Outside the village of Greenwood in Denver, not far away in Schielczak Park.
The Asgardian legion's makeshift tents lined the lakeshore in orderly rows.
Over the past three days, Asgardian pilots in various small attack craft had hunted down over two million Chitauri soldiers.
By now, Sigmund was fairly certain that very few Chitauri remained alive on Earth.
By Asgardian tradition, Sigmund should have already recalled the bulk of his forces back to Asgard proper, leaving only two or three legion commanders stationed temporarily in Denver to slowly mop up the fifty thousand or so Chitauri still hiding across America.
But because of Heisenberg's earlier orders, Sigmund could not return just yet. Once this night passed, they were to assemble the entire army and march on New York.
So, with the war over, the Asgardians promptly threw themselves a raucous party right there in Denver.
Tents just pitched, campfires blazing, the legion celebrated with the spirits and tobacco they had "procured" from all across America during their search for Chitauri.
The battered city of Denver, alongside the whole world, was about to witness the happiest side of Asgard.
Countless long tables of traditional divine walnut wood were arranged throughout the park, every surface piled high with every imaginable kind of food.
Most of it was the Asgardians' own combat rations and grain spirits: Asgardian cheeses, roasted meat from the beasts of the Nine Realms, and the like.
But there was plenty of Earth food too.
Just like that bald centurion Heisenberg had encouraged, any Asgardian who took an interest in Earth's specialties had by now stuffed their pockets to bursting.
At that moment, Thor was guzzling ale by the barrel while spinning worthless tall tales to the warriors around him.
He held up a palm-sized black object and launched into an enthusiastic lecture for the crowd.
"You know what this is? The Midgardians call it chocolate!
During my exile on Midgard, my beloved introduced me to this!
It's so sweet it would make even Odin's ravens sing!"
As he spoke, Thor opened his mouth wide and bit straight into the "chocolate" in his hand.
The next second, Thor's face went green as he crunched furiously on circuitry and shattered glass...
"Pffthaha! Prince Thor, that's clearly crystal! How could that possibly be food?"
"Bullshit! I say it is, so it is! You see the mark on the back?!"
Fuming with rage, Thor held up the "chocolate" and showed everyone the bitten-apple logo on the back of the black slab.
"It's apple-flavored, got it?!"
"Heh. You idiot. That thing is called a phone."
From the side, Loki smugly produced his own pre-prepared "black chocolate."
When he'd noticed Thor secretly hoarding Earth trinkets, he'd gone and prepared an identical one himself—a perfect prop to slap Thor right in the face.
He raised the black iPhone 4S and addressed the crowd.
"Don't listen to the nonsense spouting from this fool Thor's mouth. We all know he's the kind of scoundrel who gets drunk, slaughters two goats, and then boasts about slaying a dragon.
Look here. I simply press this button, the power button!"
Instantly, the screen lit up.
"This is an ancient Midgardian communication device. It's made from native Midgardian synthetic crystal and rubber products, paired with metals that contain no divine power whatsoever."
"That's right!"
From the side, Fandral nodded his head for once, voicing support for Loki.
"What you said is completely correct. This is clearly an old communication device. Look how thick it is, completely solid, and it even requires physical buttons. So needlessly complicated.
Thor, you were wrong. Drink!"
"Fine, fine! I'll drink!"
Thor miserably spat out the pieces he'd been chewing for the last minute and downed his drink in frustration.
After finishing the ale in one gulp, he casually hurled the cup to the ground.
That poor stainless steel cup had just discovered, for the first time ever, that it, too, could be flattened.
Beside him, Fandral casually grabbed a small fishbowl full of liquor and set it down in front of Thor.
Only then did it become clear that due to the Asgardians' habit of smashing their drinking vessels, not a single one of their own goblets remained at the scene.
The things they were using to drink from now were a ridiculous mishmash of whatever was at hand.
Fandral's fishbowl for Thor was practically refined compared to the others. Take Sif. The girl was currently hugging a washbasin, getting herself miserably drunk.
From the moment the banquet had started until just now, no matter what topic Thor brought up, he always managed to wedge that little Midgardian girlfriend of his into it.
This wounded Sif to her core. She'd gotten back her full head of golden hair, and she had expected Thor to shower her with compliments.
So thinking, Sif furiously hurled the washbasin away, sending it flying eight hundred meters into the waters of Lake Schielczak.
Beside her, Legion Commander Sigmund handed her a pen holder full of wine and asked,
"Why are you sitting so far away from them? This is exactly when Thor needs you!"
"Bullshit. The only one he needs is that Midgardian woman!"
Sif spat bitterly, snatching the pen holder and draining the wine inside in one go. Then the pen holder joined the washbasin, sinking into the lake along with all her pent-up resentment.
Sigmund handed her another drink, this time in a pink cat bowl, and tried to console her.
"Why let something like this trouble you? Thor is just playing around. Midgardians are like adorable little pets. No matter how much Thor likes her, how many decades can she truly stay by his side?"
"So what? Just because she can't even live to a hundred, I'm supposed to accept being inferior to her? I'm supposed to admit that I'm not even as good as a short-lived mortal?!"
Sif's fury practically pierced the heavens, making even Sigmund duck his head.
After a long silence, Sigmund shook his head helplessly.
"I'm no good at comforting words. But our Prince Thor, that's just how he's always been. He acts on every whim that pops into his—"
Sigmund stopped mid-sentence and suddenly looked up toward the sky above the distant lake.
Seconds later, dozens of legion commanders did the exact same thing.
In the pitch-black sky, several dozen small flying craft were heading straight toward them.
As a dragonslayer, Sigmund had long possessed the qualifications to become a god. If Odin hadn't delayed granting him divine status for so long, he would have ascended already.
And a warrior of his caliber possessed vision far beyond the ordinary.
He patted Sif on the shoulder.
"If you're feeling angry, look. Your playthings have arrived. It's a small group, some kind of mechanical lifeforms. Come on, let's go take a look."
"Absolutely!"
The moment she heard there might be enemies, Sif perked up. She drained the cat bowl, then casually shattered the cute little bowl into pieces.
At the same time, Sigmund strode through the banquet area, issuing orders to all his soldiers over the Asgardian optical communication system as he walked.
"Everyone, keep drinking! Legion commanders, with me. It seems the Midgardians have sent their champions to parley!"
"Haha! Let them come! If they want trouble, we'll butcher them!"
"What are they here for? To thank us for wiping out the Chitauri?"
"You mean that lot out there? The flashy ones buzzing all over the place?"
"Bring me my battleaxe!"
The legion commanders, rowdy and stumbling, grabbed their weapons and followed Sigmund.
Moments later, aside from four commanders who had already drunk themselves unconscious, the rest were assembled at the lakeshore.
And then, the swarm of steel armors, each painted in its own distinct colors, landed in every manner imaginable.
Clank.
One suit, its helmet marked with a circular target design, opened its faceplate to reveal a face with a circle tattooed on its forehead.
Bullseye, of course.
Bullseye stepped forward and addressed the Asgardians.
"Greetings. Which one of you is Sigmund? Our boss left a message for Sigmund!"
Hearing Bullseye's words, Fandral immediately bristled.
"Who the hell is your boss? No one on Midgard gives orders to Asgardian warriors, you bastard!"
"Mmm. Our boss is called Heisenberg. You should have heard the name."
"Heisenberg?!" Fandral's expression instantly changed. "Then you win, friend. We're on the same side!"
"That's right, we're on the same side. Comrades from Asgard!"
Hill opened her own faceplate and, stepping past Bullseye, extended her right hand toward Fandral.
The gesture left Fandral staring in silence.
Beside him, Sigmund stepped forward, shaking his head.
"Is this some kind of Midgardian custom? Unfortunately, we don't do that here.
And yes, I'm the Sigmund you're looking for. So what message did His Majesty send you to deliver?"
"The boss didn't send us with any message. He just knew you were holding a banquet here in Denver, so he sent us to deliver some of Earth's finer goods."
As she spoke, Hill pointed toward the sky behind her.
"To avoid alarming you, we didn't let our cargo craft fly straight over, so..."
"Say no more. Tell your fliers to come join the banquet!"
Sigmund beamed heartily.
"Asgardians never turn away those who wish to join the feast. The more, the merrier! Haha!"
And just like that...
A fleet of helicopters emblazoned with the Stark Industries logo whirred their way into the park.
Tony, dressed in a sharply tailored suit with Pepper on his arm, strode toward the Asgardians, radiating pure wealth and toting an abundance of premium tobacco, fine wine, seafood, wagyu beef, and more.
Before Sigmund could even greet him, Tony casually tossed his watch aside.
A projection beamed out from the watch.
This more familiar method of information transfer finally gave the Asgardians the sense that Earth wasn't completely backward after all.
As for the content of the projection...
It was footage shot the day before. A relaxed Heisenberg, in his pajamas, lounging on a deck chair, sitting beside Tony on another deck chair.
"You see? I'm a friend of your king! The stuff in those planes, that's what I've brought to reward you on his behalf!
For everything you've done guarding and defending Earth during the Chitauri invasion, you have our deepest gratitude!"
Tony gave a wave.
Scores of Justice League auxiliary logistics staff who had drunk with Thor before, alongside a few S.H.I.E.L.D. agents handpicked by Hill, rushed to unload Stark's gifts from the helicopters.
At the same time, Tony frowned and peered past the legion commanders.
"There are a few of Thor's friends among us who'd like to see him. Is he over there drinking?"
"Thor's friends?"
Before Sigmund could reply, Sif's mind immediately jumped to a conclusion. She stepped right up to Tony.
"You mean Jane Foster? We met when the Destroyer appeared. Where are they?"
Hearing Jane's name, Thor, who had been deliberately keeping his head buried in his cups and had decided that, as he was no longer a prince, he had no face to see the Midgardians anymore, suddenly jerked his head up from the wine.
But when he looked toward the crowd...
"Damn it!"
He slammed his hand furiously on the table in front of him.
"It's him!!!"
Right in the center of Thor's line of sight, Captain Rogers, standing too far away to hear Thor's outburst, was gently nudging Jane Foster out from where she had been hiding behind his back.
In an instant, two images began flashing alternately through Thor's mind: Rogers holding Mjolnir, and Jane nestled against Rogers' side...
And so, to Loki's absolute delight, he watched as Thor's face turned red for a moment, and then just kept getting greener, and greener, and greener...
/-\
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