moment idea born out of irritation. His paper was already doing well, but who wouldn't want to lock down their exclusive identity reward sooner?
"You have Umbrella Biotech and still expect a paper to make you money?" Fury frowned, baffled.
"If you won't clear my name, I'll have to do it myself." Herman sighed. His reasoning was perfectly sound.
Fury only thought he was being stubborn, not suspicious.
"Fine."
This time Fury agreed quickly.
Compared to Herman's earlier outlandish demands, this was troublesome but still within S.H.I.E.L.D.'s reach. And Fury had no desire to let Herman push for something truly impossible—maybe that was exactly why Herman had opened with outrageous terms.
"Pleasure doing business."
Herman smiled brightly.
Just for investigating something he already knew about, he'd managed to get S.H.I.E.L.D. working for him.
Another win.
If not for wanting to test Odin's magic, he wouldn't even need to go to New Mexico. Cheerfully, he shook hands with his new sucker, Nick Fury.
"Oh, and I'm still curious about that question you asked me earlier." Herman suddenly remembered. "Who gave you the idea that I'm an alien—or not from Earth at all?"
He asked with genuine curiosity.
At first, he'd thought Fury was bluffing.
But from Fury's behavior since then, maybe not.
"You really want to know?"
Fury was reminded of his original purpose. He'd come mainly to investigate whether Herman's identity was truly legitimate.
After a moment's hesitation, he made his choice.
"Actually, I was going to ask you about this again." Fury pulled a medium-sized tablet from his trench coat.
"Watch this and you'll understand." After adjusting the screen, he handed it to Herman, who was seated behind his desk.
"A vídeo?"
Herman took the tablet, intrigued—only to be greeted by a video far more extreme than he'd expected.
Not what you're thinking.
It wasn't some old black man having a wild night with a woman.
What he saw instead was someone he never expected to appear in this footage.
And it was pretty damn heavy.