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Asgard.
Thor stood on the palace dais, Jane Foster's hand in his.
"Father," Thor said firmly, "though the Aether Particle is gone from Jane, her life-force is badly damaged. Only Asgard's arts can restore her. I want her to stay—become one of us."
Odin sat on his throne, one eye on his stubborn son, the other on the mortal woman.
"She is mortal," Odin intoned, voice still regal yet softer than before.
"A mortal's life is a fleeting bloom. If you bind yourself to her, you bind yourself to loss."
"I do not care." Thor tightened his grip on Jane's hand.
"I do." Odin snorted.
"Odin." Frigga stepped close, whispering, "Homelander saved my life and changed fate. Perhaps… we too should change our old rules?"
Odin remained silent for a long while.
He thought of that arrogant "god" from Midgard, of his feats on the battlefield.
Times had changed.
"…She may stay," Odin finally relented, pride intact, "as a guest until she is well. Whether she becomes Asgardian… let fate decide."
Thor beamed. "Thank you, Father!"
Jane exhaled in relief; she had little love for the one-eyed old man, but for Thor she would endure it… S.H.I.E.L.D., Triskelion.
To showcase its relevance and polish its public image, every Agent had been ordered onto the streets.
"Let the people see the S.H.I.E.L.D. badge!" Pierce roared at the briefing.
"Catch alien-weapon bank robbers, street-gang shoot-outs—hell, help grandmas cross the road or pull cats from trees! Just do it in uniform!"
For weeks, S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents became New York's busiest "community volunteers."
Yet beneath the bustle, darker currents stirred.
Black Widow Natasha, Hawkeye Clint, and Dr. Bruce Banner vanished quietly on Fury's secret orders.
No one knew where they had gone.
Using "a World growing ever more chaotic needs faster defenses," Pierce pushed the Council to accelerate the Insight Project.
Results were poor.
The World's eyes were now on Vought.
People felt that with Homelander around, even if the sky fell someone tall would hold it up; why waste billions on Insight?
One councilman bluntly asked, "Do we need Insight? We only need to call Vought."
Pierce smashed three cups in his office in Fury.
Meanwhile, at the White House in Washington.
President Matthew Ellis was riding high.
In the screening room he watched a clip, grinning ear to ear.
Vought Pictures had dispatched a top crew to craft a bespoke micro-movie: President: Last Line of Defense.
Onscreen, Ellis was no bunker-hiding politician.
Wearing body-armor and wielding an M4, he fought through a ruined D.C. alongside Vought heroes.
A close-up: the President, face streaked with dust, eyes steely, gunning down several Dark Elf Soldiers.
He spat out a cigar and coolly told the camera, "Don't forget—I'm a veteran too."
The video detonated across America.
"Hardcore President!"
"Now that's a leader!"
Ellis's approval rocketed; re-election was all but certain.
"Great job, Anthony," Ellis laughed into the phone. "I might try Hollywood when I retire."
"Great idea, Matthew," Anthony replied. "I'll definitely cast you in my franchise."
Still, Ellis nursed a regret.
His proposal to carve his face onto Mount Rushmore was unanimously shot down by the Senate for "defacing a historic landscape."
"Blind fools," Ellis muttered…
In the court of public opinion, Anthony's popularity kept climbing.
Yet discordant notes arose.
Many people who lost their properties due to the fight. Launched protest in the internet raising their voices against Vought.
Watching this, Ashley said to Anthony:"Sir, This is gone be tricky."
"Tricky?"
Anthony smiled.
He quietly opened the system and checked its popularity breakdown.
The panel unfolded:
Popularity Filter: Positive- Negative
"Popularity gained: -3,120!"
"Popularity gained: -4,399!"
"…"
Yet another set of figures froze his gaze—positive gains that outweighs negativity by tenfold.
"Popularity gained: +42,520!"
"Popularity gained: +32,421!"
"Popularity gained: +41,122!"
"…"
Anthony almost spilled his soda laughing at the comments.
"Hahaha…"
"That's what they call 'a blessing in disguise.'"
"Ashley, forget those losers' whining. Tweet this: 'For Earth's peace some sacrifices are necessary. I regret those people's plight—but I'd do it again.'"
"…Are you sure about that last line?"
"Kidding. Cut it. Change to: 'We're sending humanitarian aid—250 crates of Vought Energy Drink.'"