Showcase: Thor

A Thunder God Among Us

Prologue of JSA: A Thunder God Among Us

by JSAGL and Vendikarr DeWuff

Odin has been forced to confront a very troubling truth: his son Thor, God of Thunder, is a drunkard. What is an All-Father to do? Can the mortal Justice Society of America offer a chance of redemption for the Thunder God? And can a dead hero have a second chance at life?

***

The celestial realm shone brightly across the end of the Rainbow Bridge. Its spires seemed to reach to the heavens and beyond. Lonely Heimdall stood guard, vigilant against any who might threaten Asgard.

Inside the largest of these structures lay the royal palace, home to Lord Odin and his wife, Lady Frigga, as well as Odin’s son Thor, God of Thunder — or, more often than not lately, the God of Inebriation.

In the great hall, Odin One-Eye sat staring at the globe resting upon the table. He had created it many moons ago to determine if Asgard could survive the coming of Ragnarok and Surtur, who, legend had it, would destroy them all. Lord Odin had not been pleased with the results. Inside his little Ragnarok, the forces of Asgard had been defeated by Surtur. It was disheartening, to say the least.

Odin had called an assemblage of the gods of Asgard. Lord Balder, Lady Sif, and even his blood-brother Loki had all been in attendance. Odin shared the news of his experiment and challenged his subjects to prepare themselves for Ragnarok. The recent earthly Crisis had shown that it could come at any time, and they would have to be ready. The heroes of Earth had won their Ragnarok. It was unconscionable that the gods would not be able to do the same. He left the globe on the great hall’s table as a reminder.

Unbeknownst to Odin at the time, his blood-brother Loki had taken the opportunity to play a game with the heroes of Earth. If the All-Father thought so much of these earthly heroes, perhaps it would be best to bring them to Asgard and hold them until they were needed to fight Surtur. Tapping into the magicks conjured by Adolf Hitler in 1945, Loki used the power of the Spectre to bring about the end of Earth and force the Justice Society of America into action.

Loki was denied his victory and defeated by the JSA, but not before angering the Lord Shaper, a fraction of whose essence was contained in the Earth hero called the Sandman. Loki was imprisoned in Odin’s globe and destined to die a painful death over and over again at Surtur’s hands for all eternity. (*)

[(*) Editor’s note: See Justice Society of America: Ragnarok.]

His son a drunkard, and his blood-brother an abomination. Where had he gone wrong? Was he that poor a father or leader? Well, no more. Even if Loki was beyond redemption, Thor was not. It was time for a change.

Striding through the hallways of his castle with great purpose, Odin headed to the chambers of his renowned son. As he turned the corner, he spied Lady Frigga leaving Thor’s room.

“My wife, what purpose dost thou have in Thor’s chambers?” Odin demanded.

Frigga was speechless for a moment, swallowed hard, then put a smile on her face. “‘Tis naught, dear husband. Thy son is not well, and I didst bring him a potion to ease his troubled stomach.”

Odin stared into his wife’s eyes, his face contorted with anger. “Woman, I do not suffer falsehoods lightly, especially from thee, my wife. Speak the truth. I command it.”

Frigga suddenly stiffened. Matching the angry look on Odin’s face, she poked him in the chest with her finger and said, “Taketh not that tone with me, O high and mighty one. Thy subject I may be, but as thy wife, I shall certainly pluck out thy remaining eye and feed it to the hounds of death.”

“My wife, I-I…” Odin began.

“If thou must know, I was once again dragging thy drunkard of a son to his chambers so as to spare him from thy all-consuming wrath. But if this is the thanks thou dost bestow upon me, then I must say, stick it up thy royal posterior!” With that, Frigga stormed off, leaving an even angrier Odin in her wake.

He pushed the doors apart to Thor’s chamber. There on the floor lay his son, the God of Thunder, covered in his puke and urine. The stench was overwhelming. Odin kicked his son.

“Arise, Thor, that I may have a word with thee…” Odin commanded.

Thor grumbled and turned over.

Grabbing him by his tunic, Odin lifted Thor up and yelled directly into his face, “Awaken, Thor! I would have words with thee!”

Thor’s eyes fluttered open, and he mumbled, “Fa… ther… I… I…” and then vomited all over his father’s clothes.

Thor fell back onto his bed as Odin’s face turned crimson with rage. “Thou darest?!”

Without thinking, Odin called down the lightning from the heavens. The room exploded in a bright, white light.

***

Meanwhile, downstairs, Lord Balder and Lady Sif raced into the palace, having seen the lightning strike. They were confronted by Lady Frigga at the entrance.

“Milady, what in the name of Odin is happening?” Balder asked urgently.

“Calm thyself, Balder. Odin is merely having a discussion with his son,” Frigga replied calmly.

***

The Great Hall, an hour later:

With his clothes freshly changed, Odin sat upon his throne with his son Thor standing before him.

“My son, thou hast been a great source of disappointment to me,” Odin began sternly. “Thou hast spent the better part of two millennia in a constant state of inebriation. ‘Tis most unfitting for the scion of Asgard, he who should be prepared to take his father’s place as ruler of the Golden Realm. This must change.”

Thor remained silent, looking down at the floor. His head was still ringing, partly from his sudden sobriety thanks to his father’s lightning, and partly from the loudness of Odin’s voice.

“Thou must learn what it means to be a God of Thunder, to be a protector of the realm and its subjects. Thou must learn to live without mead.”

“Without mead? All-Father, surely thou jest. Thou hast–”

“Silence!” Odin interrupted sharply.

“It hath been decreed,” Odin continued, “from this day forward, thou art banned from the consumption of mead, and woe betide any who dost provide it to thee, for they shall find themselves in the realm of Hel. Furthermore, it is decreed that thou shalt be banished from Asgard until such time as thou learnest the meaning of being a protector and art worthy of the title Thunder God.”

“All-Father, no — please, do not banish me,” Thor pleaded. “I will do anything thou asketh.”

Standing, Odin gestured toward the globe sitting upon the table. “Thy choice is a simple one. Either thou joinest Loki in his unending punishment, or thou acceptest thy banishment with the hope of returning to thine rightful place. Choose.”

“I… I accept… banishment. Do as thou wilt, Father,” Thor replied solemnly.

“Very well. Thine teachers shall be the mortals who visited here not so long ago — the Justice Society of America. If they cannot teach thee what thou needest to know, then no one can. I send thee now to the one known as Wesley Dodds, he who is linked to Lord Shaper of the Endless.”

“Father, I…” Thor began, but vanished before he could finish his sentence.

Odin looked about the chamber. His home suddenly felt very empty. From behind the throne, Lady Frigga emerged through a secret doorway, having listened to the exchange between father and son. She took her husband’s hand.

“Thou hast done what is necessary, my love,” she said softly.

“I know, wife, but I cannot help but wonder if I shall ever see my son again,” Odin admitted.

Sitting once more on his throne, Odin spent a few more hours gazing into the endless Ragnarok. Finally, he sat up and said, “Enough. Come to me, little spirit.”

A costumed spirit appeared before Odin, wearing a tunic with a large emblem displaying the words Fair Play.

“You called for me, Odin?” the spirit asked.

“Yes, spirit. I wished to tell thee it hath been done. I have sent mine son to thine friends, and I pray thine counsel was correct. I pray they can help him redeem himself.”

“I know they can. If they cannot, then he is beyond redemption,” the spirit replied.

“I trust thy words, spirit. Now, I have a question for thee. Why dost thou remain in Asgard when all the others who were brought here have long since departed? Thou knowest thou canst not remain here forever.”

“I realize that, sir. I hoped that I could redeem myself and be passed on to Valhalla,” the spirit answered.

“Ah, dost thou see thyself a deserving warrior?” Odin said, scratching his beard. “Seeing thy life, I would have been proud to admit thee, had it not been for thy end.”

“My end?” the spirit asked.

“Forsooth, when thou passed on, thou wast filled with doubts of thine abilities and self-worth. Thou kept to thyself when thou shouldst have confided in thy fellows. And that led to thy death. Thou wast not slain in battle but by trickery — a sad end to a great warrior.”

“I see,” said the spirit, matter-of-factly. “What is to happen to me now?”

“I must send thee away from here. Thou canst return to the waiting place called Purgatory, until thine god summoneth thee to him.” Odin paused, then added with a thoughtful look, “Or…”

“Or what, sir?” the spirit asked.

“Thou can redeem thyself on Midgard. I see one near the end of his time. I can send thee back, to continue to live. Thou canst redeem thyself, and if thou remainest worthy, thou may pass on to Valhalla one day. I leave the choice to thee.”

“Thank you,” said the spirit.

The spirit once known as Terry Sloane walked the halls, deep in thought. He knew he missed his family and friends, and he so wished to atone for the mistakes he had made. He had learned his true value here in Asgard and desperately wanted another chance.

“The time is now, spirit. The chosen soul leaves. Dost thou wish to live again?” Odin asked.

Terry spoke up quickly. “Yes, Odin, I do.”

“Very well. Stand before me, spirit.” Terry moved before Odin. “Know this — thou wilt have life, but thou canst no longer be Terry Sloane; his time is past. Thou wilt have thine memories, as well as memories of the one whose body thou takest, but they shall seem to thee as if a faraway dream. In time, the memories may fade, if thou wishest it. Now go and earn thy place in Valhalla. And seek out my son. He, too, can use thy guidance.”

“No — wait!” screamed Terry. This was not what he had expected. To be someone else, to lose so much of what he had been on Earth, was more than he could bear.

The spirit faded from Odin’s sight. “Say goodbye to thy life, Terry Sloane, and welcome thy new life… Michael Holt.”

Continued in The Sandman: Asgardians Anonymous

Return to Earth-2 titles. Return to Independents stories.