Right now, the party had dwindled to just a handful of people.
Maria Hill and Dr. Helen Cho were sitting there because they'd helped with this mission, but Ronan sticking around felt a bit out of place.
After all, hardly anyone here even knew him.
To be precise, barely anyone knew his true identity.
Of course, Ronan understood one thing: as long as he wasn't embarrassed, the awkwardness would always belong to someone else.
So he just lounged on the couch, listening to their sporadic chit-chat.
These folks didn't see each other much day-to-day, but in reality, their bonds were pretty tight.
After all, the three strongest ties in life?
Classmates through the same window.
Comrades who've carried guns together.
And, well…
They definitely fit that second one to a tee.
As they talked, the group steered the convo toward Thor's hammer.
"It's gotta be a scam."
Hawkeye pointed at the hammer on the table, laughing.
"No, no, I'm telling the truth."
Thor pulled out some Asgardian mead he'd brought along, sharing it with Steve Rogers while grinning.
He was super confident about his hammer.
"Anyone worthy can wield its power."
"No matter how you spin it, it sounds like a con."
Hawkeye clearly wasn't buying Thor's spiel.
Thor stretched out a hand, gesturing with a "go ahead."
"Then why don't you all give it a shot?"
Seeing him like that, the room went quiet for a sec. Hawkeye shot back a "Seriously?" but he was already on his feet.
You could tell he'd been itching to try for ages.
Hawkeye, a little buzzed, stumbled over to the hammer and slapped a hand on it.
Screech.
Ronan could clearly hear the sound of Hawkeye's palm scraping against the hammer.
The kind of noise you only get when you're going all out.
"Ohh~ Looks like someone's been talking big."
Tony Stark heckled from the sidelines.
"Then why don't you try, Stark?"
Hawkeye shrugged, motioning for Tony Stark to step up.
He knew if he couldn't lift it with his strength, Tony sure as hell couldn't either.
Not without tech, anyway.
Tony Stark stood up, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and swaggered over, mouthing off as he went.
"I never back down from a real challenge."
A few "mm-hmms" hummed around the room.
Clearly, no one was betting on Tony Stark.
He looped the hammer's strap around his wrist, found a comfy grip with his right hand, and set it on the hammer.
"If I lift this, do I get to rule Asgard?"
Tony Stark glanced at Thor.
"Sure."
Thor was a bit tipsy himself by now, letting anything spill out of his mouth.
But he knew Tony Stark had a 99.9% chance of failing to lift Mjolnir.
In all these years, besides Odin, Thor had never seen anyone wield his precious hammer.
Ronan, meanwhile, smirked at Tony Stark, one leg propped on the table, both hands yanking upward with all his might.
The hammer didn't budge.
"Hold up, I'll be right back."
Tony Stark dropped the strap and headed off to the side.
He was off to grab some "backup."
"You think Tony's got a shot?"
Steve Rogers handed Ronan a drink.
This one was spiked with Asgardian booze—earlier, some stubborn old-timer insisted on trying it and went down after one sip.
"Nah, I think you've got a better shot."
Ronan sipped the drink, grinning.
Steve Rogers just chuckled, not saying much.
To him, Ronan was probably joking.
Soon enough, Tony Stark was back.
This time, he'd ditched the suit jacket, and his left arm was decked out in Iron Man armor.
Looked like he was getting serious.
But it didn't change a thing from before.
Even with the suit's arm blasting flames in reverse, the hammer wouldn't shift an inch.
Even his buddy War Machine joined in, both of them heaving together—still nothing.
The room erupted in cheerful chaos.
Then it was Bruce Banner's turn. He grabbed it with hands and feet, let out a skyward roar.
Looked like Hulk was about to bust out.
Except it was just painfully awkward.
Finally, it was Steve Rogers' go.
"Go for it, Cap, no pressure."
"Show 'em your real strength."
When Steve's turn came, the crew started hyping him up.
Watching him roll up his sleeves and get into stance, Ronan couldn't help but grin.
Steve Rogers had no clue he could actually lift it.
As he gripped the hammer with both hands and started to pull, it quivered just a bit.
That moment landed square in Thor's line of sight.
And the grin on Thor's face froze right there.
But soon, seeing Steve Rogers strain with everything he had—veins popping on his forearms—and still not lift it, Thor laughed again.
"Nothing, nothing."
It was like he was consoling Steve Rogers—or maybe himself.
He even wondered if he'd imagined that tremble.
So Thor just laughed awkwardly, sipping his drink to cover it up.
"Natasha, you not gonna try?"
Bruce Banner glanced at Black Widow.
She shook her head.
"No, no, that's not a lady's job."
Black Widow took a sip of her drink, shutting down the idea.
But to Ronan, he had a hunch she might actually have a shot at lifting it.
Because Thor's "worthy" spiel wasn't quite right. The real condition was more like, "Those with justice in their hearts and the right fit can wield this hammer."
Only the just, the kind, the selfless—those willing to sacrifice—could earn Mjolnir's approval.
Bruce Banner couldn't lift it, probably because of Hulk's rage-fueled chaos.
Tony Stark? Likely too selfish or cocky.
Hawkeye? Well, after his wife and kids vanished and he went on a killing spree in Japan, you could see the violence in his heart.
As for why Ronan thought Black Widow had a chance, it was simple.
She'd later sacrifice herself for the Soul Stone—proof enough.
Of course, in his past life, some fans dissected the director's camera work.
In this scene, everyone took turns with the hammer, but Black Widow didn't try.
The framing felt deliberate.
Combined with her later fate, people said her death was foreshadowed here.
All hindsight, though—who knows what they were thinking back then?
Maybe the director just recalled Black Widow lifting Mjolnir in the comics and tossed in that shot.
"There's gotta be some kinda code."
"Like, only someone with Thor's fingerprints can unlock it."
Tony Stark still wasn't convinced.
Thor shrugged, stood up, and got ready to show them how it's done.
But Tony Stark stopped him.
"Wait."
"Ronan, you not gonna try?"
"Didn't you tell me you really wanted to lift the Thunder God's hammer?"
Tony Stark zeroed in on Ronan.
With that, everyone's eyes swung to Ronan.
Most had just pegged him as Tony Stark's pal, not taking him seriously.
But no one expected Tony Stark to personally call him out to try.
"Yeah, Ronan, give it a go."
Thor raised an eyebrow.
What shocked them more was Thor agreeing.
If the others got a pass because they were Thor's comrades, fine.
But who was Ronan?
Thor's a proud guy—why would he let just anyone touch his hammer?
"Nah, I'll pass."
Ronan tugged at the corner of his mouth. He didn't expect Tony Stark to drag him into this.
He was just here to mooch food and drinks, a nobody in the background.
But he saw through Tony Stark's game in a heartbeat.
Tony definitely wanted to test if Ronan's skills could lift this weird hammer.
"No biggie, give it a shot."
"Maybe you'll lift it?"
Steve Rogers joined the chorus, egging him on.
He was totally doing it because Ronan had said he could lift it earlier.
Damn it!
Not one of these guys was decent!
Ronan smirked, didn't hesitate, and strode right up to the hammer.
Truth be told, he'd come here partly to see if he could lift it.
Though he figured it was a long shot.
Under everyone's stares, Ronan placed his hand on the hammer, fingers tightening around it.
Next second, with a light tug, the hammer lifted off the table like it was nothing.
Then Ronan casually raised it, twirled it a couple times in his hand, and tossed it in the air a few times.
Surprisingly easy.
The hammer weighed maybe 30 or 40 pounds—child's play for Ronan's strength. He could swing it around however he wanted.
Ronan stared at it, baffled.
By all logic, he shouldn't meet the hammer's standards.
"Selfish"? Yeah, he ticked that box for sure.
So why could he lift it?
Ronan smirked, glanced at the stunned crowd, and let out a sigh.
The moment he'd stood up, he'd pulled them all into a mirror dimension.
They couldn't see him lift the hammer.
What they saw was an illusion—Ronan straining with all his might and failing.
He was still sharp enough to cover his tracks.
He set the hammer down, and the mirror dimension and illusion dissolved together.
"Guess I don't have Thor's fingerprints."
Ronan let go, cracking a self-deprecating joke.
The group burst out laughing.
Thor grinned, picking up the hammer effortlessly.
"Clearly, none of you are worthy."
When Thor dropped that ultra-smug line, the room filled with jeers.
"Come on"s echoed everywhere—nobody was buying his sudden flex.
Amid the laughter, a piercing buzz cut through, ringing in everyone's ears.
The shrill noise was unbearable—people winced, squinted, looking pained.
"Worthy…"
"Worthy…"
A battered robot shuffled into view, facing them all.
Ronan raised an eyebrow.
Looked like the plot was chugging along—Ultron had "hatched" right on cue.
"No."
"What makes you worthy?"
"You're all killers."
The robot waved its arms like a human.
Even though its left arm was snapped clean off at the elbow.
"Stark."
Steve Rogers' smile was long gone.
"Jarvis?"
Tony Stark whipped around, staring at his "phone" in disbelief.
"Sorry, I was asleep."
"Or maybe dreaming."
The robot—no, Ultron—tilted its head, looking fully human now.
Ronan watched Ultron silently. If he remembered right, tons of sci-fi from his past life had AI crises like this—pretty similar to Ultron.
Humans made it, taught it, and it gained human smarts.
Once it did, the AI realized humans were the ones wrecking the world.
So it turned on humanity.
That's Ultron in a nutshell.
As Ultron ranted about humanity's fate and how it'd wipe out the Avengers, the fight was on.
Avengers vs. robots—prime spectacle!
While Ultron spouted its fiery speech, Maria Hill and the others were already prepping on the sly.
Triggers got pulled, escape routes got scoped.
Bang!
The wall burst open, and a few robots flew out, charging the Avengers.
Ronan pulled a classic barrel roll, found the safest spot, flopped down, arms spread, eyes shut—
Good to go!
Though his right eye cracked open a slit, just in case something popped off.
Maria Hill, in her red dress, flipped over and hit the deck too.
Right next to Ronan.
He even caught a glimpse of black between red and white.
Ronan's eyelid twitched, slamming that slit shut, playing dead.
Maria Hill fired two shots—bang, bang—then shifted spots.
That's when she spotted Ronan, already sprawled out.
"What the—?"
She couldn't believe it. How'd someone beat her to the floor?
More importantly, when did he get there?