Marvel: From the Void and Back Again, Part 3
Chapter 1: Far From Home
…
In the throne room of Las Noches, a heavy tension hung over the air. Aizen stood at the center of his gathered Espada, his calm and calculating demeanor commanding their silent attention. Towering figures loomed in a crescent formation around him, each radiating their own lethal aura, but even their collective power paled in the face of the enigma now displayed on the shimmering feed projected in the center of the room.
The image was sharp, a crater etched into the sands of Hueco Mundo, still glowing faintly from the heat of the impact. At its center stood a figure cloaked in black leather, his posture unnervingly calm, even as faint tendrils of shadow-like material coiled and dissipated around his form. His boots crushed the molten glass beneath him as though it were no more than fragile sand.
"This," Aizen began, his voice smooth and controlled, "is our newest visitor to Hueco Mundo." He gestured toward the display, his eyes gleaming with intrigue. "An anomaly unlike anything we have encountered before."
Grimmjow scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. "Another human? He doesn't look like much."
Aizen's faint smile didn't falter. "He isn't human. Nor is he a Hollow, a Soul Reaper, or a Quincy. In fact…" His expression darkened slightly as he let his words sink in, "…he is none of the spiritual phenomena we are familiar with. This being does not possess reiatsu, spiritual pressure, or anything remotely resembling the energy we understand. He is… something else entirely."
Szayelaporro, standing to the side with a curious glint in his eyes, leaned forward slightly. "Something else entirely?" he echoed, his voice tinged with intrigue. "Lord Aizen, surely you must have some data to explain what this… entity is."
Aizen nodded. "We have gathered what little we could. His structure—if one could call it that—is not comprised of flesh and blood as we know it. Instead, his physical form appears to be a liquid mass, somehow solidified into the shape of a humanoid. And yet… it is not without intention or precision. Every detail, every movement, is deliberate."
Ulquiorra's voice broke through the low murmurs of the other Espada. "No spiritual pressure, no identifiable essence. Then how is he standing here? Such a being should not even exist in this plane."
"That," Aizen said, his smile returning, "is precisely what makes this so fascinating." He gestured, and the feed shifted to display a series of fluctuating readings. "We managed to capture an energy signature emanating faintly from his being. It is parasitic in nature—adaptive, and unlike anything we've seen before. Even our most sensitive instruments struggled to interpret it. It seems to both absorb and manipulate the energy around it, folding it into itself."
"That's impossible," Szayelaporro muttered, his voice almost a growl. "A parasite that leaves no trace of its host? Something so… refined?"
"And yet here he stands," Aizen replied smoothly, cutting through the disbelief. "What's more…" He gestured again, the feed zooming in on the figure's tendrils as they moved. "Those appendages are not idle decoration. They seem to act as extensions of his will, able to adapt to his needs in real-time. An organic material, but with properties that defy conventional logic."
Grimmjow scowled, his predatory instincts flaring. "So, what? He's some kind of freak with no reiatsu but a lot of tricks? I say we take him apart and see what he's made of."
"You're welcome to try, Grimmjow," Aizen said, his tone laced with amusement. "But I suspect you'd find yourself severely outmatched. This being's power is undeniable. Even without reiatsu, his mere presence has disrupted the natural flow of energy around him. Observe."
The feed shifted again, displaying an aerial view of the crater. The sand surrounding the site had turned to glass in jagged, uneven patterns, radiating outward like a starburst. Faint cracks in the air shimmered around him, evidence of a strain on the very fabric of the world.
"No reiatsu," Ulquiorra murmured again, his voice almost thoughtful. "And yet he leaves scars on reality."
"Yes," Aizen said, his tone dipping into something darker. "He has no place in our world, yet he exists here, and his very existence challenges the balance of Hueco Mundo. This… stranger is not merely a visitor. He is an intrusion."
The Espada fell silent, their collective gazes fixed on the humanoid figure in the feed. Each processed the information in their own way—Grimmjow with thinly veiled irritation, Ulquiorra with quiet calculation, and Szayelaporro with a glimmer of scientific greed. But Aizen's smile remained, a mask of control that hid the depth of his thoughts.
"I will investigate this further," Aizen concluded, his voice calm but carrying a note of finality. "Until we understand his purpose and his capabilities, I want all of you on high alert. Whatever he is, he will either be an invaluable asset… or a dangerous threat. And I intend to uncover which."
As the Espada filed out, murmurs of speculation trailing behind them, Aizen's gaze lingered on the feed. His smile widened ever so slightly.
"Let us see what secrets you hide, stranger," he murmured to himself. "And whether you will kneel… or fall."
…
The white sands of Hueco Mundo stretched endlessly in every direction, an unbroken expanse of silence and desolation. Peter-Knull stood in the center of the massive crater his impact had left, molten glass still cooling beneath his boots. His leather jacket hung loose over his shoulders, the faint tendrils of his symbiote flickering restlessly around him like shadows given life. His dark eyes scanned the horizon, frustration building with every second.
He could still sense his symbiotes, the ones he'd left on Earth, their consciousnesses flickering in the back of his mind like distant stars. He could even feel the steady hum of his symbiotic universe, its vast energy pulsing like a heartbeat in the farthest reaches of his awareness. And yet… something blocked him. An invisible veil stood between him and the way back, as if this place, this strange, empty desert—had cut him off from the paths he normally traveled.
His fist clenched as his irritation boiled over. "Of all the places to be stranded," he muttered under his breath. "Whoever did this is going to regret it."
His thoughts were interrupted by a flicker of movement in the distance. Peter's sharp eyes caught the faint forms of figures approaching—one leading, with several others trailing behind. He turned to face them fully, his body tense but controlled, his symbiote tendrils retracting slightly as he watched their approach.
The group came into clearer view: a tall, lean man with pink hair and a lazy smirk leading the way, flanked by several subordinates. They were dressed in white uniforms that bore an eerie resemblance to formal military attire, though their designs were strange and unfamiliar to Peter. Their souls energies or whatever they had for souls in this place that was foreign to him, what little he could perceive—brushed against the edge of his awareness, faint and hollow, like an echo of something once alive.
The pink-haired man stopped just outside the edge of the crater, his smirk widening as he took in the sight of Peter-Knull standing amidst the shattered glass. "Well, well," he drawled, crossing his arms casually. "You're not something we see every day. People don't usually get lost in Hueco Mundo… but it looks like you've managed to do just that."
Peter's eyes narrowed slightly, his instincts screaming caution. The man's tone was disarming, but there was a sharpness behind it, a predator's gleam hidden beneath the surface. He debated his options, his mind racing through scenarios. He had no idea where he was, and no clear way back to his universe. Cooperation might be his best bet for now, but he couldn't afford to let his guard down.
"And who are you supposed to be?" Peter asked, his voice calm but edged with suspicion.
The man placed a hand on his chest theatrically. "Szayelaporro Granz, one of Lord Aizen's Espada. These fine fellows," he gestured lazily to the figures behind him, "are my Fracción. Don't worry, we're not here to fight. Lord Aizen just thought you might… need a little help."
Peter's brow furrowed slightly as he studied the group. "Aizen?" he repeated. "Whoever that is, I don't know him. But you're right about one thing, I didn't end up here by choice."
Szayelaporro raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Interesting. So… who are you, then? And where did you come from?"
Peter hesitated for only a moment before responding. "Peter-Knull. I was in New York City, investigating a tear in our multiverse with SHIELD agents, Doctor Strange, and a few others. It was a rift that led beyond the void… far beyond. And then… something pulled me here. One minute I'm standing on concrete, the next I'm falling through whatever the hell that was and crashing into this desert."
Szayelaporro's smirk widened, though his eyes sharpened. "The void? Beyond the multiverse?" He tilted his head, the curiosity clear in his tone. "You're certainly full of surprises, Peter-Knull."
Peter folded his arms, his gaze never leaving Szayelaporro. "That makes two of us. You've got the look of someone who knows more than they're letting on. So tell me… where am I, exactly? And who's this 'Lord Aizen' you keep mentioning?"
Szayelaporro chuckled softly. "You, my friend, are in Hueco Mundo, the world of Hollows. And as for Lord Aizen… let's just say he's the one in charge around here. He's… very interested in meeting you."
Peter's expression darkened slightly, but he forced himself to remain composed. "Hueco Mundo, huh?" He glanced around at the endless sands, the sky overhead eerily still and empty. "Well, that explains why this place feels… wrong."
"Wrong?" Szayelaporro repeated, feigning offense. "I think it's quite charming. But I get the sense you're not the type to appreciate the subtleties."
Peter ignored the remark, his gaze hardening. "Lead the way, then. If this Aizen wants to meet me, I'd rather get it over with."
Szayelaporro's smirk returned. "As you wish. Follow me, Peter-Knull. Let's see what Lord Aizen makes of you."
With that, the Espada turned, motioning for his Fracción to fall in line. Peter followed cautiously, his senses on high alert. Whatever he had fallen into, it was clear that these beings were just as curious about him as he was about them. But curiosity had a way of turning dangerous—and Peter had no intention of being anyone's experiment.
As they traversed the barren, monochrome expanse of Hueco Mundo, Peter-Knull walked a few steps behind Szayelaporro and his Fracción, the crunch of sand and glass beneath their feet the only sound for long stretches. The oppressive silence of the desert was occasionally broken by Szayelaporro's voice, his tone light but his words carefully probing.
"So," Szayelaporro began, glancing over his shoulder at Peter, "you're… how shall I put this… different. You don't feel like anything I've encountered before. You're not a Hollow, a Soul Reaper, or any other spiritual entity I can classify. And you said you came through some tear in… what was it? The multiverse? Care to enlighten me, Peter-Knull?"
Peter's dark eyes flicked to Szayelaporro, unimpressed by his feigned curiosity. Still, Peter shrugged, his tone casual. "I told you already, I was in the middle of investigating a tear in our multiverse. It led to something beyond even the void that sits outside it. And then… here I am."
Szayelaporro hummed thoughtfully, a hand coming to rest on his chin as if pondering something deeply. "Fascinating," he mused. "But what I'm really curious about isyou. Specifically, where you came from originally. You're… well, no offense, but you're basically a liquid mass that decided to take the shape of a human. Why that form? Why not… I don't know, something grander?"
Peter let out a low chuckle, his voice carrying a hint of dry amusement. "Grander? You think the form makes the being?" He shook his head, smirking faintly. "This form just… fits. It's the perfect balance of function and expression. It's not about looking grand. It's aboutbeing."
Szayelaporro raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the response. "Hmm. A very… practical perspective. But that still doesn't answer the question. Where do youactuallycome from? What created you?"
Peter's smirk faded slightly as he glanced off into the endless desert horizon, his expression unreadable. "'Originally' isn't a word that really applies to me," he said, his tone now quieter, almost reflective. "There isn't a place or a person that made me. I woke up in the void. The void is me, and I am the void."
Szayelaporro stopped walking and turned fully to face Peter, his golden eyes sharp with curiosity. "The void? You mean that empty space beyond existence? The nothingness outside all creation?"
Peter nodded, his gaze steady. "That's the one. It's where I was when those giant celestial robots, the ones people call the Celestials, decided to make realities. You know, those explosions people romanticize as the Big Bang? I was there, watching it all. I don't remember how long I existed before that, but I remember waking up. Feeling the nothingness and knowing it was mine. I was part of it… and yet separate."
Szayelaporro blinked, momentarily stunned into silence. His Fracción exchanged uneasy glances behind him, the weight of Peter's words unsettling even them.
"You're saying you're older than the multiverse itself," Szayelaporro said finally, his voice laced with disbelief.
Peter shrugged again, his tone unbothered. "I'm saying I don't have a beginning, at least not one I'm aware of. I just…am especially after waking up. And everything that came after the void? The stars, the worlds, the people, the gods that were going through their own things? They're all just things that happened around me."
Szayelaporro studied Peter intently for a moment, his analytical mind racing to process what he was hearing. Finally, he let out a low whistle and turned back toward their path, continuing their trek toward the massive structure on the horizon.
"You're full of surprises, Peter-Knull," Szayelaporro said with a grin. "And here I thought I'd seen everything."
Peter's smirk returned faintly, his eyes glinting with a sharpness Szayelaporro didn't catch. "You've seen nothing yet."
…Top of Form
Inside the stark, sterile halls of Las Noches, Peter-Knull stood before Aizen and the gathered Espada. His leather jacket and relaxed posture contrasted with the suffocating tension in the room. The air around him seemed to ripple slightly, an unnatural presence that even those well-versed in the bizarre found disconcerting. His hands rested casually in his pockets, but there was an unspoken weight to his presence, like a predator lying in wait.
Aizen's piercing gaze studied him carefully. The Espada stood on edge; their natural instincts screamed at them that Peter was something… other. Grimmjow, in particular, narrowed his eyes as he noticed Peter's skin momentarily ripple, as though something alive squirmed beneath the surface. The movement was subtle but undeniable, eliciting an involuntary curl of his lip.
Aizen finally broke the silence, his voice calm and calculated. "You're not human, hollow, or anything else that I've encountered. What are you truly, Peter-Knull? And what… do you really look like?"
Peter-Knull raised an eyebrow, He studied Aizen for a moment, his sharp eyes flicking over the other Espada who stood rigid, waiting for their leader's command. Slowly, he tilted his head, considering his response.
"Are you sure you want to see?" Peter's voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of something primal, something ancient. "I sparingly show my true form. There's… a reason for that."
Aizen remained unfazed, his curiosity unwavering. "I insist."
Peter let out a slow exhale, then straightened slightly. "Brace yourselves," he said simply, his tone dark and foreboding.
The Espada exchanged wary glances, their instincts screaming that whatever came next would not be ordinary. Slowly, Peter-Knull's form began to ripple, the solidity of his human appearance breaking apart. His entire body liquefied into a black, viscous mass, which writhed and twisted as though alive. The mass pulsed with crimson veins of light, like blood flowing through an alien organism.
The transformation was grotesque. His legs lengthened unnaturally, skeletal and gaunt, giving him a spindly but towering frame. The once smooth texture of his body turned jagged and craggy, his form resembling dried, gnarled bark. His arms stretched grotesquely, tapering into claw-like appendages that gleamed with an obsidian sheen. There were no muscles or flesh to speak of—just a wiry, skeletal framework, reinforced by the faint glow of pulsating red veins coursing through him.
As his transformation neared its peak, his torso hollowed out, revealing a cavity where something twisted and alive pulsed within, like an organic core or a trapped star. His head extended upward, elongating into a grotesque, skull-like structure devoid of a mouth. Instead of a face, a singular, unblinking, burning red eye stared out from the center of his elongated cranium, radiating an oppressive, otherworldly energy.
Tendrils, sharp and jagged, emerged from his back and shoulders, coiling and twitching like hungry serpents. They occasionally lashed at the air, their movements unpredictable and violent. His entire body seemed alive, a cacophony of alien motion, as though countless entities were vying for control beneath the surface. The faint, eerie sound of whispers emanated from his form—unintelligible, yet hauntingly resonant.
The Espada froze, their reactions ranging from disbelief to unease. Grimmjow took an involuntary step back, his bravado faltering as his sharp eyes fixed on Peter-Knull's monstrous form. Stark's usual laziness gave way to visible tension, while Ulquiorra tilted his head slightly, his cold green eyes narrowing as he studied the void-like being. Even Szayelaporro, whose arrogance usually knew no bounds, seemed subdued as he adjusted his glasses and muttered to himself, "What… is this?"
Aizen leaned forward slightly in his chair, his expression unreadable but his interest clearly piqued. "Fascinating," he murmured, his voice as calm as ever. "Your true form is unlike anything I've ever encountered. No soul. No spiritual presence. Just… a void given shape."
Peter's single, glowing eye turned to Aizen, radiating an intensity that silenced the whispers in the room. The jagged tendrils on his back twitched as his eerie, distorted voice echoed through the chamber, not spoken but felt within the minds of all present.
"This is what I am," Peter said, his words resonating like a low hum. "The void personified. A fragment of what existed before existence itself. Before the light, the stars, the universes… I am what remains of the nothingness they emerged from."
The room descended into an oppressive silence. Even the ever-composed Aizen seemed to take a moment longer than usual to compose his next words. Peter-Knull's form loomed over them, towering and grotesque, embodying everything alien and unknowable about existence. Whatever questions they had before seemed trivial now in the face of such an unfathomable entity.
Grimmjow, his usual bravado was gone, replaced by a tight-lipped expression. He clenched his fists, the image of Peter-Knull's shifting form burned into his mind.What the hell is this thing?he thought.It's not like any Hollow, Shinigami, or Quincy I've fought. No soul, no reiatsu—just this… emptiness.His sharp eyes lingered on the jagged tendrils and shifting skin.If this guy fought me, would I even stand a chance?That thought gnawed at him, sparking frustration and unease.
Ulquiorra, ever stoic, Ulquiorra tilted his head slightly, his cold green eyes scanning Peter-Knull's form with calculated detachment.No soul, no trace of spiritual energy. And yet… its presence fills the room, oppressive and absolute. If this being is a fragment of the void itself, then it stands outside the bounds of all logic.For the first time in eons, a flicker of something almost resembling curiosity stirred in his empty chest.
Szayelaporro, his intellectual arrogance was shaken. Adjusting his glasses nervously, he mentally dissected Peter-Knull's form.An entity that predates creation, with no discernible structure of life as we know it. And yet, it manifests intelligence, power, and control…His eyes fixated on the singular, glowing eye.It speaks, it moves, it plans… It eats. Is it even sentient in the way we understand sentience?The implications sent a shiver down his spine.
Stark yawned, but it was a mask for his discomfort. His usually laid-back demeanor cracked slightly as he avoided looking directly at Peter-Knull's monstrous form.No reiatsu, no soul, and yet I feel like just being near it drains me. Like it's pulling at something deep inside me… Something I didn't even know was there.He glanced at Lilynette beside him, shielding her from the unsettling entity with his arm.
A sneer formed on Nnoitra's face, but it lacked its usual confidence.What the hell kind of freakshow is this?He gripped his weapon tightly, half a step away from drawing it.No soul means no fear. But why does it feel like it's staring straight through me? Like I'm already dead?
Luppi's smirk faltered completely. He took a step back, his bravado crushed under the weight of Peter-Knull's form.It's not just powerful—it's wrong. Like it doesn't belong here, in our reality. Like it's an error in existence.He felt an involuntary shiver crawl up his spine.
Aaroniero, the twin masks flickered uneasily, their many voices whispering nervously within their combined consciousness.An anomaly. It does not belong in this plane. It does not belong in any plane.
Barragan, The former king of Hueco Mundo narrowed his eyes, a deep frown etched into his ancient face.Even in death, I have not seen such emptiness. The void in its truest form. If it is what it claims to be, then it is not bound by the cycle of time or decay. It stands outside of all things. That…He clenched his skeletal hand....is troubling.
Halibel remained composed, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.It lacks a soul, yet it speaks of understanding and purpose. This… thing. It is not an enemy of life; it is an enemy of existence itself.
The silence was broken by Luppi, who tried to steady his voice. "Are there… others like you?"
Peter-Knull's glowing eye swiveled to him, locking onto the Espada like a predator sizing up prey. Slowly, his elongated arm rose, and from his jagged clawed hand, a black ooze began to seep. It dripped and rippled unnaturally, defying gravity as it coiled upward into the air, forming a mass of writhing, ethereal tendrils that twisted and expanded outward.
"These…" Peter's voice was cold and distorted, reverberating not in the air, but in their very minds. "Are what remains of the others. Where I'm from, there were many Knulls. Shadows of my shadow. They came out corrupted, violent, and insatiable. They wanted to return the universe to the void… to end it all."
The tendrils writhed and flickered with crimson streaks as they seemed to take on faint, screaming faces for brief moments, dissolving into nothingness just as quickly.
"So I eat them whenever I can."
The wordeatechoed in their minds like the tolling of a bell, heavy and oppressive. The room grew deathly silent as the Espada processed the implications.
Szayelaporro adjusted his glasses nervously.Eat… as in absorb? Consume? Or… devour completely?He shuddered at the thought.
Nnoitra tightened his grip on his weapon. "Eat them, huh?" he muttered under his breath, though his usual bravado was gone. "That's messed up…"
Luppi's voice cracked slightly. "You mean you just… erase them?"
Peter's eye shifted back to him, and his jagged tendrils retracted into his form. "Erase? No. Erasing is mercy. What I do ensures they never return."
Grimmjow gritted his teeth, his fists clenched at his sides. "You're one scary bastard, you know that?"
Peter didn't respond, his glowing eye scanning each Espada in turn. The silence hung heavy, the oppressive aura of his presence suffocating. Even Aizen, ever composed, folded his hands and leaned forward slightly, his sharp eyes glinting with intrigue.
"And how many remain?" Aizen finally asked, his calm voice breaking the tension.
Peter-Knull's monstrous form shimmered and rippled, the jagged tendrils retracting into his body as he began to shrink. Within seconds, the towering skeletal figure was gone, replaced by his original humanoid form: leather jacket, dark jeans, and an expression that carried the same weight as his grotesque counterpart. The transition was seamless, as if he had merely taken off a mask.
He folded his arms as he stared at Aizen, the weight of his words still hanging heavily in the air. "Honestly…" he said, his tone less distorted but no less unsettling, "…I'm not sure how many remain."
The Espada glanced at each other, uncertain whether they were more unnerved by his transformation or by the casual way he spoke of devouring gods.
Peter's gaze drifted to the ceiling as he thought aloud. "So far, I've consumed a total of twenty-six gods of the void, Knulls, as they called themselves—along with their symbiote kingdoms and the cosmoses they ruled over." His voice was eerily calm, almost detached, as if recounting mundane statistics.
Szayelaporro's grip on his clipboard tightened.Consumed entire kingdoms? Symbiotic cosmoses?The scientist's mind raced with possibilities, trying to comprehend the scale of such an act. The numbers were staggering, far beyond what any Espada could fathom.
Peter glanced back at the group, his gaze locking briefly on Grimmjow, whose clenched fists and narrowed eyes betrayed a mix of fear and fury. "In the multiverse I came from," Peter continued, "more kept appearing. They were fractured reflections of the original—violent, unstable, and drawn to the idea of undoing everything."
Halibel, ever composed, tilted her head slightly. "And what makes you different?" she asked, her voice steady despite the tension in the room.
Peter smirked faintly, though it lacked warmth. "Unlike them, I modify. I build. Rather than destroy aimlessly, I shape the void into something meaningful. That's why I created the universe I call home—built it from the ground up. Every symbiote, every world within it, serves a purpose."
Aizen leaned forward slightly, his hands steepled as he studied Peter with keen interest. "A creator, then. A builder of worlds."
Peter's eye glinted faintly as he met Aizen's gaze. "And a destroyer when necessary. The balance depends on what the void demands."
The room fell silent again, each Espada processing Peter's words in their own way. Grimmjow growled under his breath, the idea of someone casually consuming gods of the void grating against his pride. Halibel remained thoughtful, while Szayelaporro's mind continued to race, dissecting every implication of Peter's existence.
"And yet," Aizen said, breaking the silence, "you stand here, removed from the universe you built. How does it feel to be disconnected from your creation?"
Peter-Knull tilted his head, his glowing eye narrowing slightly at Aizen's question. "Disconnected? No… whatever force brought me here hasn't severed my connection to my universe. I can still feel it… my creations, my symbiotes. But something…" He paused, his expression darkening. "Something is preventing me from returning."
The Espada exchanged glances, intrigued by his claim. Peter's multi-layered gaze sharpened, his posture shifting into contemplation. "Hold on," he said, raising a hand. "Let me test something."
Before anyone could respond, Peter reached toward his own side, his hand phasing through his form as if his body were a pool of liquid. The motion was deliberate, unnervingly smooth, as though this was something he had done countless times. A faint rippling sound echoed as he drew out a writhing, ethereal white form. It squirmed and pulsed, its surface rocky and cratered like a living moon, faint tendrils of energy trailing behind it.
The Espada recoiled slightly, even Aizen raising an eyebrow in interest. The entity hovered in Peter's hand, a faint glow emanating from its spherical body as if it were holding the light of a thousand stars. He allowed it to float to the ground, where it expanded and took form, resembling a twisted humanoid figure with a moon-like head and glowing fissures across its body. The gravity in the room seemed to shift subtly as the symbiote's presence stabilized.
Peter regarded the creature with a faint smirk. "Well, good to see I can still summon symbiotes from my realm, wherever this place is." His tone was casual, but his glowing eye betrayed a hint of relief. The creature, now fully formed, hovered slightly off the floor, its spherical head tilting curiously as though awaiting instructions.
"What is that… thing?" Szayelaporro asked, stepping closer, his scientific curiosity outweighing his unease.
"This," Peter gestured to the floating symbiote, "is Lunaris. One of my more unique creations. A gravity-based symbiote, a stabilizer in my realm. Its body is made of celestial matter from a collapsed moon, and its abilities center around gravity manipulation and projection."
The Espada watched as Lunaris twitched, its movements slow and deliberate, as though it were studying the room. Halibel's gaze lingered on it, her composure unshaken but her thoughts unreadable. Grimmjow, meanwhile, gritted his teeth, fists clenched at his sides. "Tch. Another freak."
Peter smirked faintly, ignoring the jab. "Lunaris is harmless unless provoked. Think of it as a sentinel of sorts. If this place truly is as hostile as I suspect, I might need it."
Aizen's eyes narrowed slightly as he observed Lunaris. "So, even here, removed from your universe, you can summon aspects of your power. Fascinating."
Peter turned to face him, his eye gleaming. "Fascinating, sure. But it also means whatever force is blocking me from returning isn't strong enough to sever my ties completely. That gives me options."
Luppi took a step back, eyeing the floating symbiote with poorly disguised unease. "Yeah, well… options or not, that thing's creeping me out."
Peter chuckled, the sound low and distorted. "It's not here to make friends. But if you're this rattled by Lunaris, you should pray you never see the others."
The room fell silent once more as Lunaris hovered closer to Peter, the faint gravity distortion around it causing tiny objects on the floor to shift slightly. The Espada could feel the unearthly pull of its presence, like a faint hum reverberating through their very souls.
Aizen leaned back in his chair, a small smile tugging at his lips. "It seems your presence here will prove… enlightening."
He adjusted the collar of his leather jacket, the faint glint of his chains catching the ambient light. His sharp eyes scanned the room with calm detachment, though his hands remained casually tucked into his pockets. The Espada's collective gaze bore into him, their expressions a mix of suspicion, unease, and curiosity. Even in his human form, there was something undeniably commanding about his presence—an air that said he didn't need to look threatening tobethreatening.
"I have a request," Peter said, his voice steady and smooth, with just a trace of weariness. His gaze shifted to Aizen, meeting the other man's calculating eyes. "I'm currently stuck here, and as of now, I have no way to return home to my wife… and kids."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Grimmjow's jaw twitched as he glared at Peter, his hands curling into fists. "Wife? Kids? You expect us to believe that?"
Szayelaporro adjusted his glasses, clearly thrown by the revelation. "Fascinating… truly fascinating. A creature like you, settling down into such… human concepts of domesticity? I find it difficult to imagine."
Halibel remained silent, her golden eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she studied Peter with renewed scrutiny. Luppi outright gawked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. "Hold on, holdon," he sputtered. "You? A wife? Andkids?"
Peter's lips curled into a faint smirk, his hands sliding further into his jacket pockets. "Yes," he said simply. "Her name is Madelyn, and when I was displaced here, she was… pregnant."
Luppi's expression twisted with disbelief. "You're telling me some womanlooked at you—" he gestured at Peter's leather-clad form, then the memory of his monstrous transformation, "and thought, 'Yeah, let's have a family?'"
Peter arched a brow, his voice calm, "Madelyn saw what mattered. Loyalty. Power. Commitment. Qualities I assure you, you wouldn't recognize even if they smacked you in the face."
Grimmjow snorted, crossing his arms. "Tch. Sounds like a load of bull."
Peter-Knull's smirk faded, replaced by a sharp frown as he turned his full attention to Grimmjow. His glowing eyes seemed to dim, their light sinking into something colder, darker. "I'm serious," he said, his voice carrying a weight that made the air around them seem heavier. "Madelyn is very dear to me."
Grimmjow opened his mouth to retort, but Peter raised a hand slightly, cutting him off. His gaze locked onto the Espada, his expression unyielding. "And just a word of advice… the last time someone took her counterpart before I met her, someone who thought they could take what was mine, I made sure he paid."
The room seemed to grow quieter, the Espada collectively on edge as Peter continued, his tone even but dripping with menace. "That person had an advanced healing factor. It took a lot to kill him—so I did it about 1,500 times. Broke him down, piece by piece. When that wasn't enough, I used a little trick of my own… endlessly resurrected him, just to kill him all over again."
The weight of his words hung in the air, suffocating. The casual way he said it only made it more unnerving. "By the end of it, he begged me to keep him in hell. And I did." Peter's eye glinted, his frown deepening. "So if you're thinking about keeping up that smart-aleck attitude, just some advice… don't."
Grimmjow's sneer faltered, his jaw clenching as his fists tightened at his sides. For a moment, the usual bravado in his posture dimmed, replaced by something harder to read, perhaps unease, or even caution.
The other Espada exchanged wary glances. Szayelaporro tilted his head, his lips twitching into something between a grin and a grimace, clearly intrigued by the raw malice in Peter's words. Luppi shifted uncomfortably, taking a step back, while Halibel's golden eyes narrowed as she studied Peter with renewed intensity.
Aizen, however, remained composed, though the faintest glimmer of interest flashed in his gaze. "Fascinating," he murmured, leaning slightly forward. "It seems your resolve runs deeper than I initially imagined."
Peter straightened, his frown easing into a neutral expression, though the tension in the air lingered. "You'd do the same," he said simply, his gaze sweeping over the group before landing back on Aizen. "If you ever loved someone the way I love her, you'd understand."
Peter-Knull pivoted back to Aizen with a disarming swiftness, his previous menace fading as though it had never existed. His expression returned to one of measured calm, his tone neutral but steady. "Now, back to the matter at hand," he began, as if the exchange with Grimmjow was nothing more than a passing breeze. "I need to ask for something."
The Espada watched him warily, some still reeling from the weight of his words. Grimmjow's fists relaxed, though his glare remained sharp, while Halibel subtly shifted her stance, ever observant. Even Szayelaporro, ever-curious, seemed to hesitate before reengaging with the conversation.
"I need a place to stay," Peter continued, his gaze settling on Aizen, who remained unflinchingly composed. "Until I can figure out a way back home. I'm… unfamiliar with this world, and from what I've gathered so far, it's as alien to me as I am to it."
Aizen's lips curled into a faint smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. He leaned back slightly, his steepled fingers tapping lightly together. "You ask for sanctuary," he said, his voice smooth, almost teasing. "An intriguing request from someone of your… nature."
Peter inclined his head, his glowing eye narrowing faintly. "Call it what you will. I don't belong here, and I'm not here to interfere with whatever it is you're doing." His tone grew slightly softer, almost reflective. "My focus is on finding a way back to my wife, my children, and the universe I built. Everything else is secondary."
The room fell quiet again, the Espada shifting uneasily. The weight of Peter's words and the strange sincerity in his voice left an impression, though none of them dared voice it.
"And why should I grant such a request?" Aizen asked finally, his tone calm but laced with curiosity. "You are a creature of considerable power, clearly capable of upending the balance of this world if you so chose. What assurance do I have that you won't?"
Peter met Aizen's calculating gaze with a level one of his own. "Because, unlike the others you may have faced, I don't care about your balance. I'm not here to conquer or destroy. I'm here because I was dragged here against my will, and I want to leave. That's it."
Aizen tilted his head, his smile deepening. "A simple answer… and yet, one that carries its own complexity."
"I'll stay out of your way," Peter added, . "I have no interest in your conflicts or schemes. But if something comes for me while I'm here, I'll deal with it. No one else."
Aizen regarded him for a long moment, the room steeped in a heavy silence as his mind worked. Finally, he nodded, the faintest glint of intrigue in his eyes. "Very well," he said. "You may remain… for now. Consider it a gesture of curiosity."
Peter gave a single nod of acknowledgment, his hands slipping back into his jacket pockets. "That's all I ask."
The room remained tense, the Espada still visibly processing the interaction. But Peter paid them no mind as he turned back to the center of the room, his focus now fully on figuring out what his next steps would be in this strange, unfamiliar world.
The hallway stretched on, quiet and dimly lit as Stark led Peter-Knull to his designated quarters within Las Noches. The Primera Espada moved at his usual leisurely pace, his hands tucked into his pockets. Behind him, Peter walked silently, his boots echoing faintly against the stone floor, his expression unreadable. Lillinette trailed behind them, her youthful curiosity evident in the way her eyes flicked from Stark to Peter and back.
Stark stopped in front of a large, arched doorway and gestured lazily. "This is where you'll be staying. Don't expect much—it's functional, not luxurious."
Peter glanced inside, taking in the room's sparse furnishings: a low bed, a plain table, and a chair by the far wall. The white, sterile aesthetic of Las Noches seemed to permeate even here. It wasn't much, but it would suffice.
Peter stepped inside, tossing his jacket over the chair as he surveyed his temporary quarters. Stark leaned against the doorframe, watching with his usual disinterested air. Lillinette, however, darted inside, her eyes drawn to Peter like a magnet.
"What's that?" she asked suddenly, pointing at the small silver locket hanging from Peter's neck. Her voice was filled with curiosity, her usual sharp tone softened for once.
Peter paused, his hand instinctively brushing against the locket. He glanced down at her, his multi-layered gaze flickering with something almost imperceptible—hesitation, perhaps, or an old, buried ache. Slowly, he unclasped the locket and opened it, revealing a tiny photograph nestled inside.
Without a word, Peter handed it to Lillinette. She took it eagerly, studying the picture closely. It was a young woman, her hood pulled back to reveal short blonde hair and bright, determined eyes. She wore a sleek, white and pink superhero suit, complete with a spider emblem across her chest.
Peter's voice was low when he finally spoke, his gaze distant. "The world I came to call home is… complicated. Heroes, villains, aliens—you name it, it's there." He glanced at Lillinette, as though bracing himself for her reaction. "Please don't laugh, but… the first universe I visited, I fell in love with someone. Her name was Gwen Stacy."
Lillinette tilted her head, studying the photograph intently. "She looks tough."
"She was," Peter replied, his voice softening. "She had spider-powers—enhanced strength, agility, the ability to shoot webs, heightened senses… but more than that, she had this fire. She was fearless, even in the face of overwhelming odds."
As Peter spoke, his gaze drifted off into the distance, as though he were staring at something far beyond the walls of Las Noches. Stark, who had remained quiet until now, crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, his sharp eyes noticing the faint shift in Peter's tone.
"What happened to her?" Lillinette asked, her curiosity now tinged with caution.
Peter's jaw tightened, and his glowing eye dimmed slightly. "She died," he said quietly, the words heavy with memory. "Right in front of me."
Lillinette's gaze shot back to him, the locket trembling slightly in her hands. Stark straightened a bit, his usual apathy replaced with a flicker of interest.
"A man named Norman Osborn," Peter continued, his voice as steady as it was grim. "The Green Goblin. He was a lunatic with resources and tech to back up his insanity. During one of his schemes, he cornered us. Gwen tried to fight back, but… he dumped a vat of acid on her."
Lillinette gasped softly, her grip tightening on the locket as though she could somehow protect the image inside. Peter's gaze didn't waver, though a shadow of something darker crossed his features.
"It melted her in seconds," Peter said, his voice cold now, distant. "There wasn't anything I could do. I… felt rage for the first time. Real, unfiltered rage. And I made sure Norman Osborn regretted it."
The room fell silent. Lillinette glanced at Stark, unsure of what to say, but Stark's usual nonchalance had given way to a thoughtful expression. He didn't press Peter further, instead giving him the space to continue if he wished.
Peter-Knull leaned against the table, his gaze distant as the weight of old memories settled over him. Stark watched from the doorway, his usual detached demeanor giving way to genuine curiosity, while Lillinette still held the locket in her hands, her wide eyes fixated on the first picture of Gwen Stacy. The silence stretched for a moment before Peter's voice broke it, low and steady.
"There's another picture in there," he said, gesturing to the locket. "Go ahead and flip it."
Lillinette blinked, hesitating for a moment before carefully turning the locket's interior. The second photograph was vastly different from the first. It showed a striking woman with vibrant red hair, her green eyes full of defiance and a sharp intelligence. She stood in a simple but elegant black dress, her expression confident but guarded.
"Madelyn Pryor," Peter said softly. "The first one."
Lillinette tilted her head, her curiosity evident. "The first one?"
"She was a clone," Peter explained, his voice taking on a tone that was equal parts reverence and bitterness. "A clone of a mutant named Jean Grey. Mutants, by the way, are humans with something called the X-Gene—the next step in evolution. Think of them as a leap forward, like how modern humans came after Neanderthals. Madelyn… she was created by someone who wanted to control Jean, but she turned out to be her own person. Fierce, kind, and… deeply wronged."
Lillinette glanced up at him, her brow furrowed. "What happened to her?"
Peter's jaw tightened, and for a moment, the room felt heavier. "She was wronged by a group in her world called the X-Men. Supposed heroes. They betrayed her, abandoned her when she needed them most. And to make things worse… she was pregnant when she died."
Lillinette's grip on the locket tightened slightly, her small hands trembling. Stark's arms uncrossed, his attention sharpening as Peter continued.
"There was a mutant in her world named Logan," Peter said, his voice laced with restrained venom. "Wolverine. The same mutant with the healing factor I mentioned before. He blew up a building with her inside it. Reduced it to rubble. There wasn't even enough of her left to fill a plastic bag."
Lillinette gasped softly, her gaze snapping back to Peter. Even Stark looked taken aback, though he remained silent. Peter's glowing eye dimmed as he stared at the floor, his hands tightening into fists.
"I confronted that world's X-Men about it," he said after a moment, his voice lower now, colder. "Three times. The first time, they denied it. The second time, they lied to my face. The third time… they attacked me. And I made sure they regretted it."
Lillinette swallowed hard, her usually brash demeanor subdued by the sheer weight of his words. "What… what did you do?"
Peter's gaze didn't waver, his tone steady but filled with an eerie calm. "What do you think I did? I made Logan pay. Over and over again. I didn't stop until he begged me to send him to hell. And then I sent him back, just to do it all over again. About 1,500 times."
Lillinette visibly recoiled, clutching the locket to her chest as she took a step back. Stark's eyes narrowed slightly, though he didn't speak. The air in the room felt suffocating, thick with the weight of Peter's confession.
"But," Peter continued, his voice softening slightly, "not all Logans are like even the one I told you about, or at least, his clone. He's different. A clone of the original. He's managed to let go of his rage—a rage that the original has been festering for centuries, ever since the 1700s. That's the curse of a healing factor. You can't die, and you can't escape your own pain."
Peter straightened, his gaze shifting to Lillinette as she slowly handed the locket back to him. His hands were gentle as he took it, carefully closing it and hanging it back around his neck. "Madelyn deserved better," he said quietly. "And so did Gwen. They didn't get it in their worlds, but I'll make sure that the family I have now… they get the life they deserve."
The silence that followed was heavy, the kind that weighed on the soul. Stark exhaled softly, his gaze thoughtful. Lillinette, still visibly shaken, didn't press further, her usual sharp tongue held in check by the raw emotion Peter had revealed.
"Madelyn…" she said softly, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "She… she sounds like she was really important to you."
"She was," Peter said simply, his gaze distant once more. "And so is the one I have now. But I'll never forget her. Or Gwen. They're the reason I fight for the life I have now."
Stark finally pushed off the doorframe, his voice breaking the tension. "Well," he said lightly, though there was no mocking in his tone, "I think it's safe to say you've had a hell of a ride."
Peter smirked faintly, his glowing eye flickering with a dim light. "You have no idea."Top of Form
As Peter-Knull adjusted the locket around his neck, Lillinette and Stark stood in silence, processing the gravity of what had been shared. The air in the room had grown heavy, but just as they thought the conversation had reached its end, Peter turned back to them, his voice calm but laced with an undertone that promised to leave them reeling.
"Oh," he said casually, as if discussing the weather. "One last thing. I thought I'd mention something about my children."
Stark raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Your kids? What about them?"
Peter leaned slightly against the table, his tone remaining neutral but carrying a weight that drew their full attention. "Considering the fact that my twin children started solving Rubik's cubes and speaking fluent sentences within hours of being born… well, you can imagine they're not exactly ordinary."
Lillinette's jaw dropped slightly, her eyes wide. "Wait. Withinhours?"
Peter nodded, his gaze distant, as though recalling a fond but surreal memory. "Yes. And my daughter, Selene…" His voice softened slightly, though it still held that eerie edge. "She managed to have a full conversation with her half-brother, Madelyn's first son, who she had long before she and I met."
Lillinette blinked, struggling to process the information. "Her half-brother? Like… right after being born?"
"Within moments," Peter clarified, his lips curving into the faintest smirk. "Apparently, one of the perks of having genetic memory. They inherited some of our memories. Mine… and Madelyn's."
The silence that followed was deafening. Stark's usual snark evaporated as he stared at Peter, his mind racing to connect the implications of genetic memory with what Peter had just described. Lillinette, still clutching the edge of the table, seemed caught between awe and disbelief.
"Wait a second," Stark finally said, his voice unusually serious. "You're telling me your kids were born withyour memories? Everything you've experienced, everything you've done…?"
Peter gave a slow nod, his expression unreadable. "Not just mine. Madelyn's as well. It's not total recall, but fragments. Enough to give them an edge."
Lillinette, still wide-eyed, gaped at him. "That's… that's insane! They're like… super babies!"
Peter chuckled faintly, his glowing eye flickering. "That's one way to put it. But it's more than just being advanced. It's a bond—an understanding they're born with. And it means they carry the weight of who I am, who Madelyn is, and what we've been through. It's a gift… and a burden."
Stark let out a low whistle, running a hand through his hair. "Man, I thought I'd seen it all. But this… this takes the cake."
Peter straightened, his posture composed as he glanced between the two of them. "My children are extraordinary. They're not just inheriting a world, they're shaping it. And as much as it pains me to be separated from them right now, I know they'll be fine. Because if there's one thing I've learned, it's that having knacks for problem solving runs in the family."
Lillinette, still trying to wrap her head around the revelation, stammered, "But… genetic memory? Memories from… from someone who's been throughall that?" She gestured vaguely at Peter, as if trying to encompass the sheer scope of what he had shared about his life.
"They'll manage," Peter said with a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eye. "Just as I have. And just as Madelyn has. They've already proven they're more than capable."
With that, Peter turned toward the sparse bed in the corner of the room, clearly done with the conversation. Stark and Lillinette exchanged glances, the weight of what they'd learned settling heavily over them.
As Peter sat on the edge of the bed, he leaned back slightly, his gaze distant once more. "I'll be here a while," he said, almost as an afterthought. "At least until I figure out a way to get back home. But until then… let's see what this place has to offer."
Neither Stark nor Lillinette responded immediately, both still processing the bombshell Peter had just casually dropped. But as they turned to leave the room, Lillinette couldn't resist one final question.
"Hey, Peter," she said, glancing back at him. "Your kids… they ever solve anything more complicated than a Rubik's cube?"
Peter's smirk returned, faint but unmistakable. "Give them time," he said, his voice carrying a quiet certainty. "They're just getting started."Top of Form
…
The feed flickered slightly as the screen displayed Peter-Knull settling into his quarters, his movements slow and deliberate. Aizen's sharp gaze lingered on the image, his mind already dissecting every detail, every implication of what had transpired. The faint glow of the monitor reflected in his eyes, amplifying the quiet intensity of his expression.
Gin Ichimaru leaned casually against the wall, his ever-present sly smile curling his lips. His half-closed eyes betrayed none of the thoughts swirling beneath his surface. "Well now, Captain Aizen," Gin began, his voice light and playful as always, "that creature he summoned… it's not exactly your everyday garden variety hollow, is it?"
Aizen didn't respond immediately, his fingers steepled in front of his face as his mind worked. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his tone as calm and measured as ever. "No. It is far beyond anything we've encountered before. Symbiotic matter, he called it… yet it seems to possess a form of sentience, even purpose. And that purpose, it would seem, aligns entirely with its master's will."
Tosen, standing slightly apart from the two, crossed his arms. His blind eyes faced the screen, though he clearly perceived everything with precision. "The symbiote's presence is… disruptive," he said evenly, his tone grave. "It lacks the spiritual pressure of any hollow or soul reaper. Its essence feels like nothingness, like a void that consumes everything around it."
Gin chuckled softly, tilting his head. "Sounds like someone else we know, hmm?"
Tosen ignored him, continuing. "This Peter-Knull… his power is not something that should be underestimated, Aizen-sama. It's entirely possible he is as dangerous as he seems."
"And yet," Aizen said, his voice taking on a contemplative tone, "he appears to operate within a framework of loyalty, driven by ties to his world, his family… his children." He allowed the faintest of smiles to curve his lips. "Such attachments are valuable, Gin. They can be exploited."
Gin straightened slightly, his grin widening. "Exploited, huh? So, you're already thinkin' about how to fit him into the grand scheme of things?"
Aizen's gaze didn't waver from the screen. "Of course. Someone with his abilities could prove to be a useful piece on the board. But he is not to be underestimated. His ability to summon that creature, Lunaris, from across dimensions… it confirms that his ties to his universe are not severed. He remains connected, even here. That connection could make him either a liability or an opportunity, depending on how we proceed."
Tosen nodded thoughtfully. "If we allow him to stay, we must remain vigilant. His power is vast, but his motives remain unclear. He claims to seek only a way home, but if his presence disrupts our plans…"
"We will deal with him," Aizen interrupted smoothly, his tone brooking no argument. "For now, we observe. His very existence could illuminate paths we have yet to explore. A being born of the void itself, yet capable of creation rather than destruction… He is an anomaly that cannot be ignored."
Gin's smile faltered slightly, replaced by a flicker of genuine curiosity. "And what about that creature? Lunaris, was it? What're the chances that thing's gonna play nice if things go south?"
Aizen leaned back slightly, his expression remaining inscrutable. "That depends entirely on its master. But if the symbiote is a stabilizer, as Peter-Knull described it, it is unlikely to act without provocation. However, its very presence here suggests that Peter is preparing for contingencies. He does not trust us any more than we trust him."
Tosen's lips pressed into a thin line. "He is a wildcard, Aizen-sama. His unpredictability could jeopardize everything."
"And yet," Aizen said, his tone calm but tinged with intrigue, "wildcards have their uses. In the right circumstances, they can shift the tide of any game. Peter-Knull is no exception."
The room fell into a contemplative silence, the three of them watching as Peter knelt by his bed, his locket catching the light briefly before he tucked it beneath his shirt. Lunaris floated silently in a nearby chamber, its ethereal glow casting faint shadows on the sterile walls of Las Noches. The faint hum of its gravitational aura could almost be felt even through the monitor.
Gin broke the silence with a soft chuckle, his sly grin returning. "Guess it's gonna be fun watchin' this play out, huh?"
Aizen allowed himself a small, enigmatic smile. "Indeed. Let us see where this takes us."
As the screen flickered, showing Peter leaning back on his bed, deep in thought, Aizen's gaze sharpened. To him, Peter-Knull was not just an anomaly, he was a potential key to something far greater. And Aizen, ever the long-term planner, was determined to find a way to turn that of Form