Author's Note: *coughs out dust* Not dead. Just decaying. ;D Thanks for the support, know you are all treasured.
Warnings: Violence, blood, and character death.
"Welcome to the panic room."
-Au/Ra "Panic Room."
Chapter Three:
Nova scarcely has a moment to catch himself when he tumbles from the tracking beam's pull after they stagger on board the ship before Midnight lets out a noise. It's a screech mixed with a scream and Nova hears the distinct sound of bones breaking or, at the very least, leaving their proper joint, and a woman lets out a rasped gasp of pain.
Not Midnight.
Nova gyrates widely, his eyes flitting across the familiar space of the Exception's empty bridge before he locates the source of the noise. Midnight has her spear snapped out and pointed towards the witch that was with their target. He can't remember her name despite the fact they'd been watching the mortals for hours, but he knows her voice. The Witch's left hand is clutched to her chest and she's propped up on one elbow, wide green-brown eyes looking between the two of them.
She's not meant to be here.
Nova had tried to shove her off as a mercy, even though he knew it would be frowned upon.
What is she doing here?
She...she must have grabbed at Midnight when they left and their sister couldn't rip her off until they landed. Nova bites back a swear, swallowing further words of frustration. The Witch's eyes land on their target and linger, something hard setting into her gaze. Nova bites back a wave of annoyance, pointedly swinging the machine off of his shoulder and slams it against the metal floor.
With aim he hardly has to think about, he flings several daggers into the clothing to keep the creature into place and then one into the machine's shoulder. It groans, shifting weakly and attempting to whisper out a name, the Witch's, he's guessing. Nova doesn't care. It's not his problem. The machine's eyes are squeezed shut with pain, and Nova pulls his gaze away.
He forces up apathy, and shoves down everything else.
Sympathy for their captive will only get him punished. He doesn't need another reason for his wound to tear and leak more blood between his shoulder blades. He's already enough of a mess as it is. If infection isn't the death of him, blood loss surely will be.
Nova grounds himself. His mind is floating away again. He can't deal with that now.
He turns, stepping up beside his sister, and stares at the Witch. She's still propped up on her right elbow, left hand clutched against her chest. A single look at her left hand's pale, ringed fingers assures Nova that Midnight must have snapped all but the thumb when she ripped the Witch's hand from her arm.
Nova glances at his sister, waiting for instruction.
Midnight is already looking at him. He recognizes that gaze, and his stomach hardens inside of him. The meager food he was able to consume this morning rolls and he thinks he might be sick. Her gaze is clear. This is your fault. She's furious. Their mission had almost gone off without any complications until this.
If he had just—
The Witch attempts to scramble forward, getting up to her feet with impressive speed, but Midnight rears. She flips her weapon, drawing it up and clearly intends to simply bash the Witch's head in or something equally destructive. He reacts. Nova catches her wrist, latching his fingers deep around her forearm before she can cause any permanent damage.
"Wait," he breathes. He hates using his voice, but he doesn't have another option.
"She's only going to cause problems." Midnight spits, straining against his grip. She's switched to the common tongue of their father's native race, likely in an attempt to keep their captives from the conversation. "I think your mercy has been delved out enough today, runt."
She calls that mercy?
"Think, sister," Nova instructs softly. His father's native tongue is rough and doesn't want to flow as smoothly off his tongue. He manages. "She's been touched by the Stone, she reeks of it," he reminds, the scar beneath his hair burns in memory as he continues, "you know that Father was looking for a way to make the effects of the Stones permanent inside of him so he could destroy them when he's finished. She," he points at the Witch, frozen in place and looking at Midnight's buzzing weapon, without looking at her, "is living proof that it's possible. Terra's primitive means managed it."
He has no idea why he's so insistent about this. The Witch has done nothing to warrant his mercy. He has no reason to—
Except…except...Nebula brought their father a gift regarding the Stones and was offered mercy. She was given praise and raised to the position of second-in-command. Father rarely allows any harm to come to her now, and he...he doesn't...doesn't always act as just a general. Sometimes he is truly her father, and a Nova hates that he wants the same so desperately.
Perhaps his intentions are far less heroic than he meant for them to be. He's not saving an innocent because it's the "right thing to do." He's saving her in hopes that their father will reward them. And honestly? He doesn't feel terribly bothered about this. Life in the Sanctuary has taught him one thing: anything that can be done for survival must be taken.
If he doesn't do something to please Father soon, he will send Nova back to the Other.
And, Kriff, he can't—
Ghost knives trail down in between his shoulder blades and near his ribcage, splitting him open and preparing for—Midnight swears viciously under her breath, but he can tell she sees his logic. She opens her mouth to reply, likely with something biting, but it doesn't come out. The Witch takes their moment of distraction and kicks Midnight's weapon to the side, jumping to her feet. Midnight's arm jerks painfully and Nova twists in a vain attempt to grab at the woman before she can get past the two of them.
He fails.
The Witch lands beside the machine on her knees, lifting her unbroken hand up to hover over him. "Vis," she breathes, a thin thread of panic overwhelming her voice. Her accent is thick and unfamiliar to him. It must be native to Terra.
The machine reaches for her hand weakly, eyes managing to settle on the Witch's eyes. "Wan...Wand…" he whispers. "I'm sorry."
"No," the Witch shakes her head as Nova begins to move towards them quickly, "net, don't say that, we're going to be fine. We're going—" Nova grabs her around her waist and hauls her up and away from the machine. The Witch lets out a feral shriek, struggling in his grip. She digs her nails against his forearm guards and pounds against the metal plates with her right fist as she twists desperately to get free. He can feel her reaching for her magic only to shy away, panting.
"Vision!" she yells.
He strengthens the block he cast, hoping it will hold. The witch's power is formidable, but he's not worried about that. It's the fact that his magic might spontaneously decide to give up and the spell fail. The unsteadiness...it's so unpredictable now. He never knows if a spell will hold or if he'll be left scrambling to find another option.
Nova hauls her back another step, wincing when the Witch lands a blow hard enough to sting. Her thoughts are chaos, and it takes him considerable effort to keep them out of his head.
Midnight walks towards the machine slowly, almost leisurely, and digs her boot against the dagger Nova lodged into his shoulder to pin him there. The machine heaves, breath thick. "You seemed so much stronger from afar," Midnight sneers, "and yet now you can't handle a little pain."
A quiet part of him wants to sneer pathetic right along with his sister. A little pain is nothing to shy away from. He, as usual, remains silent. Keeps his lips pressed together to keep anything from spilling out on accident.
"Wh-what...what do y-you—" the machine spasms, words failing when Midnight sinks the weapon deeper.
"Hands off!" the Witch shouts, struggling harder. Nova hauls her back a few more steps, snapping the dagger down from his inner sleeve and lifting it to her throat, just below the chin. She stills abruptly, and Nova keeps the weapon trained there, waiting for Midnight's next command. She is, loathe he is to admit this, his superior for the mission. He's bound by word to his father to listen to her.
Which is what made the incident on Ria so much worse. He's lucky that the only reprimand he got was from Midnight.
This whole mess with the Witch is his fault. If he had just—if he'd been thinking they could have slipped in and out without a problem. He just hadn't been able to stay quiet. Midnight is furious, and no matter what Father said to her before they left, she is going to do something to appease her temper. She's like that. She can't think clearly until her rage has been vented. So often it is physically.
Midnight slips a dagger out from her boot and the sharp blade gleams in the light. It's double bladed, perfectly weighted in the center. A similar weapon was given to him a few months ago. Everyone in the Order has one. It is a testament to their common goal of balance. Gamora was given the first, and the tradition has followed since her.
Nova has his hidden in his cache to keep it safe. It's treasured. He hasn't used it once since he joined the Order and he doesn't know if he ever will. He can't bare the thought of damaging it.
"What are…?" the Witch breathes. She's stopped struggling for the moment, watching the machine and Nova's sister with wide, mesmerized eyes.
"Wanda…" the machine whispers. He sounds desperate. The machine's eyes open and hazily lift towards the woman. Nova steals himself, forcing the apathy up further. He knows what's coming. It's obvious that these two don't. Are they truly so ignorant? Were they not paying attention when he and his sister lept at them in the barn?
Midnight twists her wrist before digging the edge of the blade into the base of the Mind Stone. The machine shrieks, his body writhing as golden wisps wash over him. It looks like shudders of data, groaning beneath the strain. Nova tears his eyes away, not wanting to watch Midnight dig deeper.
The Witch gasps, still for a moment longer before she begins to fight against him earnestly. She pounds against his block hard enough to make him stagger, a sharp pain whispering through his head. He winces, stumbling back a step to lift a hand up to his forehead and squeezes his eyes shut. He tries to keep a grip on the Witch, but she pounds harder, enough to make him lift both hands up to his head to try and appease the pressure. She's released in the struggle.
It burns.
If he had full control of his power...if Father had never attempted to make him take on so much from the Power Stone, then holding this block would have barely taken a thought. Everything was so effortless before the Power Stone.
He was almost hopelessly powerful. Even still, compared to him, the Witch is but a squawking child. (Which is what makes this so much worse. It should take nothing from him to stop her.) It's a miracle he and Midnight made it the Stones, even if he led them in circles for a few days as he tried to figure out an algorithm that would work and cloaked them from any magic-sensitive Terrans.
A desperate noise slips through his lips, but he holds the block.
He keeps his hands pressed against his forehead and hears something buzz before the power of the Mind Stone washes through him like a physical wave to the gut. Someone—thing—is using it. How—? Midnight isn't—
Everything comes to a stuttering halt when Midnight lets out a yell of pain.
Nova fights the headache, panic washing through him. Midnight can't be hurt. Father will kill him if Midnight was damaged. She may not be Nebula or Gamora, but Midnight is not useless to Father. Not like he is. He tears his eyes open and sees Midnight gripping her hand close to her chest. It's smoking. The machine is attempting to sit up, but the dagger in his shoulder is impeding any progress.
The Witch is moving towards him.
"Nova!" Midnight barks, drawing her sword with her undamaged hand and snapping it out. She begins to move towards the Witch and Nova's anxiety worsens. He can't let her kill the Witch! Father can still use her! She's living proof of merged life with Infinity Stones where he failed. Father will be able to further his plans. He needs this.
Nova lifts out a hand and flicks his wrist, the first spell that comes to mind searing through his fingers. It makes the ends tingle, his wrist aching as the familiar thrum of power slips through his fingers. The magic flashes through the air—true evidence of his exhaustion, if he had been fully rested, it would be its usual translucent—slamming into the Witch's back.
She crumples before she reaches the machine, limbs flaying out when she doesn't catch herself. The paralysis spell shouldn't be permanent, but he winces all the same when the Witch's head smacks against the metal plating of the ship with a ka-thump.
"Wanda!" the machine yells, fury slipping into his tone. The creature looks towards him, eyes heated. The Mind Stone begins to glow inside his head, buzzing with a familiar humming power and Nova feels his breath constrict in his throat. It wields the Stone? Truly? Something created by Terrans has the ability to wield an Infinity Stone? His lips part wordlessly.
The Power Stone. Digging into his head. Hair never grew on top of the scar. If he lifts his hair up above his left ear, there's nothing but a scalded burn mark, half as long as finger, but just as wide. Father nearly destroyed him that day, but he kept pushing and pushing and Nova thought he was going to die and—
It's instinct that keeps him from the blazing ray, years of his siblings throwing objects at him in random to test his reflexes saving him from taking the blast of light to the chest. It doesn't even clip him. He lands in a roll and jumps up to his feet smoothly, if a little dizzy.
Midnight slams her spear inside of the machine's chest. The beam stops immediately, a groan of pain taking its place. Midnight breathes out heavily, hand still clutched against her stomach. "We don't need you or her"—Midnight jerks her head towards the Witch—"alive. Remember that. Try something. Really. Test me."
The machine's wide eyes don't move from her.
Nova takes a step forward hesitantly, uncertain as to what she wants him to do. "Take her to the detention wing," Midnight says without looking back at him. She twists the blade and the machine stops breathing.
He doesn't suspect that the creature needed it in the first place. Perhaps it just felt obligated to do so because everything around it was, too.
"I'll deal with this." His sister spits.
Nova nods, lifting a fisted hand to his chest and giving a slight bow of respect. He moves towards the Witch and rolls her over with the edge of his boot. Her eyes stare up as the rest of her rolls weightlessly. Nova exhales through his nose before squatting down and gathering her into his arms. His back immediately burns, another few stitches giving.
He has to bite down sharply on his tongue to keep himself from crying out, but his breath does hitch in his chest at the sheer agony.
More blood pools down his back, staining his shirt. If it wasn't for the armor wrapped around him, his shame would be visible for everyone to see.
The paralysis holds and the Witch remains unmoving in his arms. He probably should have done this from the start, but in the wild frenzy to capture the machine and the fight that followed, it hadn't occurred to him. Nova blows out a breath and rises up to his feet. The burn increases, the skin around the wound stretching before snapping and he feels another few stitches give.
Kriff, he can't do this. He can't do this. He can't—
He moves towards the door with ease, elbowing the pad and watching as it opens automatically. Distantly, he registers that the machine is beginning to scream, but he doesn't look back. He's learned it's easier that way. There's less of a chance he'll try and interfere, ruining Father's plans. Father needs the Mind Stone, and the machine is going to have to die for Father's cause.
Just like the wizard had.
Nova passes the Outriders standing guard, scrambling through the halls and avoiding him, moving towards the detention block.
When he's entered an empty cell, he sets the Witch down carefully against the floor and lifts her hands up to snap the manacles onto pale wrists. Her long brown-auburn hair is hanging down around her shoulders, falling in front of her face and likely obscuring her vision. He can see blood staining some of it and hopes that whatever the injury was it won't have permanent aftereffects. He notes that her fingers are already beginning to bruise with a distant dispassion, sighing softly.
She shouldn't have gotten dragged into this.
Hopefully Father will be pleased. If he's not, Nova will likely have to split her blood himself for trying to warrant quarter where it wasn't needed.
He leans back and considers removing the paralysis. It won't drain him to keep it, but the journey from Terra to the Sanctuary is almost three days time. That's a long time to be helpless. He looks at the Witch over and bites on his tongue, shaking his head. It would be a pointless mercy. She'll be easier to contain this way, and he will not give Father any more reasons to be angry with him.
He's not under any obligations to be nice to her regardless. She's a stowaway. A tool. A gift.
Nova gets to his feet and turns, striding from the room. He doesn't look back as he closes the cell door, leaving the Witch trapped in the dark.
000o000
Nova meets Midnight on the bridge nearly twenty minutes later.
The machine is, remarkably, still alive and slumped against the wall near the windows. He's not restrained, but laying limply. It says enough of his state that Midnight left him free. She doesn't believe that he'll be able to escape. While his sister may struggle with overconfidence from time to time, he can see that the machine is going nowhere.
The Mind Stone remains in its head, however.
Nova comes to a stop a few feet behind Midnight, pulling his gaze from the machine. In her left hand is the dagger Father gave her. She's spinning it slowly, fingering the ridges where the design is crafted with metal. Her damaged hand has been wrapped and he feels relief at the sight. The wound wasn't permanent. It may sting, but she will recover. Eventually.
He holds his tongue to stop any questions from spilling out. He doesn't need to speak here, so he won't. He's already said far too much since this whole fiasco started anyway. There's no need to continue that.
As if she can sense his thoughts, Midnight looks back at him, yellow gaze piercing. "The machine is proving more resistant than I first thought. The Stone doesn't want to part from him." She lifts up her hand as evidence to back her statement.
He glances towards the machine, swallowing anger. Midnight had done nothing to deserve the pain it gave her. It had no reason to touch her. If Father does not make him suffer before he dies, Nova will.
Midnight releases an aggravated noise, turning back to the windows with stars whirling past them. Nova follows her gaze and realizes they must have entered the jump point while he was detaining the Witch. "I'm certain Father will be able to devise a way to take it from him. One that doesn't end with someone's incineration." She reassures. Nova nods, letting his gaze linger on their captive for a moment more.
When he'd done a brief study of Terra—trying to remember why it's so familiar—-for the mission, everything that he'd learned had insisted that it was primitive. The only reason it's listed among the more common names is because it was part of a collective called "the Nine." The term had meant nothing to him beyond a faint, wispy recognition. He feels as though he's heard it in a dream before, but Ria was a territory under the protection of this "Nine", so it's more likely where he'd come across it before. He searched for information on Ria before they attacked that settlement, too. He always does. The pattern feels familiar to him, as if he's done it scores of time before.
He hadn't had the time to study the Nine further, and now it doesn't really matter. (But it does. Why is Terra so advanced? How do they have the ability to harness Infinity Stones? From what Gamora told him, Father found a master builder to forge the Gauntlet, and they barely succeeded. The Gauntlet can only take the strain of all Stones once or twice. So how did Terra—?)
Midnight claps her hands together and it snaps him into attention. She's looking at him, hands lifted in front of his face and he flinches back from them despite himself. He blinks. He must have zoned out again. It's getting more frequent. His illness is getting worse.
"Are you listening?" Midnight demands.
He is now.
Nova lifts his gaze up to her, holding her yellow eyes. Midnight makes a clicking noise, clenching her fists. Her eyes are tight with pain around the edges and he knows that the burn must bother her more than he first thought. "You could have been killed," Midnight snaps, lifting out a finger to jab in him the chest with a finger. "I told you not to run off into the barn without me. You're impulsiveness will be the death of you. Father would have been most unpleased with me if I had dragged your smoldering corpse before his feet."
Nova grits his teeth. He knows that he's not high on her list of priorities, but it stings to have that reaffirmed. He swallows his apprehension and then questions, stiffly, "How is your hand?"
Midnight's gaze flicks towards the wound. She looks back up at him, lips pressed together. "Nothing that won't heal with time."
"You should see a medic." Nova says. Her skin was smoking. The burn must be terrible. She won't let him help her, but she needs help.
Midnight's expression hardens before she takes a step forward, jaw set. "On one condition," he lifts his head to look at her only for her violently backhand him across the face. He stumbles, his head swinging in the direction of the hand as he lifts out his hands a little for balance. "You listen next time. I'm not dragging your corpse back."
Nova grits his teeth, rubbing at his jaw and winces as the tender skin pulses beneath his fingers. His tongue is bleeding from where he bit it. He is but an inconvenience. The point has been made. A distraction to keep her from focusing on Father's wants, and that can't happen.
"Do you have anything to say?" Midnight asks, and Nova looks up at her. He doesn't. He's waiting. If she'd wanted a report, she would have asked for one, but there's nothing for him to say. They've been on this blasted thing together since the start. "Then why are you still here? You're dismissed." Midnight says flippantly, turning back to the windows.
Nova digs his teeth together, refusing to give into his annoyance and dips his head. He feels the machine's eyes on him, and lets his gaze lift to it for a moment. His stare makes it pull its own away, and Nova represses an eye roll, slipping from the room. Midnight will keep an eye on it. Probably both eyes. Not that she has a need to; with how easily the machine is intimidated, they likely won't have a problem with it.
For something that holds a Stone, it's hopelessly pathetic.
They're so close to fulfilling their father's mission. Only a few days of travel and then they can present their success to their father. They may have slipped some at the end, but if Nova hadn't slipped off from Midnight then they might have gotten the machine alone and avoided this whole thing. Nova had insisted that the machine being alone would take weeks.
Father wanted the Stones now, so he left.
Midnight caught him before he snuck into the barn. She had attacked first, even if she was irritated. They had just assumed that the Witch could be easily taken care of. Obviously she's attempting to prove herself otherwise.
But if Nova hadn't been impulsive and waited then…
He's so tired. Kriff, he doesn't care about any of this. His back hurts. His face hurts. All he wants to do is sleep and eat something.
Breathing out slowly, he opens the door to the guest quarters he's been staying in for the last week when they weren't running around Terra. Nothing overly glamorous, but he doesn't really care. It has somewhere to sleep and that's all he really cares about right now.
The door hisses shut behind him automatically and Nova steps forward, allowing himself to feel the exhaustion. He and Midnight have been up for the better part of the last four days as they tracked the wizard. Nova's algorithm made a mess of getting anywhere, much to Midnight's verbal and physical annoyance, but they got Mind and Time.
It was more than Nova expected of himself.
Or his magic.
He eyes the cot with longing before stepping past it into the washroom. His back is wet, and he's not stupid enough to leave it like this and ignorantly hope that nothing happened. Nova sighs and elbows on the light before struggling to remove his armor and then his shirt. His back is fiery with pain and he has to stop several times to catch his breath and try not to vomit.
He'd felt something give when the Witch forced them both to the floor in the barn. Between the activity of this week he hasn't been given the time to let his body heal on its own. He keeps pulling and breaking the stitches. If Nebula sees this, she's going to be furious. She did tell him leave it alone. But how could he?
His father's mission—his trust—is far more important than anything that Nova's small discomfort.
Nova finally manages to shrug the bloodied clothing off and twists around to see the wound in the mirror. The angle is funny, given that he's looking over his shoulder, but he can see that blood is beginning to leak from the top. The stitches, like many others, have snapped and he's going to have to leave it for scabbing over. He can't fix it himself from this angle, and the thought of asking Midnight for assistance makes him sick.
She'd make it worse. There have been only four times he's had to submit to begging for her help and he remembers, vividly, the instance when she'd poisoned him.
He can only hope and pray that Nebula wasn't sent off by their father while they were gone. She's the only one he can trust to not make things worse. Funny how things change. He would have sooner cut out his own tongue than even consider going to her before Ronan happened.
Nova's vision blurs for a moment and he squeezes his eyes shut when the world violently spins, trying to ground himself. Blood loss, an unhelpful part of him offers for a diagnosis. He's just exhausted. This isn't anything serious.
There's nothing he can do to clean or bandage it without a lot of movement and he can't handle that right now. He can't breathe.
Nova grabs his clothing and half staggers to the cot. His knees give and he collapses bodily into it, barely managing to avoid smashing his head against the opposing wall. Nova releases a low moan and bites at his tongue to stifle it. He may be alone, but that's no excuse for showing weakness.
He grips the edge of the blanket weakly, trying to breathe.
It's all fine.
(He's going to die.)
000o000
He spends the next few days in a haze. If he's being honest, he hardly remembers half of what happens. He knows that his back finally begins to show physical signs of infection—it's leaking pus now, and a lot if it—that Midnight nearly strangles the Outrider captain with them, and the machine makes a failed attempt at escape that he wasn't present for. (Midnight stopped him with ease and now Nova privately thinks that the machine will be dead before they arrive at the Sanctuary from his injuries.)
And then one moment he's attempting to stomach something that tastes like ash on his tongue, the next he's standing in front of the detention wing with instructions to retrieve the Witch. They're docking on the Sanctuary. They're here. Their father is waiting. He doesn't have time to dawdle.
He needs...to lay down. He needs to vomit. He needs to…needs to...
Nova grits his teeth and braces himself before opening the door and stepping inside. The Witch is still laying limply where he left her, head hanging and arms raised, wrists clasped in the cuffs. Nova rubs his thumb over his knuckles for a moment, resisting the urge to pick at his palm.
He can do this.
He's going to vomit.
It's only a short journey to Father.
Please let Nebula still be there.
Nova lifts his hand and draws the spell away from the Witch's body. The wisps of golden light return to his fingers, sinking beneath his skin to rejoin his bloodstream. His headache lessons a little at the release of the spell, but not by much. The back of his skull is threatening to tear itself open.
The Witch doesn't move. Her fingers twitch at first, as if she's attempting to assess her condition before making any big movements. Nova knows from past experience that she must be miserable. The body aches, testy limbs and so on. If she's standing in the next ten minutes he'll be impressed.
The Witch's fists clench, but her head doesn't raise. "Where—" her voice cracks, dry and hardly above a rasp. A shudder washes down her spine. "Where is Vision?"
Nova lifts up the spare pair of clothing and a water bottle he collected before arriving here, saying nothing.
"Where is he?" the Witch's voice is harsh. Hard. Something promising pain, but Nova has stared down worse than this mortal. "Answer—can you understand me?"
"Freshen up. Join me outside." He says instead, dropping the supplies next to her limp legs and touching one of the cuffs to release both of them. They click before her hands fall by her sides, flopping to the ground bonelessly. She doesn't lift them. He suspects that she can't.
Her broken fingers look worse than they did a few days ago, and Nova realizes that Midnight must have had no one sent to her. He only meant to keep her contained. It wasn't his intent to keep her in pain. The swelling is terrible and clearly visible, even from the distance he is from her.
(It doesn't matter. Let it go.)
(It matters.)
Nova turns, exiting the cell without another word and grounds himself for the wait. The world spins violently and he has to grab at the wall to keep himself upright. His stomach heaves and he bites down on his tongue sharply to stop the vomit from spilling out. He wants to lay down. He doesn't want to do this.
The infection is getting worse.
Please let Nebula be there.
He's going to...he can't remember. He can't...he's...it…?
He tilts his head back and squeezes his eyes with relief when the cool metal eases some of the pressure in his head. It's a momentary lapse, but one nonetheless.
Time blurs and he doesn't know how long it's been before the door opens and the Witch, looking only marginally better, steps out. She's still wearing the boots she arrived in, but the other clothing is the spares he gave her. Her hair has been tucked back into a loose ponytail, leaving some strands to hang around her pale face.
Nova blinks, attempting to process this as he pulls his head away from the wall, swallowing heavily. His vision does something funny and then suddenly the Witch's hand is flying towards his face. He catches her fist, twisting the limb enough to hurt, but not break. The woman's eyes are wide, though, as if she suspects that he'll break her remaining fingers.
Tempting.
But no.
The woman's eyes narrow. "Where is Vision?"
Nova sighs, drawing restraints Midnight lent him out and dragging the Witch's wrists together before snapping the cuffs on. He grabs her elbow and hauls her forward a step, nearly pitching face-first into the metal floor.
He's closer. He's much closer now. Kriff, he hasn't felt this terrible since the Other was training him. Or when Father used the Stone to—
Nova keeps walking. He doesn't answers her questions and ignores her persistent pestering about this Vision. The machine, he suspects, but he doesn't understand why something would be named "vision." It seems...it seems pointless. Father chooses his names carefully. This seems to have been an afterthought.
The woman's annoyance with him clearly grows, but he's unaffected by it. Her attempts at a struggle are considerably less than before, likely since she's concluded he's taking her to the machine. As if she'll somehow escape by simply being her beloved's presence. Naive.
Time does another haze and he only snaps back into focus when Midnight's fingers brush on his upper arm. They're standing at the front of the Outriders, the creature being dragged by the captain. Nova is still gripping the Witch. The woman's attention is on the machine behind them, eyes wary. The gravity of the situation seems to be settling in.
She won't stop picking at the block. It's not enough to tear it down, but it's a nagging pain that does nothing to help his headache or mood.
Midnight's yellow eyes are narrowed.
Nova pulls his gaze away, unwilling to relent. He needs to try harder if he's giving himself away so easily. He rolls his shoulders back, straightens his posture, and forces his gait to be less of a mimic of an intoxicated creature.
They cross through the Sanctuary's familiar halls and passages quickly, the walls blurring. Midnight doesn't stop when they reach the throne room, waiting to be called in. She shoves open the doors and takes the needed steps inside, moving towards the throne. Their father is seated there, regal as ever. His eyes trace them across the room, expression blank.
Nova's stomach drops when he realizes that Ebony and Obsidian are present. His eyes slide towards Obsidian's right, where Glaive would have been had he not been dead. (Father was disappointed in Glaive's performance. Gamora had tried to appease his temper, but it ended poorly. Nova wasn't a member of the Order yet, but he had noticed the tension.)
The Other, as always, is hovering near Father's right. Nebula's sharp eyes land on him and don't leave. Relief crashes through him when he sees the familiar hue of her skin. She's here. She's here. Father didn't send her away while he was gone.
She can help him. (She has to help him.)
"Father," Midnight greets and lifts a fist to her heart, giving a dip of her head. Nova comes to a stop, but thinks if he does anything beyond stand here, breathing, he's going to snap. He'll burst out all over this ugly floor and they won't be able to put him back together again.
The thought shouldn't be a relief.
Nova lifts his shaking hand towards his chest, hoping that his discomfort isn't as obvious as he feels it is. His hand is shaking and dipping his head stretches the skin of his back so sharply his gaze goes white at the edges for a moment.
"We were successful in our mission, my lord." Midnight says, "We have brought you Time and Mind." She glances behind them towards the Outrider captain and the creature takes a step forward, throwing the machine at their father's feet. He lands weightlessly.
The Witch twitches.
Their father looks towards the machine and then lifts his piercing gaze up to them. He has says nothing. He usually says something by now. Have they done something to rouse his ire? Did he want more? What have they done? What must they do to—
"I see that." Their father states flatly. "At least, I see Mind. Where is Time?"
Midnight looks back at him.
Father's gaze lifts up. Nova represses a shudder, but the idea of trying to draw anything from his cache causes his stomach to flip violently. He makes a choking noise as he tries to hold back the vomit. No one comments, but he feels Nebula's gaze on him once more. Nova lifts his trembling hand and curses himself for showing such weakness.
With effort, he slowly pulls the Infinity Stone from within the confines of his magic. The green light hums between his fingertips as he touches the edges of the crystal. The Stone feels funny against his skin, but strangely calming. It's humming. Calling for him.
The Witch's eyes have gone wide.
Nova lifts the Stone to hover before he directs it towards his father's awaiting fingers. The Titan's expression is carefully concealed, but he thinks that he sees a small edge of anticipation in his eyes. Father clasps the Stone between two fingers when it's close enough and rolls his wrist to lift the Gauntlet up towards the Stone.
With the Stone buzzing energy, Father shoves against the Infinity Stone's initial reaction to get as far as possible from its brother, pushing it inside the Gauntlet. The power ripples across his skin and Father's expression washes with open agony for a moment. Nova rocks on his feet, prepared to interfere should the need arise and sees his siblings do much the same.
The Stone settles inside Father's bloodstream and the Titan releases a soft noise.
Nebula takes a step forward. "Father?"
"I am well, daughter." Their father says, waving a hand. His movement is careful; an attempt to hide his discomfort that Nova sees through easily. Father releases a heavy breath before his gaze lands on the Witch. Nova feels breath tangle inside of him, bracing for what must be done. "I told you to take no prisoners. You best pray you have a good reason for her impediment, my children."
"She is the living proof you have been looking for." Midnight begins carefully. "She and Mind have been successfully merged."
"On Terra?" the Other spits with clear disbelief.
Their father's gaze perks. He shifts in his throne. "Is that so? Little girl, what is your name?"
The Witch looks uncomfortable beneath the stare, rocking her weight forward. Her lips part once before her gaze flits towards the machine and her resolve appears to harden. "Let us go or you'll regret it."
Nova's expression lifts the slightest, unimpressed.
Father snorts. With a dismissive tone, he says, "Child. I admire your resilience, but you must understand that we are no longer on your world. Your status means nothing here."
The Witch rams against the block again, harder, and Nova winces, straightening his posture sharply. Ebony's lands on him, eyes narrowing. Nova knows that the man can't sense magic to save his life—the telekinesis he wields is part of his species, not magic—but he's not stupid.
"I am not wielding status. This has nothing to do with status." The Witch says, her voice admirably steady. "You do not know me. I will tear all of you apart limb by limb if you lay a hand on him."
"Wanda…" the machine whispers from his position at the bottom of the dais. He hasn't moved once since Midnight threw him there. "Wanda, please..."
"Wanda." Father tries the name on his tongue. "That is your name, then, child?"
"Does it matter?" the Witch hisses, lifting her chin slightly. She's smaller than everyone in the room, but it's obvious she's desperately attempting to make herself seem bigger. She's terrified. "You—"
"Yes. I can sense that Mind has had an influence on you." Their father interrupts. His head tilts, "Curious." He looks from Nova to Midnight several times before giving an approving nod of his head. "You have done well, my children. I am impressed."
Impressed.
Impressed.
Relief drops like a weight inside his stomach. There will be no punishment for failing. They did well.
"Now," their father rises from their throne and all of them flinch back involuntarily. Nova ducks his head down the slightest bit to avoid eye contact, watching as Father slowly descends the dais. The machine makes a weak attempt to crawl away, but light shudders through it.
The Witch makes a noise, attempting a step forward, but Nova grips her arm harder and stops her. "For the other Stone, I'm afraid that this day will have to be one of loss," their father says and leans down, grabbing the machine by its neck. Hauling it upright, the machine gargles, gripping at Father's forearm.
"No, don't—" the Witch begins, jerking in his grip. Their father glances at her for the briefest moment, a smirk tipping the edges of his lips. Nova guards himself, inhaling deeply and allowing all his protests to escape him in a single exhale. It's not his place to say.
The machine's looking towards the Witch, their eyes locked desperately. The Mind Stone begins to hum, power thrumming as the machine prepares to use it. "I'm sorry," he's mouthing to the Witch. Unlike Midnight, Father isn't burned by the blaze. He merely lifts the Gauntlet and the light reflects in the machine's head. Pushing through the blaze and digging deep, Father tears through the creature's forehead, electing a scream from it.
The Witch scrambles forward desperately, slipping over her feet, but unable to go anywhere because of his grip. He tears his eyes away from the scene, focusing on his feet instead. The Witch is bubbling out protests, pleads, threats, but it's meaningless.
The machine's agony grows higher before cutting off completely and Nova feels the full power of the Mind Stone wash through them, no longer hindered by the Terran technology attached to it. It's finished. He lifts his eyes in time to see the machine, gray and lifeless, dropping dead at their father's feet. The Mind Stone is clasped in between Father's fingers and with a familiar movement, he inserts it into the Gauntlet as the Witch drops to her knees and screams.
Author's Note: December 6th, 13th or sometime in-between that. (It's December?)
Happy Thanksgiving Americans. Happy last week of November to everyone else. ;)