Thor Odinson was, without question, one of the strongest warriors Asgard had produced in generations.
Definitely not the wisest, not even close.
When he entered the observatory of the Bifrost after the disaster in Jotunheim, he still carried himself like a prince expecting vindication rather than judgment. The bridge's great mechanism glowed behind him in cold bands of light. Loki kept to the side with a face schooled into concern so well that only someone already looking for treachery would have seen how much he was enjoying the moment.
Odin descended from the raised structure overlooking the bridge controls and fixed his gaze on his son.
"Thor Odinson."
Thor opened his mouth at once, ready to justify himself, but Odin did not allow it.
"You have betrayed the express command of your king. Through your arrogance and stupidity, you have opened these peaceful realms and innocent lives to the horror and desolation of war."
That struck Thor harder than he expected. He looked from Odin to the room around him as if someone else might object on his behalf. No one did.
"Father, we went to Jotunheim to answer an insult. They broke into our realm."
Odin stepped closer.
"And you answered like a vain boy drunk on his own strength. You sought battle because you wanted it, not because wisdom demanded it."
Thor's jaw hardened.
"I would not sit idle while our enemies mocked Asgard."
"No," Odin answered, his voice growing sharper, "you would rather drag Asgard into ruin than endure restraint for one more moment."
He closed the remaining distance between them.
"You are unworthy of these realms. You are unworthy of your title. You are unworthy."
The force in the last words shook the chamber.
Thor stared at him, stunned now rather than angry. Loki lowered his eyes to hide the satisfaction gathering there.
"Now, in the name of my father and his father before, I cast you out."
The power tore through Thor in bright, brutal waves. His armour vanished. His strength was stripped from him layer by layer. The certainty that had carried him into Jotunheim cracked first, then the rest of him followed. A heartbeat later, he was hurled out of Asgard and cast down towards Midgard, powerless and disgraced.
Mjolnir shook where it lay. Odin drew it to his hand and turned the hammer once, weighing judgment and mercy together.
Then he laid the enchantment upon it.
"Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor."
The hammer flashed and flew after its fallen master, cast from Asgard towards the same world that would now have to endure him.
When the light was gone, only silence remained in the observatory.
Thor had fallen. Odin, suddenly older beneath the weight of what he had done, turned away.
The consequences had already started.
--
On Earth, where divine family drama took longer to arrive but stupidity kept an admirable pace, Lucius was learning new things from mutants whose prayers had been answered, whether they had wanted that service or not.
His new understanding of genetics, stitched together with everything the X Gene had added to the pile, had finally become broad enough to let him play with living systems in ways that were no longer clumsy by accident. Cells had pathways. Hormones had timing. Gene expression was never just one switch, not in a body worth ruining properly. The X-Gene made the mess worse as it sat on top of the rest of biology like a private rebellion wired into ordinary flesh. It could alter regulatory proteins, distort developmental cues, amplify some local signalling loops while silencing others, and still somehow remain stable enough not to turn every mutant into soup. That was what had slowed him at first. The mutation itself was not a neat add-on. It had roots through tissue, timing, endocrine response, and the body's own repair patterns. The more he learned, the more he understood how much work it took to move one gift without collapsing ten other systems around it.
That, naturally, only made him more interested.
His latest test subject had just stopped being a test subject and become a cherry blossom tree.
Lucius stood in the snow near Alkali Lake and looked at the pale trunk with open irritation.
"What is wrong with people in this world?"
The branches shifted under the cold wind. Half the blossoms let go at once and scattered over the snow like the tree itself had taken offence.
Lucius put both hands on his hips.
"Look at you now. Beautiful and elegant, a meaningful upgrade over being a filthy unbeliever and a junkie."
The tree moved again in the wind and lost more petals.
He clicked his tongue.
"We all have our problems. Deal with it, you ungrateful mongrel."
Then he vanished.
The cherry blossom remained behind among the pines, aspens, and those deeply offensive palm trees he had previously introduced to Colorado for reasons he still considered artistically sound.
His research really had started bearing fruit. The phrasing pleased him every time. After many mistakes, many bodies, and many examples of the natural world being less grateful for improvement than it should have been, he had finally reached the point where mutation transfer between mutants was possible. It was not clean or perfect, and not yet reproducible in the tidy way proper science would have liked. But possible, which was the only word that truly mattered.
There were issues here and there, of course. Tissue rejection. Neural instability. One very educational chain of bone overgrowth. But perfection was for dead gods and liars. Progress was for men willing to work with the materials available.
Lucius was working diligently.
When sales were done, he left the hotel and either visited Alkali Lake for more practical research or checked on experts in genetics, endocrinology, cellular signalling, developmental medicine, and mutation theory. Some of them merely received a discreet mental reading and a ruined evening. Others qualified for rather more generous contributions to science. He saw no contradiction in that. Knowledge was knowledge. If a few bores with tenure had to become useful on a deeper level, that was simply the universe correcting itself.
By the time he returned to the St. Regis that evening, he was tired, satisfied, and in a mood to enjoy one particular piece of pettiness.
Coulson was finally coming.
Lucius had put the meeting off for weeks because tormenting the man from a polite distance had become one of the cleaner pleasures left in modern life.
He swept the suite for listening devices first, because manners ended where SHIELD began. The room came back clean. That was wise of them. He sat down and waited.
A few minutes later, Sebastien entered with a soft knock and the expression of a butler doing his best not to resent the hotel for assigning him to this lunatic.
"Sir, Agent Coulson of SHIELD has arrived."
Lucius spread a hand.
"Send him in, Sebastien. Why are you keeping him waiting? Don't you know Coulson is a good friend of mine?"
The line existed only to insult SHIELD by implication.
Yes, he was that petty.
Sebastien turned and gestured for Coulson to enter. As he moved back towards the lift, he muttered something under his breath about madmen and respectable guests, and privately wished for the return of the ordinary rich people. They at least limited themselves to adultery, shouting, and very expensive laundry problems.
If Sebastien had known Lucius was half considering taking him along when he finally left the hotel, he would have started packing immediately.
Coulson stepped into the suite and found Lucius already on his feet with both arms open and a grin so wide it could only mean trouble.
"Coulson." Lucius sounded absurdly delighted. "It's been ages. I missed you. Tell me, how is the son of a bitch you call a director doing? Hopefully, age has finally started making demands of his prostate."
Coulson took the greeting with resigned calm and a fake smile.
"Mr Noctis." He inclined his head. "Thank you for agreeing to meet after only a few short weeks of delay."
Lucius widened his eyes.
"Is that sarcasm? I sense sarcasm, Coulson."
He waved towards the seat opposite.
"Sit. Tell me what could possibly be so urgent that it could not wait a couple of charming little weeks longer."
Coulson sat because standing would have made this feel more confrontational and because his leg muscles were not at fault here.
"Director Fury sent the deed and the vehicle registrations for the mansion and the cars."
Lucius's face lit up with greedy pleasure so openly that even Coulson, who had expected satisfaction, found the lack of shame impressive.
"I do hope the cars are brand new and not some second-hand insult the Baldy is trying to pass off as compensation."
That was the moment Coulson started sweating inside.
He kept his tone diplomatic.
"I was instructed to inform you they are brand new, Mr Noctis."
Lucius did not care all that much. Tony had already given him another set of beautiful wheels through a mixture of lies, bad friendship, and emotional fraud. This performance existed solely so Fury would understand Lucius was aware of the lie and keeping score.
"Good." He leaned back. "It would be rude to compensate a victim with used goods. We are not savages."
Coulson set the folder on the table between them.
"There is one more question."
Lucius's grin sharpened.
"Only one? You're slipping."
Coulson ignored that.
"Do you have any new potions in development that you intend to sell?"
Lucius's smile became predatory at once.
"Of course I do." He steepled his fingers and looked over them with visible pleasure. "I am very sure SHIELD will love them once you people are finally allowed to have some."
That answer gave Coulson absolutely nothing useful except a worsening headache and the certainty that Lucius was somehow becoming stronger every time they lost sight of him for a time.
He rose, accepted that the meeting was over, and collected what remained of his patience.
"Thank you for your time."
Lucius nodded warmly.
"You're welcome. Send my regards to Fury. Tell him I'm deeply touched by the gifts."
Coulson walked to the door.
Behind him, Lucius added one last line in a tone far too cheerful to be decent.
"And Coulson?"
He turned.
"Yes?"
"If SHIELD ever wants a discount, all you need to do is ask."
Coulson left the suite and did not let himself exhale until the lift doors had shut him away from the room entirely.
He had dealt with criminals, killers, spies, narcissists, and government men who smiled like reptiles. Noctis remained unusual even by those standards. Every meeting felt like spending an hour in the company of something vindictive that had learned manners purely to make cruelty easier.
Worse, Coulson was no longer sure that the impression was unfair.
He also could not shake the feeling that the man kept getting stronger.
That, more than the insults, stayed with him all the way back down. SHIELD needed divine help to deal with Noctis.