The door to the small, windowless interrogation room hissed open.
Agent Coulson had just stepped out to take a high-priority call from the Director, leaving Thor alone to stew in his shame and self-pity.
A moment later, a figure materialized in the center of the room. He wore a deceptively simple black formal overcoat, a slim tie, and a casual scarf wrapped high around his neck, looking like a meticulous academic rather than a warrior prince. The staff members walking down the corridor right outside the door were completely unaware of the God of Mischief's presence, thanks to a potent, persistent illusion.
Loki stood before his brother, who was slumped in his chair, head bowed in utter defeat and grief.
"Loki? What in the nine realms are you doing here? How did you find me?"
Thor finally reacted, his massive shoulders slumping even further as he saw the familiar face of his younger brother. It was a faint echo of relief in the midst of his pain.
Loki spoke, his voice a low, heavy burden of sorrow, carefully calibrated to sound choked with tears. "I simply had to see you, brother. I couldn't bear to leave you isolated in this strange place without knowing."
"What happened in Asgard? Tell me, is it Jotunheim? Did the Frost Giants retaliate?" Thor asked anxiously, gripping the edge of the metal table. "Please, I can go back. I can explain to Father that it was all my fault, that I misjudged the situation—"
"Our Father is gone, Thor."
The words landed not like a blow, but like the chilling silence after an execution. Thor froze, staring at Loki, his face draining of color. He asked, barely a whisper, "...What did you say?"
Loki looked down, shaking his head sadly, emphasizing the pain in his voice. "Your banishment, the constant, draining threat of a new war with Jotunheim—it was all too much for him, brother. He just couldn't bear it anymore. The great Allfather, Odin... he succumbed to the stress."
"No, no! It's not true!" Thor cried out, finally surging to his feet, rattling the flimsy chair.
"Don't compound your guilt, Thor. I know you love him, and I wanted to tell him that before the end, but he was too distraught, too weak... he just wouldn't listen to me."
Thor couldn't fathom that his invincible, eternal father—the man who commanded worlds—was dead. But his absolute, deep-seated trust in Loki, combined with his recent experience of being utterly rejected by his own power, forced him to accept this crushing reality.
An overwhelming, suffocating sense of grief and self-reproach flooded him. He had caused his father's death. His recklessness, his arrogance, his petulant disregard for the crown had ignited the war between Jotunheim and Asgard. He was no longer worthy to lift Mjolnir, and now he was no longer worthy of his father's life.
Loki glanced subtly at Thor's empty, powerful hands, then back to his face. "To know that you can no longer lift a hammer that has been your very identity since childhood, yet to place it within sight and reach... that truly was a cruel, final act of a father's pain."
Thor sank back onto the chair, his shoulders bowed, his divine pride completely shattered. The news made him feel small and infinitely depressed.
"The heavy burden of the throne now falls to me, brother. As Odin's only remaining son," Loki stated, letting the weight of the title hang in the air.
Thor slowly raised his head, his eyes still red with sorrow but now containing a faint, desperate glimmer of hope. He looked at Loki, his voice trembling with a child's plea. "Then, please, my King... can I go home now? I will serve you humbly."
Loki gave him a sympathetic, pained look. "The fragile truce with Jotunheim was conditional on your permanent, full exile, Thor. If I bring you back now, the peace we have is broken, and countless Asgardian lives will be forfeit in the ensuing war. I cannot risk the entire realm for one man, even if he is my brother."
"But surely we can devise a diplomatic solution? A clever way to reintroduce me—"
"And Mother," Loki interrupted softly, crushing the last sliver of hope. "In her profound, destabilizing grief, she has expressly forbidden your return. She cannot bear to look upon the one who... caused her husband's demise. I had to swear an oath to her."
These final words were the heaviest blow. Thor fell silent, his eyes wide, plunging into utter, isolating despair.
"I came here only to say goodbye, brother. I am so profoundly sorry that it had to end this way," Loki said, sounding utterly sincere.
Thor gazed at his younger brother—the one who had stood by him, who had warned him—and finally, a single, fat tear slid down his grimy cheek.
"No," Thor choked out, his voice thick with guilt. "I should be the one apologizing, Loki. And thanking you for risking everything just to come here and tell me the truth."
Loki's eyes seemed to fill with corresponding moisture. He squeezed Thor's shoulder once. "Farewell."
He turned away. As he passed through the doorway, all the grief in Loki's eyes vanished, replaced instantly by the cold, calculating look of a King in control.
The door to the interrogation room actually opened with a soft click as Coulson returned, phone call concluded.
But Loki had already vanished, disappearing into the persistent invisibility illusion he maintained.
Loki was walking briskly down the hallway, heading toward the containment area, intending to observe Mjolnir one last time before making his next move.
Then, a small figure appeared directly in his path, leaning against the cold wall.
Loki tried to smoothly walk around him, but the small, masked figure shifted and stood firmly in front of him again. Loki stopped, an intense feeling of being seen washing over him—a sensation he hadn't experienced since he last stood before Heimdall.
It was then Loki realized the boy was staring directly at him, through the highly advanced enchantment.
Leo's eyes, visible above the mask, gleamed with an ethereal, golden light. To Loki, they appeared identical to the all-seeing eyes of Heimdall, able to pierce the deepest illusions.
"Who are you, human?" Loki demanded, his invisible figure momentarily flickering under the strain of his confusion.
Loki's attempts at telepathy failed utterly; he couldn't penetrate the strange, protective energy field around the boy. This mortal felt... strangely divine, yet utterly foreign.
"Loki Odinson," Leo said, his voice level and steady. "Do you truly believe you are any more qualified than your brother to lift Mjolnir right now?"
Loki stared at the boy and let out a short, incredulous laugh. "How dare you speak to me that way? What right does a fleeting mortal have to challenge me? I am a god!"
Leo simply stretched out his hand, palm up, toward the containment area, roughly fifty yards down the hallway.
There was a sudden, violent crack of thunder outside, and a deep, grinding sound ripped through the facility. The hammer, Mjolnir, ripped free of the earth, flew directly through the reinforced wall of the containment structure, leaving a perfect, hammer-shaped hole, and soared directly into Leo's outstretched hand.
The momentum of the impossible flight slammed the hammer into Leo's palm, but he held it firm, bracing his small body against the tremendous force. He wasn't holding it effortlessly like a god; he was holding it through raw, disciplined energy control.
Leo held Thor's Hammer, Mjolnir, firmly in his grasp and looked directly at the stunned, invisible Loki.
Do you dare to accept the call?
"No! No, no, no! How could a disgusting mortal like you possibly lift Mjolnir?!" Loki screamed, his voice strained with pure rage and professional humiliation. The fact that the hammer obeyed this human—and not him, a true son of a King—was a catastrophic break in reality.
Loki, dropping his illusion in a flash of green energy, instantly lunged forward and grabbed the hammer, attempting to rip it from Leo's grasp.
Leo, seeing the opportunity, simply released his grip.
The moment Loki seized the handle, he was subjected to the full, uncompromising weight of the enchantment. Loki, without the hammer's approval, was hit by an overwhelming, tremendous force, instantly plunging straight through the metal floor and smashing into the compacted earth below, creating a shallow, perfectly circular crater.
Loki, utterly unwilling to let go of the mythical artifact, was thrown backward by the heavy hammer as it bounced slightly on the earth, covered in mud and confusion.
He scrambled back, glaring up at Leo with an unbridled, visceral urge to kill the boy for his insolence.
With a simple, almost bored wave of his hand, Leo sent Mjolnir flying back from the hole in the floor. It perfectly reversed its trajectory, shot back into the containment area, and settled exactly back into its original resting place on the mound of earth.
The dozen or so agents who had rushed in, having witnessed the impossible flight of the hammer into the hands of the masked boy that Coulson had brought in, were utterly stunned into silence.
Leo ignored the mortals. He quickly ran out of the facility entrance, using his speed to cover the distance rapidly, taking Loki—who was forced to follow to maintain his secret—several kilometers into the desolate, empty desert. No one followed them.
Loki's armor materialized instantly around him in a flash of green light, complete with the golden antler helmet. He produced a small, silver dagger in his hand, his eyes burning with controlled fury.
"Tell me, human!" Loki hissed, his voice echoing in the rain-swept air. "What dark knowledge do you possess, and how did you shame Mjolnir by wielding it!"
Leo turned his back to the wide, empty space behind him. "Loki, your cheap theatrics and parlor tricks won't work on me."
With his energy vision focused, Leo was able to clearly observe Loki's true location. The "Loki" in front of him was the diversion.
Sure enough, the second Loki figure—dressed in the full golden armor and green cloak, though without the cumbersome antler helmet—appeared silently behind Leo, having stalked him in absolute stealth. The phantom lunged forward, stabbing the dagger directly at the spot where Leo's heart should be.
At the exact same moment, the phantom standing in front of Leo shimmered and disappeared, proving the deception.
Leo slowly turned his head, looking into the astonished eyes of the Loki with the dagger. The dagger was harmlessly stopped a centimeter from Leo's skin, hovering in the air as if caught in invisible glass.
"No wonder you're known as the God of Mischief," Leo said, his voice dripping with mild sarcasm. "You're so practiced at using the clone-illusion-teleportation trick, you must use it as often as you breathe."
Loki stared first at the stopped dagger, then at the uninjured, utterly relaxed Leo, and took two steps back, his composure finally failing.
Leo retracted the golden light from his body, allowing the dagger to clatter to the ground. He looked at the god with genuine curiosity. "So, you're primarily an illusionist? And besides using special artifacts, can you only fight with a small knife?"
Loki's combat skills were formidable; he had demonstrated the ability to easily defeat skilled opponents, and his Asgardian physical abilities were far superior to Leo's current mortal body. His natural defenses could effortlessly withstand ordinary bullets, his regenerative abilities were rapid, and his strength maximum was well over fifty tons—making him an invincible deity to any typical human force.
But here, his illusions, shapeshifting, telepathy, and hypnosis were completely useless against Leo. There was no one here to manipulate, and Loki had none of the powerful legendary weapons, like the Casket of Ancient Winters or the Eternal Spear. He was reduced to simple hand-to-hand combat against an opponent whose defenses he couldn't breach.
"I am not in the mood to play with this Midgardian nonsense any longer, Outlander," Loki spat out, the insult heavy with ancient scorn. "Mjolnir is an artifact of Asgard. If you dare to permanently take it, not even your hidden friends can save you from my wrath."
Loki took a few steps back, the air around him shimmering. A brilliant, multi-colored pillar of light—the Rainbow Bridge—descended from the raging clouds, enveloping him. He vanished in a flash, leaving only the distinctive, circular scorch mark of the Bifrost teleportation on the desert floor.
Meanwhile, in Asgard.
Loki immediately appeared on the Bifrost bridge, looking directly at the imposing, golden-armored figure of the gatekeeper. "Heimdall, Mjolnir was moved by an Outlander on Midgard. Did you witness it?"
Heimdall, his golden eyes scanning the universe, stared back at his new King. "I saw him, My Liege. He has a subtle way of obscuring himself, similar to your own power. However, Odin's powerful seal remains unbroken. He is not worthy to obtain the power of Thor, merely to command the hammer's physical presence."
Loki gave Heimdall a measured, cold glance, knowing he was being judged. "Send me to Jotunheim."
With a blast of the Bifrost, Loki was gone, arriving once again in the desolate, frozen landscape of the Frost Giants. His darker plan was now in motion.
Leo, having made his way back to the temporary research center, walked out to the main gate.
Just then, Dr. Eric, Jane, and Darcy arrived in the jeep. They had returned, armed with a ridiculous, forged identity card attempting to pass Thor off as a physics Ph.D. enraged by the theft of his work.
Coulson, recognizing the farce, had decided to release Thor on a bizarre, highly conditional parole.
Thor, still silently grieving and covered in mud, was standing outside the gate, looking utterly lost.
Jane and Darcy immediately rushed to him, but then Jane turned to Coulson, recovering her composure. "Agent Coulson, there was another member of our research team. A child named Leo. He was wearing a mask. Could you please release him as well?"
Coulson looked at them with an amused, half-smile. "Leo is one of yours, Miss Foster?"
Thor stirred, finally looking at Jane and Daisy, who were both suddenly very embarrassed about the lie.
Leo, having just walked out of the facility, appeared directly behind the three of them.
"Coulson, we'll be going now. I believe you agreed to return the data and equipment to Miss Foster and Dr. Selvig tomorrow?"
"Certainly, Leo. Provided you return the utterly worthless, official S.H.I.E.L.D. compensation checks I gave them," Coulson replied with a dry smile. "S.H.I.E.L.D.'s budget, you understand, is also somewhat limited."
After the five of them—a depressed god, two relieved scientists, a highly-powered boy, and a relieved intern—drove away, Coulson immediately returned to the containment structure, where Agent Sitwell was nervously addressing a group of stunned junior agents.
"Agent Sitwell!" Coulson demanded, his voice low and intense. "Tell me again, precisely what happened while I was answering my call."
Sitwell stammered, his usual composure rattled. "Sir, with all due respect, I... I don't know how to file this report. That kid—the masked one—he just... he just picked up the hammer, sir! It flew right out of the pit, through the wall, and into his hand! It was defying physics! What are we supposed to do with the fact that the artifact only moves for that child?!"