Chapter 9
He had a look in his eyes that America recognized. It was the same look the Scarlet Witch had when she was sucking the life from her, the same look when the kid in the restaurant reeled his fist back.
Mordor meant to do harm.
She focused on her hands. They were bound together into fists. She dug her feet into the ground and f o c u s e d. Not on Mordor’s hungry gaze or the continuous shifting of buildings slowly collapsing in on each other.
A blue hue surrounded her hands, snaking between her fingers. She pulled against the restraints and freed herself from the gold tether.
There was a second of gloating at Mordor’s slightly shocked expression before America turned and began running.
The ground broke beneath her and rose quickly into the air, nearly stumbling off the edge.
“You can't run from me, America.” Mordor chimed, rising on his own pillar of dirt and concrete a few feet from her. “You aren't strong enough to fight me in here.”
America groaned. “I liked the other Karl better, and he drugged me.” Tiny bits of dirt crumbled from the pillars and sprinkled the ground below.
Mordor frowned and then shook off the weirdness from her comment. “Come with me and no one has to get hurt.”
She sent him a glare and snapped back, “said every bad guy literally ever.”
“Dont make this difficult,” he grit through his teeth.
Energy bubbled in her stomach. “Making things difficult is my favorite pass time.” She made a orb of blue and gold light in her hands, jumbled stars all bouncing off one another in a tight spherical shape about the size of a softball.
America hurled it at Mordor, not waiting to see his reaction before drawing up another pillar of dirt and leaping on it. Mordor had stopped the orb of energy midair and curiously noticed how the gold intermingled with the blue before it exploded and knocked him off balance.
He stood fully and reached his hand towards America, using his concentration to pull the dirt from beneath the pillars.
“Oh shit!” America let out as she began to fall through the cloud of suspended, loose dirt. Chains coiled around her ankles, tightening as her body dangled just a foot off of the ground. “Esto apesta,” America rolled her eyes and struggled against the chains as Mordor’s pillar sank back into the ground.
“Are you finished?” He snapped, dropping America the rest of the way. She groaned into the gravel and then yelped as the chain began to yank her. Rocks scraped across her skin.
A whimper escaped her lips as an invisible force pulled her to her knees. She glared at him and grimaced when his hand cupped under her chin, fingers digging into her cheeks. Her nostrils flared.
“No more running.” The man looked as though he had seen better days. His eyes were dull and sunken in. Patches of grey splashed his hair and his lips were dry. He waved his free hand over the chains on America’s feet.
While holding her chin, he pulled her to her feet.
Unchaining her was a mistake. Without thinking, America balled up her hand. Her nails pressed into the cuts and the ache only helped her rage.
She threw the side of her fist into Mordor’s ear, a bright blue star blasting him back. He dropped several feet in front of her. A puff of dust came out from under his back.
America inched forward, contemplating whether she should get his slingie while he was down.
But his boot started to twitch.
She turned and opened a portal back to Kamar-Taj. There was still chaos all around her. Smashed glass. Broken relics. Pages torn from books and left scattered on the floorboards.
People were running past her, grazing her shoulder. America shuttered.
“Kid?” Stephen called. America turned to see him down the hall. He had blood running down the side of his forehead and a cut across his nose.
She took a relieved, shaky breath before running down the hall. He caught her in his arms, gently squeezing her shoulders before letting go and grabbing her hand instead.
“We need to go.” He ran back down the hall and conjured a portal in front of them.
They were back in the Sanctum. Safe. For now.
America leaned against the back of the sofa and swallowing the fear that was still clinging stickily to the back of her throat.
Stephen began scanning the room for others as soon as they stepped foot and the portal closed behind him. He was across the room and peering down the steps when America piped, “I was with your friend Mordor in the mirror dimension.”
He frowned and quickly closed the space between them. She had cuts along her dirt covered cheek, blood smeared along her palms, and tears in the knees of her jeans. He couldn't see any noticeable breaks or lacerations that required immediate attention. “Are you okay”
She nodded quickly though still had to bite back the tears that began accumulating in her eyes. He gently took her wrists and guided her towards the couch, sitting both of them down on the edge before releasing her wrists partially on his knees.
America appreciated how delicate Stephen could be when he wanted to be.
He waved his hand and the cabinet across the room opened. Their medical bag floated out and landed softly on the table in front of them. Stephen silently plucked out his needed supplies before taking one of her hands in his.
Hers were nearly half the size of his, resting in the cup of his palm. She could see the various scars cross into one another and feel the gentle tremble they always had. He ripped the packaging of the alcohol pad with his teeth, pulling it out.
“Little sting,” he warned before beginning to wipe the pad across her palm. She winced but kept her hand still. America quietly watched him put a large bandaid over the cuts. His face was pinched in concentration, as if performing a surgery instead of cleaning scrapes. “Next.”
She switched hands and watched him repeat the process, grimacing when the alcohol disinfected the skin. “Did you guys know Mordor was coming?”
“Hm. We had always suspected he'd return. Wong had his suspicions about some of your classmates for the last few weeks.” He switched to the cuts on her cheek, cleaning the dirt away.
America frowned and looked up at him. “What did they want?”
“They’re extremists. Mordo believes we’ve strayed from the natural order. All done.” He dropped the bloody pad on top of the wrapper.
America adjusted on the sofa while feeling the bandaids with the pads of her fingers. “Okay, you're turn.”
Stephen’s lips curved upward for a moment before he shook his head and started to move to stand. “I'm fine. I need to go back to--”
America tugged on his sleeve. “No. You're still bleeding. Let me clean and cover it at least.” Her face softened when he relented and agreed. Stephen tried not to micromanage as she pulled out supplies.
She hoisted herself on her knees and began cleaning the cut. It was right on the edge of his hairline. As she began to press gauze to the cut, golden sparks erupted from the middle of the room.
Wong stepped through looking more annoyed than usual. He let the portal close behind him. “We need to talk.”