Avengers: Unbreakable
The Avengers and all related characters and settings are the property of Marvel Inc. and their respective affiliates. All rights reserved (by them, not me).
Episode 1: Confluence
Chapter 1
Blamannsison Glacial Valley, Norway
Don't look down. That's how you die.
He dangled one leg precariously over the cliff's edge, feeling with his foot for any ledge or foothold below. The blowing snow pestered his cheeks like gnats, and the bluish glow of the endless polar twilight bathed him in otherworldly light. He clung fiercely to the icy rock with his arms and strong shoulders, because they were all he had to cling with – his other leg, the lame one, splayed uselessly behind him.
There has to be a way. There has to be a ledge or something. I know it's here.
His foot touched something solid, and he began to ease his weight over the edge. But the chunk of ice he had stepped on proved treacherous – it broke loose and plummeted into the dark chasm below, shattering into a hundred meteoric fragments as it gathered speed. His bum leg slid over the edge, and suddenly he was grappling furiously with the ground, desperately trying to hold on as his body dangled down the cliffside. But ice was all his hands could find. He felt himself slipping.
"Oh God!" he cried, as more of his weight slid over the edge. "HELP! HELP ME!" But he knew it was useless. He was miles from any human habitation. "HELP!" he cried instinctively once more. Then he was falling.
For a split-second, he felt his body careening down the sheer face of the icy rock, the heart-in-your-throat weightlessness of free fall. Then, just as quickly, he felt his foot – his good one, sound and strong from years of having to do extra duty – land hard on solid rock. It held firm. He scrambled frantically with his hands for some scrap of rock to hold himself in place, and found an ice column he could cling to in a bear hug. He pulled himself tight against it and waited.
One second. Two. Yes - he was on solid footing. He dared to look down, and saw that he had indeed landed on a narrow ledge that ran away to his left. Just above his head was the top of the cliff.
I'm alive!
He leaned his head against the column of ice and took deep, calming breaths. "Oh thank God," he said aloud.
Then, very gingerly, he began to slide along the ledge. It widened as he went, and after a few steps, he could turn and stand sideways. He rotated another 90 degrees, turning his back to the cliffside, and leaned back against it, taking in still more calming breaths. He avoided looking down.
After a few more minutes to steady himself, he looked along the ledge again. A few steps away, it turned a corner on the cliff face.
That's where it should be.
He moved in that direction, limping on the bum leg. Sure enough, when he rounded the corner, he saw that a cave opened in the sheer cliff wall. He stepped inside, pulled his parka hood back and shook the snow out of his hair. Then he sat down on a rock. He pulled a flashlight out of his pocket and looked into the cave.
"This looks like the place," he said. He took out a piece of paper and studied it. Then he got up and moved deeper in. When he'd gone maybe 20 feet, he pulled a tape measure out of another pocket and started taking measurements. "Right about . . . here," he said.
He reached into a small pack, pulled out a miniature pick, and began chipping away at the layer of ice that coated the cave wall. As the chips flew, a small grotto began to appear. He shined the flashlight into it – and caught his breath.
There it is!
He couldn't believe it! He put his hand into the grotto and pulled out a wooden staff. It was a little over four feet long, made of birch, intricately carved with runes and pictographs. He held it in the air reverently, shining the light on all sides, drinking in the view he'd waited so many years to see.
The Staff of the Wanderer!
He moved back toward the mouth of the cave, where there was more room. When suddenly he heard . . . voices? Impossible! Then he saw the beam of a flashlight swing past the opening of the cave. And he was sure of it now – voices, several men. They followed me!
He looked back at the staff. "It won't matter," he thought. "In a few seconds, it won't matter at all." He knelt down on the cave floor. Just then, he saw a dark figure, bulky in a thick parka, silhouetted against the sky behind the cave opening. A flashlight suddenly beamed into his eyes, blinding him.
"Dr. Blake?" came the voice.
"No!" he cried. Then he raised the staff into the air and brought it straight down against the hard rock of the cave floor. Nothing happened.
What?
He raised the staff and struck it again. Still nothing.
"Dr. Blake!" the voice said again, and now other men were gathering at the front of the cave.
He pounded the staff over and over against the cave floor. "No!" he cried again. "No! No! NO!" But all it produced was the thin whack of wood striking frozen stone.
The parka-bulked figure reached him now. Pulling his hood back and raising his goggles, the figure again shone his flashlight straight into the eyes of the man with the staff.
"Dr. Blake," the voice said in thickly Scandinavian-accented English. "You are under arrest!"