Not long after Locke returned to the Avengers base, a rather unexpected guest arrived.
The God of Thunder himself—Thor.
Locke leaned casually against the table, eyes sweeping over the so-called heir of Asgard. The man looked nothing like the divine warrior of legend. His clothes were worn, his posture sloppy, and there was an unmistakable air of foolishness clinging to him.
Locke smirked faintly. "What, your wife didn't come with you?"
Thor blinked, caught off guard. "I'm not married."
Locke tilted his head slightly, studying him. "But you met someone recently, didn't you? Someone who stuck in your head."
The words hit immediately.
Without realizing it, Thor's thoughts drifted straight to Jane Foster. The memory surfaced vividly, and his expression shifted ever so slightly.
Locke saw it and pressed forward. "If you meet someone you like, don't let it slip away. That kind of thing doesn't come often."
Thor lowered his head, genuinely thinking it through. His long life had been filled with battles, glory, and pride—but moments like that? Rare.
"You've lived over a thousand years," Locke continued calmly. "How many times have you met someone like her?"
Thor sucked in a breath.
The words struck deeper than expected, cutting through the haze in his mind like a blade. His eyes suddenly lit up, and he straightened with renewed conviction.
"You're right!" he exclaimed. "Once I reclaim Mjolnir, I'll go back and bring her to Asgard!"
Locke rolled his eyes internally.
This idiot really couldn't go two sentences without bringing up his hammer.
Without another word, Locke raised his hand. A surge of wind filled the room, and in the next instant, Mjolnir appeared in his grip.
Thor's eyes widened instantly.
"Mjolnir!" He rushed forward, excitement flooding his voice. "I knew it was you! I saw the storm clouds on TV—I knew it had to be you! I've come for you!"
Locke casually shoved him back, expression indifferent. "I've got some bad news. Mjolnir is mine now."
Thor froze.
Then rage exploded.
"What did you just say?" he roared. "Mjolnir belongs to me! No matter what trick you used, once I touch it, it will recognize me! It's mine!"
Locke let out a short, amused breath and extended the hammer. "Go ahead. Prove it."
"Of course I will!"
Thor grabbed it without hesitation.
The moment his hand closed around the handle, Locke released his grip.
"Boom!"
Mjolnir dropped like a collapsing mountain.
"Crack!"
Thor's back let out a disturbing sound as his body was dragged downward with the hammer. His face flushed deep red, veins bulging as he struggled to hold on.
A muffled groan escaped his throat.
After a few seconds, his strength gave out. He let go, but his body remained hunched forward, unable to straighten.
Locke watched calmly. "You need a doctor?"
"No!" Thor gritted out, refusing to admit defeat.
His eyes burned with disbelief as he stared at the hammer. "I don't believe this. Mjolnir wouldn't reject me! We've fought together for centuries. It knows me better than anyone—better than my father! There's no way it doesn't recognize me!"
He reached out again, stubbornness overtaking reason.
Locke shrugged. "Or maybe after a thousand years, it just got tired of you. It doesn't have a mouth to complain, but this? This is pretty clear feedback."
"Shut up!"
Thor roared, straining with everything he had.
Mjolnir didn't move.
Not even a fraction.
The strength drained from his face. The red faded, replaced by pale disbelief. He staggered back, arms falling to his sides as he looked upward, voice trembling.
"No… no…"
Then he collapsed to his knees.
The light in his eyes dimmed completely, leaving behind nothing but hollow despair.
Locke watched for a moment before signaling someone to take him away. The man needed time alone, even if Locke had little sympathy for the emotional breakdown.
There were more important things to handle.
He immediately summoned Professor Charles Xavier and Jean Grey.
By all logic, Thor's arrival meant one thing—Odin had already fallen into his Odinsleep. And if that was true, then the real problem was already on its way.
Loki.
They needed to be ready.
Alongside them came Jason, the illusion specialist. Ever since Charles had rescued him from Stryker, the professor had been quietly trying to help him recover. Progress was slow, but there was one breakthrough—they could now combine their abilities to trap even powerful minds in illusions.
That would have to be enough.
Inside the room next to Thor, Locke explained the situation. Charles and Jean listened in stunned silence. A literal god sat in the next room, and now they were preparing to ambush another.
The world had officially lost all sense of normal.
…
Late that night, Thor sat curled in the corner of his room, grief swallowing him whole.
Then, without warning, a figure appeared.
Tall, composed, dressed in dark elegance.
Thor's head snapped up. "Loki? What are you doing here?"
"I had to see you, brother."
"What happened?"
Loki's expression darkened. "Father… is dead."
Thor froze.
"What?"
"Our father, the All-Father, is gone," Loki repeated, voice heavy. "The pressure… your exile, the threat of war… it broke him."
Thor's world shattered.
Loki continued softly, "He passed the throne to me. I'll carry his legacy. I'll rule Asgard."
Thor's voice cracked. "Can I come home?"
"I'm afraid not," Loki said. "Part of the peace with Jotunheim requires your exile. And… Mother believes you caused Father's death."
Thor's eyes filled with pain.
"I'm the one who should apologize," he said hoarsely. "Thank you… for coming."
"Goodbye, brother."
Loki turned, a faint smile flickering across his face as he stepped forward—
—and into a desert.
Endless yellow sand stretched in every direction.
His expression shifted instantly.
"What…?"
He turned in place, hands on his hips, confusion giving way to suspicion. "Did someone… ambush me?"
A cold snort followed. "A parlor trick? In front of me?"
Outside the illusion, Charles was already sweating heavily. "Hurry… I can't hold him long!"
Locke moved.
In an instant, he appeared beside Loki's real body. With a flick of his will, a portal to the Absolute Zero Zone opened.
He didn't hesitate.
One clean kick—and Loki vanished into the void.
The space sealed behind him.
Inside that frozen dimension, time stood still. No pain, no awareness. Anyone trapped inside wouldn't even realize they'd been removed.
…
Far away in Asgard, even in his divine slumber, Odin stirred.
One son… gone.
Then the second.
A faint tremor ran through his body.
Beside him, Frigga frowned slightly, placing a hand on his forehead.
Something felt… off.
…
Back on Earth, Locke stood silently, considering his next move.
Mjolnir was still in his possession—for now.
But that could change at any moment.
Odin's authority over the hammer hadn't disappeared.
Locke's gaze drifted toward Thor.
A thought formed.
What if…
He traded the hammer—for the sons?
A slow grin tugged at his lips.
Risky. Dangerous.
But worth it.
Without hesitation, he reopened the Absolute Zero Zone, stepped forward, grabbed Thor by the neck—
—and threw him in.
…
In Asgard, Odin's body trembled again.
Both sons.
Gone.
…
Locke exhaled slowly, unease creeping in despite the success. This was bigger than a simple move. He needed insurance.
Ancient One.
He'd have to find her.
Last time, she'd avoided commitment. This time would be different. After all, he had leverage now.
…
Elsewhere.
Nick Fury stood in a dim room, his face drawn and voice rough.
"Things change fast," he muttered.
He looked at the group before him, eyes hard.
"New name."
A pause.
"You're no longer the Justice League."
His voice dropped, cold and deliberate.
"From now on… you are called—Injustice."
Silence filled the room.
"Your first mission," Fury continued, "is to assassinate the so-called hero… Locke."
....
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