For better or worse, I do not own any Marvel franchise, nor any Star Wars characters imported in.
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Many thanks to my wonderful Betas, Bobbie23, Jesuslovesmarina, and MasterQwertster, who write some pretty cool stories. Go read them!
The fantastic cover image is courtesy of rickyryan. Just perfect!
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Guest Review answers :-D
PJ
Yeah, the comics are a good source of inspiration! :-)
Here is the newest chapter, and I hope it was worth it! Looking forward to hearing your newest thoughts! :-D
Thank you for your Review and Support! :-D
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Avengers: The (Alien) Sun's Going Down
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Chapter 6: Choosing a Path
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Previously:
Stranded on the garbage world Sakaar, Bruce, Natasha, and their prisoner known only as Scrapper 142, work to stay ahead of the authorities. Deciding to hide in the deeper levels of trash, they briefly clash with two aliens, Elloe Kaifi, an aristocrat whose family fatally lost favour with the Grandmaster, and No-Name of the Brood, a fearsome and parasitic insectoid race, of which she is the only member willing to co-exist with other races. While they form a tentative truce with the Avengers, they are unwilling to help them escape Sakaar until a Skrull named Lyja appears. At a young age, Lyja, daughter of Talos, had been on Earth, and met Nick Fury, and was thus able to verify Bruce and Natasha's story. Moreover, an escape plan becomes more hopeful too, since finding Earth would allow Lyja to call in Carol Danvers for a ride for herself, Elloe, and No-Name, to the new Skrull homeworld.
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Sakaar
The Underground
With a tentative truce established, it was now possible for the rag-tag group to begin planning their next move. Nevertheless, they were well aware that despite how they were currently living in the darkness and grime deep beneath the junk-capital city of Sakaar, if they made a mistake, things could indeed get much worse.
The two Avengers, their prisoner, and their new allies relocated deeper into Elloe and No-Name's abode. While it was as dirty as to be expected within the middle of a slum (Bruce had been in some pretty clean places, in similar settings back on Earth), it was also surprisingly homey. The main living area was roomy enough to accommodate No-Name's large, insectoid form of course, with places to sit on the ground for others, and a small fire going to provide warmth and light.
All in all, the Humans almost felt like relaxing now.
"So, any suggestions for what we to do first?" asked Natasha, refusing to fall into the trap of complacency. She would rest once she was confident they had a game plan, and their hosts were not going to betray them. Moreover, after letting Lyja 'sample' her memories to confirm Natasha knew Nick Fury, she worried the Skrull had not delved deeper than promised.
Natasha was also very curious about this 'Carol Danvers,' not only given Lyja's hesitancy to give details about her, but also how Elloe had referred to her as 'Captain Marvel.' It implied that a Human had become a Name in outer-space, raising further questions and concerns.
She and Fury would be having words when this was all over.
No-Name, the massive and scary-looking bug-alien, said nothing, while Elloe, the pink-skinned former aristocrat, shrugged. The latter, though, was probably waiting to see what the newcomers suggested, to get a better idea of who they were working with. Alliance or not, she remained wary. Fair enough.
(Or they just genuinely had no idea of what to do.)
"Sorry," winced Lyja. "My dad would have all this figured out already, but I'm more of a pilot and ship's mechanic. I'm pretty good at that though!"
"Alright," beamed Bruce, "that's a start. So when we get a ship, you'll fly it."
"Not like that's hard," scoffed Elloe. "Just fly it through whatever wormhole's got the least debris. It's getting a ship that'll be the most dangerous."
"True," he amiably agreed. "First though, do you guys have any skills that might help us there?"
Scowling a little, she shook her head.
"We will help with the muscle," rasped out No-Name. "Lyja obviously can help us sneak in with her shapeshifting. What talents do you have?"
Bruce rattled them off with his regular humility. "I'm a scientist in multiple fields, including biochemistry, bio-organics, nuclear and atomic physics and radioactive, good with regular chemistry, and, uh, dabble in a dozen others. I've even got PHD's. Uhm, if you know what those are. Oh, and some fighting experience, and sneaking around."
"While your other personality you mentioned, he's a straight up fighter, and pretty good at it," Lyja shrewdly said, making no reaction to the PHD's. Catching his look, she shrugged with embarrassment. "Sorry. He was in those brief memories I got from Natasha. Or what the older people said. Unfortunately, yeah, he doesn't seem like the type for anything sneaky. As for her," gesturing at Natasha, "she can also definitely fight. Although she's only about as strong as Elloe."
"I'm also a spy and infiltrator," the woman in question warmly added on to her resume. "Although I'm not so sure how well it will work on an alien world like this. From what we've heard, there'll be heavy security, right?"
"You could use my ship~!" sang out Scrapper 142, sitting down in corner like a good prisoner. A prisoner who would rip apart most of her captors with her bare hands, if not for the presence of Bruce and No-Name. Oh, and the Obedience Disc in her neck, threatening paralyzing pain.
"WHAT!?" cried Elloe. "It wasn't destroyed fighting her!? Why're you even still here!? What happened to it!?"
"In order," Natasha calmly said, "no it wasn't destroyed. Because of how there's no way to know where we'll appear on the other end of any random wormhole, which is the second major concern. And finally, it was damaged a bit, and now circling the globe on autopilot until we get back to it. Even if it was guaranteed to be space-worthy though, there's not enough room for all of us to survive aboard for a long period of time. Even for just Bruce and I, it would be pretty cramped once it was full of supplies."
"We need a bigger ship," confirmed Bruce. "Although, the way you're talking about needing that communicator Fury's got, I'm guessing the reason you don't build your own to call for help is because of interference from the Einstein-Rosen bridges? I mean, wormholes?"
"Huh," blinked Lyja before she got it. "Oh. Yes! That's right! Unfortunately," she looked crestfallen, "that's not all of it. Sure, I could probably eventually work up a long-range communicator, except we can't call anybody. From what Carol's said, Earth's not yet advanced enough to properly receive a message, and I can't call home. If the Kree intercepted it, and tracked the location of our new homeworld, they'd try and wipe us out again. I'm even afraid to travel there, in case we get tracked somehow. What Carol gave Fury was a device connected directly to her own communicator, even from galaxies away, making it safe."
"You could make a communicator that can cross galaxies!?" gushed Bruce.
Proudly she jutted out her chin. "I was born and grew up on a spaceship. Everyone has to contribute, and I'm an ace and building and running 'em!"
Knowing she had to get them back on track, Natasha cut off the brewing geek and dork fest. "So we have to steal a bigger ship," she echoed.
"And again, they're under heavy security," groused Elloe. "Trust me, I'd know."
"That's right," Natasha said encouragingly. "Before the Grandmaster turned on your family, you were fairly close to him."
Uncomfortable now, the pink woman nodded.
"Is that where you learnt to fight?" It was obvious she'd had training, from even what little Natasha had seen in their brief scuffle, not to mention the fact that she'd lasted long enough to reach all the way down here, and whatever had happened to her before befriending No-Name.
"Fight, party, and whore themselves out to the Grandmaster until either they betrayed him, or stopped entertaining him. Same difference, really," called out Scrapper 142 in a bored tone.
One of No-Name's whip-like limbs flew up to stop Elloe from leaping snarling at the woman, who only sneered back. Natasha's attention snapped to Lyja to evaluate her reaction, and saw calm, composure while she evaluated the provocative slaver with sharpened eyes. There was no sign of the Earth fangirl, only someone to take deadly seriously. Makes sense if she's lived here and survived. Not to mention the hints she's given about the adults in her life.
"Do you wish to get zapped?" is all she calmly asked aloud, holding up the Obedience Disc remote.
Sullenly, Scrapper 142 looked away, grudgingly amending, "It's not going to work. Even if you don't turn on each other, the Grandmaster's been at this far too long." Glancing back, "Trusting people won't get you anywhere."
Ignoring this, Natasha once again chose to re-focus the others. "Elloe, later I'd like to ask you more about Sakaar. There's a few things I need to clear up, and I think you three have all the perspectives I need to piece it together."
A little confused, the woman nodded, and relaxed against No-Names frame. Lyja kept an eye on Scrapper 142 though.
-(Alien) Sun-
Despite what Tony seemed to think, Bruce was no therapist. A genius in multiple scientific fields, and, in all humility, one of the two or three brightest minds on Earth? Yes. A genius in mental health? Hah!
No, it was not even funny. Despite some progress, his own psychological issues remained a literal disaster.
On the other hand, you did not survive as long as he had after being kicked out of his ivory towers of academia, without attaining some insight into Human nature. Plus he had lived with the Avengers and knows all their own emotional troubles and coping methods. So, yes, he had picked up a thing or two. Although he suspected it did not take a genius, or Natasha's own brilliance in psychoanalysis and manipulation, to note that Scrapper 142 was either an excellent actor, or seriously self-projecting there.
It's happening more and more too. Plus, it's subtle still, yet Scrapper 142's hands are trembling more than I bet she can fake, alien physiology or no. Is she that dependent upon alcohol to function?
Having an Obedience Disc attached to her is probably making her feel even more vulnerable. The only reason she hasn't lashed out already is because Natasha's dangling the chance of being let go in front of her, and the threat of the Other Guy.
At that moment, and it may have been just his imagination —goodness knows stuff like that had happened far more than he cared to remember in the early years on the run— he thought he felt something shifting at the back of his mind. Something angry, and wanting to be in control.
. . . I, we, need to get out of here.
Even if he was probably a wanted criminal back home. Even if there was a chance there was no Earth left.
In which case, he thought, he definitely needed to know more if he was going to pull this off. "Is there any place that we could find out more information about the wormholes? Because, like Nat said, that's another issue. We can't just pop through a wormhole with no idea where we'll end up. We could appear someplace dangerous, or across the universe! Or right on the Kree homeworld." That got a wince from Lyja. "Maybe people only think they'll take you to random places, and the Grandmaster encourages that line of thinking? I know there won't be any public or readily available records, but maybe someplace for us to start looking? Like a university, or science lab we could break into?"
"No," sighed Lyja.
Groaning, he shook his head. "Let me guess, the only real infrastructure the Grandmaster supplies is for that Contest thing of his, his own security forces, whatever he needs to keep the Obedience Discs in play, and a few basic pieces of infrastructure like sewage, to help prevent everybody just dying off? Only the basic necessities for society to function?"
"Pretty much."
"Funny that," Natasha silkily reminded. "Since Scrapper 142 here implied there were people we could ask."
"Nope!" shrugged Scrapper 142, aiming for nonchalance, while slight tension in her frame showed she expected punishment via Obedience Disc. "I just didn't correct you when you mentioned that idea. Honestly, I did think there might be one or two, except after hearing all that, it don't seem like it now. Besides, odds don't really favour the wormholes scooping up someone with that sort of scientific expertise, and there's no actual schooling to help people growing up here to learn that sort of stuff."
"Because learning how to learn and ask questions, only encourages people to ask other, more inconvenient questions," Bruce sadly knew, from experience in some of the more unsavoury nations he had passed through. "So there's no one we can conveniently go ask about the wormholes."
"Which brings us back to the Grandmaster," noted Natasha, eyeing Lyja a little, even while keeping the bulk of her attention on Scrapper 142. "How good is your shapeshifting?"
"Down to the DNA, even if we just get close enough to get eyes on them. Just appearances if it is from an image or something," said Lyja. Once more, her form seemed to come apart and reform, until for the first time Bruce and Natasha were seeing and hearing what the megalomaniac was like. "Unfortunately for you," 'the Grandmaster' said with a supercilious grin, "I've got tech that can even tell if someone's a Skrull. You can't just waltz up to my computers without being caught. I should know, your little green friend tried fooling them twice even after getting her hands on a detector to take apart, and both times barely got away."
Well he seems like an unpleasant character, Bruce thought, while Scrapper 142 sarcastically clapped.
"If we got our hands on a new one of the detectors," Elloe asked Bruce, "could you find some sort of way to get around that? You said you're a scientist." Her tone clearly skeptical.
Lyja shifted back to her natural form, and gave Bruce an intent look.
Spreading his hands, he weakly shook his head. "Hypothetically, anything's possible. Yeah, I think I might have enough background to work with it, and test it on Lyia. Her assistance working with advanced tech will be a great help. Except we don't really have a lab or equipment to actually study it."
From Elloe's expression, he could tell she was not very impressed, and figured the same for No-Name. Indeed, given how thanks to Lyja they probably had an idea how relatively primitive Earth was in comparison, they probably figured his scientific background would be too far behind to be of any use. With a sinking feeling, he knew they were now counting more on the Other Guy as muscle, over the muscle that was the brain of Bruce Banner.
Story of his life.
"Scientific equipment, which if stolen, would tip off the Grandmaster about our plan when he learnt about it," remarked Natasha. "I don't suppose you guys know any underground labs? The type that don't want officials snooping around?"
The three slum inhabitants froze, before exchanging various expressions with each other. No-Name twitched in a way Natasha did not recognise the intent of, Lyja's expression implied she felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner, and Elloe's was openly skeptical. "Won't work," declared the last one.
"He's a genius from what I hear," Lyja awkwardly pointed out. "Like, knowing a lot about every field there is. Maybe even the wormholes."
"Uh huh. You mean he was a genius."
"Explain," Natasha softly ordered.
Openly conflicted, Lyja bluntly said, "He's old and his brain's addled from it. Or something. Apparently he still whips up brilliant stuff from time to time, and then forgets what he was talking about the next minute."
"That's why you never went to him about the detectors before?"
"Pretty much. I mean, when I first heard about him, I was too afraid whatever he built would just conk out." Now she looked nervous, "Although, people keep saying his stuff's reliable, so maybe I should've gone to see him sometime after all . . ." she trailed off.
"They probably don't know anything about the wormholes though," Elloe added. "From what the rumours say, they came here deliberately, so they're not trying to leave."
"What?" a confused Bruce asked.
"Trying to get away from their pasts," deduced Natasha, catching the slightest twitch in Scrapper 142's eye, even if she pretended not to notice.
"Precisely."
"Who are they?"
"The old guy and his bodyguard. Not related, but they're the same species, even if I don't recognize them. Although given Camper's worsening condition, they may be more willing now to get off-world," mused No-Name. "Jarael might convince him to help for the right payment, including a guarantee of getting somewhere that may be able to help him."
"Earth will be a great place for him to get better!" cheered Lyja. "It's such an awesome place for people to live!" She tapped her chin, "Although Carol says last she checked, they were still learning about the inherent superiority of women."
On the one hand, that may have been meant as a joke. On the other, I bet this Carol would get along really well with Nat and Pepper, reflected Bruce. "Alright," he grinned. "So we go see Camper to figure out if he knows anything of value, or can at least make us the equipment we need to get past the Skrull detectors to infiltrate."
"Looks like we have a basic plan of action," agreed Natasha, with the rest nodding.
"Just one last thing," Elloe added. "How sure can you guarantee us safety on Earth? Does Fury that the kind of resources?"
"He helps run a major spy organization, so yes," promised Natasha. "Also, we are part of the Avengers, which is an independent team of unusually gifted individuals whose purpose is to protect global stability from inner or extraterrestrial threats," she answered, paraphrasing from the official press releases they had given. Also pointedly omitting the word 'superheroes.'
The others appeared mollified and a bit curious at that. "So you're a type of a law enforcement?" hazarded No-Name.
"Something like that, except we handle what the regular police cannot."
Any further comments were cut off as a massive yawn escaped Bruce, startling the aliens. "Oh, 'scuse me. Sorry. Human reflex for when we're sleepy. It's been a long day. Or two."
Now that the adrenaline had fully died down, exhaustion was suddenly hitting him like a hammer, and as fit as he was, Hulk-benefits aside, he was no longer a young man.
"Of course," assured Elloe, what her parents had taught her about their ancestors' codes of etiquette and hospitality rising within her now. "You are free to stay the night. You're hungry, right? Thought so. Here, it's not much, yet should be edible. Everyone else manages it." It was some sort of solid, fungus, to which she shrugged. "Different mushroom cultures grown on the waste plains," although mushrooms, in Bruce's experience, were not turquoise blue, nor that flat and rough looking, "are the main food source we're able to grow here on Sakaar. Oh, and some water." Then newer life lessons reasserted themselves as she glared at Scrapper 142. "What about her?"
"Give her some food and water too. As for the rest, would you be willing to take shifts keeping guard with this?" asked Natasha, holding up the remote for the Obedience Disc.
Privately, Bruce knew she was using this as a test of character for the others, as well as a gesture of trust. Although no matter how he thought about it, realistically she could not see another alternative. So she was multitasking by merely stating the best solution aloud, while also gauging everybody's reactions. Yes, it might seem paranoid, except they had only just met these people, and it took Nat time to trust others.
The others agreed to sleep in shifts, although their glowering prisoner only leaned her head back against the wall to close her eyes. It had been a long day for her as well, and she still had internal injuries to heal from fighting the Midgardians—hence why she had fared so poorly against the Brood. She needed to rest and recover if she wanted to escape later.
Especially since despite the water she had just drunken, she remained so thirsty.
-(Alien) Sun-
Earth
S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier
Unbeknownst to Bruce, Natasha, or indeed nearly anyone else on or off Sakaar, was how time worked differently there. Haphazardly, in relation to the rest of the universe. Millions of years could fly by on other worlds, while only a dozen seemed to occur amongst all the trash. Two people could enter different wormholes at the same time, only for one to arrive weeks after the other.
In other words, while less than twelve hours had passed for the stranded pair, it had been two whole days back home for their fellow Avengers. An unnerving forty-eight hours without any word from Bruce, Natasha, or even Hulk.
It was Tony Stark who finally said what they did not want to admit. "Something's wrong. Even if they were off for a little hanky-panky, they'd have called in first. Bruce's too earnest not to pop off a message to make sure we're all okay, and she's too much of a soldier not to report in. And that's us pretending they'd ever fly off the handle without first wrapping up a crisis."
"Romanoff's a spy, not a soldier," Fury testily pointed out. However, as much as he hated to admit it, the woman even he regarded as 'The Spy' was too professional to remain silent this long.
Something was seriously wrong.
"Close enough in my books."
"And you have no way to see through your own cloaking technology for their Quinjet?" queried Thor.
"Wouldn't be much good if people could beat it, would it?" Tony sourly retorted. "Although I admit, I'm currently rethinking that policy. Anywho, yeah, so we're all agreed this is way too long for them to be just hiding the zucchini. Even they'd have collapsed and woken up by now."
By long practice from associating with Stark, Fury kept that charming image from forming in his mind.
"Well for now," declared the spy master instead, "let's focus our energies on what we can actually do something about. Stark, your Stark Relief Foundation is already at work, and the media's no longer wanting to crucify the lot of you, including Banner. The public story we're leaking is that his little rampage was the fault of being hit by a special hallucinogen. Once you've all had some shut-eye, we can figure out what we want the Avengers' official version of events to be."
Neither Tony nor Thor were really surprised at how easily Fury had turned things around. The billionaire was long since used to how fickle the fourth estate could be, and as an alien royal, the God of Thunder rarely cared one way or another. Although their egos did appreciate the adulations—if not as blindly as they would have a few years ago.
"What of Loki's Scepter?" queried Thor. While no longer hosting the Mind Stone, finding it remained his mission while on Earth, and what had triggered this catastrophe in the first place. He wanted it off Midgard now, before it caused more havoc. The last it had been seen was in North Korea.
"Some of my agents have it in custody," promised Fury. "It'll be here in a few hours for you to take care of."
"I'll have Heimdall collect it," Thor firmly stated. "I have business here still, but I want it safely away."
Unspoken were his other, ulterior motives for wanting that Scepter, ones he did not even tell these two. As Rogers had remarked, Fury loved his secrets too much, and Stark had damaged the trust between them with his own clandestine studying of the weapon. The fact that he had shortly afterwards gone ahead and repeated himself in creating Vision, despite Thor's own contribution, and how Worthy the being had proven, was just the icing on the poptart. Thor would not tell them how he hoped the Scepter might yield to him answers to certain questions he had. Or even new questions, which he did not yet know needed to be asked.
After all, how had Loki gotten his hands on one of the six Infinity Stones? Originally, before anyone became aware of what was hidden within the Scepter, it was assumed the God of Mischief had conjured it solely through dark sorcery and Chitauri science. Except what were the odds that upon falling from the Bifrost years ago, that Loki had just happened to fall beyond Heimdall's previously All-Seeing Gaze, and just happen upon an Infinity Stone?
No. While Thor lacked Loki's sharp wit, or talent for subtlety and misdirection, he knew there was something more going on. He would also have dearly wished to hear his brother tell him what he thought of the chances that at one point there were three Infinity Stones on Earth! Actually . . . Loki had known this during the crisis with the Dark Elves, when Jane was infected by the Reality Stone –and what were the odds of Thor's girlfriend being there at precisely the right place and time for the proper rift in space to open up to take her to where it was hidden!? Far too many coincidences for Thor's peace of mind.
Alas, his brother had passed on, and not even his silver tongue could be heard from Valhalla. This left his brother's weapon as the only potential clue remaining. Hopefully, taking it to Asgard for study would be of aid.
Meanwhile, Tony did not even have the energy to look abashed by the reminder of how Ultron had been created from him and Bruce studying said Scepter. Nonetheless, both Thor and Fury were well aware that the legendary Iron Man was tearing himself up inside with guilt.
Ultron had been intended to replace the Avengers with something better, and instead the genocidal AI nearly destroyed the world. As it was, dozens were dead here in Sokovia alone.
More blood on his hands.
He had gone from manufacturing weapons that killed US soldiers and innocent civilians, to nearly bringing about total Human extinction. Wonderful. Fantastic. Wow, his parents would be so proud.
He could not do this anymore. Like Pepper wanted, he was quitting before his next attempt to 'help,' actually succeeded in wiping out the planet.
-(Alien) Sun-
New York
"Here's to the Avengers!" crowed Adrian Toomes, hosting a beer bottle in a toast. "May their failures only mount!"
"Here, here!" cried out his employees, throwing back their own drinks.
Already Toomes, a.k.a. the Vulture, head of the most advanced black market weapons company in the world, was planning a target for his next haul. Tony Stark, wanting everybody to forget his latest batch of sins, would bring in Stark Relief Foundation to clean up the mess that was Sokovia. While they were carting away all that fancy robot tech, along with their nifty energy weapons, it would be easy pickings for him to steal away. Again.
Just as well too, since his daughter –bright girl that she was, smarter than him, that's for sure— had been talking with him and his wife at dinner yesterday, about which universities she was choosing between. While she certainly had the brains to get a scholarship anywhere, it would not do for her to go wherever she chose without all the necessary supplies and appropriate outfits. Rich people looked down on you if you did not look rich yourself, so it was a simple way to smooth a few bumps in the road for her.
Oh, he knew for sure Gwen would go far.
-(Alien) Sun-
Sokovia
Outside of Novi Grad
With one final heave of the rubble, Colonel Helmut Zemo was at last able to see his family.
Against everything, he had hoped they had survived. That they were merely unconscious. Conserving their air. That something had shielded them from all the debris.
Staring at the crushed remains of his father, wife, and child, the world passed away until he threw back his head to scream his grief. His loss.
His hate.
The Avengers. The Avengers were supposed to protect them. That was what he had reassured his family.
He had already heard rumours that they were responsible.
Slowly, painfully, he worked to clear away more of the rocks and building materials to fully dig out his family. He would bury them. Get them gravestones.
Then he would go hunting.
The 'Avengers!?' No, that title would be his, as he took his vengeance upon them!
Except, he knew, as his hands lifted pieces off mechanically, they were too strong for him.
If he were to face them head on, that is.
But he knew from his time leading EKO Scorpion that if you wanted people dead, you did not do it to their faces. You did it in the dead of the night. You figured out where they were vulnerable. He would need a plan.
He remembered a few little tidbits he had learnt while doing dirty, though necessary, work for the Sokovian government. How, for instance, certain influential members were secretly part of a rather infamous organisation.
Maybe if he dug deep enough, HYDRA would have something he could use.
-(Alien) Sun-
Elsewhere aboard the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier
"How is she?"
"Kid just collapsed," Clint Barton answered Steve Rogers. Jerking his chin at Wanda Maximoff, laying on one of the field-cots. It was a private room, away from the other Sokovian refugees, yet retained the bare, unfinished appearance of the rest of the helicarrier. Obviously, it was newly constructed, despite Fury alluding to it previously being mothballed. "Ran herself ragged like the rest of us, helping civilians. Mind you, the only reason I'm still standing is lots of coffee, and she passed it up." Given how the teenager mostly grew up on the streets, she was probably unfamiliar with the real strong stuff S.H.I.E.L.D. gave to its agents to keep them moving. Unless you were a super-soldier like his companion here.
Even Steve, however, was showing wear and tear after too many physically and emotionally exhausting battles without sleep.
"She really helped out," complimented Steve.
Neither voiced what they knew had motivated her: Guilt. Loss.
With iron firmness, the archer declared, "She's an Avenger, Cap. You know this. She fought alongside us to stop Ultron and make up for what she's done. Locking her away won't make things better." He knew some people were already planning to do that to her. In all likelihood, it would only make things worse, especially given how the steps necessary to keep her successfully imprisoned would cross a few humanitarian lines the Avengers were usually uncomfortable with. Not to mention, it would leave such a powerful person vulnerable to those who would want her for their own ends.
"I know," agreed Steve. "She's one of us, and we'll take care of her." It might be against the law, but when had Steve cared that much about laws? He took care of his own. Moreover, despite the recent disaster in Johannesburg, the Avengers still had a large amount of international public support, and maybe this would be a good time to cash in on that for once.
He blithely ignored how technically the Avengers were a vigilante group that ignored international borders. Given the degree to which HYDRA controlled the Sokovian government, they certainly had not received permission to enter the country from the start.
"Good to hear," nodded Clint. He hesitated for a moment, before pressing on. "I won't be able to stay and help for long though. My kids are growing up, and all this?" Jerking his chin to indicate in general all the death and insanity of Ultron's making. "Taking it as my hint to get out of the game while I can. Spend my time with those I was fighting for."
"No one can begrudge you wanting to get out of the game. You've done your share. I'm kinda jealous even," confessed Steve.
"Yeah, but," Clint said looking conflicted, "sorry, I'd feel more confident about walking away if I knew Nat was hanging around to keep your guys' heads on straight."
Grimacing now in similar concern, Steve nodded. "No argument. While we may not always agree with each other, we need her and her insight. Banner too. Unfortunately, given how Hulk was flying off, it's possible we pushed him too far. Even though that doesn't explain why she hasn't called either," he hurriedly added when he saw the archer's expression. "Something else must've happened."
Unspoken was the possibility of Hulk hurting Natasha, yet personally Steve doubted it. For all his concerns about the Big Guy when he first met Banner, the fact was the Avengers had fought side by side with him for too long without any 'collateral damage,' to take the threat seriously. Regrettably, at the same time he continued to have no clue as to what could have happened instead.
An awkward pause followed, until Clint added, "Heard Stark saying's he had enough too, even if he'll keep up the funding and new gadgets. When I told Thor I was getting out, he said he had to leave to go hunting for clues in space. Are you guys going to be okay, so shorthanded?"
"There's Vision and Wanda already. I'm pretty sure I can recruit Sam," assured Steve. "Plus Rhodes."
"Careful with that."
"Pardon?"
"Rhodes. He's an active part of the US military, and they're not going to loan him out without strings attached."
Feeling all of his hundred years, Steve rubbed his tired face with one hand. "That sounds like the sorta stuff I'd want Natasha's perspective around for."
"Don't worry," said Clint, clapping the super-soldier on the shoulder. "Wherever she is, she's fine. She'll turn up before you know it. Now go find somewhere to rest, before people see a living legend topple over."
Giving an appreciative nod, the leader of the Avengers walked off to do just that.
Clint waited a few seconds, leaning against the doorframe, before speaking up. "Fun fact: no matter how much you try, you can never truly fake how you look while you're asleep. And no, you didn't fool Cap either. He caught when you woke up while trying to keep still."
Silence, and then Wanda stiffly sat up in her bed. "You're going to let me be an Avenger?" she hoarsely asked. She was afraid she had misheard. That really, they were going to get rid of her some way or another, leaving her with nothing.
Pietro.
"You walked through that door to fight the Ultron drones," Clint's voice blunt, but not unkind. A statement of fact. "Like I said then, you're already an Avenger."
The dam burst, and the tears broke free.
No sobbing though. Even before HYDRA, she and . . . Pietro, had learnt it did nothing except draw unwanted attention.
Slowly, he came up to her, and rubbed her back. "Let it out," he softly said. "Don't bottle it up. Don't forget to breathe though."
Mind spinning, she tried to figure out what the catch was. She wanted to learn from her mistakes, of volunteering for HYDRA's 'offer,' and then Ultron's. "You want me to be an Avenger to keep an eye on me," she weakly accused.
"I am afraid of what you'll do if you're on your own, and left to stew in what you're feeling," he admitted. Total honesty was the best policy in cases like this, as he had proven when he and Nat first met. "There's nothing worse for a person than being trapped with only their own company. It's embarrassing, really, how many terrible mistakes us Avengers've made, and then lashed out at others in pain. Particularly Stark, 'cept you already know something about that probably."
With a sniffle, she took some deep breathes to center herself some more.
"Thing is kid, we're just trying to help people. You don't even have to actually do missions if you don't want to, but you fought alongside us, so we're doing all we can to help you. We owe you that. I owe you that, and I'm not gonna go to the big Pearly Gates in the sky to have your brother tell me I failed to do so."
.
.
.
"Thank you," she finally whispered, a mountain of tension finally lifting from her shoulders.
A part of him wondered if she had peeked into his mind, while the rest of him knew it did not matter. She would have seen that he was there for her. Always.
He owed the punk that. Owed her.
"Get some sleep," he ordered. "Life might not be actually better when you wake up, but you'll be able to cope with it more."
Boneless, she flowed back into the bed. With deft practice, he got her under the blanket and tucked in, and left her in peace. Time to find his own place to crash.
Unfortunately for him, his ex-boss was waiting outside, down the hall, and around the corner from the room. Right out of earshot of Wanda.
Sighing, Clint scratched the back of his head, and said to Fury, "I think she'll be okay, and do a lot of good for the world."
"Well, I've trusted your judgment before, and it worked out nicely," acknowledged the former Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. "I'm just worried about what we need to do to keep her from having a breakdown. Kid's carrying a lot of trauma. Plenty of trust issues too, I'd bet."
"Keep her and Stark away from each other for the time being," deadpanned Clint. "Banner too. Keep it within the Avengers, and those we're close to for now until she gets used to us. Start unpacking all those issues. Honestly, this is just the sort of thing we need Nat for. She'd help Wanda open up and adjust by relating to their similar pasts or something like that. What they did because of terrible circumstances, what they did of their own choice, and what they're doing now to make up for whatever of it they can, and you know all the rest."
"Finding a new purpose from a sympathetic ear," acknowledged Maria Hill, coming up from behind him.
"Let me guess," he drawled. "You were to intercept me if I turned left instead of right, to meet the boss?"
She gave a little grin and ignored his observation. "She'd also have an easier time coping having another woman to talk to. Plus, Romanoff's always been good at telling people what they need to hear to get better."
"'Cept here'd she be doing it to help Wanda," emphasized Clint.
Holding up her hands in apology, Maria ducked her head. "I agree. Doesn't change the fact that we really need her help for this, and she's MIA. And we don't really have anybody else we can trust with something this sensitive. Are you sure you can't stay any longer?"
In answer, he dropped the façade and let her see all the pain and darkness in his eyes. He was done. Hawkeye had to retire before there was nothing left. Oh sure, he would come back if they called up about an alien invasion or whatever. But the rest of it? Clearing out terrorist groups and such? Sokovia was his limit, and no more.
"I understand," she said with a tone to indicate another apology. "Guess it's on me then. I'll try and drop by and do what I can."
"Clint, go home, and do what you need to do," Fury said. Turning back to him, Clint saw nothing but naked respect. "Go enjoy retirement. Maybe come up with some ideas for what the rest of us can do when we finally join you."
"Sounds like a plan," he grinned. He also appreciated how even here, Fury made no mention of his secret family.
"Just let us know if Romanoff shows up at your door or sends you a postcard."
"No promises if she wants to be left alone. She's scarier than Hulk when she wants to be."
"Hah! Don't I know it!" Sobering, Fury quietly asked, "You think she's okay?"
"Who? Nat? With Banner beside her? Don't you worry," swore Clint. "Wherever they are, they're doing just fine!"
-(Alien) Sun-
Sakaar
The room Bruce and Natasha were directed to, was just far enough away for some privacy, while remaining close enough to the others to yell if necessary. Indeed, beneath all the trash and decrepit buildings, Elloe and No-Name's house was a surprisingly large complex. Honestly, Bruce was surprised Lyia did not live with them directly. The space was as cramped and dark as the rest of the place, yet fortunately their gear included a little flashlight Tony had designed. The genius had boasted how even if left stuck on its brightest setting, it would last for six whole months.
By unspoken agreement, they sat side by side, angling themselves so they could see the open doorway, while nobody outside the room could see them inside.
Since their own Earth-based rations would not last forever, and he was basically unkillable, she let him take a few experimental bites of the dried fungus. Fortunately it seemed okay, even if it tasked weirdly like ripe banana. After a silent meal, she said, "I know you're tired, but we've got some stuff to talk about first. Personal stuff."
"Uhm, why? Oh. Right," he nodded, as comprehension set in with a wince. "Because otherwise we won't?"
"And bury it deep down inside, and you have a terrible habit of over-internalizing everything." Unspoken was that he had only recently come to some measure of 'co-habitation' with the Big Guy once he had stopped suppressing his anger, and instead, accepted and embraced it. Now here they were on an alien planet that almost seemed designed to stress him out.
Historically, she wasn't much better. Today she had been falling back on whatever she could to convince herself she had some measure of control. Fortunately, she knew he was intelligent enough to know both sides of what she was doing, and why. Even better, he was supporting her in it.
"Not to mention," she continued, "we've been on the move with all sorts of major events in a short period of time." The warmth and brightness to Natasha's smile surprised even herself, "Like you asking to be my boyfriend."
Blushing, he glanced away, before looking back to match her expression. "At least you said yes," he softly said, to which her lips stretch a little further in silent agreement.
For a few seconds plus eternity they stared at each other before his brain rebooted, and he coughed. "Right. Well," he gave a weak cough, looking embarrassed for a heartbeat, before something settled within him, and he met her gaze with a far more serious expression. "The others are okay, right?" he asked. Earlier they had discussed how they knew at least the Avengers had stopped Ultron's doomsday weapon from exterminating Humanity, but they knew nothing about their teammates themselves. The genocidal robot's forces may have been on the ropes, but he was still highly dangerous.
"Better be," she said with her usual sardonic wit. "Although at least we're fortunate we don't have to worry about the two of us repopulating the species."
Despite the seriousness of the situation, his lips twitched briefly at her dark humour. It was also interesting to see her referring —even privately— to her own sterility, given how painful it was for her. Trying to move past it? In respect for what she was doing, he tried his own line. "Tony's ghost would still be telling us to try."
Smirking, she nodded. Deep down though, both of them were filled with the same indomitable purpose: to get back home.
Oh, yes, they had both made convincing arguments earlier on how their friends would have won against Ultron, yet that did not mean they were not burning to see it in person and know they had saved the day.
Aside from all the people who already died during the fighting, she darkly knew.
"Well, we'll have quite the story to tell 'em when we get back." His lips quirked into a smile that reminded her a bit too much of when she first met him (ambushed him really) in a certain shack, years ago—ironic and grim as he contemplated his life. "You know, there we were, talking about running away from it all, and now we're farther away than we'd ever imagined, trying our hardest to get back."
Smirking, she lightly elbowed him. "Yes, but imagine being able to rub it in Stark's face that we got to step foot on an alien planet before him!"
The image of his Science Bro's reaction stole a laugh out of Bruce, and minute tension eased from his shoulders. Not actually relaxed, yet still progress. "Oh, he'll be insufferable! He'll probably just ask Thor to take him to party on Asgard without the rest of us. Or he'll start building—" Choking off that last thought, he sobered up to address one of the most major issues between them. "I should start with Ultron, I guess." Despite how he was no longer as cheerful, a part of her was glad to see the resolve in his eyes. When Steve and Thor had confronted him and Stark over the genocidal AI they had accidentally created, he had been much more apologetic and submissive. Although as he had said at the time, having recently and accidentally created a 'murderbot,' it was not a good time to act like, well, Stark. Now though, it seemed like he was willing to discuss it more, without Stark's emotion-fueled dramatics.
"You wanted to protect the world," she said, helping him along. "Goodness knows, we got lucky against Loki and the Chitauri."
"Exactly. A single alien attack was one thing, yet less than a year later we have the Dark Elf Invasion. Once again, it came down to luck and last-minute timing. Afterwards, once we saw the news and JARVIS filled us in, Tony didn't even really have to try and convince me we needed a better system. That we could build it."
"Except you guys never really talked to the rest of us about it," she neutrally reminded him. "I get where you're coming from, but if this is going to work between us, if we are going to work, you can't keep secrets like that." Her lips twitched in self-depreciation, "In turn, I'll learn to do the same."
"My mistakes tend to be bigger," he gloomily noted.
"Why turn to artificial intelligence though?" she wondered. "For all that Stark's a control freak, he could've found a way to give volunteers, all vetted by him, their own Iron Man suits or something."
He shook his head. "You really don't understand how advanced JARVIS is. Was. He was already basically running Tony's entire company, one of the most successful in the world, along with a squadron of weaponized drones."
"Yes, I should have realized where he was planning to go, when he introduced the Iron Legion." All told, failing to realize that a man like Stark would not stop with only a handful of drones, was bordering on criminal negligence.
"And when Ultron 'woke up,' as you will, JARVIS faked his death, and kept Ultron, supposedly the more powerful AI, from firing off all the world's nukes to kill us all like that. Through it all he remained . . . a good person." He was sounding much more confident when he was addressing science. "The theory was sound. Plus, like Tony said, Ultron shouldn't have activated like that. We weren't even close to an interface." Taking a breath, he firmly said, "I'm very and sincerely sorry about not telling you guys sooner, but other than that, I really don't understand what went wrong. How he could have activated on his own like that."
Deciding that was enough for now on that topic, she tried something else. "What's the story with Vision?"
Briefly he summarised the events of Vision's 'birth,' including how the Avengers had briefly come to blows over it.
"The fun I miss when I'm locked up," she deadpanned. "Well that explains that. Also, how the Maximoff kids ended up with you."
Something dark flashed in his eyes, and she could empathize. Wanda Maximoff had completely shredded whatever sense of self-confidence Bruce had regained since joining the Avengers; his belief that he was more than just a monster. Fortunately, for all he might get angry at people, he was not one to hold grudges. Or at the very least, he never held one long against a certain super-spy. "I think we'll have to play it by ear when we get back," she cautioned. "From what you're saying, it sounds like they feel they made a terrible mistake, a lot of mistakes, and now want to make up for it. Something we can relate too. All the Avengers can relate too."
With a harsh sigh, he shook his head. "More unstable chemicals in the mixture."
Knowing he was talking about himself as much as the Avengers, and seeing the growing tightness in his form, she leaned over to rest her shoulder against his. "It's alright," stroking her fingers against one of his wrists like she did with Hulk for the Lullaby, "we'll get through this, and get back home."
Closing his eyes, he slipped into a meditative state he had developed, and taking a deep breath, he released it and all his tension. For now.
There really was an intimidating amount of stress and anger in the man, although people rarely realised it, given the degree to which he channeled it. Usually, towards science. Regardless, it vindicated her decision to push for this conversation.
Feeling his pulse stabilized, she brought up a more pleasant subject. "Don't forget, you and the others also got to meet Laura and the kids."
(Who were okay, along with everybody else. They had to be.)
"Rare privilege, that."
Smiling in memory, Bruce nodded.
Suddenly she gave a pained wince. "Oh. In terms of keeping secrets, if they're not mine . . ." she trailed off awkwardly. She really was trying to break that habit of keeping secrets from him.
"It's okay," he waved it off. "I trust you with that. After all, Clint had a right to his privacy there."
"Thanks." Deep down, a part of her briefly whispered, But what about your suspicions, strong ones, that the friend Steve's so desperately looking for was brainwashed into killing Stark's parents? Can you trust him to handle a secret like that?
Worry about that later, asserted her more pragmatic self.
"Meeting Clint's family really was amazing. I can see why he'd want to keep them safe," Bruce went on. It had also put to rest any insecurities that there might be anything . . . more between Nat and Clint. Not after the way he had seen how the archer interacted with his wife. "He's pretty lucky to have that life," he whispered.
"We might not be able to have the exact same," promised Natasha, "but we can have something special. Together."
"Like what?" he asked a little hoarsely. "For you, there'll always be the mission. Don't get me wrong, that sense of duty is one of your best qualities. It's a big reason why we've gotten this far. It's just—"
"What will I do instead?" she cuts him off with a knowing smirk.
"Uhm, yeah."
"Well, as tempting as playing housewife, or doing charity work from home might sound, I don't really see myself doing that. It would only end badly, and in so many different ways. So instead I'm wondering about following around a certain, caring, generous doctor, as he goes around helping people. Like he did before, following a little girl to a certain shack in Calcutta?"
He paused in thought. "That might be the closest we'd get to a normal life," he confessed. Mirth lit up his eyes. "Can I see your resume?" he joked.
"I can speak or learn any language you can name, expert at emergency and improvised first aid—"
"I was trying to forget the time when you turned up with dental floss for stitches, thank you very much."
"Well, it worked, and that's what matters. Especially when I had my dorky doctor to patch me up properly."
"Nat."
"Fine, fine! Anyways, I can do all that. I'm a wicked bodyguard, and I have Steve Rogers as a character reference. Oh, and Nick Fury too."
"You almost had me until that last one."
Throughout this little exchange, their faces slowly grew closer together, until in a blink their lips met. It was only their second kiss, except this one was not as desperate and rushed as it was when Ultron's doomsday weapon was literally looming over them.
Hands rose up to feel each other, reassuring that the other was there, drinking in their warmth.
Eventually they had to come up for air though, resting their foreheads against each other.
"I adore you," she breathed out.
Chuckling a little, Bruce returned, "Same here." However, he knew that deep down, no matter how much she denied it to even herself, she remained insecure about their relationship. How did he know? Because he felt the same way.
Intellectually, each of them saw themselves on some level as broken, and the other as someone who fortunately understands them and makes them better. Generally speaking, not a healthy personal image or relationship choice, because the other person should care for you the way you are. Except in this situation, it seemed to work since they both felt that way. Bruce knew that Nat was an incredible woman, whose guilt and other personal issues prevented her from seeing it, and he wanted to help her understand that of her own volition. He also accepted the parts of her which wrongly hurt her self-esteem so much. He also knew she was trying and convince him of the same
"I changed my mind," he said. "For getting off of an alien world, I'd choose you over Tony, ten times out of ten."
Something sparkled in her eyes, and it made him happy to know she appreciated, and more importantly believed, his words. "I dunno, I'm sure you could do better."
"Never."
She gazed at him for a few heartbeats, before pulling back, even if her hands remained in his. "Getting out of here, Bruce . . . it's probably going to get pretty nasty."
"I know."
"Worse than usual. In a place like this, innocents are probably going to be hurt. Even if we're just walking down the street."
His grin turned a little lopsided, "Wish Cap were here now for a pep talk."
That brought her smile back. "What'd I do to deserve you?" she asked, while shifting to lean beside him again, still holding tight to him.
"You're a better person than you think you are," smiled Bruce.
"Oh?" she retorted, and even with her face lying beside his, he could hear the skeptical eyebrow.
"Yes," he assured. "You can go all serious and cold-blooded, but you're no longer the spy you used to be. You're not the type of person to sacrifice one person to save millions or billions. You're the kind of person to sacrifice all you've got to save that one person, and the billions. More importantly, you're good enough to do it. You're an Avenger, more-so than I."
Bruce did not know the full story of her past —he had not even read the dumped S.H.I.E.L.D. files, respecting her privacy— nevertheless, he knew enough.
The KGB had taken a little girl with the intention of breaking her. Remaking her. He knew deep down that 'Natalia Alianovna Romanoff' was not her real birth name, because a name implied an identity. An identity was superfluous and distracting, since their goal was to turn her into a dull-eyed, hard-faced, yet beautiful woman, who could effortlessly put on masks of joy, fear, sorrow, and love to the world around her. Who would kill without feeling a thing, because she was deliberately taught that both she and other people had no value aside from their contribution to the cause. As the final step, she was indoctrinated to obey every order without question.
Obviously, they had failed.
A small part of her, mangled, mutilated even, tattered and bloody, dishonoured and frail, had survived. Survived to patiently grow and mature as time went by, slowly if surely. A part that knew enough of right and wrong that it wept at what she was doing . . . and whose whispers ultimately led her to reject the K.G.B. A part of her which rejected HYDRA when she learnt they were secretly in charge of S.H.I.E.L.D., and resented how they had tainted her quest to redeem her past actions.
To this day, Bruce did not know if Clint had seen a glimpse of this when he had chosen to save Nat over killing her as ordered, yet he knew it was not his business to ask. That remained between the two spies, as it should be. Nevertheless, the archer had shown Nat how to relearn what it meant to be Human, growing stronger with each day, until when S.H.I.E.L.D. fell and she lost all of her 'masks,' there was more to the real woman at her core than she had initially believed possible.
He also strongly suspected Nat had been rather mortified once she, someone who so prided herself on being self-aware, finally started to realise this truth about herself. Although he dared not imagine what Nat must have gone through to reach such an epiphany.
. . . Or if she even consciously understood it yet.
-(Alien) Sun-
By sheer force of will, Natasha hid how strongly Bruce's words affected her.
Him, Clint, Fury, Hill, the rest of the Avengers— it mattered more than she could put into words to know there were people who knew precisely what she had done in life, what kind of person she had been, and still fully and utterly accepted her.
Bruce, this impossible man, had wormed his way into her life. Throughout her earlier life, and even today, she found that what most men and women wanted above all else was to be the smartest and strongest person in the room, lording it above everyone else. Except here was a guy who already was all that, humbly struggling to accept his strength and intelligence, while caring more about helping people—including those people generally overlooked (forgotten) by the rest of society. Trying to make up for the harm the Other Guy did, which he blamed himself for.
If she got involved with somebody like Steve, or another fighter, her life would be endless violence until inevitably she was unable to avoid the Grim Reaper; her sense of responsibility would allow no less. With Bruce though, she was willing to believe they could have a life where they could make a difference in other ways.
He was still a huge dork of course, what with all the flattery. Not that she was going to tell him to stop.
She knew it was impossible, especially after Sokovia, to promise to never let him down again. But she did vow to herself that one way or another, she would never fail working her hardest to live up to his image of her.
Who knew? He might even be right.
"Sweet talker," she purred, cozying up against him.
Only to belatedly catch herself relaxing too much. Straining her ears, she made sure they were still being left alone, and sat up straighter. "You should get some sleep," she reminded him. "Especially since we have a shift later, watching Scrapper 142." Although she would be sure he got twice as much sleep as her.
"Right," he agreed, eyelids already starting to droop. "Night."
"Night. Don't dream too much of me," she teased.
"Don't whisper naughty suggestions to my subconscious while I sleep," he managed to shoot back, before drifting off.
"Spoilsport," she whispered, before turning to her vigil.
~~To Be Continued…~~
Author Notes:
For those of you unhappy to see Zemo, I acknowledge up-front that you have reason to be.
On first glance he appears to be a genius mastermind who causes the Avengers to destroy themselves from within. However when you stop to think about it, then you realize that his whole plan only succeeded thanks to a ton of coincidences working in his favour, including how the Avengers could have easily made different decisions to throw him off. Not to mention the fact we are supposed to believe that a single man, and former member of an impoverished East European nation's kill squad, and without any real resources, was able to discover and decrypt certain crucial S.H.I.E.L.D. files . . . which neither JARVIS, nor the major intelligence agencies of the world, managed to find during the years following Black Widow uploading them on the internet?
No.
This version of Zemo will have a lot more believable plan, and any success will not be centered largely on good fortune. Also, I am planning for the AU Ripple Effect to start changing things a lot more, to the point we stop following the Captain America: Civil War script.
.
Some of you may recognize the names Camper and Jarael from Star Wars. Specifically, the Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic comic series by John Jackson Miller. I never played the video game by the same name myself, but I really enjoyed this story.
Without giving away any spoilers, Camper and Jarael had stuff in their pasts they wanted to get away from, leading them to go live on a planet on the very edge of the Old Republic, and hunker down in a section of the Lower City that was nothing except rubble, trash, and refuse. Jarael kept them safe, while Camper earned them a living fixing stuff, or smuggling people off-planet with pods he developed. Given their preferences, I could easily see them coming to Sakaar to escape, and they are useful characters to import for various reasons.
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Next Chapter: 'Just a Simple Stroll'
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Please Review, and I will get back to you!