Thor sat on a ledge at the peak of New York City's Chrysler Building, with only one of the skyscraper's famous gargoyles for company. From here, he could look down at the great city, a landmark of human ingenuity. Mortals could build great things, when they so desired. So why did they devote so much time and energy to finding new ways to make war and kill each other? Perhaps it's something they picked up from my kind, the Odinson thought to himself.
People like Luthor represented the very worst of humanity. But his evil was not the kind that could be stopped with might and a hammer. With all his powers, with all his strength, what could Thor do to help the hundreds of dead, wounded and homeless in Khandaq, or to stop the civil unrest already eating away at the nation without Black Adam's leadership? What could he do to make America see they were being led down a dangerous path by a madman calling himself President?
Thor thought coming down to Earth and saving the world would be easy. He was a god, he thought, what were man's troubles to him? But the world is not easy changed. Perhaps the only real way to make a difference is one person at a time. And right now, the one person on Thor's mind was someone he could not possibly help. But he knew someone who did.
Throwing his hammer, Thor launched from the summit of the Chrysler Building, preparing for the earthward journey. He needed to find somewhere to transform. Donald Blake had to make a few phone calls...
...
It was evening before Donald Blake returned to his apartment in Brooklyn, where Jane had moved into. And now they had another houseguest. Tom had almost fully recovered from his physical wounds now, but the mental scarring of his parents being killed by Thor.... Donald feared they would never heal.
"You're home," Jane said, stepping out from the kitchen.
Tom was sat at the table, having just finished a meal. Donald ushered Jane back in, and they both sat down at the table with the boy.
"Tom," Donald stammered, still uncomfortable talking to the boy given what his alter ego was responsible for, "Are you happy here, with us? I mean, is it better than the care home?"
The boy vigorously nodded.
"Yessir. You've both been real nice to me, thank you so much."
"Well.... how would you like to live with us?"
Tom didn't seem to comprehend this at first. He just gaped at Donald open-mouthed. But then, his eyes watering, he leaned forward and hugged Donald. Taken aback, he looked up at Jane, who eyed him questioningly.
He'd called S.H.I.E.L.D., and as it turned out, even if Thor wasn't part of the Avengers anymore, they were still wanting to keep Donald sweet, to stop Thor from badmouthing the government to the press. They were probably hoping they could coax Thor back onto the team as well. As such, he was able to get them to pull a few strings, organise some paperwork...
"We've been cleared as foster carers, Jane. We can look after Tom, for as long as he needs."
Now it was Jane's turn to be overcome with happiness. She stood up, and put her arms around both Donald and Tom. It was a group embrace, just like a family.
"Right then," said Donald, breaking away, "You best head to the guestroom, kiddo. Because it's not the guestroom anymore. It's yours."
Tom smiled and nodded, leaving his seat at the table and running into his room. Donald smiled. He knew he couldn't replace the boy's father, but if he and Jane could help this poor orphaned boy lead some semblance of a normal life, prevent him from getting lost in the system like too many kids do, then that might go some way to atoning for the grievous sin Thor commited while under the possession of Seth. Thor might not be able to save the world, but maybe Donald Blake could save one child. Maybe that would be enough.
Only, unbeknownst to Donald Blake and Jane Foster, Tom wasn't a child. He wasn't even human. His body might have appeared to be, but his mind belonged to someone else entirely. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, his bed now, Loki flashed a cruel smirk, whispering softly to himself.
"Just like I planned..."
