"Wait… he can actually come back from the dead?"
Jason Carter stared at the chatroom, unsettled.
Over the past few days, he'd pieced together what happened to the previous administrator—the Overlord—and how Noah Vale had taken his place. But this? This was different.
If Noah could revive himself…
Then death wasn't the end anymore.
And that meant revenge might not be impossible after all.
New York.
Noah stepped out of a storefront, adjusting the jacket he'd just taken. With everything he had stored in his pocket dimension wiped out during his death, he'd needed to improvise.
He'd compensated the shop owner in his own way—something the man clearly didn't understand, judging by the stunned look on his face.
Noah didn't bother explaining.
Instead, he slipped on a sling ring and flicked his wrist.
A portal opened.
On the other side—
The White House.
Inside, tension filled the room.
Tony Stark looked like he hadn't slept—hair a mess, frustration written all over his face. Across from him stood Wilson Fisk, calm but visibly irritated.
Noah stepped through, taking in the scene with a faint grin.
"I thought you said everything was under control," he said casually.
Tony exhaled sharply. "I did. Or at least, I should have been. I laid out the entire plan step by step. It was airtight."
He jabbed a finger toward Fisk.
"Then he shows up and starts stuffing his people into positions they have no business holding. I'm talking about guys who probably couldn't pass a high school exam suddenly running departments."
Fisk didn't flinch.
"They've been loyal to me for years," he said evenly. "I wasn't going to leave them behind just because things changed."
Tony scoffed. "Then pay them. Give them bonuses. Don't hand them jobs they're completely unqualified for."
He shook his head, clearly fed up.
"They're skipping work, hanging out in clubs, and pushing out people who actually know what they're doing. And that's before we even get to the bribery."
That last word hung in the air.
Tony glanced at Noah.
Waiting.
Noah took a bite out of an apple he'd picked up off the table, completely unfazed.
"Why are you looking at me?" he said. "I told you—I'm not here to run things."
He chewed thoughtfully, then shrugged.
"If they're causing problems, get rid of them. Replace them with people who won't."
Tony blinked. "That's… a bit extreme, don't you think?"
"Mr. Vale—" Fisk started, a rare edge of urgency creeping into his voice. "They've been with me for a long time. I'll rein them in. I promise."
Noah waved a hand dismissively.
"You're missing the point. Handle it however you want."
He leaned back slightly, tone still casual.
"If you're that unhappy, you could just as easily go after Tony's people. It's not like I know them either."
The room went quiet.
Noah glanced between them, completely indifferent.
"I only care about the people I actually know. Your allies, your crews, your extended networks? Not my problem."
He smirked faintly.
"If I treated everyone connected to someone I know as my responsibility, I'd never get anything done."
Tony stared at him, momentarily at a loss.
Fisk, on the other hand, seemed to understand immediately.
After a long pause, Tony rubbed his face.
"Fine," he muttered. Then, louder: "You heard him. Fix your people. No more illegal crap. They've got money now—if they want thrills, they can find legal ways to get them."
Fisk nodded. "Understood."
Noah had already lost interest.
"Oh, right," he added. "My phone got destroyed. Get me a new one—same number, same contacts. I want it identical."
"Of course," Fisk said immediately.
Then, after a brief hesitation, he continued, "Mr. Vale… there's something else."
Noah glanced at him.
"We were thinking of organizing a global celebration," Fisk said carefully. "To mark your… leadership. It's been some time, but nothing official has been held yet."
Tony made a face but didn't interrupt.
Fisk went on, "We're proposing to hold it in ten days."
Noah considered it for a moment.
"…Sure," he said finally. "I'll show up."
Fisk straightened slightly, relieved.
"But keep it simple," Noah added. "No drawn-out ceremonies. Just make it interesting."
"Understood."
Tony rolled his eyes at Fisk's tone but said nothing.
"Where's Rodriguez?" Noah asked.
"The President is making preparations," Fisk replied with a polite smile. "He wants to surprise you."
Noah snorted softly. "I'll believe it when I see it."
Tony crossed his arms.
"Not to ruin the mood," he said, "but you don't actually have full control yet. There are still pockets of resistance. People who don't recognize your authority."
Noah didn't even hesitate.
"Then deal with it."
Tony frowned. "That's not exactly—"
"What, you want me to handle everything personally?" Noah cut in. "Then what's the point of having you two around?"
He stretched lazily.
"Figure it out. I've got better things to do."
Before either of them could respond—
He vanished.
Elsewhere.
A vast desert stretched under a blazing sky.
Buried in the sand, a man stirred.
Thor.
His eyes snapped open as awareness returned.
For a moment, he looked disoriented—then panic set in.
"Father!" he shouted at the sky. "Heimdall! I know you can hear me—open the Bifrost! Send me back!"
His voice echoed across the empty landscape.
Nothing answered.
He kept shouting.
Minutes passed.
Still nothing.
Eventually, his voice faded, and he dropped to his knees in the sand.
"…So this is exile," he muttered.
Gunfire shattered the silence.
Thor looked up sharply.
In the distance, two groups of armed men were locked in a firefight. Bullets tore through the air as bodies dropped one after another, blood staining the sand.
Within minutes, one side overwhelmed the other.
The survivors turned—
And noticed Thor.
Weapons snapped up, aimed directly at him.
"Who are you?" one of them demanded. "You with them?"
Thor blinked, confused.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said. "What realm is this? Alfheim? Vanaheim?"
The men exchanged looks.
"…Mexico," one of them said flatly. "And we're part of the resistance against the White Devil."
He narrowed his eyes at Thor.
"So I'll ask again—who are you, and how did you get here?"
Thor drew himself up, still carrying a trace of his former pride.
"I am Thor, son of Odin," he declared. "Cast out and sent here by the Bifrost."
Silence.
Then—
A few of the men lowered their guns slightly, staring at him like he'd lost his mind.