American comic: I, JoJo, am going to heaven!

(Same as always, I want everything, I want everything, more comments are better, I love replying to comments)

Poor Coulson.

Jon shook his head, watching Thor walk from the western pipe toward the hammer.

A researcher, trembling, raised his pistol and stood in front of Jon, saying:

"Sir... may I fire?"

Jon glanced at him sideways, looking at the trembling researcher with a helpless expression, and said:

"What are you, a researcher, doing with a gun?"

"Sir, now is not the time to talk about this!"

The researchers' voices were strained and trembling.

"That weirdo is about to hit the hammer!"

"No need to fire," Jon said, picking up the walkie-talkie.

"I want to see if he can lift that thing."

"This is our last chance." Patton drew back the bowstring, aimed, and asked, "Are you sure?"

"Barton".

Fury's voice came through the communication channel: "Listen to Jon."

"Understood, sir."

on site.

"Mjolnir!"

Thor, covered in mud, stood in front of the hammer, rain streaming down his face.

"It's been such a long time..."

His eyes shone with an astonishing light as he reached out, grasped the hammer handle, and gently lifted it.

But the hammer, which was usually so obedient, was now completely still.

"Huh?" Thor frowned, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Impossible... No!"

He exerted his strength again, his muscles tensing, but his old companion of hundreds of years remained unresponsive.

"ah!!!!!!"

Thor roared, his arms bulging with veins, but it was all in vain.

"Looks like he failed." Jon wasn't surprised by the result. "Performance over. Ground troops, arrest him."

"He probably won't resist anymore."

Upon hearing this, the ground troops quickly moved forward and subdued the distraught Thor.

After everything was over, Jon looked at the researcher who had pointed the gun and asked:

"What's your name?"

"Fitz," the other person replied, somewhat bewildered, "Leo Fitz."

"Fizz..." Jon repeated softly, no wonder he looked familiar.

Isn't this the science duo from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.? No wonder.

"I think you'd be perfect as a field agent, Fitz."

He stepped forward, patted Fitz heavily on the shoulder amidst Fitz's astonished gaze, and turned to leave.

Fitz was taken aback, then quickly caught up and asked:

"Consultant! You...you really think I'm capable of doing fieldwork?"

Jon stopped, glanced back at him, and nodded: "Of course, you have potential."

"Thank you!" Fitz's voice trembled.

Once Jon had walked away, Fitz finally couldn't hold back any longer and jumped up to throw a punch.

"Yes!!!"

He knew it! He knew it!

Jon stepped out of the pipe and reached out to help Coulson, who was lying on the ground, to his feet.

He asked with concern:

"Are you alright?"

"Uh..." Coulson groaned, rubbing his chin in frustration. "It's alright, but my chin hurts terribly."

"That's normal."

"Ripple wasn't meant for fighting." Jon's fingertips crackled with electricity as he gently pressed on his wound. "It's always like this the first time."

"Yeah..." Coulson chuckled wryly. "We learned our lesson this time. By the way, did they catch that guy?"

"He didn't resist." Jon stood up and walked towards the makeshift cell. "He gave up after realizing he couldn't lift the hammer."

"By the way, Phil, look at you, covered in mud." He waved his hand without turning around. "Go take a shower first, I'll take care of things over there."

"Uh... okay."

Coulson stood there, watching Jon's retreating figure, hesitant to speak.

He once thought that superhumans could control their powers as easily as breathing.

But now, he's already so arrogant just because he's learned Ripple, which he's not good at fighting.

So how exactly did Jon Snow manage to do that?

Having the power of a Stand like Star Platinum, how come he didn't develop a sense of superiority and was able to control himself well?

In that instant, he suddenly realized that Jon Snow was truly remarkable.

Inside the detention room, Jon took the towel handed to him by the agent and pushed open the door to enter.

"Hello there."

He walked up to Thor, who was covered in mud, and raised his hand to hold up a towel.

"Thanks..." Thor had just reached out his hand when Jon turned his wrist away and started drying his hair.

Upon seeing this, Thor clenched his fist instantly.

He disliked this human; the guy was too arrogant.

"It feels like you can't lift a hammer." Jon, with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, raised an eyebrow at him. "That must feel awful, doesn't it?"

Thor crossed his arms and remained silent, demonstrating his refusal to communicate.

He won't say a single word to this annoying guy from now on!

"Alright, then I'll speak." Jon pulled out a chair and sat down. "I only have one question: Asgardians, what are your plans next?"

Thor finally raised his head, a flicker of emotion appearing in his eyes.

He felt it was better to talk about it.

"Midgardians..." his voice was very hoarse, "You simply don't understand."

"I certainly don't understand as well as you do." Jon struck his lighter. "What's your name? I can't keep calling you Asgardian, can I?"

Under the indoor lights, Thor slumped down, closed his eyes, and said:

"...Thor Odinson."

Jon nodded, signaling the recorder beside him to write down the name.

"So, you're the god of thunder from mythology, then why can't you lift your hammer?"

Upon hearing this question, Thor fell silent again, bowing his head deeply like a wounded lion.

"I understand." Jon walked over and patted him on the shoulder. "Let's change the subject, Thor. Have you ever tasted any earthly liquor?"

"Wine?" Thor looked up blankly, blinked, "Huh?"

The scene shifts to a bar, where deafeningly loud music fills the air.

"Wow! Our amazing guy has downed an entire table of beers! Let's cheer for him, shall we!"

The bartender stood on the bar counter and shouted loudly.

Bang! Thor slammed his empty glass down on the table, drunkenly correcting himself:

"A mortal! He's Thor! The great son of Odin! Not some damned thunder god!"

He grabbed Jon's shoulder, his eyes glazed, and slurred:

"But seriously, this stuff is called beer, right? It's really good! Give me another one, my good bro! Hahaha..."

In the monitoring room, Talos and Coulson stared at the screen, their brows furrowed.

"Mazefuck!" Talos couldn't help but swear, pointing at the screen as he said:

"They were interrogating someone one second, and the next they were casually going out for drinks? And with a dangerous alien by their side?"

"Look at them, they've even started calling each other brothers! I bet that Asgardian doesn't even know his name!"

Talos now truly admires Jon Snow; he thought Fury's memories were utterly absurd when he first received them.

I just realized that he really can get along with anyone. What a strange way he can be so popular!

"Sir," Coulson nodded with a wry smile, "that's what makes Jon so special; no one is better suited for this job."

He thought about it and realized that if he had been the one interrogating him, that arrogant Thor probably wouldn't have even given him a second glance.

At the bar, a drunken Thor was bragging with his arm around Jon's neck.

The two clearly got along very well.

"Listen, my good brother!" he pointed at Jon's nose, "When I get back to Asgard, I'll make you a great general! You're much better than those guys in Asgard!"

"Me? Strong?" Jon touched his glass. "You're far from it."

"Really?" Thor squinted his drunken eyes, suddenly leaned closer, and said with certainty, "Ha! You have something on your mind too, don't you?"

"Who doesn't?" Jon tilted his head back and took a swig of wine.

"Come on! It feels so much better to say it out loud." Thor raised his glass with a flourish. "You say yours, I'll say mine, let's make a fair deal!"

"Deal." Jon punched him lightly. "Cheers!"

The two wine glasses collided heavily.

"Cheers!!"