The story of Doctor Strange and his clash with Dormammu was well underway, but Thor had no plans to get involved. After all, dealing with a cosmic entity like Dormammu was not exactly a pastime he cared for.
He'd have to be out of his mind—or kicked in the head by a donkey—to meddle with such affairs. Besides, Dormammu killing him would be a long shot; thanks to his time under Hela, he'd gained a nifty skill called Death Resistance. Even if he died, time would rewind, allowing him to try again. It was eerily similar to Strange's own time-manipulating antics.
Thor chuckled to himself. Maybe I'm too good at staying alive. I've never even had to use that skill—almost forgot I had it.
But there was no immediate drama involving Strange. Instead, New York's chaos dominated the present. Schools were shut down, and even Peter Parker—your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man—was grounded, hiding at home and wondering if it was worth stepping out at all.
The momentary calm was interrupted by the ringing of Thor's special communicator—a mix of Earth mobile technology and Asgardian craftsmanship, courtesy of his tinkering. Glancing at the screen, Thor raised an eyebrow. The signal wasn't from Earth.
"Hello? Rocket?" he answered.
A frantic voice screamed back. "Help! I'm gonna die! There's a crazy golden lady hunting us down with an entire fleet!"
Thor sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Let me guess—Sovereign?"
Back when he'd helped forge the Stormbreaker, Thor had promised the Guardians of the Galaxy that he'd assist them once if they ever found themselves in serious trouble. This seemed to qualify.
Rocket's voice grew more frantic. "It's not me! It's Quill! That idiot molested the High Priest or something!"
Thor rubbed his temples. "Molested…? The High Priest of Sovereign? You've got to be kidding me."
Quill's indignant voice chimed in over the call. "Hey! She came onto me! She wanted to discuss ancient methods of creating humans! What was I supposed to do, say no?"
Rocket barked, "Yeah, and sneaking into her chambers at night was so smart! You moron!"
Thor rolled his eyes and cut the call. He didn't need to hear the rest of their bickering. It was all clear now—the Sovereign weren't idiots, sending an armada over stolen batteries. No, Quill's antics had given them a much more personal reason for revenge.
Still, Thor couldn't help but laugh. "So that's why the Golden High Priestess sent her fleet. Makes sense now."
Back on Earth, Tony Stark arrived at Trudheim Manor, his expression grim as he knocked on the door. Natasha Romanoff answered, her demeanor calm and composed.
"Thor's not here," Natasha said. "He left yesterday. Not sure when he'll be back."
"Damn it!" Tony muttered, pacing. "I just called Doctor Strange, hoping for help with Rhodey. But guess what? He told me he's changed careers. And Rhodey's still paralyzed."
Natasha tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Why not try Wakanda? Their tech's advanced enough to treat paralysis. It's practically a minor procedure for them."
Tony nodded reluctantly. "Fine. I'll contact Banner. He's practically the Wakandan Prince these days."
He turned to leave, but after a few steps, he stopped and looked back at Natasha. "Are you really retiring?" he asked, his tone unusually serious.
Natasha smiled faintly. "Not retiring. Just strictly adhering to the Sokovia Accords. I won't operate in any country that's signed the agreement. I don't want to end up on their wanted list."
Tony frowned. "Even if the world needs you?"
"Yes," she replied firmly, without hesitation.
"That's… not like you," Tony said, eyeing her skeptically.
Natasha chuckled softly. "Do you think I'm the kind of person who sacrifices herself for the greater good?"
Tony fell silent, unsure how to respond. Natasha's voice lowered, her tone more introspective.
"You're right," she admitted. "It really doesn't sound like me. To be honest, if it were up to me, I might've signed the bill. But there's one person who can make me change my principles—His Highness Thor."
Tony raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Thor?"
"He told me," Natasha continued, her voice steady, "that unless the Sokovia Accords were nullified, this country's politics—were none of my concern. That I should step away."
"And you just… agreed?"
Natasha nodded. "When he speaks, I listen. So yes, Tony. He said it, so I'll do it."
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