Marvel: Father of Superheroes

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*****

The food Mike made was as delicious as ever. Not only did Lois praise it, but even Thor's attitude toward Mike improved quite a bit.

Perhaps, in the eyes of this Asgardian god of thunder, Mike was just a mortal with surprisingly good cooking skills.

After the meal, Lois sipped her water in small mouthfuls, quietly studying Mike.

To her, Mike seemed somewhat mysterious.

Putting aside his shockingly youthful appearance, the fact that he personally knew a high-level SHIELD agent already amazed her.

Clark's father was definitely no ordinary man. But… the food was really good. She wondered if Clark could cook as well.

A pleasant ringtone suddenly interrupted Lois's wandering thoughts.

She glanced at the caller ID, and her face immediately clouded over. She turned to Clark, asking quietly, "It's White. How should I explain things to him?"

Before leaving, she had confidently told White she had big news.

But now, she had nothing.

After a few seconds, she took a deep breath, stepped aside with the phone, whispered a few words, then sighed and told Clark, "This time, the cost will be deducted from our salaries."

Ahhh! Her paycheck!

Lois silently wailed inside but kept a smile on her face as she said to Clark, "I'll handle reporting to White. You don't have to go."

As soon as they got off the plane, they had headed straight to Mike's restaurant.

Clark asked, "Are you sure I don't need to come with you?"

"No need!" Lois waved her hand.

"Then I'll leave it to you."

Clark smiled faintly.

He had things to take care of as well.

"Goodbye, Uncle Mike!" Lois smiled in farewell, and after Clark saw her out, she let out a sigh and quickly left.

Clark returned to the restaurant, helped Mike clear the dishes, and then placed three cups of tea before the three of them.

Thor took a sip and said, "Not as good as wine. Do you have any wine?"

"We're talking business. What wine?"

Clark frowned and said, then glanced at Mike, "What I'm about to say involves Thor."

Mike took a sip of tea calmly and nodded.

"Thor is from Asgard. He says he's Odin's son—the god from the legends," Clark said, glancing at Thor, who was striking a proud pose, and raised an eyebrow. "But now he's been banished to Earth by his father, lost his divine powers and the hammer, and become a mortal."

Thor's mouth twitched, but he stubbornly kept his arrogant expression.

"I picked up the hammer he can't lift now," Clark mused. "I could feel the surge of power the moment I held it, so I believe what he says is true."

The hammer he can't lift now…

Thor's heart tightened, but he snorted coldly, "Of course it's true!"

Clark glanced at Thor. "So, he came to me for help, wanting to find the secret to wielding the hammer that I apparently can lift. I agreed and brought him back."

"Oh."

Mike's expression didn't change at all.

Clark was momentarily stunned, then burst out laughing.

His dad's reaction was really something…

He had expected at least a bit of surprise.

Slurp!

Mike took a sip of tea, looked up at Clark.

Is that all?

Seeing this, Clark lowered his voice and said proudly, "Not bad, right? This time I brought back the god of thunder himself—way cooler than the guy Gwynn brought back."

"Ahem!"

Mike choked slightly and said helplessly, "So that's why you brought him here?"

"Hahaha!" Clark laughed happily, nodded, and waved his hand. "That's only a small part of it."

The bigger reason was that Clark wanted to help Thor.

When Thor told Clark his story and showed that look of loneliness and anxiety when talking about going home, Clark was moved by the intensity of his emotions.

Going home…

At that moment, Thor was just someone longing to go home.

Clark said seriously, "Dad, I think you can help him."

"Don't tell me what I think," Mike said, looking at Thor, who was glaring at them. "And stop bringing home all these strange things."

Hearing that, Thor snapped angrily, "Mortal, if you want to anger a god, congratulations—you've succeeded!"

What did he mean by "bringing home"? What strange things?

He was Odin's son, Thor—the god of thunder!

"Do you still want to go back?"

Mike said calmly.

Thor: "…"

He obediently sat up straight, pretending nothing had happened…

"I know," Mike said flatly.

Excitement flickered in Thor's eyes as he nearly commanded, "Then tell me! How do I get back?"

"That's not the attitude of someone asking for help," Mike replied calmly.

Clark stood nearby, arms crossed, casting a cold glare at Thor.

Thor slammed his fist on the table angrily. "Don't push me too far! I am Thor, the God of Thunder!"

"Why don't you show me some thunder then?" Mike said with a mocking smirk.

Thor's temple twitched, and he stood up, glaring fiercely at Mike.

Seeing this, Clark's tone turned sharp. "You'd better sit down. This isn't how you ask for help."

"Ask for help?" Thor snapped. "Don't think that just because you can lift the hammer, you have the right to look down on me when I come to you. Helping a god from Asgard is your honor!"

He seemed to have forgotten how he begged Clark just yesterday.

Arrogant, reckless, ignorant…

At this moment, blinded by these traits, Thor was nothing short of a fool.

Clark said coolly, "Sorry, but your hammer? I'm not impressed."

"What did you say?" Thor stared daggers at Clark, as if Clark had insulted not only the hammer but his very self.

That hammer was his most treasured possession.

Mike suddenly said, "Do whatever you want."

Clark smiled slightly and took off his glasses.

His dad really understood him.

Since he promised to help, he would see it through.

But if the other party behaved like this, he first needed to teach Thor a lesson — a proper worldview.

Clark grabbed Thor, who tensed up and asked suspiciously, "What are you going to do—"

Whoosh!

The next moment, both disappeared.

Hopefully, they'd have some fun.

Mike calmly sipped his tea.

What to do with a cocky, arrogant Thor? Just take him for a little walk.

Five minutes later, as Mike refreshed his tea, Clark and Thor reappeared in the restaurant.

Thor looked completely different.

His golden hair was frozen stiff, standing straight up like a broom. His eyes showed fear and vacancy. Several blood streaks marked his face, and even his clothes had turned hard and rigid.

He opened his mouth, voice hoarse, and asked, "What exactly are you people?"

(End of chapter)