Nick Fury sat in his office, rubbing his temples. The headache was getting worse.
"Infrared cameras?" he muttered. "Will they even work on a God of Mischief?"
He had zero data on Asgardian magic. His "Magic Division" consisted of a few guys in a basement poking werewolf teeth with sticks. It was pathetic.
"We are fighting gods with glow-sticks," Fury sighed. "If Loki really is the 'Master of Magic' in the Nine Realms, we are screwed."
He thought back to the conversation with Thor.
"Loki came to see you?" Fury had asked, trying to sound casual. "To visit his exiled brother? How touching."
"No," Thor had replied, tears streaming down his face. "He came to tell me... Father is dead."
"Dead?" Fury had jumped out of his chair. "Impossible! The diary said he had a few years left!"
"The years are gone," Thor sobbed. "He used them up waiting for me to grow up. And I failed him."
Fury paced the room. This changed everything.
If Odin was dead, the treaty protecting Earth was void. The "Do Not Touch" sign was taken down.
And the new landlord? Loki.
"A guy who wants to invade us," Fury thought grimly. "A guy with an army. A guy who can walk through walls invisible."
"We are sitting ducks."
"It's not just an invasion," Fury realized. "It's an eviction notice."
"And if Thor stays powerless..." Fury looked at the broken man in the containment cell on the monitor. "We lose our only heavy hitter."
He walked back into the cell.
"Thor," Fury said sharply. "Look at me."
Thor didn't move. He was staring at the floor, lost in grief.
"My father is dead," Thor whispered. "My mother hates me. My brother is King. I have nothing."
"You have a responsibility!" Fury barked.
"Your father didn't banish you to mope!" Fury shouted. "He banished you to learn! To become worthy!"
"If you give up now, you are spitting on his grave!"
Thor flinched. The words were harsh, but they cut through the fog of self-pity.
"The diary plan is still in motion," Fury continued, pacing in front of him. "We are going to trigger a reaction from Lucas. We are going to find out the secret of the hammer."
"It doesn't matter," Thor shook his head. "I am not King. I am nothing."
"You are Thor Odinson!" Fury grabbed him by the shoulders. "King or not, you are a protector! You told me yourself! You protected Earth for a thousand years!"
"Are you going to stop now just because you lost your fancy chair?"
"The people of Earth are in danger," Fury lied (mostly). "If Loki is King, who knows what he'll do? We need you. We need the God of Thunder."
"Not for the throne," Fury said softly. "But for the people."
Thor looked up. His eyes were red, but there was a spark in them.
"For the people," Thor repeated.
"Yes," Fury nodded. "For Jane. For your friends. For us."
"If you want to honor your father," Fury concluded, "then finish his test. Become the man he knew you could be."
Thor took a deep breath. He stood up, towering over Fury.
"You are right, Son of Fury," Thor said, his voice gaining strength. "I cannot wallow in grief. I must be worthy."
"Good," Fury stepped back. "Now, eat something. You look terrible."
"I require pop-tarts," Thor demanded suddenly.
"Pop... what?" Fury blinked.
"The Lady Jane introduced me to them," Thor explained seriously. "They are a delicacy of Midgard. Strawberry flavor."
"Fine," Fury rolled his eye. "I'll get you a box. But first, we stick to the plan."
"Tomorrow," Fury pointed at the map on the wall. "Iron Man arrives. We make a scene. And we wait for Lucas to write."
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