Hold on to your butts, ladies and gents. It's about to get NUTS!

(Includes: Daft Punk-Harder Better Faster Stronger-2001)


Part IV: Time

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN—December 2039

"Surprise!"

Sam startled out of bed and smacked her head against the wall.

"What? You don't like it?"

Sam blinked a few times.

"I picked a face," Missy beamed, now that Sam understood that the woman coming out of her bathroom was Missy.

Sam tossed aside her comforter, still tired. "You—yes, it's—scared the shit outta me…"

"Voice, too, but don't worry." Missy returned to the visage of a silvery Sam. "No one will see it until tonight. I've copied the credentials and retinal scan to use tonight, and—" she pulled out a pile of clothing from her torso "—from the laundry."

Right. Lots to do today. So breakfast, get those guys out of the building, act like everything's fine, pack a little, make a show of taking stuff down to the plane, dinner, chat chat, down to party, loud music, make a show of the lights thing so no one notices...

Poof.

Sam brushed her teeth and splashed her face. Her hair was a mess, but Bucky wasn't supposed to be at breakfast. She'd deal with that before dinner. Hideous yellow sweatshirt would do well enough for a sixteen-variety cereal bar.

Send all Annihilus's scout ships to another galaxy in one swoop.

Don't mess with Earth. We are prepared. Simple. Elegant. Effective.

Time for some birthday coffee.

Sam lifted the lid of the box her father dropped off the night before.

They were still there.

"These goddamn shoes. I'm gonna break my flipping ankle."

"Unlikely," Missy assessed. "I copied the coordinates from Bruce's files, so we should have a good visual immediately after jumping. Takes almost exactly the same amount of time for me to walk from storage to the alley as it will take you to get down from dinner, but you should come in after me."

Sam stretched. "Done and done."

The key to keeping your secret plans secret is to also be devoted to the cover plan, and to make certain parts of that plan unappealing to people who might stop you.

Sam loved cereal, and grilled cheese, and roast vegetables, and the Xavier students, and, very recently, loud music and light tricks.

Most of the Avengers either hated all of those foods or would happily excuse themselves from raucous festivities, which allowed a win-win today. Since Sam had zero intentions of moving to Alaska, it wasn't really goodbye, and Sam didn't feel the need to fake an emotional turmoil. Tony wanted everyone to come to the new house for Christmas in a few weeks anyway.

Missy would spend all day in the lab, robotic and boring as usual, until walking a maze of hallways that led to a blind spot where she could don her new face and pass without a single security check until the ISO-5 door.

In theory—a perfect plan. Sam was a little ashamed at how long it took her to put the pieces together. First, Missy became a suit, and second, Sam could control a large range of energy frequencies. She was getting better at picking intensity as well as wavelength. Her ignition point was less precarious.

In short, Sam was not only getting more powerful, but she had way more control.

Also her rave/dance birthday party doubled as a noise cover to ensure no one noticed the disturbance of Missy and Sam jumping away.

Yes, Samantha Stark would save the world tonight, and the Avengers would have to take notice. She just had to get through small talk with highly-trained, ultra-suspicious people for a whole day.

Luckily, Sam learned a great deal of how to talk about absolutely nothing from Tony. Insert flippant comments everywhere, and people think you're a social butterfly. She never actually said much of anything, and no one noticed the difference. They simply believed Sam was like her father.

Initially, she was thrown off by Nate Barton accompanying his parents to her farewell breakfast. Sam still wished to shove one of his multiple bowls of cereal into his pretty little face. He mentioned a boyfriend at least three times, and everyone laughed at every little joke.

What a goddamn prick.

The real test was dinner across from Bucky, who Sam desperately wanted to tell about her genius plan, but act indifferent. Not a single soldier on Earth would see combat before the whole ordeal was over. Sam thought Buck would be proud of a plan that kept casualties to zero.

She imagined they'd celebrate. Even if it weren't romantically, Bucky might bring her close to dance in joy. The potential occurred to her more than once.

He did mention her moving frequently, so Sam kept her daydreams in check as best she could.

There was that one time he grabbed your face. Ha. You panicked like a little bitch. Sam shuddered. The soothing pressure of his fingers in her hair…

If the opportunity presented itself again, Sam refused to stand there like an idiot.

He looked so handsome at the end of the table, nonchalantly swirling his drink and staring with brooding blue eyes.

Shit, it's time.

"Can I go downstairs yet?" Sam clapped her hands together in excitement.

Tony couldn't resist the child-like excitement; it made him feel like none of the bad happened between them.

In no small part, Sam felt the same. She used it for effect in this case but took mental note of the extra crinkling around his eyes as he smiled.

"Be my guest," Tony waived.

Sam kissed his cheek, a surprising move she had not planned.

Tony blushed. "Go on. Run."

He had no idea.

It was only when she made it down to the alley doors, feeling some bass thump through the walls, that she thought, maybe I should have said an extra thank you to Aunt Natasha and Uncle Bruce. Did they suspect? Was that rude?

Again, she had no intention of using the 3-D interactive, fully motion-controllable work table in Alaska, but it was a useful gift wherever she ended up. However, Natasha eyed Sam too much for comfort, looking up and down the table the whole dinner, but she'd breathed an odd sigh of relief when Sam excused herself. The assassin likely suspected nothing.

Pacing the hall, the nerves blistered her insides as she replayed the movements in her head.

You're the birthday girl, so they'll want to be next to you. Get them hyped and crazy.

She knew from Halloween that the older kids at Xavier's loved to party with their powers. If Sam started the chain, she had several minutes of fantastical abilities—guaranteed—to distract while she complete her jump.

Sam closed her eyes. Missy had drawn her a tiny map of where the snack table they would meet under was. Sam couldn't be seen as casing the place beforehand. She had to seem uninterested.

A nostalgic song would distract any arrant chaperone agents in the corners, so she'd ask for…

"Sam," he called, "I didn't get to give this to you. Upstairs."

Everything flushed from her mind.

She turned to watch Bucky approach, hands in his pockets, gazing towards her feet. Sam pulled at the hem of her shirt.

"Oh, you didn't have to. Bruce and Nat were already…so thoughtful." Sam became hyper-aware of her awkward shoes.

"This is not—they're not just for your birthday." Bucky lifted his steely eyes to hers.

Sam's spine filled with ice, but he reached out to take her wrist. Screaming internally, she was woefully unprepared to take charge.

"It's a thank you."

Bucky produced a dark bracelet from his pocket, but Sam did not immediately recognize it. She struggled to keep her breathing in check. She couldn't hear what he was saying.

His rough fingers had to move across her palm, over the pulse of her wrist, and inches up her arm before brushing back down. The delicious friction made Sam greedily place her hand in his, ready for the second cuff.

That's when she recognized the pattern of gold around the edges.

Her ankles tried to buckle beneath her.

"They're beautiful," Sam whispered down at their hands, "but I thought you had thrown it away."

"I don't discard things that make me a better man," Bucky replied.

She twitched uncontrollably, but his hand squeezed back.

"Don't be nervous. We—"

Sam stifled a laugh. You have no idea, Buck. Though hearing him specifically call them a "we," like a pair, like a couple…

"Save a dance for me."

Every cell in her body buzzed with anticipation, a roaring hum pushing her to act. She couldn't stop herself.

His lips were surprisingly soft between rough stubble, but the scratching hairs were all she could feel on her palm.

Bucky's jaw sat sharp at the edge of her fingers. The rapid thump egging her on, his pulse thundered under her pinkie.

She breathed him in, lungs prodded to action as his hand tucked behind her shoulder blade.

Sam felt so little, inside, physically, nowadays that the rush hit brutally low, a cattle prod between her hips.

And the heat. Shit, the heat.

Sam sprung back.

Holy shit. What did you just do? Get the hell out—move, dumbass!

"Jeez, sorry, I thought that was—" the greatest moment of my whole life "—like a moment—stupid." Understatement! "So sorry," Sam stammered.

Her face felt like it might snap in half from embarrassment. Too toothy a smile. Too high-pitched a giggle. Her ankle rolled over the tall heel.

"I gotta—shit that's—what was I—" Leave. Leave. Move your ass. Leave. "—I gotta go."

Heels off, her brain screamed.

She felt dizzy, a little giddy, and completely off her rocker. She did not look up to see his face.

Bucky could ruin the whole plan if he got upset, or told someone, or tried to delay her with an explanation she did not need of why that was wrong.

She bit her lip and tasted sweet whisky.

Open the flipping door.

The shouts of joy and excitement when the mutants saw her in the doorway—Sam's instincts kicked in. Her smile beamed, her arms went straight up in the air, and she screamed with them.

She made her way over to Nightcrawler at the platform stretching over the slippery lanes. Kurt gave Sam a hug, a full embrace. She could not remember the last time anyone had been so instantly kind to her.

He was just the type of wonderful person she wanted saved. Kurt shouldn't have to fight or fear. Earth didn't deserve a threat looming over her so largely.

Kurt pulled a microphone to his lips. "And what would the birthday girl like to here?"

"Something classic. Something awesome." Sam didn't wait for him to move the mic to her.

Kurt Wagner winked at her and ushered her down to the center of the room.

They were cheering for her, with bright blue teeth from the black lights. Strobe lights started with the song.

Sam put all her nervous, chaotic, confused energy into putting on a good show. The humming and buzzing and ringing filled her. It echoed inside, bouncing, rippling, strengthening, changing.

Work it. Make it. Do it. Makes us.

She started with bright white, pulsing with the strobe.

Harder. Better. Faster. Stronger.

Since she couldn't burst into flame, or safely fly indoors, Sam raged red and orange next.

The clapping and cheers turned to jumping and yelling. As expected, students joined in. Two levitated up to the ceiling. Someone grew in size. Someone stretched their arms to the ceiling, twelve feet high. Another created a ball of energy and tossed it around like a beach ball.

Sam dimmed her light and turned for the snack table. She was startled by someone spewing bubbles out of his mouth onto the floor beside another swirling her hands to brew fog.

Damn, Sam thought. Good party.

Work it harder, make it better.

Do it faster, makes us stronger.

More than ever, hour after hour,

Work is never over.

It was time to get to work.

Sam let off a few more flares of light as she passed through, screaming thank yous to those who grabbed her with birthday wishes. She made it to the table just in time for a drop in the song. The strobe cut out for a split second before everybody jumped in the air in raving ecstasy.

Sam dipped beneath the draped table cover.

Missy lay prone, metallic and unmoving. She turned over a palm, revealing the glowing blue gem tucked inside.

Sam reach her arm over to climb into the suit, and the Space Stone snapped into the duvet of Bucky's cuff.

Huh, that's convenien—holy shit. A blistering pain shot up her arm. It sucked the air out of her lungs and held them flat. Her stomach cramped and flipped.

"Samantha," Missy asked.

Sam felt Extremis push back, relaxing her gut and inflating her lungs. This was the first time the virus ever behaved as a second entity inside her. Unusually, all her body responses were automatic, the power to heal, the recognition of a foreign, unnatural power source, but Sam had to concentrate on the damage and wait.

When her seizing jaw released, Sam assured, "it's fine. We have to go." She rolled into Missy.

"Sam, you must open your mouth for the oxygen converter."

"Then how do I talk to you?"

"Ah, well, sorry about that."

A sharp needle stabbed through the base of Sam's neck, and Missy's voice was in her head. It was too hard to describe. They didn't need words back and forth; Sam simply knew Missy's thoughts on what came next, and Missy knew Sam's critique and adjustments.

The coordinates in exact three dimensional detail appeared in Sam's head.

She tried to articulate how simultaneously cool and creepy the communication was, and Missy agreed before Sam competed the thought.

Missy pushed in a flash of Bucky holding Sam's hand and their kiss.

Not now. Sam could feel Missy probing around. Seriously, not now. Focus.

As if Sam didn't have enough distractions…

She pictured the coordinates, took a deep breath, and allowed the crushing rush to roll through her arm and over her body.

It was cold. The first proper cold Sam had felt all year.

She opened her eyes but could see nothing. Missy obliged and a vibrant display blossomed to life all around Sam's head.

They were nearly standing on the rings of Saturn, except the nearest speck of dust in the ring was at least ten times Sam's size.

It was terrifying in a full-of-awe, awful way.

Sam turned them through gentle propulsion from her hands.

If she thought the rings were terrifying, Sam was unprepared for how scary the ships would be. These were so large, she could only see two in her field of vision.

Let's get started.

Calculations of the ship dimensions flooded in, diameters of the portal fields next, and finally, the spot on the edge of a separate cluster galaxy were the ships would end up.

Sam drew on the Stone and pushed a storm of blue lightning and smoke around the first ship.

The hulking skyscraper vanished from the void. Far behind, looking minuscule in comparison, floated the other two.

Sam's breath, already faster and labored, concerned Missy, and Sam snapped back in her mind that they should complete the task and get back as soon as possible.

Though it didn't take much time to move them, Sam felt her own energy draining away. She transported the two farther ship and then went for the big one closest her.

No sooner had the blue smoke cleared, a pulse weapon fired, disturbing the rings behind Sam. Massive chunks of rock temporarily dislodged from their orbit rolled straight towards Sam and Missy.

So, not four ships—how was I supposed to—nothing in Bruce's files—get rid of them!

They maneuvered away from the trajectory of debris.

How many? Their system struggled to calculate. Can I move two at a time? All at once? They had no clue. No time for analysis.

Inside, looking at Missy's heads-up display, Sam could only make out three more, but the vast nothing and low light from the sun made even their large forms nearly invisible. Together, Sam and Missy still couldn't see everything.

Sam surmised a fourth from where another blast originated.

One big portal? Might be our only chance before they hit us.

Sam felt sleepy, but she stared at the ships, visualizing the whole field in her head and creating a sphere centered between all of the ships.

She pushed against the resistance of the Stone. It seized her focus, her energy, her awareness. The universe shrank to the square inch of flesh and metal between her essence and the Stone's.

The Stone won.

The blue storm collapsed with only three ships inside. The fourth and an unseen fifth ship exploded, severed and exposed by the portal.

Technically…they aren't a threat anymore…

Sam was numb, weary of the drain from her arm.

Home, she thought, and Missy's precision to return the Stone to storage trickled in.

By the time Missy retracted the needle from Sam's brain, her whole arm was shaking, and the ringing in her ears was so loud it hurt.

She'd done it. The scouts, or whatever they were, were all gone.

Her collapsing chest swelled with a solid pride.

A deep thud drew her gaze. Tony was watching.

"I did it," Sam beamed, "Dad…" Her breath failed, so Sam paused to swallow. "The ships," she started again, hoarsely, "I got—"

She thought Missy reinserted the needle, but after a warm, blinding light, Sam's mind flooded with only one memory.

Strange had sad eyes. How could he not? Sam had been screaming that he was wrong for at least an hour and a half. His sympathy did not translate to words.

"You won't remember until it's time, but you must do this, Samantha," the sorcerer offered with no inflection, "or else Tony Stark dies."

Sam was too tired to fight back. The Space Stone was draining the color from the world around her. The universe, the world got smaller. Movement in her periphery went blurry. Tony's skin slipped to shock-white and his features faded.

Isolated in the grey, Sam pleaded, "I don't want to go."

The black closed around her all the same.


I'm gonna go ahead and admit that I don't know what my block was, and I don't know what helped break it, but damn, it feels good to write again.

Reviews appreciated! Thank you for reading and Happy New Year!