Hilariously, yes, chap. 16 is called Seventeen. I tried to correct it, but c'est le conte. I've always tried to let the story do what it needs to rather than what I want.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN- November 2038
It was a good thing Sam was used to being alone since Bucky did not return to see her the next day or the day after that. Sam had adjusted the wig as best she could to go find some food and coffee, but it quickly became obvious that the food she did find did not agree with her. Nothing stopped the vibrating itch radiating all over; her body simply couldn't regulate her temperature or eliminate enough waste without sweating. She began syphoning off some resources from the med lab to create an IV and a simple liquified meal to have once a day. Sam refused to give up the coffee though, and even grew to like the strong tea offered as well. Eventually, due to decay in her muscle after a serious loss of her subcutaneous fatty layer, she had to submerge herself in a nutrient bath, the basis of which she derived from Missy's research on a failed cure attempt for her Uncle Bruce and the Hulk.
Sam knew this was only a temporary solution to a slow-moving problem, but she had no plans to waste time on a small fix for cosmetic breakthrough. She became very good at placing an IV and amused herself by drinking her bizarre and unappetizing smoothies while thinking of the similar sludges her father used to consume.
She continued to roll the lump of vibranium in her palm over and over until a project occurred to her. Sam set Mistress on the task of finding her information, and to her surprise, she hit the jackpot. It no longer mattered that no one talked to her or visited; she was back to tinkering.
"Missy, I need you filter the nutrient bath. Do you have that file on Vision's cradle body? How much vibranium did it require? What percentage was metal and what was organic material?"
"I've compiled a summary for you, Sam. Beginning filtering: estimated time twelve minutes."
"How refined can we make this?" Sam tossed the metal ball back and forth between hands. "Small enough to infuse tissue? What about the cradle? Can it graft this into tissue?"
"Calculating," Missy replied.
"Pull up Sam Wilson's file from headquarters. I wanna read their updates."
The documents popped up beside dozens of other processes running on her monitor. Missy continued her summary. "Cognitive function has leveled out after the initial rise in activity. Several anomalous instances of memory loss have been recorded."
"Alright, keep me posted."
"Ms. Stark," her AI returned to formality, "the results of your scans following each submergence show no change—"
"That's enough," Sam stopped Missy. She looked around her plain lower-level room. Sam had replaced the bed with a makeshift regeneration cradle capable of holding the nutrient gel. Every drawer in the room contained bits of hardware, scraps of vibranium, and research. Empty coffee cups filled the trash. She washed her three outfits in the bathroom sink. She kept the wig combed but rarely needed it; Sam almost never spoke to anyone, and no one really spoke to her.
"Alright, Missy, let's test a square inch of skin and record time the machine takes and the regeneration rate of my skin. Then we'll test the area for deterioration in either tissue or structural integrity of the metal."
"Sampling suggests minimal damage to either once the graft takes effect," Missy chirped, almost sounding proud. "However, for live sampling, I suggest the nutrient bath immediately after the procedure."
"Sounds good, Missy. Go ahead and get the cradle ready for the patch test." Sam could hardly contain her excitement, but she shook more from nerves than happiness. The joy would have to come when she was successful, and not a moment before, because until then Sam was just another pale nerd tucked in a basement thinking herself the smartest person on Earth. If this does work, she thought, happy birthday to me indeed…
December 6th in the depths of space with an enormous putz like Drax the Annoyer was brutal. It was difficult to tell what time it was on Earth, and genuinely Tony did not know for sure that it was the 6th yet or if the day had already passed. He just wanted to have a thought to himself; he wasn't allowed to on this ship.
"Robot Man," Drax yelled, making Tony jump. They were a maximum of two feet apart.
"I'm iron, okay? Iron Man."
Drax snorted. "Your suit would be crumpled into a ball by now. It cannot be made of iron. You have made a poor choice in weaponry," the tattooed behemoth cackled at his own skills of observation. Meanwhile, Tony lamented that his skills of sarcasm and pop culture nicknamery were completely wasted in the void above a planet with these…idiots. Gamora was the only sensible one among them, the only one Tony could talk to, but she wanted nothing to do with him. "We eat and strategize now," Drax exclaimed after composing himself.
Rocket started off the meal with a riveting breakdown of his knowledge so far on the Annihilus threat. Negative-energy signatures in key parts of the galaxy, each representing a breach between their enemy's dimension and theirs, populations ravaged by an associate of their target named Blastaar, a name which Tony thought was a little too on-the-nose even compared to 'Annihilus,' and finally, a holographic map of their movements, suggesting a culmination in the central point of Earth. Wonderful, Tony thought, more work.
"This doesn't look good," Peter Quill, ever stating the bare minimum, mumbled.
"Thanos had a weak alliance with this—this creature from someplace called the Negative Zone," Gamora explained, "he used to talk about how, with the universe's population cut in half, the sparsely habited Negative Zone could expand freely. It's only taken them this long because their dimension doesn't have the resources Thanos had."
"I am Groot." Tony gave the tree the same confused look he gave it every time it said this.
"No, we can't just blow them to smithereens," Rocket responded, then he mumbled, "others tried that. Plus they defeated some guys named the Fashion Four—"
"Fantastic Four," Gamora corrected.
Rocket paused a moment. "Can we really call them fantastic if they're dead?"
"The point is," Gamora took over, "that we need allies and far more fire power. Blastaar is a living bomb. I believe Thanos did not openly partner with them for fear they would betray his plan for all out genecide and enslavement."
"Isn't that a cozy thought," Quill said. "I'll need a few more tunes for my iPod nano, but then I'm ready to kick some ass."
"Dude, stop trying. The console is right there. Figure out the cords yourself." Tony could feel his blood boiling in frustration. "Side note: how has your relationship lasted this long when he obviously doesn't listen to you?"
Gamora only pursed her lips.
"Earn your music," Tony pointed at Quill. "We need an army, and I'd like less talking."
"Hey, Metal Man," Rocket said, shaking a bottle of booze across the table, "calm down or I won't pour you one."
"Iron…never mind. Not today." Tony rested his head in his hand, looking out yet another small port window.
Rocket sat confused. Stark had never refused to drink with him. "Why? What's today?"
"Actually, it's my daughter's birthday."
"Oh my god, you spawned?" Rocket blurted. His eyes shifted between the dirty looks of the others. "I mean, good for you."
"She is left on your world defenseless? That is terrible," Drax added.
"You're probably gonna need to get her an expensive gift. Chicks like that," Quill chimed.
"What do you normally do for her birthday?" Gamora spoke to Tony directly for first time.
"A card," Tony said, unable to turn back around, waving a hand around in apology.
"Yes, one card representing someone of her choice for you to kill, an excellent gift," Drax agreed. Tony didn't have the heart to clarify what he'd really meant but could feel Quill's eyes at his back.
"That's pathetic," Rocket breathed. "Here, she can have one of my smaller guns. She'll like that."
"I'm not giving her a gun," Tony fought. "I'm out here with you idiots to keep things like that away from her."
"Uh, aren't there guns on Earth?" Quill slumped his head a little, pretty sure of the answer. "And you guys still have people who attach the Avengers who don't even have abilities."
"They can handle…them," Tony waived his hand in the air, "without me, but I need to be here making sure that buggy-looking space breather from another dimension doesn't get back to Earth."
"Then Earth's resources should come here," Gamora said bluntly, "because we will need them before this is over."
"You should return home to give your young one her death card," Drax suggested, almost excitedly. "Then muster the full force of Earth's heroes to murder the bug."
"Annihilus is not a bug," Rocket mumbled.
"It looks like one," Drax added, "and moves like one. I do not know what he tastes like, but I imagine him to be crunchy like one. So I will call him a bug."
Quill made a gagging face.
Rocket muttered, "unnecessarily disgusting."
"I am Groot."
"You will not eat the bad guy," Rocket exploded. "You don't even eat!"
"I am Groot," came the solemn reply.
"You're a cannibal?" Quill looked even more green as he stared at the tree. "What have you been eating on this ship? Your own clippings?"
Groot shrugged. Everyone let out several moans of overwhelming distaste.
Tony remained seated, sure the universe was doomed, but at the very least, he could leave these imbeciles now to return home before the end. Maybe he would even have the absolute solace of flying back solo.
A/N: What's everyone preference on changing a story's rating at some point? Should I just do a seperate story/chapter rated M if need be and keep the plot going in the T section. It's a very temporary switch, and I'm a bit new to the long story with intermittent "graphic" detail. Open to PMs or reviews on it, thanks!