Author's Notes: A short chapter, this one, for obvious reasons. Don't worry, all will be revealed in time. Even the seeming incongruities.
Earth 616, Modern Era
The usually somewhat clean and proper bedroom of Jennifer Walters (attorney at law) looked much like the Juggernaut had actually been there. Clothes strewn about everywhere, on bed, floor, lamps and furniture.
The process had gone something like this: First, a highly agitated Jen had rummaged through her wardrobe for something professional-yet-sexy to wear, had found one, but then she had realized he had specified 'civilian'...meaning he wanted her to show up as Jennifer. Who had a quite different size clothing. After that, well...things had gotten a bit out of hand.
"No. No. Yuck, no. No. Definitely not...damn it!" She glanced at the clock. Still early. At least four hours to noon. Good. She continued going through her closets. "Hmmm...no. No...no...no...huh."
It was a simple outfit. Skirt ending at the knees, jacket that had been hopelessly untrendy until she'd taken needle and thread to the collar and ripped out the ridiculous shoulder-pads, after which it was just trend-less. All in simple pale gray. She'd never liked it much because it made her look paler, and it had been so expensive so as to make wearing it and risk hulking out in it a non-issue.
Wait, does he even know what I look like as Jennifer? Ah, hell, worry about that later.
An eggshell white silk blouse and black shoes broke the gray monotony enough to make her look somewhat hot, if not as stylish as she might wish. She held it up to herself, looking at the full-body mirror. "Hmmm. Could work."
Wish I had more to work with as Jennifer. Jen is easy to dress up, everything looks good on her as long as you get it plus-sized. Me, I'm so skinny and pale that I have to be careful I don't end up looking like an undertaker.
Damn it, why had he insisted on civilian? She was so...dull as Jennifer. Mousy, boring, unappealing. Leonard had once told her that unlike Bruce, both she and the green-haired psychiatrist were only exaggerated versions of their original selves, since they didn't repress as much as her cousin did. Not truly alternate personalities, simply the old personalities without the inhibitions.
She found that hard to believe. Jennifer was introverted, quiet, shy, had trouble speaking in front of a jury without flop-sweating (okay, so she had worked that off with experience, but still) and shied away from contact with the opposite sex. Jen was...extroverted, loud, a little pushy, and had so much self-confidence that it had made Ben Grimm look like a high school geek at times.
What if he just likes Jen?
…
Mulligan's was fairly upscale for a lunch restaurant, but not so much as to be expensive. The food was decent, if nothing to write poetry about, the coffee was good, and the location was amazing, overlooking most of the plaza.
Jennifer Walters glanced at her watch again. Late by half an hour. Why was he late? Was he usually late? She'd checked the news on her smart phone, nothing major happening on or near Manhattan Island. Small fire in Westchester, but that was way out of his usual routes going by the news reports on him she'd caught every now and then.
Maybe he's forgotten about it. Or maybe he's...
She took a deep breath. A waiter sidled up to her. "Another glass of water, miss?"
She glared at the man, but didn't snarl at him. That would be a Jen thing to do. "No, thanks. Let me have the lunch menu."
"Certainly."
…
…
Michele Gonzalez stared at the bedroom of her weirdo roomie. Okay, he was a strange one, she knew that. Friends with famous people, total screw-up even though he should be rich and famous, not to mention that whole mother-in-law's dream-guy image he projected all the time while at the same time being totally clueless in so much.
Okay, he was hot. Damn hot. Buff like a damn male model, from the glimpses she'd caught when he used the shared bathroom, a strong but not square face, broad shoulders, graceful like a damn ballet dancer. Still, total flake. Just the sheer number of women who kept simpering around him was sickening.
But this took the proverbial cake.
Half his bedroom was gone.
Most of his dresser, the whole bed except for one bedpost, most of the ugly rug he'd bought cheap somewhere and most of the clutter and crap he kept around his whole sleeping area.
She shook her head in sheer disbelief.
This was New York. In New York, weird things happened (though Parker seemed to get more than his fair share). When weird shit like this happened...she picked up the phone and dialed.
"911 Emergency."
"Yeah, is there someone you contact when really weird stuff happens?"
"Please hold."'
She stood there, staring at the clean edges...like a giant rectangle of the world had just been...sheared off.
Then a female-sounding voice popped in. "Fantastic Hot-line, please state the nature of your incident?"
…
…
"And you know what happened when we looked down?" Susan Storm looked at the two children who were engrossed in her story. This had to be done exactly right...
Her hands had been surreptitiously moving around them while she told them of Gorrgarr, one of the more ridiculous foes they had faced back in their early days, a story that was dramatic enough to keep Franklin entertained and scientific enough to keep Valeria from making little sardonic comments on the stupidity of the average science villain.
Suddenly a gigantic hand slammed down on the table with a thump, and both children jumped!
...except the gigantic hand was a blanket, and it deflated the moment Sue let go of the force field she'd been preparing. As the children started to giggle, she followed it up by merciless tickling until they were redfaced and teary-eyed with laughter. Finally, she let them go.
Which was right about when Reed wandered in carrying one of his more advanced analysis tools, completely caught up in his own mind, not even noticing how instead of tripping over blankets and children's toys his body sort of flowed over it like an overflowing river...or a giant slug. Whichever was the most disturbing.
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Sweetie? Mind explaining what's so fascinating?"
He looked up, seemingly realizing where he was only just this moment. Blinked owlishly at her, then waved the device about a bit. "Oh, I'm sure nothing..." Then he noticed the Look. The one that said 'don't pretend this is something unimportant I know that look on your face'. His face fell (literally) a bit. "Well, I'm sure it's nothing...
"Reed..."
"Well, a young woman called in an incident this morning, it got filtered through the hot-line systems until finally it..."
"Reed."
"Well, it's just that it involves someone we know, and I didn't want to worry you so I-"
"Reed!"
He sighed, finally realizing that she always saw right through him. "There might be something strange going on with young Peter."
Peter? Didn't Jen have a date with him today? She said it was just a professional lunch date, but...
"You know, Reed, go ahead and investigate. Let me know what you find."
…
…
It wasn't every day you got to meet Reed Richards. Michele was not exactly used to celebrities, even if she'd gone to a couple lectures by that blind guy who'd defended Wilson Fisk all those years ago, so seeing a man seemingly made from rubber wave blinking, beeping gadgets and doodads at your apartment was...weird.
"You say you know Parker?"
Richards blinked in confusion at her feeble attempt at small talk. "Hm? Oh, yes. He was at my wedding, if you must know. Back when he worked for the Bugle. Took a very flattering picture of the, of the," the man known as Mr Fantastic blushed bright red, "ah, kiss, that, um, Sue had framed and...anyway, it seems your hunch was correct, miss Gonzalez. There's definitely been something 'hinky', as you put it. My scans show unexplained rise in neutrino levels, as well as traces of tachyons. There's been some ionization in the window glass, consistent with vast amounts of chronal energies being spent, and...you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? Sorry. Sue always says I tend to get into the, um, 'techno-babble' when I get excited about something. Tell me, did you notice anything strange last night, at about," quick glance at instrument in one hand, "seven?"
It was her turn to blink in confusion. Wait, that last was a question, right? "Uh, yeah. Some thumping and bumps. But he's always making noise, I just thump the wall right back. I had no idea..."
"Oh, don't worry. Probably a good thing you didn't go look. I'm going to have to talk to some people about this, but I can say that it's quite possible that young Parker is...alive."
She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Yeah?"
"Oh, yes. At least a twenty percent chance."
She must have looked horrified, because Mr Fantastic smiled at her, reassuringly. "Don't worry, miss. In my business, twenty percent is a good thing."
…
Reed Richards stared at his scan readouts, frowning. This was not good. Not good at all. According to these scans, the readings detected were very similar to those used by Victor von Doom's time platform, only more elaborate, less haphazard. He knew for a fact that Victor had not improved his time machine since the invention of it (since von Doom never admitted any of his inventions might have flaws or need improving), but no-one else in this era had access to such technology.
Which was what concerned him.
No-one else. In this era. And judging by the readings, what had been done in that small apartment would not have been an actual threat in itself, thus not triggering Peter's remarkable, nigh-psychic danger sense...
He activated the very secure link that always connected the various vehicles they flew, drove or helmed. "Sue? I think we have a bit of an odd situation on our hands..."
…
"He what?"
Reed shied away almost unconsciously from the over seven foot tall green woman who was currently looking quite irate. "Now, now, I said might. I have to analyze my findings a little more before I can give you a ninety percent assurance that this is what's happened, there are at least four other options that-"
"You're saying that my - that Peter is...what, time-napped? What the hell kind of messed up situation is that? We had a date!"
Sue to the rescue. "Jen, calm down, this isn't helping. If this is indeed someone having taken him out of time, then we need to find him and bring him back. Time travel is very dangerous, and if the utmost care isn't taken he could end up lost in some other timeline forever. Hope to God he's stuck in one of the many futures and not in the past."
Ah. Good beginning, a little rough on the landing. Jen had started to calm down, but when the possibility of young Peter being lost somewhen in time forever was brought up...
"I think we're going to have to explore all avenues on this one. I don't have access to any kind of time machines, and the last time we tinkered with one...let's just say that Noh-Varr fellow is very unhelpful. Not to mention that finding a single individual out of his own quantum place in the temporal flows is...difficult, to say the least."
Sue was looking pensive. "Reed...there's always-"
"No. I don't trust that sort of thing, and you shouldn't either. It's unscientific."
She was already shaking her head. "You know as well as I do that there's only one man we can talk to. Well...his successor, I suppose. We're going to-"
Oh, please don't use that ridiculous title...
"-have to talk to the Sorcerer Supreme."
…
…
Jericho Drumm knelt down next to the hollow husk of what had once been a homeless man, trying not to let the flashing red and blue lights of the nearby police car distract him. Fortunately his attention deficit disorder-brother was annoying a nearby alley cat and thus not annoying him.
The body showed signs of some kind of psychic toxin, a numbing agent of sorts, something that held the soul in place as the Thing fed. And it had definitely fed. The corpse showed both psychic and corporeal signs of something large and insectoid having drained it of all bodily fluids, but there was no sign of actual high magic. Which meant a primal spirit of some kind had broken into the physical plane. He stood up, resisting the urge to wipe his hands on the cloak. "Officer...Rigby, was it? Do you have any identification on the victim?"
"Well, usually we let the morgue and county handle the vagrants, but since the death was so...well, weird, we ran his prints, or what we could get of them. Turns out he had a record. Jake Furling, ran a big sweatshop a few years back until he was exposed in the Bugle. Did six months in white-collar prison, came out flat broke, never got back on his feet." The police officer frowned. "Say, how did you know there'd be a dead body here anyway?"
"I didn't. I came here to find what killed this man. It's probably stronger now, having fed." The current Sorcerer Supreme tried not to let his own words get to him. He felt out of his league, for certain. He hadn't held the title long, and already he had faced demons, sons of devils (arrogant little snots, all), powerful multi-dimensional invaders and worst of all that loon from Louisiana in the rooster outfit. Loas only knew why the man didn't seem to understand how ridiculous he looked.
An unfamiliar beeping caused him to look around for the source until he remembered that Danny had insisted he get a new cellphone. He idly wondered who would know the number already, and hoped it wasn't a sales person. "Uh...hello? Jericho Drumm speaking?"
"Mr Drumm? I don't think we've met, but I'm calling on behalf of some mutual friends..."
…
"You want me to-"
"Find a man who's been displaced in time, yes."
He stared at the two women in front of him. "You're joking."
The Storm woman frowned (or was it Richards? Never mind). "No, we're entirely serious. Dr Strange has done it many times before, and-"
Jericho sighed. "Look, I'm not him. We do our magic in entirely different ways, with different powers and very different rituals. Frankly, I never even heard of something like this."
"Ooh, ooh, I know, I know-" His brother was hovering up and down behind them, waving his arms about.
"Shut up, Danny." He glanced at his presumptive clients, one of which was entirely too tall and...female. Both of which were looking a bit - bemused. "Uh, sorry. My dead brother is with us. Sort of my spirit anti-guide, always trying to get me lost."
"I love you too, mon frére."
"Look, we wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. He's a very important person to this city, and-"
He interrupted them both. "Look, I said no, and I meant it. I don't know a way of doing what you are asking me to. It's not a matter of not wanting to help, it's a question of being unable to."
"I know one."
He looked sharply at Daniel, who was looking very smug. "...say what?"
She-Hulk (now there was a suitable name) frowned. "...we didn't-"
"Not you. Daniel. What did you say?"
Daniel leaned back in mid-air, smirking. "I said I know what could find him."
Jericho waited. "Well?"
"Well what?" That smirk...
"What's the spell?"
The spirit of Daniel Drumm grinned. "Well, that depends on what it's worth to you..."
…
It took half an hour of haggling to wheedle the locator spell out of his brother (the end payment being the final season of Battlestar Galactica and some sort of statue of a female Japanese cartoon character...Daniel was getting altogether too weird in his post-mortem existence), but once he had it he was surprised he hadn't thought of it before. It was a basic finding spell with a few minor differences, was all. A few hundred dollars poorer and feeling decidedly bamboozled, he set to work.
…
There is a difference between traveling astrally and traveling on the astral plane. The former is relatively safe, if your body is safeguarded against inter-dimensional squatters or the likes because traveling astrally merely means traveling the known dimensions without your body. Whereas the latter is very much akin to being Donald Trump taking a pleasant stroll through gang territory late at night alone, while wearing a solid gold jacket and a big sign saying 'Rich White Man Here' on his back. If you don't know exactly what you're doing you'll either die horribly, or come back...different.
Fortunately, the locator spell didn't require the latter, only the former. Once it was spoken all you had to do was follow the ephemeral spirit trail through the ages, and hope the lost soul hadn't traveled forward instead of backward. If it was the former, the spell would fail due to the future being much too fluid to pin down.
He found the trail instantly.
It was an odd one, to be sure. Viewing the missing man's room in astral form showed things that could not be seen with mortal eyes, such as how the whole room was covered in spider webbing, or the way some possessions glowed strongly with emotion. He glanced at a photograph of a pretty young blonde in clothes many years out of style, and felt acutely affected by the waves of regret, shame and grief it radiated. Whoever this mystery man of theirs was (and he was almost sure they had mentioned his name repeatedly yet he could not seem to remember it for long...), he had invested a lot of his soul in that picture.
The trail itself was a faint silver strand similar to the thin silver thread that connected all souls to their corporeal selves. But in this case the strand seemingly faded out into thin air, suggesting it had been disconnected from this era. He took a deep metaphorical breath and began to follow it.
It didn't take long to see that the strand was moving backwards, not forwards. It ducked and weaved and interlaced itself throughout human history, never touching the physical plane for a moment. It occurred to him that this was due to the nature of scientific time travel, a more brute force approach to going from one place in time to another. Where magic allowed you to go to an exact moment, an exact second, the more mechanical way just sent you careening through the temporal oceans, much like fly-fishing. You aimed vaguely for the right time and hoped you aimed well enough.
But as he followed the lost soul backwards it became more and more difficult, more and more straining on his own astral self, until finally he had to yield and snap back into his own body and time. It was not a very pleasant sensation.
He gasped for air, feeling cold sweat on his face and torso, and tried desperately to forget the immense metaphysical agony his attempt had caused him. Finally he looked up at the two women and shook his head. "I...I found a trail, leading back through time. But the trail goes back too far, into a period where magics such as mine are simply not enough, because the era he is in, whenever it is, is so saturated with wild magic that searching it is impossible on your own. A circle of the thirteen greatest sorcerers on Earth and beyond would have trouble, and I am but one man. I can't help you."
The woman known mainly as She-Hulk ("Call me Jen" she had said with a big, though somewhat forced smile) blinked. "Just how far back in time are we talking about?"
…
…
Time Period And Place Unknown
Peter Parker scratched his head, staring in shock and confusion at the jungle below. On the ground behind him were most of his bed, dresser and bedroom carpet (two dollars at a second-hand store). He was dressed only in his underwear, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders to protect from the angry sun above.
The rain forest spread out for miles and miles, no sign of letting up in his considerable viewing range, but way off in the distance he could make out the glittering band of a river and a gathering of tall towers and spires that suggested some sort of city. He shook his head, still a bit befuddled.
"Well I'll be a monkey's uncle...
…
…
To Be Continued...