Dark Matter

They move as a group in the eerily silent halls of the ship.

The Inevitable hums quietly beneath their feet, and the sound grows as they move from one end of the massive ship to the next, following Carol’s signal. Steve has the unnerving sense that they’re walking across the back of a sleeping giant, one that’s somehow unaware of them but more than capable of smashing them flat once it wakes.

They move quickly, prepared for a resistance that doesn’t come. One empty hallway leads into another. No enemy contact, but the scorched walls and ceiling speak of a fierce battle that happened at some point in the past. One that gradually shifts into normalcy the deeper they go. Rhodey leads the group, occasionally adjusting settings on his jury rigged scanner tracking Carol. Steve and Thor flank him, each prepared to leap to his defense in case he's attacked while his focus is elsewhere.

The stillness of the ship bothers Steve. The fact that they've passed more of those rooms lined with vats of monsters submerged in green liquid bothers him more.

"Exactly how many vat rooms does this place have?" Banner asks incredulously, pitching his voice low as they walk through the latest one. "This is the tenth one we've gone through."

"I'm more interested in knowing how many of those creatures are kept inside them," Okoye says.

"We don't know," Wonder Woman says. She's near the front of the group, just behind Thor and Steve, shield braced on her arm. "Perhaps a thousand per room? They only use them for a short time before leaving."

"A thousand vats of green goop cooking up mutant soldiers," Clint remarks. "Seems like overkill."

"It isn’t," Rhodey says, scarcely looking up from his tracker. When he does spare the vat rooms a glance, it's with the shrewd glare of a seasoned tactician. "War is a numbers game. You always have to make the move that saves you the most of what you need. Soldiers, supplies, and people. All three can be boiled down to numbers. In fact, they have to be, if you want to win. You can’t humanize either side until after the fighting is done."

"If your Thanos plans on invading my Earth, he'll need a hell of a lot of these things. We have some heavy hitters back home," Constantine says. “Of course, Thor here just zapped a few dozen of the beasts and didn’t break a sweat, so maybe my neck of the woods will fare a bit better.”

"He's also Thor, a literal god," Natasha points out. “We fought one room with maybe one or two hundred of those things, working together. What if it were one thousand? Ten thousand? One million? How many living gods do you have protecting your Earth, and how long could they last against an endless wave of these things?"

Constantine considers that for a moment before shrugging. "More than you'd think, but I get your point."

They keep moving.

* * *

Sometime later--by Steve's internal clock, he measures it as an hour at most--they reach the middle of the warship. The marching order has changed; Constantine has drifted towards the back with Wonder Woman, idly grabbing Thor’s mead flask off of his belt on his way, and the two share a drink while speaking with one another in hushed tones. Natasha and Clint stand near them, not quite spying. Rocket, Banner, and Okoye stand in the middle. Thor drifts closer to Steve as the passageway narrows.

“You recognized Wonder Woman,” Steve says, breaking the silence. Thor glances up at him.

“It is hard to mistake a warrior of Themyscira for anything else,” Thor says. “It is surprising she is here. She has made a great sacrifice by leaving her home.”

“How so?”

Thor becomes thoughtful, and continues, in a careful tone. “The warriors of Themyscira do not leave their island without sacrifice. Their home is a paradise, crafted by the gods of the cosmos to meet their every need. If any of them leave, they cannot return. The gods will not allow it. And if their princess is here...”

Steve glances at Diana. She’s deep in conversation with Constantine on the other side of the group, Thor's mead flask in hand. As he watches, she takes a deep drink before capping the flask. “If Thanos destroyed half of her home, it might be a sacrifice they felt was necessary to make.”

“Perhaps," Thor says. "I don’t know much more about the Amazons. Only whispers and rumors from the Valkyrie warriors I followed around as a child."

“Which is a hell of a lot more than the rest of us have,” Rhodey points out, turning suddenly down a hall. “What do you know?”

“They are warriors of unparalleled skill and honor, blessed by the gods. Darker rumors say my father once tried to invade Themyscira. When I was younger, I didn’t believe that, and he refused to speak of it. After speaking with Valkyrie however...”

“Why wouldn’t he tell you about it?” Steve asks.

“Because he lost terribly,” Thor says. “Theymyscira didn’t kill any of our warriors. Rumors say many of our warriors and even a few of our Valkyrie joined them. My father’s ego was fragile in certain respects, especially during his younger days. He would never speak of losing a battle in his own hall. His pride wouldn’t allow it.”

Steve considers that, watching his friend from the corner of his eye. Despite being thousands of years old, it seems that Thor has only truly grown since coming to Earth. He can remember a time when the Asgardian warrior would bristle at the weakest suggestion that Asgardians are not perfect.

“If she’s that strong, then why didn’t she just lay me out during our fight? She has a sword. She just used her shield.” And it was still an even match, at best.

“Because she didn’t wish to kill you,” Thor says simply.

“We’re here,” Rhodey says. He stops in front of a massive steel door.

This one is different from the others; heavier and wider than the others they have passed through so far. It's clearly meant for a larger number of people to pass through. For example, a column of troops marching side by side. Or flying, Steve supposes.

"This is the center of the ship. Near the bridge," Rocket says. “Hey, suit guy, I’m gonna need your help with this door.”

“Tell me what you need, fuzzball,” Rhodey says, kneeling down and pulling open a compartment on his suit for Rocket. The raccoon man grabs a couple of cables from Rhodey’s suit and plugs them into a nearly invisible port next to the door.

The Avengers spread out, falling into defensive positions around the two genius heroes while they begin their work. The silence falls across their little group again, and Steve notices the tension growing among their group. Clint glances up and down the hall, gripping his bow tight.

"So where are the guards?" Clint asks, tense.

“Killed?” Natasha asks, standing beside him.

“There’d be signs of a fight if that were true.”

“Perhaps they abandoned their posts?” Okoye asks, spear held ready. “It’s not as if we were subtle when we entered the ship.”

“The ship has been relatively silent since Captain Marvel and I forced our way inside of it,” Diana says, stepping forward to fall into line between Thor and Steve. The others move aside for her. “The silence has bothered me, but your companion saw it as an opportunity to strike at the heart of the Black Order.”

“And then you just lost track of her when you got inside the ship?” Clint asks.

“Yes.”

“How’d she find you?” Natasha asks.

“I found her, actually. We were both prisoners. A man snuck into my cell and freed me before giving me my weapons and a message,” Diana says. “He disappeared almost immediately after.”

“What was the message?” Okoye asks.

“‘Tell my brother I intend to keep my promise, and that Asgard will shine once more.’”

That brings the conversation to a proverbial halt. Thor whirls around to face Diana, a grin splitting his face.

“Loki,” he breathes, and then laughs. “My brother lives.”

Clint narrows his eyes, his shoulders going tense. His bow raises slightly, the tip of one arrow aimed at Diana. “That’s not exactly a good thing, Thor. Unless you’ve forgotten who your brother is? What he’s done?"

“He’s changed,” Thor insists. Pauses, and adds, “Mostly. At the very least, he’s an ally in this. He tried to kill Thanos.”

“Mostly isn’t good enough,” Clint retorts, slowly raising his bow. Diana meets his gaze steadily, neither tensing or showing fear. “Your brother’s alive, and instead of coming to find you, he came to her, and the only person who really knows her is some bum from a different universe.”

“Whatever you’re thinking, drop it,” Constantine says. “I know I’m suspicious as hell, but Wonder Woman is as straight and true as anyone.”

“And why should we trust that?” Clint asks.

“If she wanted us dead, she would have made her move long before now,” Thor points out.

"I have no desire to do that," Diana adds, keeping utterly still. Steve has no doubt she could cross the distance between herself and Clint at a moment’s notice, but that won’t make the situation any less tense. Or dangerous, if Clint decides to push things further.

"Not good enough."

"Hawkeye, put the bow down," Steve says, moving to step between Clint and Diana. "She’s with us. And we could use all the help we can get. We’re not exactly at full strength anymore."

Clint looks ready to press the issue, his eyes flaring. Natasha steps in front of him and presses a hand on his forearm. An unspoken communication passes through them; Steve has always been slightly jealous of whatever private language those two speak between each other, but he’s glad for it now. If anyone can reel in Clint, it’s Natasha. She gives Clint a steady, calm look and he eventually lowers his bow.

“And who’s fault is that, Cap?” Clint growls.

Steve has no answer for that.

“This discussion isn’t over,” Clint adds shortly, before stepping away to guard their backs. He keeps one eye on Diana and Constantine. Steve isn’t looking forward to seeing this particular conversation continue.

"Got the door," Rocket says, breaking the tense silence that follows Clint’s declaration. "Easiest lock I've picked in awhile. Barely worth the effort."

"Yeah, for you," Rhodey grumbles. "Alright guys, how are we going to do this?"

“They had plenty of time to prepare a defense if they have access to their security systems,” Okoye says. She pauses and adds, somewhat dryly, “Or simply listened for us.”

Which is true enough; any element of surprise they had disappeared a long time ago. Steve steps towards the steel doors, nodding to Rhodey and Rocket. “Open it. Let’s see what’s inside.”

Rhodey and Rocket move to the side, allowing Steve and the rest of the Avengers, plus Diana and Constatine, to stack up around him. He raises his shield and gives them a quick nod. Rhodey nods back, shifts forward a little to shield Rocket from any incoming attack. Rocket presses a button and the doors slide back with a metallic click and hiss--

Revealing a massive, empty room, the details of which Steve can’t fully make out in the shadows. It’s too big to cover effectively, and he’s hesitant to charge in alone. The last time he did that, he ended up going one-on-one with someone Thor doesn’t seem eager to fight.

Steve holds up a hand to stall the rest of the Avengers and glances at Rhodey. He isn’t too familiar with the Iron Suits, but he knows they have a way to scout ahead. Rhodey tilts his head, the eyes of his suit flashing brightly once, twice, and then dimming back to their normal color. He shakes his head slightly. No threats.

Or, at least, none that he can see. Steve steps through the open doors first, followed by Thor and, surprisingly, Diana. She slips between the others, falling into place on his left as the rest of the Avengers file in.

The doors open up into a room wide enough to fit the Avengers Campus inside and high enough for most of New York's skyline to sit comfortably inside. It’s absolutely massive; all dark steel and yawning darkness broken by strips of light that can’t quite dissipate the darkness. The group is standing on a raised platform perched halfway up the wall that overlooks the massive room. The platform itself is wide enough to host three separate areas: a control center, a cluster of vat tubes that are twice as large as the ones they’ve seen before, and something that looks like a shrunken version of one of Tony’s labs. Ramps on either side of the platform arc down towards the floor below.

The floor below is massive, empty save for the occasional cluster of empty vats, and one other thing:

“Fucking hell, it’s a portal,” Constantine says. “I can feel the energy pulsing off of that thing from here.”

The portal is huge, twice as large as the hole in the sky that let in Loki’s army back in New York. Big enough to move several armies through at once. Black steel curves upward, glinting ominously in light made dim by the size of the room. The air within the portal seems subtly wrong, shifting in place like a river with a strong current roaring just beneath the surface. Something about that portal makes Steve’s teeth clench. Judging by the way Wong winces and shies away from it, he’s feeling the same thing as Constantine, even at this distance.

“This is a staging ground for an army,” Rhodey says, walking over to the control center. He taps a few of the controls, bringing up holo screens that stream data across their floating surfaces. A second smaller screen appears, projected from his suit, translating the alien text in real time. “Scratch that, this is their war room and invasion platform. This is an intel goldmine.”

“So why is it not guarded?” Okoye asks. “There should be electronic deterrents, if nothing else.”

That’s a very good question. Natasha frowns at the room, eyes roaming over the shadows before looking at Steve. “This feels like a trap. We should find Carol, torch this place, and get out. Stopping to steal intel will slow us down.”

“If we try to destroy that portal without containing or cutting off the magic that is powering it, we risk destroying ourselves as well,” Wong points out.

“And we can’t exactly contain this stuff unless we know what kind of magic we’re dealing with,” Constantine adds. “Well, we can, but you probably won’t like the results.”

Steve turns to Rhodey. “How much information can you get out of that thing in the next ten minutes?”

“Almost all of it, if I shut down all of the combat protocols in my suit and have Rocket and Hulk help me,” Rhodey says.

“Do it,” Steve says. He turns to Wong and Constantine and points at the distant portal. “Is that dangerous?”

The two magic workers exchange a look. Finally, Constantine lets out a huff. “Could be. Depends.”

Steve once walked in on Tony ranting about Asgardian magic, and how impossible it is to plan around when building a suit or creating a combat simulation. He’s starting to understand Tony’s distaste for magic. “On?”

“On if we mess with it and how we mess with it,” Constantine says. “There’s a lot of latent energy there. It’s not all magic, but a lot of it is, and it’s mixed with whatever technology this ship runs on. That’s not how it normally works. Technology and magic don’t usually play nice. It’s a bit like shoving the wrong ends of two magnets together.”

“It’s safe, if you’re careful,” Wong adds. “There is volatile energy surrounding it, but we aren’t in danger at the moment.”

“Can something come through it?”

“Yes,” Wong says. “If the patterns I’m seeing are correct, then something already has. I’m just not sure which way it was going.”

Concerning. “Keep an eye on it and if you see something coming through, sound the alarm.”

“Aye, aye, Cap,” Constantine says, pulling a cigarette out of his coat pocket and lighting it. It’s almost a nervous tic for the man; Steve wonders if his magic can cancel out the lung cancer diagnosis he’s working towards.

He turns to the rest of the team. “Everyone else, spread out, stand guard.”

“Hurry up and wait,” Clint mutters. “My favorite part of every mission.”

“Could be worse,” Natasha says, falling in beside him.

“How?”

“Not sure,” Natasha says, shrugging. “But it could always be worse somehow.”

Clint scoffs, but doesn’t disagree.

* * *

Time passes slowly.

Roughly fifteen minutes after Cap gives out his orders, Rocket, Banner, and Rhodey make simultaneous sounds of disgust. They’re each looking at different holo screens: Rocket is looking at the floating image of a vat, Rhodey is studying rotating map of a massive city, and Banner is looking at diagrams of...something. Chemicals? Steve has to admit that he’s never really had a head for science; that was more Bucky’s thing.

“What did you find?” he asks.

The three heroes look at one another for a moment before Rhodey motions to Rocket. “You first, furball. I’m still trying to figure out a few things.”

“Thanks, tin man,” Rocket replies dryly. “And I’ve got some idea of what that green goop in the vats is, and it is nasty stuff.”

“I thought it was simply some nutrient bath,” Okoye says.

“Ehh, kinda.” Rocket tilts his hand one way and then the other, half shrugging. "So, if I'm readin' this right--and I am, for the record--that green goop heals those things or brings them back to life, depending on how bad the trip goes and how long they’re stuck inside the vats. They get sent over, they get wrecked, they’re yanked back here and dumped into a vat to heal before being thrown back into the fight," Rocket says, flipping through the floating screens rapidly. "It’s not really fun for the monsters. They’re not getting any air while they’re in the tubes, so unless they’re sedated, they’ll smash the whole thing to bits from the inside out.”

Steve puts two and two together and almost feels sorry for the creatures. “They can’t breathe, but that green stuff won’t let them die. They suffocate, die, and wake up over and over until the worst of their wounds heals and they can break out?”

“Basically, yeah,” Rocket says, shrugging. He isn’t moved by the Outriders’ plight. And for good reason. Steve can’t find much sympathy for them himself.

Constantine looks vaguely sick and glances away.

“They’ve got a limited supply of the stuff,” Rocket says. “It comes from the other universe, and some angry old man keeps beating the hell out of all of the teams Thanos and his lackeys keep sending over to get it. They’ve got enough to make their own version and leave the old man alone, but it doesn’t work as well. Four out of every ten of these things comes back wrong, or goes nuts and has to be put down. The more they’re shoved into a vat, more likely it is they come out broken.”

“An old man is chasing off Outrider strike teams?” Steve asks, frowning.

Rocket shrugs. “Doesn’t sound far fetched to me. I’ve met some angry bastards in my time.”

“That explains a few things I’ve found,” Rhodey says. “Namely why they haven’t been able to launch a full scale invasion yet. Since a significant chunk of their army is dying before they even make it across, they’ve started to source local help while they figure out what’s killing their cannon fodder.”

“Local help?” Diana asks.

“Yeah, and they’re not picky. Mercenaries, gangs, some little cult devoted to Thanos and his Black Order. Looks like they’ve been quietly spreading across that version of Earth,” Rhodey says, flipping through screens of reports. “No idea how close they are to doing anything, though. Someone’s gone through and deleted all the reports.”

“Probably when Wonder Woman and that Captain Marvel chick came crashing through the door,” Rocket says. “I’d run like hell if two women just punched in the door on my spaceship from a dead vacuum.” He pauses. “Actually, I’d trip Quill, grab Groot, and then run.”

“I’ve managed to piece a few things together,” Rhodey says. He expands the image of the city so the others can get a clear view. Several small areas glow red within the city. “They’ve been focused in these smaller areas and this central part of the city in particular.”

“Strategic points of interest?” Natasha asks.

“I can’t see how,” Rhodey says. “None of the smaller areas look all that important, and the larger area is in the center of the city, far from almost anything useful.”

“That might be the point,” Natasha says. She squints and points at a spot inside the larger area. “What is that?”

Rhodey plucks the spot out of the map and tosses it onto another holo screen that pops out of his suit, expanding the image with one hand. “It’s a portal, like the one at the other end of this room. And...a thing.”

That isn’t the best description for it, but Steve doesn’t blame Rhodey for being at a loss. The second image is a machine, all sleek black steel that matches the design of both the portal and The Inevitable itself. It almost looks like a lightning rod, but with fuel tanks attached up and down the length of it.

“Everything I’ve found referencing this thing is steeped in codewords and a lot of math I’m not familiar with,” Rhodey says. “It almost looks like a weather machine Tony came up with back in MIT. It was meant to seed rain clouds above drought stricken areas.”

“They wouldn’t need to seed rain clouds above this city,” Clint points out. “It looks pretty damp.”

“That doesn’t mean they can’t seed the rain clouds with something else,” Natasha says. “A well placed poison works just as well as an army.”

“They’ve been powering a spell over a city,” Wong says, suddenly. He frowns at the floating image, one finger tracing out the . “A memory spell. A powerful one, but very subtle. I recognize the symbols. It’s meant to weaken and muffle intelligence, and then usurp a victim’s mind. A spell this large and intricate would take a great deal of power and knowledge, and a long time to settle in.”

“You recognized that awfully quick,” Clint points out.

“Yes. It’s best you don’t ask why,” Wong says.

This does not go over well with the rest of the team.

“You’d think they’d go for the bridges connecting the city to the mainland instead. They could establish a bridgehead that way,” Rhodey muses. “They want to take this place over, so why not isolate it first? Why go to the trouble of building a portal, a rogue weather machine, and a giant memory spell?”

Constantine steps forward, squinting at the image. After a moment he curses. "That's Gotham. They've been leaking that mind poison into the city for god knows how long. And now they're putting together some kind of weird weather machine on top of it."

“And they’ve been trying to work out what exactly to put inside that machine for awhile,” Banner says. A screen appears in front of him, and words and symbols Steve doesn’t recognize begins to scroll past at an alarming speed. “I’ve found one version, and it’s a real piece of work.”

“What does it do?” Natasha asks.

“Honestly, I don’t know how to describe it.” Banner pauses for a moment, frowning at the screens in front of him. One of them has the image of a vial of liquid in the center of it. “It’s a drug that’s meant to instigate a stress response. Fear, anger, that sort of thing, but taken to an absolute extreme. You’d have to be very lucky or have a healing factor like Cap to shake this off, and even then I’d put good odds on side effects lasting for years afterward.”

“You got all that just from looking at an image of the vial?” Steve asks.

“No, by reading the label,” Banner says, lifting up the vial and pointing to a string of alien text printed on a label along its side and the small holoscreen hovering beside it. “I’ve been living in space for years. I kind of had to pick up the lingo.”

Fair enough.

“It’s easier to brainwash someone if they’re in a heightened emotional state,” Natasha says. “Clever.”

Steve thinks of Bucky and says nothing.

“The good news is that there isn’t a lot of it. It doesn’t seem like they’ve been able to make as much as they need, and most of what they did make was too unstable to use. You’d have to have really bad luck to get hit with the potent stuff,” Banner says, shutting down his screens. “Which is probably why they went with something more magical.”

“Even a little could go a long way,” Steve points out.

“They’d have a rough time of it in Gotham,” Constantine says. “Everyone wears gas masks there.”

That brings the conversation to a halt. Okoye stares at Constantine as if he’s just grown two heads.

“Why on earth do your people wear gas masks inside their cities?”

“Honestly, we don’t have time to get into that.”

Steve decides to yank them back on track. He turns to Banner, looking up at his friend. It’s strange; he’s not used to seeing clear eyed intelligence inside the Hulk’s eyes. “Were they able to find a version of that stuff that works?”

“Yes,” Banner says. “They settled on something that’s meant to trigger hallucinations and an extreme fear response. Apparently they were able to mass produce that, but a lot of their stock keeps getting destroyed.”

“By who?” Steve asks.

“Um,” Banner says. “A bat?”

As they speak, four of the glass tubes near them on the platform click, hum, and fill with the thick, eerily green water from before. Another click, and the liquid swirls around, forming a whirlpool, as if some unseen portal has opened beneath it. For three of the tubes, ashes in the shape of the bat-like Outriders appear before muddying the green water into a grey-green sludge.

In the final tube, a form appears, thrashing and flailing hard enough to shatter the tube’s glass. It slides out onto the steel floor of the ship, gurgling and flailing.

And dying, Steve realizes. Thick blood oozes from the body, pooling on the floor. It takes him a moment to recognize the creature as one of the Outriders. It’s been beaten all to hell, as if it’s gone toe-to-toe with the world’s angriest boxer, and it dies messily right in front of them on the floor.

“Looks like Thanos has a neat little retrieval system in place for his army,” Natasha says beside him. “If they die on the other side, they’re sent back here. Pretty clever.”

“A pretty efficient use of his resources,” Rhodey says, disgusted, but also a bit impressed. “No need to replace manpower when you can use the same ones over and over.”

“That explains the magical force,” Wong says. “It would require constant spellwork to bring them back here. They’re tied to the portal itself, the anchor between our realities. If the spells aren’t renewed, they don’t come back.”

“Most of the ones that came back were just ash. Except this unlucky bastard,” Constantine says, idly nudging the dead monster with his foot. It flops over onto its back, something metallic and dark sticking from its throat. Constantine grins, kneels, and plucks it out of the monster, holding it up to Wonder Woman. “Three guesses as to who handled this little group, and the first two don’t count.”

The metallic thing turns out to be a weapon. A throwing knife in the shape of a bat. Judging by Diana’s answering smirk to Constantine’s grin, it probably belongs to one of their comrades in the Justice League. That’s a relief for Steve; the idea that the Avengers’ failure would lead to other universes suffering the same fate as this one has been quietly gnawing at him ever since Constantine appeared. This is an Avengers mess. It should be an Avenger who ends it.

“This looks like a scouting party. Light armor, lighter weapons,” Rhodey says.

“I think our bat friend is doing a lot more than just wrecking their hallucination juice,” Clint adds.

“He is,” another voice says from the doorway.

The others turn as one to face the door, braced for a fight, but draw short when they see who’s standing there.

Carol Danvers, Captain Marvel, holds up her hands before stepping through the door. There’s something odd about her that tugs at the back of Steve’s mind when he sees her.

“Hey, everyone,” she says. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you.”