He was selling gashapon toys in Marvel Studios, and at the beginning, Tony turned into Kuuga.

Click.

This is the fiftieth crisp sound of aluminum alloy being crushed tonight.

On the living room floor tiles of the Barton family's house, empty beer cans had piled up into a small silver mountain.

Thor had completely lost the majesty of an Asgardian prince; he resembled a middle-aged office worker who had just been laid off.

They didn't even use a glass; they just tilted their heads back and gulped down the cheap lager beer.

Foam trickled down his messy beard and into his collar, mingling with the bloodstains on his tattered cloak.

"Thor".

Steve sat at the dining table, wiping the wound on his forehead with an alcohol swab, his brow furrowed.

"That's a year's worth of Patton's savings."

"not enough."

Thor hiccuped, but his eyes showed no signs of drunkenness; instead, they revealed a mixture of sobriety and terror.

He grabbed another can, and with a slight squeeze of his fingertips, the can burst open as if it were made of paper.

"That's not enough to calm your nerves, Captain."

Thor's voice was deep, like muffled thunder rolling through the clouds.

"You didn't see what I saw in that witch's vision."

"die."

Thor swallowed the drink and stared blankly into the void.

"I saw Heimdall, I saw the mountains of corpses and seas of blood in Asgard."

He spoke extremely fast, sounding somewhat neurotic.

"Everyone was laughing, they were partying at the banquet, but I knew it was a funeral."

"Heimdall's golden eyes went blind, and he grabbed my collar and asked me... why didn't you save them."

Natasha leaned against the kitchen counter, fiddling with an empty wine glass in her hand.

"That's just an illusion, Thor," Natasha tried to reassure him.

"Just like I saw the days when I was trained in the Red Room, that was our deepest fear, and that woman was taking advantage of that."

"No, it's not just fear."

Thor's deep blue eyes were bloodshot.

He strode to the dining table and slammed his hands heavily on the surface, causing the solid wood table to groan in pain.

"This is like a game, a meticulously designed chess game."

Thor stretched out his finger and gestured haphazardly in the air.

"Fulda, the Mind Scepter, Ultron..."

"And there's the Space Stone, Reality Stone, and Power Stone that appeared before."

"These things have been popping up one after another in just a few years; you couldn't find a single one in thousands of years before."

Thor's voice rose a few octaves.

"Someone is manipulating all of this behind the scenes, using us as pawns, but I can't see the face of that player."

Frank sat in the shadows, loading bullets into the large-caliber pistol.

Hearing this, he snorted coldly, but didn't stop what he was doing.

"Instead of worrying about that unseen chess player, we should think about how to deal with that tin-shell bastard who wants to destroy humanity."

Frank clicked the magazine shut.

"My Blacklight virus tells me that Ultron is becoming more and more delicious, and more and more dangerous."

Just then, a fragrant aroma broke the lifelessness in the living room.

That's the aroma of the steak being pan-fried, a blend of fat and rosemary, along with the creamy scent of mashed potatoes.

"Alright, superheroes."

Laura, wearing an apron and carrying a tray, came out of the kitchen.

There was no trace of panic in the face of the apocalypse on her face, only the strength and composure unique to a housewife.

"Regardless of whether the world will explode tomorrow, or whether Asgard will be destroyed."

Laura placed the still-sizzling steak in the center of the table.

"Tonight, in my house, no one is allowed to discuss business on an empty stomach."

"Honey, let me do this rough work."

Barton quickly went over and took the plate from his wife's hand, his eyes filled with a survival instinct.

"Sit down, Clint."

Laura glared at him, then looked at the dejected Avengers.

"Especially you, Dr. Banner, stop counting ants."

"If you don't eat this steak, I'll feed it to Frank's virus."

Banner looked up and gave an awkward smile. "Uh, Mrs. Barton, I'll eat now."

A group of powerful beings capable of destroying the world were now behaving like kindergarten children, sitting obediently around the dining table.

Fury still occupied the main seat, having already devoured three slices of toast and was now using a fork to pick up a piece of undercooked beef and stuff it into his mouth.

"It tastes good," Fury mumbled, "much better than the synthetic meat in the S.H.I.E.L.D. cafeteria."

The atmosphere at the dinner table eased a little.

The clinking of knives and forks against the porcelain plates was a constant sound, and the warmth of the food did indeed soothe the tense nerves.

But Harry clearly had no appetite.

The young "Iron Man" poked at the mashed potatoes on the plate with a fork, turning it into a puddle of mush.

"You think..." Harry hesitated for a long time before finally speaking, "If Uncle Tony were here, would the situation be different?"

This sentence acted like a switch, plunging the dining table into silence.

Only the gurgling sound of Thor drinking continued.

"ha."

Natasha paused for a moment as she cut her steak, a charming smile playing on her lips.

"If Stark is here? There are probably only two possibilities."

She put down her knife and fork, mimicking Tony's arrogant expression, and spread her hands.

"First, I think Ultron's aesthetic is like that of a nouveau riche, who then used some kind of black technology that we've never even heard of to turn Ultron into a bread toaster."

"second."

Steve picked up the conversation, letting out a helpless sigh.

"He would rush up and compete with Ultron to see who could be more venomous with their words, and then the two of them would raze the area within a ten-kilometer radius to the ground while exchanging trash talk."

"The most crucial thing is..."

Patton swallowed a mouthful of beef, pointed indignantly at the ceiling,

"That bastard is probably lying on an alien leather sofa right now, drinking a beverage that costs more than all the alcohol I've ever tasted in my life, watching us get beaten up."

"You mean, he's on vacation?" Harry's eyes widened.

"Basically, yes," Jane interjected, waving her fork.

"The store manager sent me an interstellar text message before, and although the signal was intermittent, I saw it..."

"Tony is shopping with Pepper, buying some luxury alien jewelry and souvenirs. They even seem to want to buy a planet and name it Stark!"

puff!

Thor, who was drinking, spat out a mouthful of beer, which landed right in Frank's face.

Frank wiped the wine stains off his face expressionlessly, his eyes filled with murderous intent.

"Sorry," Thor said hastily, wiping his mouth. "Buying a luxury planet? I've never even done that in Asgard!"

"That's the problem."

Patton angrily banged his fork on his plate.

"We rolled around in the mud, were chased by robots, and ate our love dinner in my run-down farm."

"And one of the core members of that Avengers team is enjoying himself in space!"

"That's not fair!" Barton concluded.

"When he gets back, I'm definitely going to make him upgrade my equipment!"

"One more," Natasha raised her hand. "My Widow's Sting needs to be upgraded to the vibranium version."

"Me too," Steve quietly raised his hand. "My shield... its shape doesn't look very aesthetically pleasing."