Chapter 6
? ? ?, The Warp, ? ? ?
Peter followed behind Sam – Mirqurios? He didn't know at this point. Were demonic possessions even a thing? They probably were. What had he done? Half a million thoughts continued to race through his head, the guilt of survival at the forefront.
Sam had asked him to flat out kill him.
That was the thought the bubbled to the surface even as he followed the ghost of his friend. Friend? Since when did he start using the term? He hardly knew the other teen – they were barely acquaintances. Yet, he felt a duty to the other boy. An urge to help him and aid him. He didn't know what'd he'd been through to make him like that. He didn't know what he'd seen. Was that the truth of what it meant to be a hero? To help people no matter what they've done?
He examined the gun that Sam had thrust into his hands. It was lighter than he'd initially presumed. Its weight wasn't than any regular gun from earth. He ran a hand over its boxy design, tracing a finger over the winged skull on its sides, slowly tilting it to peer down the muzzle. Remembering the loud cracks and the flashes of light, the scientist in him was curious as to how it worked.
"Yᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʙᴇsᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ," Mirqurios' voice said, Sam turning to shoot a look back at him.
Immediately he lowered the gun. "Why?"
"Yᴏᴜ ɴᴇɢʟᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀғᴇᴛʏ ᴏɴ."
Peter felt himself flush in embarrassment. "Right. Wouldn't want to shoot my eye out, haha," he replied, laughing nervously. He turned the gun around in his hands looking for the safety.
"Mᴏʀᴇ ᴏʀ ʟᴇss, ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏɴsɪᴅᴇʀ ᴠᴀᴘᴏʀɪᴢɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴀᴄᴇ sʜᴏᴏᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇʏᴇ."
Sam drew close to him, pointing with a finger. "Tʜɪs sᴡɪᴛᴄʜ, ʜᴇʀᴇ. Iᴛ ᴀᴅᴊᴜsᴛs ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀsᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴄᴛs ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ sᴀғᴇᴛʏ. Tʜᴇɴ, ᴀʟʟ ᴏɴᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅs ᴅᴏ ɪs ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴏᴏᴛ. Sɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ," Mirqurios said.
While the analogy was innocuous enough, Peter couldn't help but feel it ran deeper.
The aether swirled about the two of them as they continued their journey through the Great Unknown. Where they walked, they disturbed it. It became colored and scented by their emotions.
"Uh, so you mentioned that we were going to escape this place. Just, uh… how do you intend to do that?" Peter asked.
"Yᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄᴜʟᴀʀs. Kɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴀᴍ ʙʀɪɴɢɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ sᴀɴᴄᴛᴜᴍ," he replied, waving a hand flippantly.
"You said you're taking us both. You're going to release your hold on Sam?"
"Iɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴇᴛ. Iᴛ's ɴᴏᴛ sᴀғᴇ."
""Not safe?"" Peter asked, "What do you mean? That… demon-thing is gone. The danger's past, isn't it?"
Mirqurios shook Sam's head. "Iɴ ᴛʜᴇ Wᴀʀᴘ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ɴᴏ sᴜᴄʜ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀs sᴀғᴇᴛʏ. Esᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟʟʏ ɴᴏᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴘsʏᴋᴇʀs ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ."
Peter frowned. "So, if there's nowhere safe in the Warp, that means your sanctum isn't here somewhere?"
Sam's head shook. "Nᴏ - I ᴀᴍ ʙᴏᴜɴᴅ ʜᴇʀᴇ. Wᴀʀᴘ ᴅᴇɴɪᴢᴇɴs ᴛᴇɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ, ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ." Mirqurios plied Sam's mouth into a thoughtful expression.
Leave him alone? But hadn't he just said that nowhere was safe? It didn't make sense.
Peter tried to laugh off some of his confusion. "So, what? We reach your sanctum, and then what? Sam and I will still be stuck here. How do we get back?"
"I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴘɪʟᴇᴅ ᴀ sᴍᴀʟʟ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴋɴᴏᴡʟᴇᴅɢᴇ. Wɪᴛʜ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, I sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅɪsᴄᴇʀɴ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ."
They fell back into silence. Peter shivered as he quickly observed the environment. He had come to realize that the place was not as dizzying as he'd initially perceived it. While his headache persisted, he found that it wasn't because of the sights or smells or other general sensory overload he'd first experienced. Rather, it seemed that it was a general environmental pressure. He'd remembered something similar happening when he was active as Spider-Man – while swinging from his webs, not only could he travel distances fast, but he could also change heights. The pressure was a little like that, though less felt on the eardrums. It was like being out of depth.
"Aɴ Oᴄᴇᴀɴ," Mirqurios uttered suddenly.
"What?"
"Wɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ Iᴍᴘᴇʀɪᴜᴍ, ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴘsʏᴋᴇʀs ᴘᴏᴇᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ Wᴀʀᴘ "Tʜᴇ Gʀᴇᴀᴛ Oᴄᴇᴀɴ,"" Mirqurios supplied, gesturing at the changing expanse about them. "Iɴᴅᴇᴇᴅ, ɪᴛ ɪs ғɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛɪᴅᴇs, ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ sʜᴏᴀʟs ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴅᴇᴘᴛʜs. Tʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʟᴜʀᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ɪᴛs ᴅᴇᴘᴛʜs, sᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴇsɪʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠᴇʀʏ sᴏᴜʟ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ᴀʟsᴏ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ғᴏᴜɴᴅ."
Peter looked at Sam. Beauty? In this place that was so far from home? He couldn't fathom it.
"Iᴛ's ᴀʟʟ ᴘᴇʀsᴘᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ. Pᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ғᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ. Yᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇʟʏ. Aғᴛᴇʀ ᴀʟʟ, ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀs ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ."
Peter looked at him sharply. "How did you know that?"
"Yᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴᴀɪᴠᴇᴛʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴀ ᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴏᴜs ɪɴɴᴏᴄᴇɴᴄᴇ. Iɴ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴜɴᴘʀᴇᴘᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴡᴀs ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀɴ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ʙᴏᴏᴋ," Mirquios said. Using Sam's hands, he signed them into Spider-Man's classic web-slinging form, using the same little flick of the wrist. "I sᴘᴏᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴡᴇ ᴍᴇᴛ - ᴀɴᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ, I ᴍᴜsᴛ ʙᴇɢ ғᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇɴᴇss ғᴏʀ ᴍʏ ɪɴᴛʀᴜsɪᴏɴ. Hᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ sʜɪᴇʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴍɪɴᴅ. Yᴏᴜ sᴀᴡ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ ʜᴏᴡ I sᴛʀᴜɢɢʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ Sᴀᴍ's. Yᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴅᴇғᴇɴsᴇs. I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴇᴠᴇɴ."
"Says the thing that's currently possessing my friend."
Sam's features smiled. "A ʙɪᴛ ᴏғ sᴋᴇᴘᴛɪᴄɪsᴍ, ɴᴏᴡ? Is ᴛʜɪs ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ I'ᴍ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏᴍɪɴᴀᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ? Yᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ; I ᴡɪʟʟ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ sᴏʀᴛ."
"Right," Peter replied sarcastically.
"Lᴏᴏᴋ: I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴ ᴇxᴇʀᴄɪsᴇ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ. Dᴏ ʏᴏᴜ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴅᴇɴɪᴢᴇɴs? Tʜᴇsᴇ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ "ᴠᴏɪᴅ ғɪsʜ?"" Mirqurios asked.
Peter looked around and noticed the little creatures flitting about through the air. Void fish. It was a suitable analogy. The way these little spirits moved did remind him of that betta fish he had the one time. Were these aggressive like that, too?
"I ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴇʀsᴜᴀᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ."
"Make them leave? But… they're actually kinda cute."
"Aɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪs ᴡʜʏ ᴡᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɢᴏɴᴇ."
"…because they're cute?"
"Nᴏ. Tʜᴇʏ ғᴇᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴs. Iɴ ᴛᴜʀɴ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɢᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴜs, ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟᴀʀɢᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʜᴏsᴛɪʟᴇ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴀʟᴏɴɢ."
"So… why can't you do this?"
"I ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴀᴍ. Sᴘᴇᴄɪғɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ, I'ᴠᴇ ᴍᴜᴛᴇᴅ Sᴀᴍ's ᴘsʏᴄʜɪᴄ ᴄᴏʀᴏɴᴀ, ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ sʜɪɴᴇs ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴅɪᴍ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴀ ʀᴏᴏᴍ ᴏғ ᴅᴀʀᴋ."
"So, what does that mean? Am I psychic, too?" Peter asked skeptically.
"Nᴏ. Aʟʟ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴘsʏᴄʜɪᴄ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ. I'ᴍ ʙᴜsʏ ᴘʟᴀᴄɪɴɢ Sᴀᴍ's ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴠᴇʀʙɪᴀʟ ʙᴜsʜᴇʟ. I ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴇxᴇʀᴄɪsᴇ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴsᴄɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴅᴀᴍᴘᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ."
"Oh."
A beat of silence passed.
"Aʟsᴏ, ɪᴛ's "Psʏᴋᴇʀ.""
Peter rolled his eyes. He looked at the little void fish.
Go away, he thought at them, glaring tiny daggers at the void fish. I'm not here, go away.
Yᴏᴜ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀʏ.
Peter looked over in surprise. "What?"
"Yᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ. Yᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴏ ʜᴀʀᴅ - ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴏ ʙʟᴜɴᴛ."
"Okay, so what am I supposed to do? You didn't really give a lot of instruction."
"I ᴛʀᴜsᴛᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ sᴏʟᴠᴇ ɪᴛ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ."
Peter grunted in annoyance. "Well, I guess your expectations for me were a little high. You're going to have to give me a little more help than "do this.""
"Bᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ's ᴛʜᴇ ғᴜɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ? Lᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɪs ʜᴀʟғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴇʏ."
"Yeah, I'm trying to stay alive first and foremost. Any help in that department is appreciated."
"Aɴᴅ ᴛʜɪs ᴇxᴇʀᴄɪsᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴇʟᴘ."
"Not if I don't have any idea of what I'm supposed to be doing!"
"Dᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ I ᴊᴜsᴛ sᴀɪᴅ?"
"You didn't exactly say much on the topic."
"Tʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜɪɴᴛ."
"I didn't know I was going to be graded on my comprehension of every word that comes out of your mouth!"
"Wᴀᴛᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴏɴᴇ. Rᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴅɪsᴘᴇʀsɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ, ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ."
Peter opened his mouth to protest, but closed it when he saw that, yes, there were more little void fish swimming about his head.
He took a deep breath and exhaled.
"Okay. Tell me again. What do I need to do?"
"Eᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴs. Tʜᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇs ᴏғ ᴛʜɪs ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ғᴇᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇᴍ."
"Okay. Alright. Emotions. I just need… I just need…" Peter suddenly held up a finger. "I need to clear my head. Think of nothing! If I have no thoughts, there can be no emotions that follow!" Peter said, laughing in triumph. A couple void fish nibbled at his ear. "Right. Nothing."
015.M3, Holy Terra, New York, Avengers Tower, 2 November, Early Afternoon
Linux was puttering through the halls of the "Avengers Tower," the servo-skull Grace Hopper floating by his head. The meeting from the previous day was enlightening. He enjoyed hearing these people strategize, and he was honestly excited to be living through a time of change. If these people succeeded, they would be at the forefront of Warp travel! True, the Machine Cult of Mars held many secrets that he had sworn oath upon oath to keep, but what if there were other ways? This was an opportunity for enlightenment!
He was supposed to meet with two people. He was familiar with Stark's face, the creator of the resident Abominable Intelligence. The second, Banner, was still a mystery to him. Would this one hold technological secrets for him to discover and build upon? The motors of his heart whirred as he thought in excitement of the project. Before, he'd be tasked with the sacred duty of maintaining the equipment and transport of the regiment. From lasguns to landraiders, he was intimately familiar with the cogs and circuits of many machines and their resident spirits. He knew the maintenance cants by heart.
He passed through a glass door that had opened automatically upon sensing his presence. He blessed the resident spirit of the door and prayed that the Omnissiah guard it against the AI.
Entering the workroom proper, he noticed there were robotic arms that seemed to have sprouted from the floor and ceiling. While those were motionless now, he could sense the machine spirits dwelling within them, waiting for the proper codes so they could spring into action and create.
Shortly, his optics discerned the two seated at a workbench, a holograph opened before them. Both had expressions of deep thought on their faces, at least before Stark turned his head.
"Nice of you to join us, Tux," Stark said, humor in his voice. Linux's processors churned as he tried to divine the meaning of the title he'd just been given. He could not find one.
"Come on," Stark said, waving to an open seat at the table. "Perhaps your mind'll help us figure out what we need to do."
Linux approached the workbench, his optics swiftly analyzing what was displayed on the holo. There wasn't much.
"Yeah, it sucks. Bruce 'n I've been at this all morning, but there're too many unknowns." Stark said, a small frown on his face.
"You had said earlier that this "Warp" exists in another dimension. What do you think if we were able to craft some sort of gate?" Banner proposed.
Stark waggled his finger. "That could be good. How would we power it? How would we coordinate it to go where we need to?"
Banner sat in silence for a moment, thinking. Linux held his tongue. Could he speak of the technology of the Imperium? These were humans, after all. He knew of the Gellar fields, of the general theory of how they worked, but he did not know precisely how to construct one. Even if he knew, the technology of the Mechanicum was still sacred. Secrets of the machines must never fall into the minds of the uninitiated. It would be a grave offense if such things fell into the wrong minds because of his folly. No. He would keep it to himself for now. Still, the idea of another way to breach the Warp intrigued him. Perhaps he could document whatever they crafted and turn it to the Mechanicum when he returned. The other Magos' would be intrigued. And perhaps it would better the Imperium, too.
Banner spoke again. "What if… what if we were to ask Loki for advice? Didn't Thor say he knows secret paths around the universe?"
"Yeah, but would you really trust anything Reindeer Games says?" Stark retorted.
"We could ask, and maybe verify with Doctor Strange?" Banner suggested again. "Unless, you have any ideas?" Banner asked, looking at the tech priest.
"You did say you and the commissar had to have passed through to get here," Stark commented.
"Not of our own will," Linux replied, giving his head a quick shake. "Chaos cultists forcibly breached the Warp. Many unknowns were present in our passage."
"But," began Banner, "don't you think that confirms that magic can be used as a catalyst? Loki was able to use the Tesseract to power other mystical objects, including that breach that the Chitauri used in their invasion. Do you think that we could make our own? Or, at least something similar to?"
"Query: what is the Tesseract?" Linux asked.
"It's some stone that was found. Thor tells us the Asgardians used to be guarding it, but then his brother stole it. Nearly brought about the end of the world, but," Stark shot a conspiratory glance at Banner before shrugging, "we stopped it."
Linux nodded, curious now as to how they would go about creating miniature "magical" energy cores. Would they be working with particles of the likes that powered the Gellar fields? Or would it be different? They mentioned magic, but magic was not something that existed. There were people like psykers who could control things using the Warp, but he wouldn't consider that magic. Still, they were talking about creating their own type of power core or generator. Some powerful power source. But wait – the psykers.
"Could the Strange one be used to power the core?" Linux asked. From what he understood, it was possible that Strange was a type of psyker.
Stark frowned as he pondered the thought, giving his chin a quick stroke. "Hmm… I don't see why we couldn't ask him. Bruce," he said, looking at Banner, "doesn't he have some ring or whatever that opens magical portals?"
"He calls it a sling-ring, but, yeah, he makes portals," Bruce replied.
"If we construct a frame, do you think he could be the catalyst to control it?" Stark asked, his eyes alight in excitement.
Stark looked back to Linux, a queer expression on his face.
"Hey, JARVIS," Stark said, speaking to the air without taking his gaze away from the tech priest. Linux's processors were running hard as he tried to interpret what Stark was planning.
"Yes, sir?" the AI replied.
"Contact Doctor Strange. Tell him to meet me here. I have a plan."
? ? ?, The Warp, ? ? ?
Peter concentrated on thinking of nothing. It was a lot harder than he thought. There were so many things that had him wound tight: being lost, not knowing if Sam was going to be alright, whether he could trust Mirqurios (sure, he was giving the spirit the benefit of the doubt, but he could still be led into a trap), how Ned and Michelle were coping back home, and if Mr. Stark or any of the Avengers were looking for them, just to name a few things.
At first, every thought that crossed his mind frustrated him. How could he think of nothing if he kept thinking? But then, slowly, he would entertain the thought and let it pass. Another passing thought had him remember that Doctor Strange had tried to get Mr. Stark and himself to meditate in a similar way and, if he actually thought about it, for similar reasons. But he let it go.
"Wᴇʟʟ ᴅᴏɴᴇ."
Peter looked to Mirqurios' voice sharply. He noticed they were no longer in the exposed wilds of the deep Warp. Instead, they were in a cozy alabaster-walled room. He hadn't even noticed that they'd crossed a threshold. Did they cross a threshold?
As he continued looking, he noticed the little void fish were also gone.
"Ah!" another voice exclaimed, gasping for air.
Peter's head snapped to its direction. Sam. And on his shoulder was Mirqurios, the red raven.
"Sam! Are you alright!" Peter asked.
I ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɪᴛ sᴀɪᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴍʏ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪsᴇs, said Mirqurious.
Sam convulsed briefly before regaining mastery of himself.
"I'm… I'm my own…?" Sam asked shakily.
Peter was already by the boy's side, rubbing his back in a soothing manner.
"Yeah, at least I think. I don't know how this magic psychic stuff works, but I think that's what Mirq said."
I ᴀᴍ ʜᴇʀᴇ, ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ. I sᴀɪᴅ I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ, said Mirqurios
Sam shuddered again and his face twisted into a grimace.
Peter shot the bird a concerned look. "What's happening now?"
Hᴇ's ᴊᴜsᴛ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʜɪs ғᴀᴄᴜʟᴛɪᴇs ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. Nᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ ᴡɪᴛʜ.
"Are you sure? 'Cause he looks pretty-"
"I'm- uhn- I'm alright," Sam interjected, grunting.
Peter gave the other boy a pointed look.
Hᴇ'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ғɪɴᴇ - ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ, ʜᴇʀᴇ. Tᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs ʙᴜᴄᴋᴇᴛ, Mirqurious said. When Peter looked, there was bucket that he was quite sure hadn't been there previously.
Sam made a dry gagging sound.
Peter thrust the bucket under Sam's mouth, panicked.
Sam heaved the nothing that was in stomach into the bucket.
"Fine! You said he would be fine!" Peter shouted at the bird.
Aɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ! Tʜɪs ɪs ᴀʟʟ ɴᴏʀᴍᴀʟ! Pᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ɴᴏʀᴍᴀʟʟʏ ʀᴇsᴘᴏɴᴅ ᴀs ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ Sᴀᴍ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ Wᴀʀᴘ!
"You're saying that this," Peter waved his free hand to the form of Sam, doubled over, "is normal?"
Yᴇs.
"It's… it's fine. Really," Sam said, wiping his mouth with a sleeve. "It feels like," he wrinkled his nose, "a really bad Warp jump."
Tʜᴀᴛ's ᴘᴜᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ᴍɪʟᴅʟʏ.
"Why? What's a Warp-jump? What are those like?"
"It's how we move quickly through space. We have a special engine on our ships that can tear open the Warp and enable us to pass safely through."
The bird cackled.
Wᴀʀᴘ ᴛʀᴀᴠᴇʟ ɪs ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ sᴀғᴇ.
Sam made a face.
"Wait, you travel through this place? You can go to, like, other planets?" asked Peter.
Sam blinked. "Of course. There are over a million planets within the Imperium to protect. It's basic logistics."
Bᴜᴛ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴘᴀss ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜɪs ᴜsɪɴɢ ᴛᴇᴄʜɴᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇʀʀᴏʀs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ Wᴀʀᴘ. Rɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ, ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴀʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪᴄᴋ ᴏғ ɪᴛ.
"So, you're saying that we can't use what he normally uses?" Peter asked.
Yᴇs.
"Okay, but then if its regularly traveled, couldn't we flag down a passing ship or something? Make some big fires like people do when stranded on deserted islands?"
Sam shook his head. "It doesn't work like that. Each ship has a carefully planned path. If they ever deviate… they would not risk the lives of an entire ship's crew for a single guardsman and civilian. Not without meaning."
"So, what do we do? How do we "breach the Warp" to get back home?"
"If I knew, I would already be back with my regiment," said Sam.
Peter look back to the bird. "Do you have any ideas?"
I ᴅᴏ. Bᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴀᴛ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴄᴏsᴛ.
Peter cast a nervous look to Sam. "Great cost to whom? Us or you?"
Aʟʟ ɪɴᴠᴏʟᴠᴇᴅ.
"Do we even want to know, then?" asked Peter.
"No. Consorting with Warp creatures will only put your soul in danger," Sam said.
Aɴᴅ ʏᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ʀᴇᴄᴇᴘᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ʜᴏsᴘɪᴛᴀʟɪᴛʏ.
"Peter, for my sake and for yours, we can find another way out. Whatever you do, don't trust him," Sam said, a pleading look in his eyes.
It wasn't fair what he had done earlier, making that deal with Mirqurios. And yet, they were both still alive and together. Mirqurios hadn't done anything truly malicious in that regard.
I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴏᴛʜ. Yᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ɪɢɴᴏʀᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ.
Peter looked from Sam back to the bird.
"What do you have planned?" Peter asked somberly.
"Peter! You can't!"
"I need to know all our options!" Peter retorted.
"This is not an option! We'll find a way out, just not like this!"
I ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴏғ ᴀ ʀɪᴛᴜᴀʟ. Iᴛ ʀᴇǫᴜɪʀᴇs sᴀᴄʀɪғɪᴄᴇ - sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ғᴏʀᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴀʟsᴘᴀᴄᴇ.
"The sacrifice – what do you mean by "something of you?""
I ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ. Sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ. Tʜɪɴɢs ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ ᴏғᴛᴇɴ ᴀᴄᴛ ᴀs sᴛʀᴏɴɢᴇʀ ᴀɴᴄʜᴏʀs. Tʜᴇsᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴇʀɪᴀʟ ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛs ᴏғ ʜɪɢʜ sᴇɴᴛɪᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴠᴀʟᴜᴇ, ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴇs, ᴀ ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ...
Peter thought on the requirements. What could he give up? He didn't have much on him. He was wearing his first Spider-man outfit. He still felt a twinge of embarrassment at his design: hoodie and sweatpants, the mask crudely stitched together. A memory? There were so many. Uncle Ben and Aunt May, his parents, Ned, Michelle, his stunts as Spider-man. Would he part with one? Could he part with one? All those factored in to who he was today. They built upon each other. Lessons were learned, people were loved – no, he could not give up a memory. He would not give up a memory.
He looked at Sam. The other boy was shaking his head. He knew now that Sam would never compromise. The world Sam had come from – what was it like that it set the boy's resolve as such? He looked back at Mirqurios.
"Do we both need to give something? Or can you do it with just something from one of us?" Peter asked. It was worth a shot. Wasn't that what it meant to be a hero? To sacrifice yourself so others wouldn't have to?
Mirqurios cocked his head before nodding. I ᴄᴀɴ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴋ. Iᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴅɪғғɪᴄᴜʟᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴄᴀɴ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴡᴏʀᴋ.
"Peter," Sam said, his voice tense, "Please reconsider. You don't need to do this. We will find a way to survive, and we can find our own way out. Just because he's offering the quickest way out doesn't mean we will be free. Please, Peter. For the sake of your life, I beg you reconsider."
He let the words enter him, and he began to question. What was he doing? Was this really their best way out? He asked because he wanted to know what was at stake. Memories – precious parts of their being. Would he sacrifice part of himself to be free – to go home? If he agreed with Sam, how would they get home? Mirqurios knew a way out. They were stumbling blind. Mirqurios gave them sanctuary. They had been dragged into the belly of the beast.
What would he do to survive?
015.M3, Holy Terra, New York, Avengers Tower, 2 November, Mid Afternoon
Doctor Strange entered the glass doors of the workshop, the Cloak swirling behind him playfully. He had a stern expression on his face. He'd been in the middle of attempting to find the psychic presence. Natasha had been combing the databases, searching for people with unusual histories, but there were far more of them than initially anticipated. At least, more than the Doctor had initially anticipated. Natasha was grumbling the entire time about how she'd have more luck find the proverbial needle in a stack of hay.
Loki, similarly, had said he would look in his own way and had taken off. He should've seen that coming. Still, he knew the Jotunn's mind enough now to be able to connect with him psychically. With the psychic connection, it'd be easy to use the sling-ring and drag his body back to work if need be.
But, now he was in Stark's workshop. He'd been summoned by the billionaire mechanic himself for what he could only hope was something pertaining to getting them into and out of the Warp safely.
"Okay, I'm listening," Strange said, splaying his hands.
"So, we figured you might be the key to our puzzle," Bruce suggested.
"Since you're all magic and everything, we figured you'd probably have a way to get into the Warp, like with the ring-sling," said Stark.
"Sling-ring," corrected Strange.
"That's what I said," replied Stark. "We can use a catalyst like your magic and direct it into a bigger version of the ring-sling. It'll make something like a giant portal to the Warp."
Doctor Strange twisted his mouth. "It's a possibility."
"Do you think you could use Tux's mind here to help you get a fix?" Stark suggested, gesturing to Linux.
Doctor Strange looked at Stark for a moment, confused, before realizing he meant the tech priest. Why the man insisted on coming up with all these ridiculous nicknames for everyone, he would never know.
"I could. It would help me learn the layout of that dimension…" Doctor Strange mused, turning to the red robe.
"May I?" Strange asked, gesturing for permission to perform a psychic probe.
"How do you intend to access this one's mind?" Linux responded.
"I am going to delve into your memories – I apologize, it is a very intimate act, I will be inside your -"
"No," replied Linux.
"No? Why not? Strange needs those memories," Stark said agitatedly.
"Perhaps if Linux doesn't, we could always ask Commissar Poltava," Banner supplied quietly.
"Unnecessary. Both suggestions. There is another way."
"Really? Do tell," said Strange.
"Is there a cogitator available?"
Strange cast a glance to the two scientists. Cogitator?
"Hold up – uh," Stark said, ducking behind a counter. There was some noise as he rummaged through whatever he had stored before Strange heard the quick tapping of fingers typing on keys. "Here," Stark said, presenting a laptop halfway through its bootup sequence.
Linux bent at the waist, bringing his face close to the computer. Strange briefly wondered what Linux was doing. Reverently, Linux accepted the laptop from Stark and set it on a counter. An extra appendage produced a case with some vials filled with strange liquids, various tools, and a candle. Linux interlocked his human hands into a form that Strange recognized as one of prayer.
"Well, that explains why he's call priest," Strange muttered quietly to himself.
Another digit extended itself from an unseen part of Linux's arm, snaking its way toward the laptop. Strange briefly wondered what it was before it made contact with the computer, plugging itself into one of the ports.
Suddenly, the laptop's screen began changing. Faster than the eye could perceive did it change from one to another.
"Is… is this supposed to happen?" Doctor Strange asked.
"Linux!" Stark shouted.
The screens paused. From what he could see, it was some program. He wasn't familiar with its layout. Amid the numbers of the body of the document, the lone header was in something more letter-like, and yet he could not understand the language. Right – they were aliens of a sort. He hadn't exactly expected that to be true, especially with how vehemently they counter-argued those facts, but evidence was looking them in the face.
"Is there a problem?"
"What are you doing?" Stark asked.
"Sanctifying this cogitator for the preparation of the holy program that will store the memory which you seek," Linux said, resuming his task.
"I have removed my program from the laptop, sir," JARVIS replied from the overhead. "Linux has installed a variety of robust antivirus and computer security programs – ones stronger than yesterday. It is possible that he has spent the time upgrading and adjusting his software."
"Alright. He hasn't sent anything against you yet?"
"No, sir. We can to an agreement."
"Oh? You'll have to tell me more about it later."
"Yes, sir," JARVIS affirmed.
Strange focus more closely on the strange being that was Linux. He was something of a mystery yet. He and the other two had managed to evade the Avengers for over a month. Then again, it sounded as if they had done nothing wrong. They couldn't evade something that was never looking for them in the first place.
Linux made some chirrup noises as he opened one of the vials. Strange could smell nothing peculiar of the item. Linux dipped an organic finger into the vial. The translucent viscous fluid glistened as the tech priest applied it sacramentally to the computer. Anointed with holy oil?
He'd been so keen on the oil he'd nearly missed the other appendage. It seemed to just appear from under the red robes, the tip glowing. Dutifully, Linux applied the appendage to the chassis of the laptop, and acrid smoke swirled into the air.
"Hey, what -" Stark barely had time to shout before the appendage had disappeared back into the obscuring folds of the robes. The chassis of the laptop bore an ugly image. A strange skull, half of it modified with wires and other contraptions, ensconced within the halo of a gear. An insignia of some sort.
"It will be but a few more moments. The cogitator has been sanctified," Linux answered the unasked question.
Strange shot a look to Stark and Banner.
"So… this is easier than me just popping in and grabbing the memories?" asked Strange.
"Well, at least this way we'll all be able to see the memories. We won't just have to take your words for it," replied Stark.
"But have you thought of how he has the capability to choose to upload his memories?" asked Banner. "You say you don't want to just take Strange's word for it, but isn't it stranger that he's been so helpful? Never mind the morals and ethics of being able to upload your memory – how does someone even do that in the first place," he muttered, "but if he also has the ability to do that, isn't it possible he can edit them to show us what we want to see?"
"Yeah, but then he loses out, too. He's got his kid Sam stuck in the Warp with our Spidey," Stark rebutted.
"It is finished," Linux remarked, speaking over their conspiring.
"Oh, good," Strange replied, being the first to move closer to the laptop screen. "So, what are we watching?"
"These are the last moments of engagement before arrival on this Ancient Holy Terra."
"Okay, let's play," said Stark.
The memory was surreal. As Linux had described, it was a battle, but with men, weapons, and armaments that these men of Earth had never seen. Warmachines rumbled over the torn ground. Flashes of light pierced the fog of war. From Linux's sight, they found the light to come from both sides – a type of laser weaponry. They heard orders shouted in languages unfamiliar to them, but war cries of affirmation understood by all. Then they saw the cultists.
The fabric of reality was torn asunder by their power. Lightning spewed from their hands and mouths as they grappled with the wrongness of the unreality of the Warp. Uniformed men and women were turned inside-out with a glance, and yet these brave souls did not falter, raising their guns and continuing their assault. They bore a look of grim determination. They knew their fate. The soil exploded beneath them, and Linux's vision tumbled as they were launched into the air by a powerful blast. They landed with a heavy, wet thud. As Linux picked himself up, readying his own arms, he pointed out one of the guardsmen who briefly entered his field of vision.
"Guardsman Trembley," Linux said, gesturing at the young soldier.
It was but for a moment, and the battle aged him, but Doctor Strange could still pick out the youthfulness in the boy's features.
Other guardsmen and skitarii troops surged around them, and Commissar Poltava came into Linux's vision. She was a fury, shouting again in that foreign tongue and holding a glowing sword extended. Suddenly, a look of horror crossed her face. As she shouted another command, Trembley and Linux scrambled to race forward through the mud, but their efforts were too little, too late. Linux's vision became distorted, colors of blues, purples, reds, and greens streaking across the display before blacking out. After a moment, the system appeared to reboot. The first thing the optics showed was the asphalt and garbage of some alley in New York.
"The Warp affected anomalies within the systems. A forced reboot preserved the core cogitator," Linux remarked.
"This doesn't help us at all," Stark said, shaking his head. "Didn't we need the memory to figure out how to get to the Warp? This didn't show any of it."
Doctor Strange put a hand on his goatee, stroking it pensively.
"Is there any chance we can try to restore the lost memory?" Banner asked.
Linux shook his head. "Part of the memory core was corrupted. Protocols were developed to contain the warped memory. Accessing the warped memory is ill-advised."
"But that's what we need," Stark said. "You wasted our time with this other memory. What we need is that one of the Warp."
"No. It cannot be accessed."
"Is there a reason why you cannot share this memory with us? A reason that makes accessing the corrupted portion dangerous?" Strange asked.
"The memory damaged the core. Accessing the memory places the rest of the core at risk," Linux replied.
Doctor Strange cast a glance to Stark and Banner. "Do you think you could let me look? Allow me to peer in without disturbing your protective measures?"
Again, Linux shook his head. "No. Dangerous for you."
"What makes it dangerous?"
"It is a memory of the Immaterium – a place that exists outside the Materium. Knowledge of that place corrupts."
"I have worked and travelled within other dimensions and planes of being before. I have some manner of experience with this, I think," Doctor Strange said with some measure of confidence.
"The Warp is not like the Materium. Exposure to the raw Immaterium is often… fatal to the human psyche."
"And that's why you believe it to be dangerous?" asked Strange.
"Not believe. Know."
"So, what does that mean for Parker and Trembley?" asked Banner. "They were taken bodily into the Warp. Is there any way for us to know if they're okay?"
"Chaos tends to prey on those with minds of weak fortitude. Guardsman Trembley is a Cadian. It is unlikely his will shall falter. Peter Parker, though… his mind has not had the training to reject the tricks of the Warp daemons. His mind may not be intact if they are ever found. In any event, Guardsman Trembley, if able, will seek to administer a coup de grâce to them both. He will prevent the Ruinous Powers from gaining their strength," Linux said.
"The Ruinous Powers? What's that?" asked Stark. Strange could hear the worry in his voice.
"The Chaos Gods. In the memory you witnessed one skirmish against their servants. Their favored ones are corrupted into daemons, sowers of chaos and reapers of death," said Linux.
"And the ruinous powers, you believe that they would corrupt me," reasoned Strange.
"Yes."
"Strange, two kids are in there. One of our own is stuck in there," Stark urged.
"I know," the Doctor replied.
"For humanity's safety, examining the memory is not advised," Linux reminded.
"I know," Strange answered.
"We need to bring them back," said Stark.
"It is not safe."
"Being a hero is the worst guarantee for safety," Stark shot back at the tech priest. "Our lives are forfeit for the safety of the innocents."
"Guardsman Trembley knows his duty."
"They are children! Children shouldn't be expected to die in the wars of others!"
"All in the Imperium know their duty and understand the necessity of the sacrifice."
"You would let a child die?"
"That is what this organic form demands of us all."
"We will find a way," said Strange suddenly. "Enginseer, let me see the memory."
"It will corrupt you."
"You said yourself that death comes to us all. Whether it comes sooner or later is not for me to decide. I decide whether I want to let those two go knowing I could have done more to save them."
"You will doom this Terra."
"It was doomed the moment you three appeared," Strange said. "Now, let me look."
AN: Sorry for the slowness in posting. While I had intended to slow down my pace a little, real life got real busy, and I kept getting interrupted every time I tried to write. School was fine (got an A on the paper and an A in the course), though I did spend a good 5 days calling registrar to have them create the only course I have left to take before my final project. My sister came back from college, so we spent some time together. I bought Frostpunk on sale and had so many feelings (guess who didn't cross the line? This one!), and then I also got Mechanicus and Magos Jeremiah has made himself near and dear to my heart. Then I heard my Great Uncle had a stroke and was in the hospital, and now he had his Good Death. Here on out, I'm going to try to aim for maybe a post a month.
Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, Feliz Navidad, Merry Saturnalia, Joyous Chanukah, and a Happy Festivus for the Rest of Us!
Emperor Protects,
Pappenheimer
+++ Also, as I was trying to upload this, formatting was being difficult. Let me know if some words are messed up. I tried to make sure they were fixed, but I may have missed one or two. +++