Rogers finished speaking, picked up his glass, and kept drinking. It had been far too long since he'd last been drunk. Once he'd made up his mind to leave S.H.I.E.L.D. and walk away from his life as a hero, he figured he ought to have a proper drink.
Watching Captain America like this, Barton frowned and nodded reluctantly.
"I'm sorry, Cap."
"Why apologize? Isn't the world just like this? No one is always right, and no one stays right forever. If my feelings about Heisenberg turn out to be wrong, then Earth's future will be far better than I imagine. And that's a future I look forward to."
With that, Rogers clapped Barton on the shoulder.
"So let it be. Let an old man like me drink alone. Go on."
"Yeah."
Barton nodded and then left Rogers's side. The party was in full swing, a riot of noise, yet Rogers, who had been arm-wrestling earlier, no longer had any desire to join the games.
...
Elsewhere, Heisenberg calmly accepted the cheers of the Asgardian warriors. At the same time, he raised a hand and made a gentle downward gesture toward the Hydra members.
"Everyone!" he said with a smile, his voice carried clearly into every ear through his bio-field. "On this night when we've triumphed over the Chitauri, as the victors, you have every right to celebrate however you choose! My Asgardian subjects, you are all heroes who have fought for thousands of years—go, enjoy yet another victory! I've prepared a grand feast for you in New York, on Midgard. After tonight's warm-up, tomorrow we head to New York and revel in true Asgardian tradition for ten days and ten nights! And as for you Earth fellows—whether Hydra or S.H.I.E.L.D.—in my eyes, there's no good or bad distinction among you. What defines your morality isn't just your own stance, but also what you've done in the past! No matter what you did before, since joining my ranks, have any of you done anything that made ordinary citizens, made innocent people, weep? You even took part in the counterattack against the Chitauri. The fact that you're alive and standing before me means you all have your own battle honors! At least tonight, you are still comrades-in-arms, and you are all heroes! So let's raise our glasses—to the Nine Realms!"
"Uraaa!!!"
"A toast, Your Majesty the God King!!!"
"To the Nine Realms!!!"
"To Midgard—I absolutely love feasts, haha!!!"
"Your Majesty, thank you for my hair!!!"
Sif's heroic yet uniquely charming voice rang out from the crowd. Heisenberg immediately looked toward her. This woman, worthy of a Valkyrie, charged out of the crowd holding a small fishbowl, making a beeline straight for Heisenberg. She stopped right in front of him, raised the fishbowl, and drained it in one go. She smashed the empty bowl to the ground, wiped her mouth boldly, and threw herself into Heisenberg's arms.
"A thousand thanks for the gift you gave me, Your Majesty!"
Sif hugged Heisenberg and whispered in his ear. Then she quickly fled his embrace, her face flushing crimson amid countless wolf whistles and cheers, and scurried back to her table. With a thud, she buried her head on the table, all the while sneaking a sidelong glance at Thor in the distance. But the Thor she saw was still just holding Jane Foster, murmuring who knows what sweet nothings. That crushed Sif. After so many years together, did Thor not even have a shred of regard for her? Thinking this, Sif straightened up in frustration, snatched a rice bowl full of booze from the person next to her, and downed it in one gulp.
Noticing Sif's conflicted state, Heisenberg, a man of experience, knew exactly what she was thinking. But watching Thor and Jane together... Heisenberg couldn't help but silently mourn for Sif. Thor, a god who'd been single for two thousand years and just found his first love... Right now, even if you brought in an army of Victoria's Secret angels, Thor wouldn't look up for anyone but Jane. No helping it—everyone's got a first love, right?
With that thought, Heisenberg shook his head, smiled, and made his way over to the tables where the legion commanders sat, taking a random seat. Sigmund sat down to his left. Sif, beating everyone else, plopped down on his right. Tony and his beloved sat across from Heisenberg. The atmosphere instantly lit up.
The Asgardian long tables were designed to seat many. Besides those near Heisenberg—Bullseye, Jessica, Natasha, Fandral—a whole crowd gathered around him and drank deep into the night. Sigmund's three millennia of war experience became the finest seasoning for the table. A drinking party always needs someone to spin tall tales, right? Even Heisenberg joined the entertainment, picking out a few memories from that Kryptonian elder Heisenberg and satisfying everyone's curiosity about his so-called past. In high spirits, Loki even danced the traditional Vanir war dance that Frigga had taught him long ago. Bullseye dragged plenty of people into a knife-throwing competition. Asgard's knife-throwing champion, Hogun; Earth's representative, Barton; and Heisenberg's representative, Bullseye—those three bastards competed all night long and still couldn't decide a winner... But that only made the spectators tremble with excitement.
As the night crossed past midnight, even Captain America, who'd been sunk in melancholy, couldn't help but cheer up. After getting properly drunk, he finally remembered: no matter what the future held, Earth had already weathered the Chitauri attack. Countless satellites still kept watch here. Countless aircraft, for inexplicable reasons, kept circling with flight paths set right above Denver. The revelry of all of Heisenberg's people gathered together truly made the whole world take notice.
How to describe the mood that night? Even with Pepper, his newlywed love, keeping an eye on him, Tony still ended up drunk under the table. Even Hill, the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., ended up passed out beside Heisenberg's bed... When Heisenberg got up the next morning, Hill was still sound asleep like a mud puddle. Heisenberg was absolutely certain she was genuinely sleeping, because no one could fool the eyes of a Kryptonian. Looking at Hill like this, Heisenberg smiled.
He reached out and tapped her slightly open, breathing mouth. Feeling a hand patting her face, Hill groggily opened her eyes. The instant she recognized Heisenberg, she opened her mouth in brief bewilderment, thought for exactly zero point zero one seconds, then smiled naturally, shifted closer, and even snuggled into his arms. She patted his chest.
"We're in New York, right? I remember last night you used the Bifrost to send everyone to New York! I'm probably up a bit late. Today's the day you're hosting your Asgardian subjects—about two hundred thirty thousand of them. Entertaining them is a huge project. I don't trust leaving it to anyone else."
That said, Hill promptly climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom. After a quick rinse, she naturally dressed in the clothes that the butler Billy had prepared for her in advance. Finally, she gave the lazily sprawled Heisenberg a hug and swept out like a whirlwind, once again becoming the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Cold yet confident, arrogant but willing to bow her head. And her figure and bearing were particularly fine.
...
The boundless cosmos, the planet Xandar!
A brilliant streak of light cut across the sky. Carol descended onto the plaza of Xandar, carrying a woman whose face was twisted with fury and unwillingness.
"Whoa, the Captain's back!"
"What a delight! May your thirteenth ten-thousandth cosmic year be everything you wish, Captain!"
"May the tail-flame of the Centaurian Galaxy illuminate you and me, Captain!"
"This... Her Highness? You brought her back?"
The Shi'ar people who spotted Captain Marvel greeted her warmly, and Carol smiled and responded to each of them. Hearing the last one's question, Carol lifted the woman in her grip slightly.
"That's right. It took a fair bit of effort, but she still fell into my hands. This time, this disappointing member of the royal family is finally getting the judgment she deserves!"
With that, Carol hauled Deathbird all the way to the council chamber. After going through a tedious set of formalities, Deathbird received her due punishment—exile.
Having wrapped up the matter with Deathbird, Carol left the council and headed along the plaza toward her usual bar. Nearly everyone on Xandar knew this mighty female warrior. Countless people greeted her, and the looks they gave Carol left her thoroughly satisfied. As Captain Marvel, Carol was devoted to her career and utterly addicted to her accomplishments.
Watching such a flamboyant yet wildly popular figure, a certain little nobody waiting at the edge of the plaza for mercenary work felt extremely irritated. The little raccoon smacked the shoulder of the tree person beneath him and cursed out of sheer boredom.
"I really don't know what to say. She's just a flashy woman, but somehow so many people trust her. Even the Shi'ar Imperial family is willing to give her missions!"
At that, the raccoon scowled and smacked the tree person under him again.
"I've only got one thing to say about that. That kind of female? Just give me enough power, and I'll build a cannon that can blast her to bits with one shot!"
"I am Groot!!!"
The tree person hurriedly covered the little raccoon's mouth, because his big talk had drawn the attention of countless bottom-rung mercenaries. When those mercenaries got a clear look and saw the loudmouth was just an animal, they all burst out laughing. One of them immediately laughed and shot back at the raccoon.
"You must be new on Xandar, you country bumpkin! That lady is Ms. Carol! She's a hero who can stand shoulder to shoulder with Nova Prime and even with the Praetor Gladiator! When Gladiator was still alive, not even Galactus was his match! And you two think you could hurt Lady Carol?"
No sooner had the mercenary finished than the raccoon squirmed free of Groot's grip, pissed off.
"Bah! I don't know any damn Praetor this or Prime that! If any random guy can be a Praetor, then I'm the Master Weapons Praetor! Give me enough energy, and I'll blow Xandar to bits with one cannon! Nobody can stop me! Screw that!!!"
"Whoa, this raccoon's got some fire! I like this fella, haha!"
"Right on, we like hot-tempered guys! Raccoon, come drink!"
"And Groot—by Eternity, how long has it been since I've seen a Groot? This might be the last Groot in the universe, right?"
"Come on, you two newcomers who popped out of nowhere. All drinks are on the house tonight. That's Xandar mercenary hospitality for you!"
Who knows what goes through a mercenary's mind? Instead of getting angry at the raccoon's wild boasts, they actually welcomed him for it. And just like that, the raccoon, who had recently escaped from a lab, experienced warmth for the very first time.
But while warmth was well and good, the booze packed quite a punch... The raccoon was soon drunk.
That same night, in that same bar, a young man with no reputation and no accomplishments got just as drunk as the raccoon. Having recently run away from a pirate crew, the young man, Peter Quill, had come to Xandar carrying all the spirit and dreams typical of youth. And, also like most young people, Quill had hit quite a few walls in this new environment. The reason he'd come to the bar tonight? He'd been stung by the sight of the legendary mercenary Carol. Three months ago, the hardest mercenary job from the Shi'ar Empire—the legendary mission to capture the royal traitor Deathbird. That was a job Quill could only look up to. And it could only be completed by a legend like Captain Marvel! As he drank, Quill was utterly dejected. When would he ever complete a legendary mission like that and become a new legend himself?
/-\
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