MARVEL: TOAA

"Damn it, did I guess wrong?" John muttered, visibly confused.

He had assumed Loki was behind his sudden appearance in this timeline. Who else could orchestrate such a precise event? However, without a response, his confidence in that theory wavered.

Could it have been Odin? Perhaps the Allfather sensed the divine power within John—power originating from Thor's divine lineage. After all, John could technically be considered a distant descendant of Odin.

"Almighty Odin, King of the Gods," John called out tentatively, "are you the one who brought me here?"

The air remained still. No divine answer.

Thor frowned. "Why are you mentioning my father and brother? Did they send you to assist me?"

"Maybe," John replied nonchalantly, snapping his fingers. The motion restored the town to its usual hum of life. People resumed their activities as though nothing had happened. The only exception was an old man, staring at his watch in confusion after noticing it had jumped forward by several minutes.

"Let's sit down," John said, motioning Thor toward a table. "We'll clear this up. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm John, a seven-year-old prodigy. Because of my divine powers, my body developed faster than normal. To be precise, I am a mortal-born god—a hybrid, so to speak. Oh, and I'm not an evil demon or anything like that. I was once just a regular human."

"Seven years old?" Dr. Erik Selvig echoed in disbelief. "You expect us to believe that?"

"Strictly speaking, yes," John said, smirking at their incredulous faces.

Darcy Lewis raised an eyebrow. "So, wait… are we still studying astrophysics, or have we officially moved on to theology? Do I still get my six credits?"

Jane Foster sighed. "This isn't about credits, Darcy. Aren't you curious about them? Actual gods standing here, in front of us?"

Darcy shrugged. "Sure, I'm curious. But let's be real—what's the point of a degree if I can't graduate and get a job?"

"Well," John interrupted, "you might not be graduating anytime soon."

"Why not?" Darcy asked, looking alarmed.

"Because someone just broke into your lab and is making off with all your research materials."

Jane's eyes widened. "What? How do you know that?"

John grinned. "I'm a god, remember? Nothing happens in this town without me noticing."

The three humans exchanged glances before scrambling toward the door. Years of painstaking research couldn't be left to thieves.

As the trio bolted, John turned to Thor. "Aren't you going to help your mortal friends?"

Thor remained seated, his expression grim. "Who are you, really? What is your purpose here?"

"I've already told you," John replied casually. "I'm John."

Thor leaned forward, his tone steely. "I don't care what you call yourself. If you intend to harm anyone, I swear, as the son of Odin, I will stop you."

John chuckled, his gaze unamused. "Son of Odin? Aren't you currently a powerless mortal? I could crush you with one finger. Where does this bravado come from?"

Thor hesitated but straightened his posture. "My father exiled me out of anger. I will return to Asgard soon."

John smirked. "Want me to help you out?"

"What do you mean?" Thor asked warily.

"Your precious hammer, Mjolnir, is about fifty miles west of here. Go ahead, give it a shot. Let's see if you can reclaim your power."

"What are you playing at?" Thor demanded, his suspicion evident.

"Nothing," John replied with a sly grin. "I just want to watch the moment you realize you can't lift it."

Without another word, John left the restaurant, heading toward Jane's lab. Thor, visibly irritated, stood to leave but was stopped by the restaurant staff.

"Sir, you haven't paid your bill."

"What?" Thor asked, bewildered.

With Jane and the others gone in a rush and John having conveniently disappeared, Thor had been left to foot the bill. Unfortunately, as a mortal, he had no money to speak of.

Outside Jane's lab, John arrived just as a group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, led by Agent Phil Coulson, was clearing out the premises. Jane protested vehemently, but Dr. Selvig held her back.

"Jane," Selvig cautioned, "don't confront them. I've had a colleague disappear after getting involved with S.H.I.E.L.D. It's better not to draw their attention."

John strolled up to Coulson with an easy smile. "Hey, Coulson. Long time no see! How's life treating you?"

Coulson blinked, clearly taken aback. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

John's grin didn't falter. "Not yet. But give it time."

Coulson raised an eyebrow, signaling the agents behind him to stay alert. John raised his hands in mock surrender. "Relax. No need to get jumpy. Just do me a favor—call Nick Fury and ask if he knows a handsome guy named John."

"Nick Fury?" Coulson repeated skeptically. "Why would I do that?"

John's smirk widened. "Oh, you might know him better by his nicknames. Let's see… how about 'Swear Man'? Or maybe 'Egghead'?"

Behind Coulson, one of the agents stifled a laugh.

"Fine," Coulson said, pulling out his phone. Dialing a secure number, he spoke carefully. "Director, this is Coulson. I've got someone here claiming to know you. Calls himself John. Ring any bells?"

On the other end of the line, Nick Fury's voice came through, clipped and irritated. "Who?"

Coulson continued, "He says he's a… uh, 'handsome guy' and mentioned your nicknames."

A long silence followed.

"What nicknames?" Fury finally asked.

Coulson hesitated. "8-ball… and Egghead."

The line went quiet before Fury erupted. "What the—! Who the hell is this punk?"

Coulson couldn't suppress a chuckle, though he quickly apologized. "Sorry, sir. It just… it caught me off guard."

Fury growled. "Coulson, you're losing a month's vacation for laughing."