Coulson stepped outside the interrogation area and immediately pulled out his phone, dialing Director Fury's secure line.
"Director, what can I do for you?"
Fury's voice came through with characteristic directness. "Status update on the object."
"We've made minimal progress identifying the hammer's composition," Coulson admitted, frustration creeping into his professional tone. "We've attempted analysis with spectroscopy, molecular scanning, metallurgical testing—everything in our toolkit. The material doesn't match anything in known databases."
He pulled up the data on his tablet while speaking. "More concerning: we can't move it. At all. Heavy machinery, hydraulic systems, even attempted excavation of the surrounding soil—nothing works. The earth itself has somehow fused with the object. Any soil layer in direct contact with the hammer becomes equally immovable and indestructible."
"Confirmed extraterrestrial origin?"
"Almost certainly. The atmospheric entry signature, the material properties, the energy readings—all point to off-world provenance. But its specific function and purpose remain unknown."
Nick Fury was quiet for a moment, processing. He'd seen the satellite footage from earlier that day—Tony Stark and Smith Doyle's sparring match over the Pacific, the energy readings that had briefly maxed out S.H.I.E.L.D.'s detection equipment.
"If standard investigation proves insufficient," Fury said slowly, "you're authorized to contact Smith Doyle. The Fraternity has existed for fifteen centuries. They may possess historical knowledge we lack—records of similar objects, encounters with extraterrestrial artifacts."
He paused, then added, "Consider it a backup option. Exhaust conventional methods first. But if you genuinely hit a wall, consultation is approved."
Fury's real agenda was subtler than simple information gathering. He wanted Coulson and Smith building rapport, establishing working relationships. The Avengers Initiative needed Smith invested, cooperative. Involving him in field investigations, treating him as a valued resource rather than just another asset—that was how you built loyalty.
"Understood, sir," Coulson replied.
Interrogation Room
Thor sat alone in the sterile space, his world reduced to white walls and crushing grief. Then the air shimmered, and Loki stood before him—whole, real, impossibly present.
"Loki?" Thor's voice was hoarse. "How did you come to Midgard?"
"I had to see you, brother." Loki's expression was carefully crafted sorrow. "To tell you... to tell you what's happened."
Thor braced himself, sensing bad news in every line of Loki's body.
"Father is dead." The words hung in the air like an executioner's blade. "Your banishment, the stress of that decision—his heart couldn't bear it. He fell into the Odinsleep, but this time..." Loki's voice cracked convincingly. "He didn't wake."
Thor's face went ashen. "No. Please, tell me it isn't—"
"I'm to be crowned king," Loki continued, each lie precisely calibrated. "Mother is devastated. She... she cannot face you, Thor. Seeing you would only remind her of everything we've lost."
Loki moved closer, placing a hand on Thor's shoulder. "And the peace with Jotunheim that Father sought—to honor his wishes, the council has decreed your exile must be permanent. You can never return to Asgard. I'm sorry. I tried to argue for you, but..."
He let the sentence trail off, implying noble failure.
Thor's eyes filled with tears. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for coming. For telling me yourself."
After a final embrace—Loki playing the grieving brother perfectly—Loki stepped back. Before departing, though, curiosity overcame him. He turned to Mjolnir, still embedded in its crater just visible through the facility windows.
Loki grasped the hammer's handle and pulled.
Nothing. The weapon remained stubbornly immovable, judging him as unworthy just as it had judged Thor.
Even now, Loki thought bitterly, Father's favor rests with Thor. Even broken and exiled, my brother is still the chosen one.
He released the hammer and allowed his illusion to fade, disappearing back to Asgard and the throne that awaited him.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Mobile Command - Later
Coulson stood outside the facility entrance as an elderly man approached, waving confidently. Dr. Erik Selvig, according to the identification he'd presented. He was here to collect "Donald Blake"—the alias he'd given for Thor.
Coulson had already run the credentials. The ID was forged, competently but detectably. The story Erik told about Donald being his colleague who'd suffered a mental breakdown was equally fabricated, contradicted by multiple details in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s databases.
But Coulson made a tactical decision: let them go. Release Thor into the wild with surveillance following, see where he led them, who he contacted, what he revealed when he thought he was unwatched.
"Dr. Selvig," Coulson said warmly, shaking the older man's hand. "I apologize for the inconvenience. Your colleague became somewhat... agitated... during our security protocols."
"Donald has episodes," Erik replied smoothly. "PTSD from his time overseas. Certain triggers can cause flashbacks."
"Of course. We understand completely." Coulson gestured toward the facility. "He's being processed out now. You'll have him back shortly."
After Erik departed with Thor in tow—both men under discreet surveillance from three separate S.H.I.E.L.D. teams—Coulson returned to his temporary office and considered his next move.
Fury had authorized consultation with Smith Doyle. And honestly, conventional investigation had produced nothing useful. The hammer remained an enigma—immovable, indestructible, potentially dangerous.
Time to bring in outside expertise.
Coulson dialed Smith's number.
Fraternity Headquarters - Gravity Chamber
Smith was mid-set when Puar's voice came through the chamber's comm system. "Smith, you have an incoming call. Agent Coulson from S.H.I.E.L.D."
Smith deactivated the gravity multiplier and caught his breath. "Put him through."
"Smith Doyle speaking."
"Inspector Doyle," Coulson's voice was professionally cordial. "I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time."
Smith's eyebrow rose at the title. "Coulson, it's interesting how I become 'Inspector' when S.H.I.E.L.D. needs something, but I'm 'a civilian with incomplete paperwork' when it's inconvenient." His tone carried amusement rather than genuine irritation. "Which version am I today?"
Coulson coughed awkwardly. "You're not wrong to call that out. But I have good news—the Avengers facility construction has begun in earnest. Most of your operational suggestions have been approved and are being implemented."
"And?" Smith prompted.
"And your official credentials have been processed. Both you and Mr. Stark are now formally affiliated with S.H.I.E.L.D.—you as Inspector General, Tony as Scientific Consultant, both with Avengers Initiative clearance."
Smith toweled sweat from his face. "That's progress. Now tell me about my intelligence clearance level."
The question hit like a guided missile. Coulson went silent for several heartbeats.
How does he know about the tiered clearance system? Coulson wondered. Speculation based on general intelligence work? Or has he recruited someone from inside S.H.I.E.L.D.?
"I don't have that information readily available," Coulson finally admitted. "I'll need to confirm with Director Fury about your specific access level."
"Of course you will." Smith's voice suggested he'd expected exactly that answer.
Coulson pivoted smoothly. "But I do have a current situation requiring your expertise. A potential mission where your support would be invaluable."
Smith's interest sharpened. "What kind of situation?"
"An object appeared in New Mexico—a hammer, apparently extraterrestrial in origin. Possibly supernatural." Coulson pulled up the relevant files on his tablet. "No conventional equipment can move or damage it. Given the Fraternity's extended history and documented encounters with unusual phenomena, I thought you might have relevant intelligence."
Smith processed that quickly. Thor's hammer. Right on schedule. He'd been half-expecting this ever since sensing the Bifrost energy signature days ago.
The hammer itself held some interest. Could he lift it? The enchantment specified "whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor." The question of his own worthiness was academically interesting.
Though honestly, even if he could lift Mjolnir, he had no interest in using it as his primary weapon. His ki-based techniques were more versatile, and he'd seen far more impressive weapons in the Dokkan System's item catalog.
The Z-Sword, for instance—the legendary blade from the Supreme Kai's world. In the Dragon Ball timeline, even Super Saiyan 2 Gohan had struggled to properly wield it initially, and SSJ2 had planetary-system-destroying power. Mjolnir, by comparison, seemed limited to planetary-level effects at best.
Maybe when I eventually pull the Z-Sword from the item draw, I can have a contest. Which is heavier—Asgardian enchanted uru metal, or Supreme Kai forged divine steel?
"You said you can't move it?" Smith asked aloud.
"Correct. Multiple attempts with various equipment have all failed."
"I don't know if I can lift it," Smith said honestly. "My strength is considerable, but enchanted objects sometimes operate on rules beyond raw force. As for what it actually is—I'd need to examine it in person."
Coulson immediately provided coordinates. "We'd be honored to have your consultation on Object 084."
New Mexico - S.H.I.E.L.D. Facility - The Next Day
Smith arrived via Universal Capsule Company aircraft—a sleek vertical-takeoff vehicle that set down just outside the facility perimeter. Coulson was waiting at the entrance with Agent Sitwell, both men looking professionally pleased.
"Welcome, Inspector Doyle." Coulson extended his hand for a firm shake.
Smith returned the gesture, glancing at Sitwell with mild amusement. "Let's see this special item you've found."
Before they could move toward the crater, an agent jogged over with urgent news. "Sir, we just detected a massive energy spike—similar signature to the hammer's initial arrival. The reading appeared approximately fifteen miles northwest, then vanished almost immediately."
Coulson's expression shifted to high alert. He moved to the nearest computer terminal, pulling up the sensor data. The energy signature was nearly identical to the hammer's atmospheric entry—same exotic particle distribution, same spatial distortion patterns.
"We need to investigate that location immediately," Coulson said, already coordinating response teams.
Smith, by contrast, remained completely calm. The Warriors Three and Sif. Right on schedule. The Bifrost just deposited Thor's friends on Earth.
"Then let's go look together," Smith suggested mildly. "Whatever arrived might be related to your hammer."
Within minutes, a convoy of S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicles headed northwest across the desert, following the coordinates of the new anomaly.
Smith settled into the passenger seat of Coulson's SUV, watching the landscape roll past, and prepared to meet Asgard's greatest warriors.
This was going to be interesting.