Updated: 11/27 – Reworked from where Stark comes in. SolarBlaster and JauneBrando gave some good critique, and I hope this band-aid suffices. I'm probably going to do my Warp foray still too early for your tastes, but I have my reasons. Post-Warp, we'll get into the crux of the material, probably.
Chapter 4
015.M3, Holy Terra, New York, Queens, 31 October
Sam had reported to Kasia and Linux the opportunity he had gained. Kasia had nodded in affirmation, voicing how she thought it would be a good way for them to continue learning about these people – their ancestors, if it were to be believed.
"Costume, he said?" Kasia asked the young Guardsman.
"Yes – he said to wear a costume," Sam said.
Kasia harrumphed. "Well, you'll be representing the Imperial Guard and the Emperor. It's only right that you wear your best. Come. Show me your gear. I want to be sure everything's in order."
Obediently, Sam led her to the little nook in the apartment that was his bunk. His bed was made, the sheets stretched so taut over the mattress that a coin could bounce – all according to regulation. But his Commissar ignored the perfect display, instead honing into his gear, both what he was wearing and what was displayed on the sheets. She frowned, serious, as she inspected him. Sam was wearing the standard Cadian uniform: tunic shirt, trousers, and boots. His helmet, gasmask, lasgun, autopistol, jacket and flak armor were displayed on his bed with his other regulation equipment. His combat knife was discretely secured to his person. Commissar Poltava reviewed the gear. Her aquiline eyes scoured every item, noting every scratch, every mark that marred the perfection of the Imperial equipment. Sure, they'd come from battle, but they'd been here for one whole Throne-damned month. Sam stood at a steady parade rest as she inspected the buttons upon his jack and tunic and the laces upon his boots.
Standing back upright, Kasia spoke. "Launder you uniform and polish your boots. They're filthy." She pointed to the golden double-headed eagles that adorned his gear. "Polish your Aquilas. They must shine when you go out tonight. Wear your jacket; the flak armor may be a bit much, and do make sure you keep your vox-bead on."
Sam quickly saluted his Commissar with a quick Sign of the Aquila before adopting a more at ease position.
"Oh, and Trembley? Go to the Tech Priest. He has something for you," Kasia said before departing back to the business she'd been attending.
Sam then made his way to the Tech Priest's portion of the apartment. The apartment consisted of two bedrooms, a common area, kitchen and bathroom. Kasia and Linux had each purposed a bedroom for their own purposes, leaving Sam with a little corner of the common room to call his own. What he had called his bunk was actually a sleeper sofa – every night he would haul it out and set it up, and in the morning, he would return it to a sofa. It was something that Kasia and Linux had found while he was at work. He didn't know where they'd gotten it from – it wasn't the most comfortable thing, and the lumpiness of the thin mattress made him contemplate sleeping on the floor, but he was still grateful to them both for providing him with the luxury of a bed. The rest of his gear he kept in his rucksack, neat and contained. Kasia's room was not too dissimilar to his own. Again, Kasia and Linux must have found a bedframe and mattress from somewhere. Besides her gear and the bed, though, it was still very spartan.
Linux's room, however, was different. Although they hadn't come with much, Linux had tasked himself on scavenging for any sort of electronics or devices he could. He'd converted some of their supplies into a solar charger and had wires running from it to a plethora of devices and locations. They had light in their humble little apartment because Linux had tapped into the electrical wires of their flat and connected the charger into the system. All blessed, following the proper chants and forms. It would not due to invite any heretek into their dwelling.
Sam gave a light rap on the worn door of Linux's room, more out of courtesy than anything. Although it wasn't much pressure, the door swung open, the rusty hinges emitting a small squeak as it continued its swing. At the noise, the tech priest stopped what he was doing, straightening his body as he turned to face Sam.
"Private Samuel Trembley," Linux acknowledged in his quick, mechanical voice.
"Enginseer Linux," Sam replied in turn. "The Commissar said you had something for me?" Sam asked, almost hesitantly.
Linux bobbled his head, turning quicker than one would think the strange body capable, and his metal limbs gently enclosed around something before turning and approaching Sam. Two of his mechadendrites were busy doing something to the ball of white that was caged in his hands.
"You will take Grace-Hopper with you," the tech priest said, releasing a skull from his hands. The servo-skull floated up into the air before settling into hovering over Sam's shoulder.
"This mission will be an opportunity to learn. While you experience, Grace-Hopper will record your notes. It will record your spoken word when prefaced by "Grace-Hopper."" At that, the little arms on the skull swung forward, pen dipping into a well of ink and paper presenting itself to be written on.
"End," Linux had said just as promptly, and the skull returned to a restful hover. "If you desire, you can instruct the skull to create a rudimentary sketch of an area or object by reciting the activation name. When you do not require the skulls' service, it may be dismissed by stating "End" as I have done previous," Linux finished.
Sam was speechless. He didn't quite know what to expect when Poltava has told him that the Tech Priest had something to give him. He hadn't expected such an honor. Although the servo-skull was not crafted from the skull of any great Martyr or Saint of the Imperium, and although lacking in gold and jewel ornamentation – here, Linux had made due with brass and colored glass, still expertly honed to beautify the skull – the mere fact that he, a Private, would be deemed worthy of receiving a servo-skull was a tremendous, nigh inconceivable honor.
"Enginseer Linux… This, this is truly an honor. I shall endeavor to utilize it to its fullest capabilities!" Sam said, filled with gratefulness.
"You may keep that one. I only request more materials. Incense, skulls, parchment, raw components," the Tech Priest replied offhandedly, gesturing idly with an organic limb. His oculars drifted down toward the boy's legs. "Are they alright? I can perform the rite of calibration before you go," Linux offered as Sam was preparing to leave.
"Actually, it has been a while. If it's not too much trouble for you?"
"I have what I need. Remove your boots and trousers and lay on your sofa. There's more space for the rite there."
Sam nodded as he obediently went to expose his prosthetics for the tech priest to work, the little servo-skull idly following behind.
Michelle and Ned had agreed to meet up at Pete's apartment after school to finish getting ready for the evening. Aunt May had spent the day preparing all sorts of tasty treats and spooky snacks for the teens, as well as decorating the apartment to give it the Halloween spirit. Little plastic skulls and pumpkins sat along the windowsill, their little battery-operated candles flickering rhythmically. She had created a variety of finger foods, from homemade salsa and little mini bagel pizzas to a little vegetable spread arranged like a colorful jack-o-lantern.
After they'd eaten and changed into costumes, the trio thanked Aunt May as they headed out the door and toward to the cemetery.
"I'm just saying, I think this is a good chance for us to get to know them," Pete said as they walked along Kew Gardens Road.
"Pete, you said yourself weeks ago that they were fugitives," Michelle retorted.
"Yeah, but when Ned and I ran into the kid earlier this week, I felt like we had a connection or something."
Michelle crossed her arms as they walked. "Why didn't you just send them to a shelter or direct them to the authorities?"
"I tried, but after they fled from the hospital, they completely fell off the grid for me. Plus, I wasn't too sure how well the authorities would work. I'm pretty sure they'd be considered illegal immigrants," Peter mused.
"Okay, so they're not from here. If they really were threats, shouldn't you have tried to get the Avengers or someone involved?" Michelle asked.
"We tried. Mr. Stark shut me down, and no one else would take my calls," Ned said.
"Still, they've been learning English. The kid – Sam – at least he can somewhat follow what we're saying," said Pete.
Michelle raised an eyebrow at that.
"Give him a chance – he's never heard of Halloween, so I'm hoping we might be able to learn a little more about him as we take him around town. Find out what it's like where he's from," Pete said.
"Okay, well, where did you say he was from?"
"Oh, uh… Canada?" Pete shot a look at Ned, who also furrowed his brows. "It started with a C and sounded a lot like Canada. But I guess it's also really far away."
"Really? You couldn't even bother to remember the name of the place they say they're from?"
"The kid was in the hospital! And two of them couldn't speak English before I saw Sam again!" Pete said.
Just then, fabric rustled and Peter saw movement out of the corner of his eye.
"Oh!" Peter exclaimed, realizing that they'd already reached the iron gate of the cemetery. Sam must have been leaning by the wall, waiting for them as promised. When they approached, Sam had stood and clicked his heels together while folding his hands in a particular way over his chest. It was a deliberate action – perhaps a salute of some kind?
Inwardly, Pete groaned. Sam was dressed in something similar to what he'd found him in. Boots were laced up smart and polished to a shine, their heels met with a small "click" as Sam brought them together to present himself. Above that were sturdy looking trousers, a tunic shirt and jacket done up smartly, the buttons shining in the fading daylight, leather strap securing a strange looking gun to his shoulder, and a sturdy helmet sat upon the kid's head. It was the emblem on the helmet, and, indeed, on every button and even the gun, that gave the three of them pause. It was a double-headed eagle.
"Ave, Peter, Ned, and…?" Sam greeted them, the words still somewhat clumsy from his tongue.
Michelle shot Peter a 'seriously?' look, as she plastered a smile onto her face. Definitely some sort of military nut job, but she'd give him the benefit of the doubt for Pete. "Hi, I'm Michelle. I'm in Pete's class," she said, giving a little friendly wave.
A small smile flicked across Sam's face. "Michelle – well met. I am Private Samuel Trembley of Cadia. Call me Sam," he said, hesitantly returning the wave.
As Sam returned the wave, a glint of light caught Michelle's eye. Then she saw it: a floating skull. A look of horror slowly crossed her features. This was something just too weird to ignore. She nudged Ned and made a little gesture at the thing. Sam seemed to notice the gesture and he looked over his shoulder.
"Ah, yes. This is Grace. Enginseer Linux gifted it to me," Sam said, answering their unspoken question.
The three friends exchanged a glance.
"Is… Is that a real skull?"
"How is it floating?"
"What does it do?" They all asked at once.
Sam blinked, trying to understand the different questions.
"Could you repeat those questions slower for me?" Sam asked, "I do not speak English very well."
"Is-" "How did you get it to float in the air like that?" Peter asked, cutting off Ned.
"Enginseer Linux created a… a…" Sam said something in low Gothic, "I am sorry, I do not know how to say it in English."
"I guess that'll remain a mystery to us – at least until Mr. Stark sees it," Peter remarked.
"Okay, then what does it do?" Michelle asked.
"It is a," Sam said another term in low Gothic. "Enginseer Linux gifted it with small… cogitators so it can do one task. This one writes. When I ask, Grace will write what I speak, or what I ask it to record."
Michelle looked the floating skull over and noted the mechanical arms sprouting from it. Sure enough, there appeared to be some paper and a stylus. She furrowed her brows. "Why not just record the audio? Or, you know, why not just use a phone?"
"A what?" Sam blinked.
Michelle pulled her smartphone out of the small bag she took with her and held it up. "A cellphone. You use it to make phone calls, browse the internet take pictures, record videos," she rattled off. She watched Sam's eyes widen with awe.
Sam muttered something to himself in low Gothic, before splaying his hands over his chest. "Lost technology," he said in English, almost reverently. "Enginseer Linux would kill to look at it again. In the Imperium, things like that," Sam gestured at the smartphone, "don't exist. The ways to make them were lost, but the Adeptus Mechanicus spend their lives searching. This," he gestured back to the floating servo-skull, "is one of the results. Well, also that the Adeptus Administratum enjoys paperwork," he finished somewhat more casually.
"So the skull – is it real?" Ned finally asked.
"Of course. This one – I am unfamiliar with who she was in life, but her marker said she was a "beloved mother." Engineseer Linux christened this skull with the name of one of the great Cult Saints," Sam said in reply.
"Um, yeah, I think that just raised more questions than you answered," Ned said.
"How so?"
"Dude, you think converting a dead persons' skull into some weird floating robot is normal!" Ned said.
"I did not say it was normal. Only the greatest servants of the Imperium can hope for such an honor," Sam replied.
"Dude, that's weird," Ned retorted.
"ANYHOW," Peter said, raising his voice, "we can walk and talk. We need to get into one of the neighborhoods if we want to take Sam Trick-or-Treating or make it to the party in time."
At those words, Sam perked up. This was one of the things he was out for.
"Grace Hopper, record the conversation between Private Samuel Trembley, Peter, Ned, and Michelle," Sam commanded the servo-skull in low Gothic. The little skull responded promptly, its metal arms swinging to its front, bring up some paper and preparing its stylus.
"Peter, how does one do this Trick-or-Treat?" Sam asked. He noted how the shorter, rounder boy – Ned – was ogling Grace Hopper, his expression something of a morbid fascination. Michelle, too, was stealing glances as the little skull began writing, but she at least made an attempt to be more discrete.
"Well, all the kids in a community get dressed up into costumes – sometimes they're scary monsters, other times they're heroes or faeries or animals – and they go door to door and shout "Trick or Treat!" and the adults who live there give them candy," Peter began, giving Sam a glance. Peter breathed in sharply, his eyes going wide in realization. "Ned!" he said, glancing back at his friend, "We forgot to tell him to bring a bag!"
Michelle snorted before reaching into her purse. "I had a feeling something like this would happen. Here," she said, holding out an extra bag to Sam, "I brought extras. Pete can't plan things to save his life."
"I can, too!" Peter retorted.
"Really? So were you planning on not having Sam get candy?"
"No, this was just… a small oversight. In my defense, I was trying to buy groceries for Aunt May!" Peter said.
"So these costumes," Sam asked, trying to get back on the topic of Halloween and Trick-or-Treating. Grace Hopper was still recording, after all. "Do they have a significance?"
"Oh, yeah. Some people dress up as people they want to emulate. Superheroes can have powers and often go about "saving the world," and all that. Other times, when people dress up as monsters, sometimes it's to poke fun at their fears, but most of the time it's to scare their friends," said Peter.
"But why would you want to be scared?" Sam asked.
"Well, some people think it's fun."
Sam shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense. Why would you put yourself in danger like that?"
"What do you mean, "danger?" The worst that happens is someone slaps you in the face and we all have a good laugh," Pete replied.
"Out on the line, everyone's always on edge. You'd be, too, if you knew relaxing your guard for even a moment could mean the end of you and the… planet – yes! Planet you're standing on."
The smiles on the trio's faces disappeared. Michelle's eyes slipped to Sam's lasgun he currently had slung over his shoulder. Sam could sense the unease of the three around him.
"That is life where I'm from. The enemies of mankind are everywhere, always waiting for the chance to attack. Sometimes, they're Xenos – aliens, I think you call them. Other times, they're Daemons – spawns of the Gods of Chaos. And sometimes, it's from your own battle-brother, a heretic – one who gives up his trust in the Emperor in favor of… something else."
"Man, that's rough. So, like, what's up with the gun? You said you were a private, but you're, like, what? 18?" Ned asked incredulously.
"I'm 17 Terran years, and it's because I'm Cadian," Sam replied.
"Dude, that's not even legal, and just repeating that "I'm Cadian" means nothing to us. We don't even know where Cadia is!" said Ned.
"Was."
"What do you mean, "Was?"" Peter asked.
"There was a battle in the system near the Eye of Terror – a dangerous area, the enemy always near. It was the Imperium against the Forces of Chaos. Now, Cadia only exists here," Sam replied, putting a hand over his heart.
"Can't you guys just march back over and take it back?" Ned asked.
"No," Sam said, shaking his head. "The planet – it does not exist but in we who yet live." He took a breath. "Also, weren't you to show me how this "Trick-or-Treating" is done?" Sam asked, abruptly changing the topic.
"Oh! Well," Peter quickly looked around, searching for an apartment where the porch lights were on. "Ah! There! Come on!" he said, grabbing Sam's arm and leading him to a house. Ned and Michelle followed them.
They filed up the stairs to the stoop where a woman sat. She was dressed in tattered rags, and the grey hair in a wild mane about her head was crowned by an equally tattered conical hat.
"Grace Hopper, record this interaction," Sam ordered the servo-skull floating by him, whispering in low Gothic in an attempt to be discrete. It was still recording from the previous conversation, but it proceeded to take notes of the being seated on the stoop.
"Trick-or-Treat~!" Peter, Ned, and Michelle all said together, their tones a lighthearted jest. Sam was mute as he observed, despite standing in the middle of their group.
The woman cackled, "Oh, what have we here, my pretties?" Her gaze darted between the four. "Spider-man, a Jedi, a witch, and a silent soldier? Come here, come here!" She beckoned them closer with a gnarled hand, holding up what looked like a metal cauldron. As Sam drew nearer and her ugly, green visage became more clear to him, he reached a hand to his lasgun. Peter, seeming to detect his unease, put a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, it's okay. She's gonna give us candy," Peter whispered to Sam, trying to steel his nerves.
Sam furrowed his brows, and made a small gesture at the woman in disgust. "But she's a mutant! We had the power to end her existence!" Sam replied in equally hushed tones.
"No, come one, put the gun down and just take the candy, I'll tell you more later," Peter said, giving Sam a small nudge toward the monstrous woman.
"Eheheheh!" The woman cackled, appearing to have either not heard or chose to ignore their quiet conversation. "Come here, soldier-boy! What do you have to say?"
Sam's lips drew together tightly. Reluctantly, he proffered his bag and said "Trick or Treat."
"There's a good boy," the woman said, dropping several candies into his bag. "Keep safe tonight! Who knows what devils are prowling about tonight! Eheheheh!" she laughed.
Sam and the other three beat a hasty retreat from the woman. Once they were a safe distance from the house, Sam turned on them, his voice thick with anger. "How could you do that?"
"Woah, calm down, dude," said Ned.
"It's only a costume," said Michelle. "Just like me. She just painted her skin green to look more like a "Wicked Witch of the West.""
"But why? Why would you play at not being human?" Sam asked heatedly.
"Sam, calm down. Remember what I said earlier about people dressing up in costumes to have a good time?" Peter said, waiting for Sam to nod. "Well, she's just another adult here out to have a good time. Look: the kids who're getting candy from her are having so much fun."
True enough, delighted screams could be heard as a group of younger children fled from the "witch," their bags filled with more candy from her. A young knight put on a brave face, but turned bashful when the woman gave her more scrutiny.
"Alright – can we move on now?" Peter asked, pointedly looking at everyone.
As Ned and Michelle nodded and voiced their affirmative, their little group began walking again.
Sam breathed, trying to calm his anger. He looked to the servo-skull hovering by his head. "Note: The humans here routinely participate in a Holiday which condones the Xenos and Mutant heretics. Private Samuel Trembley believes such practices makes this era on Holy Terra more vulnerable to Daemons," he bit in low Gothic irritably. If he was documenting heretical proceedings, he was going to do all he could to distance himself from it. No way was he going to give the Commissar any reason to off him just yet.
"Hey, you know that's really rude," Michelle said, interrupting Sam from his thoughts.
"What?" Sam asked, genuinely unaware.
"Speaking in a foreign language when there's other people who don't speak it," she answered.
"I told you earlier: I am recording this. I am making notes about this "Hallo-ween,"" Sam replied.
They'd turned down a little alley – a shortcut of Peter and Ned.
"Okay, we'll hold off on the trick-or-treating for the rest of tonight. And maybe we'll cross "haunted house" off the list, too," Peter said, the faintest tone of disappointment in his voice.
"What about the party?" Ned suggested. "Do you think he'll still be okay with a costume party?"
"Honestly, Ned, I don't – " Peter was cut-off mid-sentence as the wall in front of them blew open. Immediately, Sam dove behind a mound of garbage – it was the closest bit of cover he'd seen in this alley – and unshouldered his gun. Whatever to appear once the dust settled, he wanted to be ready for it.
Upon looking for the other three, he noted that Ned had curled up to defend himself from the flying bricks while Peter used his own body as a shield to protect Michelle.
As the dust settled, a malicious laughter echoed through the alley. Sam tensed as the figure walked through the dust, its monstrous purple form coming into view. He urgently spoke into his vox-bead. «Requesting immediate assistance! Daemon sighted! Civilians in the area!»
Peter turned to find the source of the explosion. Was it a gas leak? A terrorist? Something else? As he surveyed his surroundings, he saw Sam behind cover and ready for a fight. Ned was getting back to his feet and Michelle was safe. And then he heard the footsteps.
The form that calmly revealed itself was not human. Its skin was a soft purple and its form was svelte. It was hermaphroditic, one well-form breast covered by a black carapace-like armor and the other muscular pectoral exposed. He was almost taken in by the beauteous horror of it, at least until he noticed its limbs. Its legs were digitigrade talons, dark and glistening. Its arms ended as massive claws – things that could only bring pain.
"Oh~! What a delightful time this is!" It exclaimed as it laid its black eyes on Peter. Its voice was as nothing as he'd ever heard before. It was playful and sultry, yet with a grating undertone. He wanted to rip his ears out, just as he willed it to keep talking forever.
"Your emo–"
CRACK!
"Ah!" The daemonette shrieked in masochistic pleasure as the lasgun round tore through its leg. It wheeled to the source of the round in time for another shot to tear through its hip. Its lips curled in a perverted smile, baring its sharp teeth. "Oh, oh, oh! An orphan of Cadia!" it teased. "I can taste your desire to dance with me!" it said. In a beat, it twisted and writhed as if there was some music that no one else could hear. It danced quicker than the eye could follow and ensconced Sam in its tainted claws, its tainted blood staining his trousers.
"Mmm, yes~!" it said as its tongue flicked out of its mouth and licked Sam face. Sam used his helmeted head to head-butt the daemonette, getting it off him.
Reacting more out of instinct than anything, Peter flung several webs at the creature. Its torso, then its claws and legs were forced to the wall, held in position by the sticky material. Seeing the creature stuck for the moment, he breathed a sigh of relief. The daemonette looked in Peter's direction.
"Even more delicious! The desire to protect!" it laughed maliciously. With a quick motion, it cut through the webs.
"Oh, no…" Peter muttered in despair, seeing his attempt to restrain the creature fall apart so quickly.
"Ned, take Michelle! Run!" Peter said frantically. Nodding, Ned scrambled to his feet.
With a fluid motion, the daemonette hammered Sam in the back. He fell to the ground, letting out an involuntary gasp as the wind was forced out of his lungs. Continuing, the daemonette advanced upon Peter like a whirling dervish.
"How lovely! How rich! A mutant with human friends! Oh, what strong passion you have to protect them from me~!" the daemonette whispered into Peter's ear. He whirled, aiming a kick at the monster. The daemonette caught it in a clawed hand and flung him at the opposite wall. He hit hard and slid down near Sam.
"Oh, you poor boy! You don't know the dance very well, do you?" the daemonette said mockingly.
Sam had dragged himself back into an upright position and fired off another shot. It tore through the elbow of one mutated arm, sending the claw flying. The daemonette shrieked in pain and ecstasy as it clutched the stump of its limb.
Just then, Peter thought it was a trick of the light, but the air seemed to shimmer.
"Oh! How regretful!" the creature sneered, holding a claw to its chest in imitation of a gentleman. "My Prince calls me home, but urges me to bring guests!" the daemonette said cruelly.
Peter blinked before blanching in realization. The daemonette whacked them both hard across the head with its remaining claw, grabbed their limp forms, and crossed the shimmering portal. Peter Parker and Samuel Trembley were taken into the Warp.
When Kasia got the vox-call from Sam, she immediately grabbed her gear and took off. Enginseer Linux followed close behind, his mechadendrites readied for battle. Often, where one Daemonette was found, more would be close behind. They were weaker daemons, spawns of Slaanesh that sought to corrupt by enticing people to give into their base desires. But they were still daemons. Their very bodies could be turned into weapons that end the lives of so many Imperial citizens. And Kasia would not see it that a daemon ran amok while she was there to stop it.
The two rounded a corner and saw some people milling about an area near an alley.
"Move," she ordered in Gothic, thinking only of rendezvousing with her men –man, she corrected. Really, now, Private Trembley was the only one directly under her command. The Enginseer followed her out of formality. As she and Linux moved through the throng, the people moved out of their way as the two forced their way through.
Kasia saw two kids standing near the mouth of the alley, a horror-stricken look across both of their faces.
"Enginseer – search the area," Kasia ordered the tech priest.
"Affirmative," Linux replied, cautiously moving into the alley.
Kasia turned to the two kids.
"Did you see what happened?" she asked, looking between the two.
"Uh, yeah – there was some explosion and – Sam called it a "daemonette," but I don't really know – anyway Pete and Sam were taken!" the boy said. He was shaking, but a cursory glance proved he was unharmed, merely rattled by the experience.
"Taken?" Kasia asked.
"Yeah. The air got all weird and shimmery and then the demon-thing took Pete and Sam and disappeared," the boy replied.
Kasia's brow furrowed. She touched a hand to her voxbead. «Enginseer, I have reason to believe Private Trembley was taken into the Immaterium. Have you found anything? »
«Yes. Inside the building there are several dead people. There is a heavily burnt Star of Chaos on the floor. It is likely they were trying to summon something. »
«Heretics. Sounds like they succeeded at the cost of their lives – Wait, something's happening…»
Tony had been busy tinkering on one of his suits when JARVIS alerted him of a situation.
"Sir, Peter Parker's signature has disappeared," JARVIS said.
"Say that again, JARVIS? I don't think I heard you right," Tony replied, teeth clenched as both arms were deep at work in a suit.
"Peter Parker's signature has disappeared, sir."
He pulled out, wiping his hands on a rag. His brows wrinkled. "What do you mean, "disappeared?"" he asked. Shaking his head as he thought, he continued, "Did something happen to him? Is the kid okay?"
"I am unsure. It does not appear as if he were harmed. He has disappeared from my scanners," JARVIS replied.
"So, you're saying you have no idea where he is?"
"That is correct, sir."
"So the kid could've gone tampering with something and found my tracer," Tony mused, not at all happy. Peter was a smart kid. He'd found a way to circumvent his programming before, and while he thought the kid had grown and become better than that, there was still a lingering doubt in his mind. After all, kids were still kids.
"That is a possibility, sir,"
Tony shook his head and pinched his nose, groaning. "JARVIS, do you have Peter's last coordinates?" he asked, walking over to one of his operational suits. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to go check up on the kid.
"I do, sir. Shall I assist your flight, sir?" JARVIS asked.
"Yeah. I need to check up on an itsy-bitsy spider," he said, half to himself as he got into his suit and took off.
Before long, Tony found his way to the alley. Flying has a way of making travel so much faster. Immediately, he saw two kids he recognized as Peter's friends, Ned Leeds and Michelle Jones. As he drew closer to land, he noted their worried expressions and the presence of a stranger in strange clothes near them.
Upon landing, he made a mental note of the peculiarity of the woman. She did not seem perturbed at all by his presence – neither by the reputation of being an extremely visible hero nor by the engineering feats that were his suit. Considering she also didn't scramble closer or away as he landed, he was going to hazard a guess that she was no ordinary civilian.
"Sir, I have detected the woman to be making some form of communication with another. They appear to be using an unfamiliar VHF channel and speaking in code," said JARVIS.
"Then I guess we'll have to say "hello," won't we," Tony replied as he flicked open his helmet. Pointing at the group, he said, "The three of you. Come with me."
Ned and Michelle followed without event, while the strange woman looked at him with suspicion before following the two kids into the alley and away from the crowd.
"Now, who can tell me what's going on? Where's Peter?" Tony asked the group seriously.
"He was taken to the Warp," the stern woman replied, her accent thick. She was obviously not from around here and still learning the language.
Tony wheeled on her. "Warp? You mind elaborating on that, miss…?"
The woman was dressed strangely. Peaked cap and tailored greatcoat done up in tones of red and black with lots of gold lacing. It gave off a military vibe. Tony didn't like it.
"Commissar Poltava," she bit out, "and it is a place you should hope to never see," she said acerbically. As she drew closer, he noticed the long scar that snaked from her forehead, over her left eye, and halfway down her cheek. The skin puckered tightly in a white line down her face, and the skin was tugged in that strange ways scars do when she spoke.
Tony turned to the kids. He knew from Romanoff that commissar was more of a political title from the days of communism, often used to ensure the ideas of the state were carried out among its people. Ned and Michelle, he knew he could trust them. They were close to Peter. Seeing them with this woman set off different alarms in his head, and he was wondering what her relationship was to them. As he turned, he saw movement in the alley behind them. Reflexively, he corrected his turn, lasers at the ready and visor back in place for targeting.
"Freeze! Identify yourself!" Stark ordered.
The red-robed figure stopped its advance, allowing Stark to get a better look at it. It was… strange. Humanoid in appearance, it seemed like something had butchered one of his Ironman suits, slapped a couple of extra arms here and there, and threw a cloth over top of it all in the hopes that no one would notice the general screw-up of the situation.
"Commissar Poltava?" the thing asked, its masculine tones modulated by whatever thing he was speaking through. Tony kept his laser trained on the thing.
"He is with me. Enginseer Linux," the commissar replied.
"Tell me: what's with the getup?" Stark asked.
"Parker inquired that before. What "getup?"" the Enginseer asked, cocking its head.
"Why're you dressed like you stepped out of some fascist's wet dream," he said, shooting a look at the commissar before turning back to the Enginseer, "and why are you… with all that stuff? Are they weapons? What's your purpose?" he said, emphasizing his points with little jabs of his palm.
The commissar blinked, as if the comment Stark had made was completely absurd.
The Enginseer spoke. "This one's mechadentrites serves in many tasks. Modification makes them suitable for combat, but this one's purpose is to maintain the equipment of the Cadian 1214th and ensure all machine spirits are properly appeased in the name of the Omnissiah."
"Omni-what? Machine spirits? You in some kind of cult?"
"Cult Mechanicus. Gloria Omnissiah," it replied almost cheerfully, intertwining its hands. Stark's HUD suddenly blipped, detecting something in the Enginseer's more organic hand.
"Hold! What's in your hand?" Stark commanded, gesturing with the armed laser in his palm.
Carefully, the Enginseer unfolded its hand, revealing a feather. He gestured for the Enginseer to approach. It was the strangest feather he'd ever seen. It wasn't so much the general form of it – it was about the size of a normal bird's feather. No, rather it was the color. It was in a state of constant flux. Golds and yellows morphed to blues, greens, and teals, swirling and blending and shimmering in an almost magical sense. "What in the…?" mutter Stark. He looked to Wet Dream. She, however, had a look of fear? No, it was not fear. Loathing. Disgust. This feather did not shock her, and it raised only more questions within him.
"What's the feather?" he asked.
"A symbol of the forces of chaos," she replied through her teeth. It appeared as if the frown she initially wore had deepened. She looked to the Enginseer and spoke quickly in some other language that JARVIS couldn't decipher.
"Hey, now. English," Tony commanded.
"Commissar Poltava remarked how we were not fast enough to answer Guardsman Trembley's vox."
"Guardsman Trembley? Who's he? Another of you?"
"Uh, Peter introduced us to him. He's Sam. It was in the message we tried to send you," said Ned.
"The child-soldier?" Tony asked, looking to Ned for confirmation. "Wait, they weren't just cosplayers…" he muttered under his breath.
He returned his attention to the two strange people. "Right. One more time. Who are you, where are you from, and what are you doing here?"
The commissar levelled her eyes at him. Man, did she have a piercing glare. "I am Commissar Kasia Poltava of Vostroya, assigned to the Cadian 1214th. For matters of confidentiality, I cannot tell you my mission, only that we are here because of Chaos cultists."
Stark turned to the Enginseer.
"Enginseer Linux, Tech Priest to the Adeptus Mechanicus. Assigned to the Cadian 1214th to assist Explorator Gieron's forces. The grace of the Omnissiah has allowed this one to escape the Warp unscathed."
"The Warp?"
"The Warp exists as a dimension removed from our own," the Enginseer began in explanation. "It does not follow the same laws of time and space as our own. Warp travel is incredibly difficult and dangerous, even with an Astropath to follow the guiding light of the Emperor."
Emperor? Someone's forces? These two – three, if he counted the other missing kid – were part of an army. How big? He couldn't ascertain just yet. But this militarism, nationalism, and dedication to cultist ideals, Tony felt, ran deep. It was the result of some kind of long-term indoctrination. Never mind that he'd never heard of Vostroya or Cadia or the Warp.
"Further, I suspect that Parker and Trembley were taken into the Warp," Poltava said, still frowning.
"Yeah, there was this really weird thing that'd attacked us, and I've never seen anything like it," Ned rambled.
"Sam called the thing a "daemonette,"" added Michelle.
Tony looked at the commissar. She seemed to nod her head at what Michelle said.
"Demons? Really?" he asked, incredulously.
The commissar looked back at him.
"Daemons are denizens of the Warp, spawns of the gods of chaos. If that is what took them, then there is not much we can do but pray. The Emperor protects," Poltava said somberly.
"No. Didn't you say you can through the Warp? That means there's a way to get back to them."
"I also said that the Warp is dangerous, existing outside our normal perception of reality. Once someone enters the Warp, it is unknown of where they will exit, or if they will ever find an exit. It is a place of corrupting daemons, things that change your very essence," the commissar further explained.
"So how did you survive?" Tony asked pointedly. If she wanted to call this "Warp" a dangerous unknown, she would have to find a way to defend it. He would get the truth out of her.
Poltava broke eye contact first. "I don't know. Our survival was nothing short of a miracle." She looked back at Tony, shaking her head. "There is nothing we can do. We do not have the capabilities to breach the Warp."
"You might not. But I know some people who might," Tony challenged. "I don't know the hows of it all, but I'm going to get them back."
The commissar laughed without humor. "Such hope. Even if by the Emperor's grace we find them, there is no guarantee they will be the same. No daemons can ever be allowed to walk on Holy Terra. If they are truly changed, we will need to put them down."
"So you would rather just cut your losses. Forget about saving your kid soldier. You would leave them to the unknown."
"You do not think I care about my men? You do not know what I've lost," Poltava spat. "I do what I must for the safety of all people here. When the time comes, I hope you will choose accordingly, too."
"Enough," said Stark. "That matter is no longer up for you to decide. You're still unknowns to America and the Avengers. You're going to give up your weapons, I'm going to cuff you, and you're going to come with me so we can get to the bottom of everything."
The commissar grimaced, and for a moment, he genuinely thought she might refuse.
"We will come peacefully. Allow us to maintain our freedom," the commissar asked.
"I'll still need your weapons," Tony prompted.
He watched as she bit the inside of her mouth. She was clearly distressed at having to give up whatever arms she had.
"Be careful with these," she said, carefully handing over the heaviest pistol he'd ever felt. He turned it over in his hands, noting the double-headed eagle that seemed to be on everything before she proffered the sword that had been clasped about her waist. It had a weight to it, heavier than he would expect a sabre of that size to be.
Tony turned his attention back to the Enginseer. The red-robed figure hesitantly offered what looked a blaster out of some sci-fi B-movie. Tony gestured to the rest of the appendages on the Enginseer. "Is there anything we can do about that? Do they come off?"
The Enginseer shook his head. "The mechadendrites are part of this one. They are extensions of this one's organic frame."
Stark considered shooting an EMP blast at the Enginseer, but ultimately decided against it. They'd seemed to be peaceful enough so far, and he'd even disarmed them. Plus, if they did become combative, he felt he could take them on at this point.
"Okay, and the weird floating skull. What is that?"
"This servo-skull is Grace Hopper," the Enginseer chimed.
"That explains nothing," Tony replied. "Is it a weapon? Can it fight?"
"Grace Hopper was assigned to Guardsman Trembley to record his observations on this Terra."
"So it's a type of surveillance drone. Can you shut it down? We're going to secure facility. I trust you understand the meaning of secret?" Stark said.
"Yes," replied the tech priest. He spoke a phrase, and the skull seemed to dock itself on his shoulder.
"Right…" Turning inwards, he spoke. "JARVIS – can you arrange for transportation of four people to the Avengers Tower?"
"I can do that, sir," the A.I. replied.
"And maybe give our Avenger friends the heads-up and perhaps let Phil know that Queens has some activity that he might like to look into?"
"Yes, sir," JARVIS replied calmly.
Before long, Kasia found herself and the Enginseer sitting at a table inside a secure compound. "The Avenger's Tower," was what the man, Stark, had called it. She had a stern frown on her face – it was, as Sam would joke, the only expression commissars could make. She looked at Linux.
Linux's mechadendrites were twitching anxiously while Grace Hopper hovered by his head, latching onto him because he was its creator. As soon as Trembley came back, though, she knew the little servo-skull would return to his side. Upon being led to this new place, it was of no comfort to learn that there was an abominable intelligence operating the security protocols. Linux had lashed out most irritably at that. As they were led through the halls, every time they passed by a port – and this facility seemed to have lots of ports – Linux would attempt to wire himself in to fight the AI. The AI – JARVIS, as it referred to itself – had a habit of notifying Stark every time Linux patched himself in. The first, Stark had seemed surprised at Linux's weight. Kasia knew those augmentations were heavy. In the light power armor that the man wore, he was unable to move Linux on his first attempt. She'd watched in some amusement as he tried to remove the tech priest's bulk from its position to no avail. Then, he did something. Considering he mentioned JARVIS, she suspected he called upon the powers of the AI. Linux was removed from his position after that. Kasia herself still did not feel at ease knowing the AI was watching them yet.
She turned her attention back to Stark, the other man in the rom. He had gone to more formally introduce himself as "Tony Stark, Iron-Man." She presumed those words were to have meant something of significance, but neither she nor Linux had any recognition for the words. She supposed it meant something like the boy, Peter Parker who'd also introduced himself as "Spider-Man," although, the boy seemed very peculiar about having them know his normal name. Stark, on the other hand, didn't seem to care how they addressed him.
Currently, Stark had removed the armor that he had appeared in, replaced with the suit of a businessman. It was simple, Kasia decided. It was nicely cut, though it lacked the ornamentation of typical Imperial garments, like her own coat.
"Okay, so I've called Thor, and Goldilocks should be here any second," Stark muttered. Kasia supposed his transparency was to remove any suspicion of his motivation. Naïve. Kasia folded her arms over her chest and assumed a more comfortable position in her chair.
Stark shot her a look. "What?" he asked, no humor in his voice.
Kasia pursed her lips, remaining silent.
"Fine. Don't talk," Stark said, tensely. "I've got someone who's great at finding out secrets coming, too. You won't be able to hide any."
"I wasn't expecting to," Kasia replied coolly.
Kasia suspected the man was still riled from their meeting in the alley. He'd seemed on-edge the entire time and had gone as far as to ask them to give up their arms. She missed the weight of her power sword and bolt pistol on her hips. Inwardly, she was still questioning if that had been the best course of action. The man seemed like he held concern for that Parker boy, but she did not know him. From his looks – and, again, considering this Terra seemed to be pre-Imperium – he had no loyalty to the Emperor. She was doubly unsure if the man was an agent of Chaos himself. She breathed a silent litany to the Emperor, asking him to give her the strength she needed to endure.
At Kasia's comment, Stark looked as if he wanted to reply, going so far as to open his mouth before the door to the room open. A tall, blonde man entered, garbed in a strange looking armor. His long, wild hair made him look as if he'd come from Fenris. While he had the look of a warrior at first glance, it quickly became apparent he was not an Imperial.
"Greetings, friend Stark! For what hast thou called me from Asgard?"
"Good to see you, too. Thor, these are Commissar Poltava and Tech Priest Linux," he said in introduction, gesturing to the two seated forms. "Poltava and Linux, meet Thor, Prince of Asgard,"
Kasia inclined her head, "Ave, Prince," she said in greeting. She would be courteous. She would give them no reason to suspect her of hiding anything.
Thor, however, did something unexpected. He made his way to her, took her hand, and gently kissed it. Kasia's cheeks flushed, her scar appearing pale to the suddenly rosy tone. Quickly, she steeled herself from the momentary lapse of control. "Lady Commissar, I greet thee!" he said. He turned to Linux. "Ah, and most Holy Priest, I bid thee welcome."
Thor turn his attention back to the two Imperials. "Stark has told me little of you. Whence do you hail?" he asked.
Kasia raised an eye. Stark seemed to pick up at her incomprehension and responded, "He means where do you come from."
Kasia nodded once in affirmation of understanding. "Enginseer Linux and I come from Vostroya."
Stark looked at his friend. "Do you recognize that?"
Thor looked between the two Vostroyans and Stark. "Is this not one of your Earth countries? Like the Russia or the Ukraine?"
The three shook their heads. Linux spoke first. "No. The Imperial Industrial World of Vostroya is located within the Segmentum Obscuris. Holy Terra is within the Segmentum Solar."
"Any of those sound familiar to you?" Stark asked Thor again.
Thor shook his head. "No. Such terms I have not heard in all of the Nine Realms."
"Nine realms? No. There are millions of human worlds, but there is but one Imperium," Kasia said.
"Millions of worlds?" Stark asked.
"Indeed. Each world has a unique role it serves within the Imperium of Man. Together, we are strong. Together, unified in our faith in the Emperor, we can overcome the xeno threat."
"Xeno threat?"
"Aliens. Those who seek to put humanity down for the benefit of their own."
Kasia watched as Stark and Thor exchanged a glance. Had she said something wrong?
Then, the door opened and two new people entered. Stark appeared to wait a moment for the newcomers to get settled. How courteous of him. "Captain America, Black Widow – I want you to meet Commissar Kasia Poltava and Enginseer Linux."
The redhead gave a glance at the people in the room, a serious expression on her face. It was almost imperceptible, but Kasia could sense her unease when her title was announced. Then again, Commissar wasn't always popular back home. Perhaps that Black Widow had dealings with a poor excuse for one in the past. The Captain looked at Tony and spoke first. "You said something about Spider-Man going missing. What happened?"
"Commissar Poltava, I believe you understand this precise scenario best," Tony said, gesturing to Kasia for her to begin her explanation.
"From what we have observed before we were interrupted, we know that Guardsman Trembley and Spider-Man were abducted into the Warp by a daemon," she said grimly.
The Captain scrunched his brows in skepticism as Kasia continued. "Pvt. Trembley engaged with the enemy, allowing two of the civilians to escape. They tell me that our contact, "Spider-Man," was taken with Pvt. Trembley into the Warp."
"I really don't think I like the sound of that," the Captain voiced. "Just so we're all on the same page, what exactly is the "Warp?" This isn't a modern thing I'm missing, is it?"
Kasia shook her head. "I do not think this early Terra will have known of it," she said.
Linux continued. "The Warp, or the Immaterium, exists outside of our reality – the Materium. It does not follow our world's laws of time, space, or physics, and is a place of daemons and Chaos."
"Alright. So, what are our odds of getting them back?" the Captain asked optimistically.
"Rounded to zero; Infinitesimally small," Linux replied.
Kasia shook her head. "With the proper technology, one could traverse through the Warp, but to actually explore it? To go searching within it? It would be suicide."
"You know," Stark announced to no one in particular, his tone somewhat bitter, "This sort of weird is perfect for Doctor Strange."
"Doctor Strange?" questioned Kasia.
"Yeah. He's something of a wizard. Deals with alternate planes of reality to keep Earth safe from the particularly strange invaders," Stark answered. The redhead rolled her eyes when Stark had said "strange." Apparently, it was some sort of inside joke between these people, as the one called Captain snorted, stifling a quick laugh.
"If I may be so bold, perhaps my brother could be of some aid," the one called Thor suggested.
"Loki? Why would Reindeer Games help us?" Stark retorted.
"We didn't exactly leave on best of terms last time we met," the Captain added.
Kasia looked around at the people, her eyes narrowing as she thought in confusion. "What history has you distrust Loki?" she asked for clarification.
"Oh, you know. He only tried to take over the world twice," Stark said casually, shooting a quick glare at Thor.
"My brother has made some… poor choices in the past-"
"Mild way of putting that," Stark interjected.
"-but he is my brother. He is cunning, but evil he is not," said Thor.
"Loki does seem to have a good deal of certain occult knowledge," the redhead announced.
"That is true, Natasha. Once, we thought him dead, but he returned. He knows secret paths through different dimensions. I believe this knowledge will help us locate friend Peter and Sam," Thor said.
Kasia frowned at this revelation. Utilizing someone with egomania? It was a risky maneuver. Sure, he may have knowledge of the occult, but that couldn't translate to knowing the Warp, could it? Further, they would need to be careful with whatever plans they lay. If he had truly tried to dominate Terra in the past, what would stop him if he tried again, but this time with the secrets of the Warp unraveled before him? No. To her, it was too risky.
"Okay," said the Captain. "So, let's say we do agree to work with Loki. How do we know he'll agree to work with us?"
"My brother is a seeker of knowledge. If this Immaterium is truly as strange as you claim it to be, I do not think he would pass a chance to study this, especially with our consent."
"I do not think including this Loki would be a wise decision," Kasia interjected. "You said he tried to take over Terra. What is there to stop him from trying again once he learns the secrets of the Warp?"
"See? The Commissar agrees with me," said Stark. "We don't know if he'll try again."
"I will watch my brother," said Thor. "If he tries anything again, I will hold myself personally responsible."
Kasia noted that Stark, like her, didn't seem happy with that answer. It left too many variables loose. Things would just be waiting to go wrong.
"Stark, Commissar - I know you don't like it, but I think getting as many minds on this as possible is for the best. I want you to contact Doctor Strange. Thor, you get your brother. Romanoff, get Banner. I think he could help us, too. I'll contact the others."
AN: How about a long chapter for Turkey Day? Something to read as you travel to family (or try to avoid, depending on circumstances). This next arc is done, but I'd love to get some prompts/ideas to take all the characters after we finish the Warp.
I want to thank adwerte and WeWuzKangs'N'Shit for being two of the first registered users to comment in support. It was a beautiful boon of happiness when I began.
Solarblaster, I'm glad you've been enjoying the culture shock. It's honestly one of my favorite types of fiction to read, and I figured writing another one couldn't hurt.
JauneBrando, thank you for helping me figure out how to use some of the features on this website (like how to moderate reviews, lol).
I endeavor to continue giving you quality content, and if I err in the lore, I strive to fix it (though, I have a feeling I might have gotten some bit of it incredibly wrong in the upcoming chapters. Let me know, and I may see if it's within reasonable editing to fix, otherwise, brace yourselves. Heresy is coming.)
As always, I do not own Marvel, the Avengers, Spider-Man, Warhammer 40k, or GW.
Emperor protect all you wonderful readers and reviewers. For that, I am thankful.