Unknown Location,
Sometime At Night

"Jesus christ," Tony groaned, pausing for the fifth time in ten minutes, "How long have we been out here?" Peter shrugged his shoulders in response as he collapsed onto the ground, carefully tucking his feet in so that he could sit up without causing himself pain. He figured they'd been out exploring (and he used that term loosely) for at least a few hours. It was still dark but the sun was peeking out from over the dunes, indicating the planet didn't rotate on a 24-hour basis.

Regardless, in that time they'd managed to run out of water, crash Tony's drone, get lost, and sprain Peter's ankle. Obviously things weren't going their way today. Peter's short-lived happiness that he'd escaped the clutches of time was diminished very quickly by the desert, since despite it's current cool temperature, it was still dry and coarse as hell, "I'm starting to wish I'd just been zapped to death."

Tony didn't answer, probably because it was a shared sentiment between the two of them (As in they both would've liked a quicker death). Peter exhaled loudly, how did he wind up in this mess? It was the question that had been on his mind since the moment Tony's drone broke. The desert seemed to stretch on forever, the desert sands stretching away into the tan horizon, the night sky growing darker and bleaker until... until there was a light poking out from one of the dunes, "There!" Peter half-shouted, "You see that, Mr. Stark?"

"Uh... yeah..." Tony replied, uncrossing his arms and looking in the direction Peter was pointing, "Stay here, I'll check it out." He replied, leaving Peter sitting quietly alone, still surprised Tony didn't know that by now the words 'Stay here' meant nothing more to Peter than his aunt rambling about the events of the latest Teen Mom.

The wall crawler followed his companion cautiously, not wanting to be spotted by him or whatever was the source of that light. He reached the dune that was masking the blueish-white glow, with Tony about ten yards away from him on the opposite side. He watched carefully as Tony began to climb the mountain of sand, and then made his move.

He spun a quick web towards the top of the dune, feeling it snap taught as it burrowed into the sand. Peter waited a moment, just long enough for it to spread out enough that it would support his weight, before climbing up the dune himself. When he reached the top, he could hear voices coming from the bottom of the hill, and when he looked down, he was met with confirmation of his theory about where they were.

"Do we have a time frame for extraction?" One of the four men dressed in tan tunics and holding an odd-looking rifle of some kind, "I need to get off this kriffing planet." The fact that he was holding a very Star Wars-esc blaster wasn't the interesting part- the interesting part was that there was an X-Wing parked a few feet behind him. It was slightly different from what he saw in the movies though, it's red accents were replaced with blue ones, and the shape of the hull and cockpit was a little off.

Even still, it was an X-Wing. Peter looked over at Tony, who caught his gaze for a moment, shooting the younger hero an incredulous look. Peter shot another expression back in response. He turned his attention back to the X-Wing, "Soon," Another man said, "Now shut your damned mouth and get some rest, you'll need it." This was so confusing. Who were these guys? And why did that X-Wing look that way- cheerf!

Peter sensed it before he heard it. His Peter-Tingle... god, he needed a new name for that... rattled his brain a few seconds before the distinct sound of a Star Wars blaster activating came from behind. He heard Tony shout his name just as he rolled onto his side, a blue bolt of searing hot plasma impacting with sand beside him, charring the tiny grains of crystal.

He looked up to see a fifth man panic and start aimlessly firing from the hip toward Peter's position. As the man reared up for another shot, Peter rolled to his side again, and again, and again, until the man grabbed his arm and pressed the weapon to his forehead. Suddenly, Tony tackled the soldier, pinning him onto the ground as Peter regained his breath.

Shouts came from where the X-Wing was parked, and the Peter-Tingle was going insane. This was not going to end well.


Mars,
9:00 AM EST, Earth Time

"You gonna explain who you are?" Hopper spoke, standing a safe distance away from Jon, "Or are you happy with just giving me your name?" They were currently standing on the balcony to the glass palace that Jon had constructed out of seemingly nothing- the only new thing about it was that it was now hovering over the ground.

"There is a difference between brooding and thinking," Jon replied, as emotionlessly as ever, "Though, I wouldn't imagine you would know it." Hopper recoiled, insulted. Not because of the snark in the comment- but the lack thereof, as if it was an obvious conclusion. The glass structure was now floating silently over a massive chasm, a ravine so deep it made the Grand Canyon look like a cracked floor tile, "This is the Valles Marineris. It's over twice the size of The Grand Canyon and it's depth is measured in miles."

"Uh-huh..." Hopper groveled, feeling around his pockets for a cigarette, "And I should care why? It's not like any of this makes sense to me anyhow."

Jon turned for the first time in hours, looking at Hopper with an expression that Hopper hadn't seen before- one of sadness, "It is nineteen days, twelve hours, seven minutes, and two seconds before I stand above this very same canyon with someone of significance to me. Some one of my world." Wow, this guy had friends? Shocker. "You wish to know why I am the way I am? I will show you."

Hopper narrowed his eyes, "Uh... show me?" Jon nodded, waving his hand for a moment before everything flashed to a harsh white, the world around him slowly fading away. A moment later, the glass structure was floating above a city. A sprawling, vast jungle of concrete and pavement, the night sky casting an unnaturally sinister shadow over the streets and buildings.

"This is New York on October 11th, 1985 at 9:01 PM. In six seconds, a Comedian will die." Hopper looked at Jon strangely, just as a CRASH! could be heard from the building just below them. He looked over the railing to see a glass window shatter into tiny little shards, and a figure in a beige robe came tumbling out. "Three," The figure appeared to be male, and he wore nothing under the bathrobe, "Two," He didn't scream, allowing himself to fall into the abyss, "One." BANG! Hopper had heard stories from soldiers of what it was like to hear bodies slamming into the ground from hundreds of feet into the air- but he never really understood why it was so awful.

Well, he did now. Holy shit, did he now.

Just before Hopper allowed his lunch to return to the outside world, a figure in black clothes looked out the window where the man had been thrown, as if to insure that the fall had killed him, before walking away.

"Tonight, one Edward Blake was killed. Thrown from his penthouse window, and nobody cares," Jon's voice came from behind once again, before the world flashed white again and they were suddenly standing in the penthouse. "Nobody cares but him." Jon pointed to a figure in a brown trench coat, purple dress pants, and a fedora to match his coat, along with a white mask that covered his entire face.

Hopper looked at the mask closer, seeing that the black patterns on the mask were moving, "Who is he?"

"This is Walter Kovacs. But he's known to himself and millions of others as Rorschach," Jon replied. Rorschach moved over to a closet, opening it and taking out a single hanger. He didn't seem to notice the glowing naked blue guy or the other guy in the Soviet uniform watching him. He bent the hanger into a line, and then stuck it into the closet again, and a click! sounded. He reached inside and pulled the back of it down, revealing a set of military armor- a black vest, black pants and boots, blue and red shoulder pads, and leather balaclava, "Edward Blake was known to the government as their enforcer, The Comedian, but to the public, he was just another drunken playboy."

"And the police just over looked it?" Hopper asked, stunned at how shitty the cops must be.

"Yes, but not on purpose. They just didn't care enough to look in his closet," Jon answered. Rorschach pulled the armor out piece by piece, examining it carefully, "You asked me why I'm here," Jon continued, "There is a lot I have to show you."


New York,
October 13th, 1985
The Washington Post

"Jonathan?" Joyce called- no answer. It was nearly ten o'clock at night- an hour after The Post usually closed. She softly closed the door to her car and looked up into the windows- the whole building was pitch black. No lights of any kind illuminating a single piece of furniture. Joyce looked around nervously, making sure the coast was clear. Night was the worst possible time to be on the streets, everyone knew that, but her son was missing, and at that point, all other risks went out the window.

Eleven- or Jane, now- and Will were still at the apartment. Joyce made sure that they were both asleep before she left, since she knew they would both follow her if given the chance. The night air was windy and dry, newspapers tumbling down the sidewalk making a bone-chilling rustling noise- it seemed like bad things always happened on nights like this, and with her luck, that trend would more than likely continue.

When she opened the door into the building, a breeze of cold air rushed past her as she stepped into the building. Ever since the Watergate story, The Washington Post had grown significantly- the building was now a six-story office building with a large open area littered with desks and stray papers, while metal balconies and cross-ways lined the walls.

Crack. A sudden sound startled the worried mother, it was light and soft but definitely not a pigeon bumping into a window. As she walked in the direction the sound had come from, she began to hear a grovelling voice somewhere upstairs. "Jonathan?" She called, and then the voice stopped abruptly. Annnnd now she wished she'd brought Eleven.

There was a deafening silence for a moment- a moment that felt like ten minutes- before white light began to stream out of what seemed to be an opened door. Joyce frantically looked around, there had to be something she could use. Soon enough, her eyes fell upon a pair of scissors tucked into a red cup on somebody's desk. Swiftly grabbing them from their container, she turned back towards the light- just in time to see it disappear, followed by the sound of a door slamming.

She thought about hiding behind a desk and waiting for whoever it was to come to her, but if her son was in danger, she was gong on the offense. Remembering the initial tour she and Jonathan had taken of the building, she ran towards the access stairs, opening the door quietly and slipping inside without a trace... until she heard a muffled scream from behind.


Jonathan tried to shout for his mother to duck just as his captor slammed his fist into her face, sending her crumpling to the ground, "Stupid. You really think that I'd believe for a second that you'd come up the main stairs?" The man spoke, nudging Jonathan's mom a little with his boot. For a moment, he seemed to think she was out cold, but that moment ended when she brought up a pair of silver scissors and tried to plunge them into his foot, which of course he caught.

The man twisted her hand, causing her to drop the scissors and shout in sudden pain, "Who the hell-" Joyce began, but was cut-off by the man throwing her against the wall, taking out a pistol and pointing it at her face.

"Watch it," The man hissed, making a pseudo-disgusted face, "Your kid's listening!" He said, pointing directly at Jonathan. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, and honestly, he couldn't blame her. He was gagged with a piece of duct tape after he screamed for his mother after he saw her pull up, and bound to a metal chair by metal handcuffs. Scattered about his face were various cuts and bruises- or maybe they were scrapes, "I will ask you this once: what does Veidt want with me?"

Oh, there he goes again. Jonathan thought, rolling his eyes. Joyce furrowed her eye brows, wiping blood from her mouth, "Who?"

The man rolled his eyes, turning and walking towards Jonathan, "Your little shit-bag said the same god damned thing," He said. As he disappeared from Jonathan's sight, Joyce screamed just before a cold, metal cylinder pressed against his forehead, "Right now, I'm in a relatively good mood, so I'm going to give you five seconds- FIVE FUCKING SECONDS- to answer my question..." He pushed the gun harder- so hard that Jonathan felt like it would crush his skull, "WHAT THE HELL DOES ADRIAN WANT WITH ME?"

"Wh- who is..." Joyce started, but the man only pressed harder.

"Five,"

"I don't know who you're talking about!"

"Four,"

"I don't know, please!"

"Three,"

"Stop!"

"Two,"

"I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!"

"One."

BANG!


Your soul is able, death is all you cradle
Sleepin' on the nails, there's nowhere left to fall
You have admired, what every man desires
Everyone is king when there's no one left to pawn

-Black Rebel Motorcycle Club


Curse words! I swear to god if you guys start complaining about that imma put Baby Yoda into this story just to have Doctor Manhattan turn him into green yogurt (just kidding he's the most precious thing i've ever seen). Sorry this took me over a month to get this out the door, but first I saw The Shining for the very first time (I know, im an uncultured swine), then The Irishman came out, then I accidentally binge-watched HBO's Watchmen series, that's not even COUNTING The Mandalorian... it's been a crazy month.

Anyways, expect more chapters to come out soon, and even sooner if you review! Please leave one on your way out if you have a second. Until next time!

-MB