There were plenty of hammers, but not a single one that could not be lifted. Coulson did not quite understand where this madman's question had come from, but he knew it was best not to provoke an episode.
He could give him another injection, but after all the previous incidents of bullying the mentally disabled, the balding agent felt somewhat guilty. Strong anesthetics damaged the brain, so it was best not to use them too often.
Since Thor wanted to see whether there were any hammers he could not lift, Coulson would let him witness reality firsthand.
"Although there are still many hammers we haven't inspected, there isn't a single one that can't be lifted. Everything has its own weight, and if human strength isn't enough, there are machines. What you're saying is far too absolute. How about this? I'll take you to see those hammers."
In a rare show of mercy, Coulson decided to take Thor to the construction site for a look.
The young man was seriously ill and even had pica that made him like licking metal. Once he entered a psychiatric sanatorium this time, he probably would not be coming out again. Perhaps he would spend the rest of his life there.
So Coulson would let him breathe some free air outside while he had the chance.
Consider it end-of-life care.
This temporary camp had actually been built right beside the massive pit. It used modular construction—once the pieces were delivered, they could be assembled like building blocks to put up structures very quickly.
Translucent corridors linked the box-shaped rooms, making the place look somewhat like a Mars base from a movie.
Thor had still been lingering in the interrogation room, licking his way through an entire crate of hammers, only to find that none of