The hammer in Luke's hand was unmistakable, Mjölnir.
Even though none of the Avengers had tried to lift it themselves, they all knew the legends. According to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s detailed intel, this wasn't just a weapon, it was a test. A divine filter. Only those deemed "worthy" could lift it.
And yet… Luke had just picked it up like it was a remote control.
For a moment, the entire deck fell silent. The shock in everyone's eyes said it all.
Thor looked like his soul had just left his body.
Still frozen by the absurdly heavy boots weighing him down, Thor remained rooted in place, but his arm lifted instinctively. His palm opened and reached forward.
It was his signature move, the silent summons. Usually, the moment he did this, Mjölnir would tear through the air and land faithfully in his grasp, no questions asked.
The hammer didn't twitch. Didn't shimmer. Didn't even hum.
It stayed perfectly still in Luke's hand, as if Thor hadn't even called for it.
Thor's hand slowly lowered. The expression on his face was the kind of heartbreak usually reserved for tragic movies and lost lovers.
But Luke wasn't moved.
He'd given the guy a chance to walk away gracefully. Thor chose violence instead.
Now? Luke was done playing nice.
He walked forward slowly, Mjölnir resting casually at his side, his footsteps calm and deliberate. When he stood in front of Thor, his voice was relaxed, almost friendly.
"Gonna borrow this for a day," Luke said, nodding at the hammer. "Just for fun. I'll give it back when I'm done playing."
He said it like he was borrowing a pencil before a test. Like it wasn't the most powerful weapon in Asgard.
Thor opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out.
And Luke didn't wait for a reply.
He said it was borrowing, but it was more of a non-negotiable loan, a temporary hostage situation. The only reason he limited it to one day was because the system had just informed him that Mjölnir's rebellion would only last twenty-four hours.
After that, the hammer would go back to Thor's side like a dog returning to its owner.
So for now, Luke planned to enjoy every second. A sudden thought gave him pause, 'does this count as NTR? Maybe I should get a tan and dye my hair blonde… better not.'
He turned away from Thor and walked toward Bumblebee, who was still waiting faithfully for his master.
The high altitude and thin air still didn't faze Luke in the slightest. He moved like a man strolling through his backyard.
As if responding to his approach, the Camaro's driver-side door opened automatically.
Luke chuckled softly, spun the hammer once with flair, and slid into the front seat.
Behind him, every Avenger and S.H.I.E.L.D. agent close to the deck stood frozen, eyes wide, jaws dropped.
They weren't sure if they were feeling awe, envy, or just existential panic.
Doggo sprinted after Luke, leaping into the passenger side with practiced ease, tongue lolling happily as if this was just a regular Tuesday.
But just before the Camaro's door shut, Luke paused. He looked over his shoulder and raised a hand, index finger pointing behind the helicarrier.
"You might wanna watch your six," he said casually.
Everyone instinctively turned in the direction he pointed.
And promptly freaked out.
An aircraft was silently approaching from the rear, so close now it was almost within range of the deck.
Nick Fury's instincts kicked in instantly. He tapped his earpiece and barked, "Control, status on the aircraft approaching the mothership. Friend or foe?"
The thin air muted Luke's voice, but Fury knew how to read lips.
A voice crackled in his ear. "Director, aircraft ID reads as friendly. Authorization 4577..."
Fury's heart stopped. 4577. He didn't need to hear the rest.
"That's Barton's code!" he shouted. "That's not a friendly, take it down! Now!"
His voice echoed across the deck.
The nearby Avengers turned sharply, panic flickering in their eyes. A second ago they'd been dealing with godly drama. Now it was back to war.
At that moment, the Camaro's door finally closed with a soft hiss.
Unlike any Earth vehicle, the car vibrated as six rear thrusters lit up in unison, blasting brilliant blue flames.
In a blink, the car lifted off the deck, hovered for a split second, then roared downward at a steep angle.
From behind the windshield, Luke gave them a final lazy wave.
Tony squinted and muttered, "You have got to be kidding me."
"Did he just leave?" Natasha asked, incredulous.
"He sure did," Steve confirmed, still stunned.
"I hate that guy," Tony muttered, crossing his arms.
None of them said it aloud, but the same thought passed through all their minds:
He picked up Mjölnir, warned them about an incoming threat… and then ran off before the fight started.
They weren't even sure they could blame him.
If Luke hadn't said anything, the sneak attack might've worked. For someone who just robbed a god of his hammer, he was remarkably polite.
Back on the deck, the moment turned from shock to chaos.
"Enemy fire incoming!" someone shouted over the intercom.
Explosions echoed across the sky.
Barton, now under Loki's control, had launched a precision strike with a squad of equally mind controlled S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Missiles, gunfire, and energy bolts ripped through the air as alarms began to wail.
And in the middle of the chaos, Thor stood alone, unmoving.
His boots were still locked in protest-mode.
And now, the helicarrier was under attack.
It was, without a doubt, the worst day of his very long life.
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