"Director! He has a pulse! Very weak — but present!"
The agent pressed his gloved fingers carefully against Steve Rogers' neck, then leaned close to his chest to confirm.
A faint heartbeat.
Slow.
But there.
Nick Fury's expression sharpened instantly.
"Stabilize him. Carefully. Doctor — now."
The medical team rushed forward with thermal blankets and portable equipment designed for extreme hypothermic recovery.
Steve Rogers was carefully detached from the cockpit restraints. The ice surrounding him was cut away with precision tools to avoid trauma. Ropes were secured under his arms and torso.
"On your mark!"
The recovery team above pulled steadily, lifting the frozen super soldier from the Arctic grave.
Once on the surface, the doctor immediately began scanning vital signs.
"Core temperature critically low — but cellular integrity is intact. The serum preserved him."
Fury nodded.
"Get him into the transport. Slow rewarming protocol. No rapid temperature spikes."
Steve Rogers was transferred into a specialized SHIELD transport craft equipped for cryogenic revival.
For the first time in seventy years, Captain America was coming home.
The next morning — New Mexico
Thor awoke with a headache.
Not from injury.
From losing a drinking contest.
He had been outmatched by Juggernaut — a Midgardian.
Thor stared at the ceiling in mild disbelief.
When his power returned, he would demand a rematch.
That much was certain.
Suddenly—
A column of prismatic light erupted in the distant desert.
The Bifrost.
Karl paused mid-bite and turned his head.
Tony followed his gaze.
"What?"
"The Rainbow Bridge," Karl said calmly. "Thor's companions have arrived."
Thor immediately stood.
"They came?"
Excitement replaced lingering frustration.
Outside town, Sif, Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun stood where the Bifrost had deposited them.
The desert wind whipped around their armor.
"We find Thor," Sif said simply.
They moved toward the nearest settlement.
Back at the diner, Thor burst outside when he heard familiar voices.
"Thor!"
Volstagg laughed thunderously.
Fandral grinned.
Hogun gave a firm nod.
Sif stepped forward.
Relief flickered briefly across her face.
Thor embraced them each in turn.
"It is good to see you."
He then turned, proudly gesturing.
"These are my friends of Midgard!"
He pointed first.
"This is Karl — he possesses unusual insight."
Karl resisted correcting the word "prophet."
"This is Juggernaut — mighty in drink and strength."
Juggernaut gave a silent nod.
"This is Tony Stark — a warrior of iron."
Tony smirked slightly.
"And this is Jane. She aided me when I fell."
Sif's gaze lingered on Jane for a fraction longer than necessary.
It was subtle.
But visible.
Selvig and Darcy received quick nods of acknowledgment.
The Warriors Three did not behave like arrogant gods. They were seasoned warriors — disciplined, observant — evaluating their surroundings rather than dismissing them.
Karl studied them in return.
Volstagg — massive frame, battle-hardened beneath the jovial exterior.
Fandral — agile, precise, rapier at his hip.
Hogun — quiet, composed, lethal efficiency in stillness.
And Sif — posture straight, eyes steady, a true Asgardian warrior.
Unlike Norse mythology, Marvel's Sif was not Thor's wife.
But affection had once existed.
Karl noticed the faint tightening of her jaw when Thor looked at Jane.
He also noticed Thor did not notice.
Typical.
Tony leaned slightly toward Karl.
"This is getting complicated."
Karl exhaled softly.
"It is about to become worse."
Because if the Warriors Three were here—
Then Loki had already made his move.
And the Destroyer would not be far behind.
…
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