Sacrifices
The Statesman Bridge
55 Minutes Earlier
Rocket watched the Vengeance depart with mixed feelings. To say he wanted to join that particular suicide mission was something of an exaggeration. But almost all of his friends were there. He couldn’t help wondering just how many of them he’d never see again.
He shook his head to clear those dismal thoughts. “Alright Groot, let’s get this tub out of here,” he stated, punching in commands to reenter hyperspace on the board. “How the hell did I let Quill convince me to stay here?” he muttered to himself.
“I am Groot,” the mono-response plant replied.
“It was a rhetorical question,” Rocket snapped as his right hand reached out for the engage button. It never made it.
>>
Heimdall’s eyes opened in shock, revealing the day room of the Statesman. He’d been keeping an eye on Xandar Prime’s vaults since Thor had summarily ordered him to remain aboard. Everything had seemed to be going according to plan. Thanos and his many minions seemed completely unaware of their presence, or plans.
But just after they’d ended their hyperspace hop to the other side of the planet, the Mad Titan had cocked his head, as though listening to something unheard. Then he’d looked towards the sky, a grin that would have made a shark uncomfortable spreading across his face. A moment later he was giving his underlings (including his generals) orders to remain and slow the enemy. Then the blue gem in his gauntlet glowed and he’d disappeared in a flash of blue light.
Heimdall scanned frantically, trying relocate Thanos’s whereabouts. His eyes stopped on the bridge of their ship and he exhaled in horror.
“What is it?” Banner asked from his spot across the titanic Asgardian.
“We’ve made a terrible mistake,” Heimdall stated, grabbing his sword from where it lay on the table and unsheathing it as he stood.
“What do you mean?” Banner asked worriedly, getting up to follow him.
“We should never have split up,” Heimdall explained rather cryptically as he marched out of the room, face set in stone. He knew the odds of his beating Thanos were next to nonexistent. He knew that even if everyone on the ship fought splendidly, as if they were all members of a legion that had trained and fought together for centuries, they would all probably die. But he had to try.
“Because . . .” Banner prompted from behind.
Heimdall stopped and turned to view the diminutive scientist. At least that was how he saw him; it was all relative. “You should be prepared to greet your fathers,” he said finally before turning to head to the bridge.
“Oh,” Bruce replied as if suddenly feeling sick. He was very good at putting things together; it was how he’d become a top-flight scientist. And, barring some miracle, he knew exactly who Heimdall was planning to use that massive sword of his on.
He paused in his pursuit of the Asgardian as the thought of engaging in another battle hammered its way into his psyche. He looked at the hall leading to the bridge. He didn’t want to go in there. He wasn’t ready for another confrontation.
Normally he’d have been more concerned with breaking the ship that was currently protecting them from the vacuum of space than with his own mortality. But the Hulk hadn’t been very effective in the past two confrontations, and he wasn’t sure this one would go any better. He wasn’t even sure if the Hulk would come out to play.
That train of thought ended as Heimdall became obscured by one of Tony’s containers. One of Tony’s cargo containers filled with powered armor suits.
It was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea. But it was the only idea he had. Now he just needed to find Vision and get him to unlock one of the containers. Warning him that intruders were on board would probably be a good idea as well.
>>
Rocket’s attempt to engage the hyperdrive was interrupted by a flash of blue light emitting from behind him. Curiosity demanded he ascertain the cause. But what started as a casual glance backward ended in frozen in fear. His fur stood on its end of its own accord. For one priceless moment his mind went blank as it tried to grapple with the deathly implications of that presence.
Fortunately, his was not a mind that could stay blank. Rocket ripped his attention from the entity filling the hatch to the bridge and turned back to the console. If he could simply get the ship into hyperspace, he could at least give the team on the ground a chance to retrieve the power stone. He might even be able to fly the ship into a star.
It was a plan conceived of in a flash of desperation. It was also as brave as it was foolish; he was banking everything on the idea that Thanos would not be able to use the Tesseract to abandon ship if it was in hyperspace.
It was also a plan that turned out to be academic. As he made again for the button, he found that he couldn’t move his arm any closer no matter how frantically he tried.
“Leaving so soon?” a deep voice boomed sadistically from behind him. Until that moment he’d been unaware that a voice could be sadistic. “Stay a while,” it commanded.
Rocket snarled. Despite never having met the unmitigated bastard he knew exactly who that voice belonged to. He tried once more to engage the drive, but this time his left hand dipped to his waste to grasp the handle of his gun as surreptitiously as possible.
Sadly, he’d never put many skill points into sleight of hand. “A more sensible plan would be to give me the mind stone now,” Thanos cautioned him. “I might even keep you alive as a pet,” he gloated.
Rocket’s shoulder’s slumped momentarily as if defeated, attempting to catch the monster off guard. Then he spun around, leveling his already expanding weapon on the galactic mangler. “AHHHHHHHHH,” he yelled as he fired a stream of plasma bullets the size of tennis balls at the gold clad monster.
Thanos, completely not caught off guard, calmly reached out as if using the massive open palm of the gauntlet as a shield. Each bullet evaporated into nothing as they reached it, as if all the energy within were being sucked out.
Rocket continued firing, more for want of anything more productive to do than any expectation that his bolts would suddenly become effective. After the first dozen shots Thanos closed his hand. Rocket became aware of the fact that the gun was no longer firing. A quick inspection revealed the cause; the emitter was busily crumpling in upon itself.
Rocket released the gun, which continued to float in front of him mockingly, as it continued its controlled implosion. It sparked and popped as the energy core and capacitor were added to the list of victims of the crush. Once his former weapon had reached the size of a grapefruit the Mad Titan opened his hand again, sending the ball of trash hurtling into Rocket’s chest. The anthropomorphized racoon grunted as the impact launched him into the far bulkhead.
“I AM GROOT!” Groot yelled in rage as he attacked. He started with stabs at the much larger opponent, but Thanos seemed perfectly capable of catching and crushing the darting tendrils.
“No Groot you idiot!” Rocket yelled from where he’d fallen. Thanos grinned wickedly, taking a moment to savor Rocket’s fears before unleashing a purple bolt of energy at Groot.
That half moment of arrogance saved Groot. The intended recipient ducked under the deadly ball of energy, wrapped his arms around Thanos’s legs, and sent tendrils out to the wall and the console to brace himself. Then he gave a mighty jerk. The titan’s armored legs came up as his head went down. He landed flat on his back with a mighty crash.
Thanos had barely completed his less than graceful landing before Groot was on him, attempting to force his rooty tendrils through the armor and even into his target’s nose and eyes. Thanos bellowed, grabbing the tree monster and pulling him off his face. He rolled to slam Groot into the deck. Groot tried to arrest his motion by latching onto any stationary object, but any root he used was simply snapped off, his effort amounting to a softening of the coming blow.
Groot hit the deck with a crunch before Thanos launched him across the room. The teenage tree slammed against the opposite bulkhead and slid motionlessly down its height. Whether due the slam or the impact Groot now had a crack in his head reaching from his crown down to his eyes. It appeared to go all the way through.
Thanos started to get up, but turned the motion into a dodge roll through the navigation console, just as Heimdall’s blade came slashing down towards his neck from the doorway.
The console crumpled as if made of popsicle sticks, leaving sparking connections at the edges of the chasm he’d made. Thanos rolled to his feet and turned a glare on Heimdall. For his part the Asgardian simply recovered from the near killing blow and met the glare with a passive calm.
It pissed Thanos off to no end. “I have long wanted your eyes,” Thanos ground sinisterly.
“Then take them,” Heimdall replied evenly before lending his sight to the monster. It was the last thing Thanos had expected. The very act was a shock, but not nearly as much as the vast amounts of information he was suddenly flooded with. The need to process all of it was staggering.
And in that one moment Heimdall struck with a speed that seemed to bely the massive nature of his sword. It swung in a flat arc, again aiming for the Titan’s massive neck.
But, at the last moment, Thanos’s mind locked into the room and he lunged backward. Instead of the decapitation Heimdall had planned the sword’s tip left a gash along the left side of the Titan’s neck.
Which was still far too deep as far as Thanos was concerned. His gauntleted hand reached up to touch the wound, drawing a smear of blue blood. He held the gauntlet higher, staring at that smear in disbelief. Not one but Odin had drawn his blood in countless centuries, and then only on Asgardian soil.
He flew into a rage, throwing himself at the Asgardian with such ferocity that Heimdall was forced to give ground. The Asgardian attempted to reciprocate, but Thanos blocked the sword strikes with the gauntleted palms of his hands and retaliated in single motions. He could have used his telekinetic abilities to hold the focus of his rage. He could have used the Power Stone to disintegrate the interfering bastard. He could have teleported him into space with the Tesseract, or contrived a cage to hold him with the Aether and fed the Spirit Stone his soul.
But none of those options even entered his mind. Perhaps that was due to the freshness of those new powers. Or it could have been the rage that held him at having such a nobody actually damage him. Most likely it was a combination of two, but whatever the reason, it saved Heimdall from immediate extermination.
As they danced around the room trading blows Heimdall continuously granted and withdrew his vision. It didn’t have the same effect as that first time, but it helped. Thanos missed several openings in his frantic defense, and even provided a few of his own. Sadly, most of those were still protected by his armor, but Heimdall’s sword was able to find two gaps.
After the second strike Thanos bellowed and delivered a flat palmed punch to Heimdall’s chest that not only sent the Asgardian flying through the air, but actually imbedded him in the wall at the end of his trajectory. He glared at the wounded knight as Heimdall struggled to free himself from the wall, and began to calm. His thoughts turned towards the most cathartic ways to dispatch this momentary disturbance with an unhallowed anticipation.
He retrieved Heimdall’s fallen blade from the ground as the possibilities whirled through his head. He’d just settled on running the Asgardian through with his own blade before feeding his soul to the appropriate gem when a beam of yellow light hit him from behind.
The force of the beam staggered him forward even as it rent a gash in his impenetrable armor. He turned, palm out to block the beam, and was confronted with a maroon head sticking through the deck. And embedded in its head was the very reason he’d dropped by. The sudden sight of it that had been his drove all thoughts of retribution against Heimdall out of Thanos’s mind.
Vision floated up through the floor, eyes locked on Thanos. “You must be Thanos,” he greeted the Mad Titan calmly.
In response that named hurled Heimdall’s sword at the entirely too proper construct. Once again, Vision’s body phased enough out of existence to allow the sword to pass through unimpeded. Instead of spearing the maroon man into the bulkhead behind him it merely speared the bulkhead.
Vision cocked his head in a manner suggesting disappointment in such an obviously flawed attack. “An excellent throw,” he commented in that way the British have of sounding both cordial and condescending at the same time.
Thanos reached out telekinetically to pry the stone off of the simulacra’s head, but couldn’t grasp it. Visions simply floated there waiting. “I believe humans call this a Mexican Standoff,” he observed.
Thanos straightened, regarding him. “Impressive design,” he stated. “But you are not indestructible.”
“No,” Vision agreed, “just untouchable.”
Thanos’s upper lip skinned back in rage. “And what about your friends?” he asked menacingly before turning to deliver a finishing punch to Heimdall. The Asgardian had as yet not managed to extract himself from the wall.
Vision retargeted the yellow beam of light to Thanos’s back. But Thanos dodged aside, clearly expecting that response. Vision cut the beam off but not before its leading edge impacted the wall a few centimeters from Heimdall.
“You might want to be careful where you point that,” Thanos cautioned him before preparing a blow that would surely finish the pinned Asgardian for good. Vision froze in indecision, as memories of Rhodes’s accident played through his mind in a guilt-ridden loop.
He’d deliberately targeted his beam on Thanos the last time in a way designed to miss Heimdall, should the Mad Titan manage to get out of the way. Even so, upon the event he’d impacted the wall far closer than he’d expected. He’d come to realize that he’d lost a level of precision when he’d left Jarvis behind, and he wasn’t exactly sure of his aim. He couldn’t use the beam. But the only other way to stop this would be physically. He doubted that even Thanos could hurt his Vibranium body, but that wasn’t really the point. Thanos truly didn’t care about him. He wanted the gem.
And he wouldn’t stop. If Vision didn’t do something he’d simply move on to Groot, then Rocket, then Banner once he found him. All of these thoughts flashed through his mind in the fraction of a second preceding Thanos’s death blow, and despite the speed at which he was thinking Vision could not make a decision.
In the end he wasn’t forced to; just before Thanos’s death punch could connect a green body exploded through the wall Kool Aid Man style and slammed into the murderous gorilla. Hulk grappled Thanos in motion, slamming him into the wall opposite the green monster’s hastily erected entrance. They barely missed the corner where Rocket had fallen.
Hulk bounced off, giving that tiny bit of extra momentum to Thanos’s sudden encounter with a bulkhead, before directing his remaining momentum in a right angle to their path. He landed on his feet, sliding across the front of the compartment, eyes glued on Thanos.
Thanos extracted his head from the bulkhead and turned a glare on the beast. His eyes hardened as he saw the Eyes of the Allfather staring back at him. The effect lasted only a moment longer before fading, as if the Heimdall had only wished to be certain that Thanos knew how he’d been interfered with.
Thanos’s hands closed into fists of their own accord, carving handful sized clumps of bulkhead out in the process. He launched himself off of the wall and hurled the first at the Hulk, who swatted it aside, and roared angrily.
He was just winding up to throw the second when a voice spoke from behind him. “You forget about me?” Rocket asked, extending yet another weapon. This one was leveled at the location that most humanoids kept their solid waste excretion points. Then he fired.
The close range blast threw Rocket back into the wall. Thanos’s armor contained most of the plasma blast, but a significant portion of energy found its way through the kinks to impact flesh. The impact launched him forward and slightly up.
Hulk’s clenched right fist was there to meet him. The full power cross was enough to knock Thanos down. Hulk’s foot shot out, kicking Thanos in the head. The force of the blow knocked him back to his feet. Then Hulk grabbed him, by his chest armor and heaved him into the only corner of the room not currently occupied.
It probably wasn’t the green rage monster’s best of ideas. Not even in the top ten really. The force of that crash was far from worth the time it gave Thanos to recover from the two-pronged attack. He stood back up, eyes on the Hulk, and wiped a bit of his own blood from his lips. “You again,” he said finally, seeming more annoyed than anything else. Hulk bellowed in response and charged. This time Thanos was able to meet him on his own terms.
The battle raged around (and often through) the room as Vision watched. He wanted to help. He was even beginning to feel a need to help. He liked Banner and Hulk. He didn’t want to watch them be killed. But he also knew that joining the fight was the one thing he couldn’t do. It was exactly what Thanos wanted. And even if he couldn’t actually hurt Vision there was always the possibility that he’d be able to get the stone. Vision wasn’t even sure what would happen to him.
At a point when the fight was occupying the front of the compartment, he went over to help Heimdall. He materialized himself long enough to spread the parts of the wall that had crumpled around the Asgardian, effectively wedging him in.
“You’re the key,” Heimdall said in warped form of thanks as Vision helped him out of the wall. “If he cannot reach you, he cannot win.”
“He will kill you all,” Vision stated.
Heimdall looked at him. “But he will not win,” he said as before, limping over to his sword and removing it from the wall. Then he turned and leapt back into the fray. He worked himself into a flanking position with Hulk. Thanos turned ninety degrees, relegating responsibility for the green monster to his left arm and Heimdall to the other.
It seemed to have some effect. Thanos was not able to land nearly as many blows, yet neither of their attacks was doing more than acting as an irritant. They both kept trying to work their way to his back, often to the cross purposes of the other. Most of the time they simply ended up orbiting their larger opponent. Other times they ended up almost side by side.
As the dance progressed Rocket shook himself awake. He’d barely raised his singed furred head before Thanos lobbed what was left of the control console at him. He activated his jet pack, launching himself to the ceiling and began sighting his weapon in on their assailant. Unfortunately, the other two’s erratic movement patterns made it difficult to find a shot.
“Pick a direction!” he yelled in frustration as the other two continued their strange dance.
“Perhaps you would like us to script our entire strategy for him,” Heimdall replied as he sidestepped a torso sized fist. He brought his sword up but missed the gap between the bracers and the gauntlet in Thanos’s armor. The sword deflected harmlessly to the side.
Meanwhile Vision watched on in indecision. He was in the same boat as Rocket as far as attempting to use his infinity stone bhindi to create a beam of energy. He knew Heimdall was right when he warned him against getting involved. But he’d come to learn that right was often a far more arbitrary thing than he’d once thought. He could play spoiler for eternity. But it would mean watching everyone he cared about die.
And he had no doubt that Thanos would begin torturing people until he gave in. Could he bare to watch those people become twisted into broken parodies of what they’d once been? He thought of the tortured souls he’d seen in Gamora and Nebula. Would he be able to watch Tony or Colonel Rhodes, or Steve be damaged on such a fundamental level?
And the two sisters were probably the best-case scenarios despite the wide margin of emotional damage that seemed to exist between them. What if they were reduced further? What if he succeeded in wrenching all volition from their vitality and turned them into just another of his nearly mindless drones? It seemed a fate worse than death.
Thanos bellowed, breaking into Vision’s thoughts. He had good reason. A moment before Hulk had managed to punch him into Heimdall’s sword. This time Heimdall had managed to find an opening in the armor. The sword didn’t go in very far, but it clearly went in far enough for him to feel it.
Thanos retaliated by backhanding Heimdall into the wall behind him, then punching Hulk back. Having finally established enough personal space, he sent a telekinetic wave of debris at Rocket. He quickly stepped forward, interrupting Hulk’s return punch with one of his own. Then he reached low and grabbed the rage monster by an ankle.
Hulk found himself being lifted effortlessly into the air just before Thanos began slamming him into the ground at both of his sides. He used Hulk as a club to hammer Heimdall as he attempted to come to the green rager’s rescue.
Then he stopped, as if examining the effect. Hulk made another clumsy swing at him. Thanos resumed slamming him into the ground for several more rounds before hurling Hulk out the very hole he’d entered the fray from.
“I’ve had enough of you,” Thanos bellowed stomping over to the hole, clearly intent on finishing the job this time.
It was at that point that Vision realized he couldn’t heed Heimdall’s counsel. He couldn’t stand by and watch his friends be slaughtered one by one. It may not have been the best right decision. But he was suddenly certain that it was the right decision for him.
Yet he’d already seen how ineffective physical attacks seemed to be. Even now, after having been skewered in the back, their enemy showed no sign of any serious injury. No doubt the two of them could pummel each other for almost an eternity, but one quick snatch would end it all. He wasn’t sure of his precision anymore, but he was certain that he couldn’t avoid making a mistake for an eternity.
He tried firing another energy beam, but Thanos simply held his palm out, blocking it. Vision closed his eyes momentarily, as if double checking that his was the correct course. Then he charged. Thanos tried to backhand him away, but his arm passed through Vision’s incorporeal body.
Then Vision solidified and grabbed Thanos in the right cheek. As the blow landed a yellow glow traveled from the Mind Stone down the left side of Vision’s face to his shoulder, where it made a sharp turn up to that hand. Thanos’s eyes widened as they caught Vision’s meaning. The blue stone in his gauntlet flashed, but before he could do whatever it was he had in mind, the glow reached his head. Both of them became completely still.
Heimdall collected himself from the floor and limped over to the locked combatants. Their eyes were open but it was clear that whatever they were seeing was not in this room.
“What the hell’s going on?” Rocket asked from the other side of the room. “Groot!” he exclaimed before Heimdall could respond.
The Asgardian glanced over his shoulder to see the talking rodent swoop over to its plant friend. “They appear to be locked into a battle of wills,” Heimdall observed.
“Groot,” Rocket called to his unconscious friend. “Groot,” he repeated with added force in his voice. He slapped the mini-Ent’s face softly, taking care to avoid the crack. Groot’s eyes fluttered and opened. It was clear that it was in a great deal of pain, however that worked for such a being. Rocket sighed in relief.
“I believe his kind can heal from such injuries,” Heimdall said pointedly.
“Yeah,” Rocket agreed, carefully lowering his friend back to the deck. Then he grabbed his gun and stood, a determined look in his singed furred face. He began stalking towards the locked duo, gun extending again.
“What do you intend to do?” Heimdall asked.
“Kill me this bastard,” Rocket mumbled, hopping up onto the remains of a destroyed console and leveling the gun at Thanos’s Temple.
Heimdall placed a massive hand on the barrel. “Can you be certain that you will kill him with your first shot?” he asked, leveling that piercing gaze at the cyborg.
“Yeah . . .” Rocket snapped, attempting a glare at the Asgardian. Heimdall cocked his head as if to suggest a lack of confidence in that assessment. Rocket glanced back at his target. This creature had survived for countless millennia, despite being right at the top of most everyone’s shit list. As in, if they could have figured out a way to off him, they’d have done so long ago. Yet he was still here, and many of them weren’t. It was doubtful that no one had ever tried to assassinate him at range.
Yet still Rocket couldn’t bring himself to lower his gun. He really wanted to shoot this monster, even if doing so was a very bad idea.
“Any blast will most likely sever their link,” Heimdall pointed out. When Rocket didn’t respond he placed his hand on the top of the weapon’s barrel and applied pressure. Rocket resisted for a moment longer before giving up and allowing the weapon to be lowered.
“So, what exactly do you propose we do?” he asked acidly.
“I’m not sure,” Heimdall replied.
“Well that’s helpful,” Rocket replied sarcastically. Then “Wait, what if we space him?” he asked as an idea occurred to him.
Heimdall shook his head. “He would survive until his ship could bring him aboard.”
“What if we blew up the ship?” Rocket asked.
“Doubtful that would kill him,” Heimdall replied.
“You come up with an idea then,” Rocket replied irritatedly.
“I’ve thought of many,” Heimdall replied calmly. “I simply refrain from blurting out the bad ones.”
“Oh, and what’s that left?” Rocket asked pointedly.
“Anything we do must, of necessity, be definitive and immediate,” he replied.
“Well that’s not asking much,” Rocket replied switching back to modus sarcasticus. “And here I was thinking this would be hard. Like listening to Quill talk. Boy was I wrong,” he added, holstering his gun and stomping back over to Groot. Heimdall watched him stalk across the room with mild interest before turning back to the main issue. “It must be definite and quick,” Rocket grumbled, doing his best to imitate the Asgardian. He kicked a piece of one of the consoles out of his way as a display of his irritation. The piece bounced off of an upright chair and hit the view screen at the front of the compartment.
Heimdall’s eyes tracked the projectile to the screen and then froze. The screen, like most of the room, had been destroyed in the fight. But it wasn’t the screen his mind had locked onto, or its current state. It was what that screen represented: a view leading to the cosmos in all its infinite wonder and power.
“Can we still make a jump into hyperspace?” Heimdall asked.
“What?” Groot asked, as if not able to understand the connection. “No,” he said before Heimdall could explain “the navigational computer is trashed.” For emphasis he pointed to what remained of the console Thanos had dive rolled through upon Heimdall’s entrance.
“There must be a backup somewhere,” Heimdall prompted.
“Maybe on a warship,” Rocket said pointedly “but this is some rich guy’s luxury liner. Redundancy costs money. Besides, it’s not like the designer ever expected the ship to be in combat.”
“Could you rig something up?” Heimdall asked.
“What for?” Rocket demanded, glancing at the shattered display himself. “Wait, no,” he said holding one finger up. “No, no, no, no, no,” he added for emphasis.
“A moment ago, you wanted to blow the ship up,” Heimdall pointed out.
“Yeah, but not when we were on it!” Rocket shouted insistently. “I meant after we’d left. Have you ever seen what happens when someone tries to leave a ship in hyperspace?”
“Do you have another idea?” Heimdall asked.
Rocket opened his mouth to argue but nothing came out. He knew the Asgardian was right. Whether he wanted to admit it or not was debatable. “Fine,” he ground finally as he stalked, yet again, across the room “but I want it on record that this is your bad idea.”
“What bad idea?” a voice asked from the doorway. They both turned to see banner wearing one of Tony’s loaner suits.
“Kamikaze Kid over here,” Rocket replied waving one arm in his general direction “wants to ram the ship into a black hole, killing us all.”
“Why don’t we just take the gems and leave?” Banner asked. “I mean, not that your plan doesn’t contain a certain irony, but what if he wakes up before we can drive him into a sun?”
“Now that’s a much better plan,” Rocket replied approvingly. “Mostly because it doesn’t involve us all dying,” he added as he stalked around the duet to study the gauntlet.
“It is certainly worth making the attempt,” Heimdall replied as he moved to get a better view himself.
The blue glow surrounding the gauntlet seemed to have gotten more intense since he’d last looked at it. As they were watching a bolt of lightning arced from the gauntlet to the deck plating below it. The glow diminished slightly, but appeared to be strengthening again.
Rocket stared for a moment before turning back around. “You know, one singeing a day is my max. I think I’ll just go work on that nav computer,” he said, squatting down to assess the damage.
“I think I’d better do it,” Banner said, not at all sounding sure of himself. “I am wearing Tony’s armor after all.”
“Can it handle high voltages?” Heimdall asked, unconvinced.
Before Bruce could reply another play of lightning emitted from the gauntlet. “Yeah,” he said, once again failing in the reassurance category. “Tony said his suit once absorbed Thor’s lightning.” Heimdall still didn’t seem that convinced but he stepped further back, waving at the gauntlet as if to say ‘it’s all yours’.
Banner tentatively put his left arm out. Then he began taking slow, cautious half steps towards the gauntlet. His face was turned away from the target and his eyes were sealed shut but for a crack he was peeking through.
He made it four steps before the dreaded bolt of lightning leapt from the blue jewel straight towards his outstretched arm. The blast slagged the exterior of the suit’s arm and slammed him into the wall. He had just enough time for the nerves in his arm to register the searing heat surrounding it before a safety measure engaged and the arm fell to the floor in pieces. The gauntlet portion, however, remained intact thanks to its sudden thermal warping.
“Ahhhh,” Banner groaned, clutching his armored left hand with the right. Heimdall stepped quickly over, stuck the fingers of each hand into the opposing edges of the red-hot metal and yanked them apart. Banner danced around, still cradling his left hand for another moment. “Thank you,” he muttered looking up from a grimace. “I guess the blue stone puts out more charge than Thor,” he added in that self-deprecating way he had.
“So it would seem,” Heimdall agreed.
“I better go run this under cold water,” Banner said waving his bare hand about. It was already bright red.
“The medical table can take care of the thermal damage,” Heimdall suggested.
Banner stopped, clearly cursing himself for not having thought of that. “Right,” he agreed.
“Take Groot with you will ya?” Rocket asked without looking up from his work.
Banner glanced at the prone plant. “Right,” he said again, moving to acquiesce.
“Not that it’ll matter much,” Rocket added after they’d gone “seeing as we’re back to everybody dying.”
“It takes only one to activate the drive,” Heimdall pointed out. “I will stay behind.”
“That’s special and all,” Rocket replied while splicing some wires together “but the humie was right; this plan fails if fug ugly over there regains his senses early.”
“Yes, he was,” Heimdall conceded.
“Especially since there’s not a black whole within a couple hour’s travel,” Rocket added, jamming a cable into his pad. He examined the display for a moment. “Nope, that’s not right,” he said yanking the cable back out. Heimdall turned to examine Vision and Thanos. He wondered if they’d have enough time at all.
>>
Nova Squadron Conference Room
Xandar Prime
“Prime,” Quill greeted the leader of the Nova Corps before he’d fully cleared the doorway to the briefing room “we’re here to help.”
“Mr. Quill,” Irani Rael replied turning from the window she’d been contemplating out of. It was a view of a marvelous city that stared back. An easy sight to become lost in. If it weren’t on fire.
Her eyes glanced over the other members of the party as they followed Quill into the room. “You seem to have recruited quite a few allies,” she observed.
“It’s more like we recruited them,” Tony corrected her, earning a confused look from the prime.
Quill turned to cast a quick glare back at Tony. “Really?” he demanded. “You’re going to argue about semantics now?”
Tony ignored him. “We need to get into your vault,” he said to the woman.
“And you are?” she asked.
“Tony Stark, of Earth, Ma’am,” he supplied in a clipped we’re-really-pressed-for-time way.
“That’s Nova Prime,” Gamora muttered.
“Are we really going to argue about semantics right now?” Tony shot back. He turned back to Irani. “The vault?” he asked.
She studied Tony for a moment. “You’re from Earth?” she asked. Tony nodded. “How ironic that you came all the way here,” she added wistfully.
“Please Prime,” Quill added, cutting back into the conversation. “If we can get the power stone off of Xandar we can hide it somewhere.”
“Where?” she asked, refocusing her attention on Quill.
“Anywhere’s better than here,” Nebula muttered.
“Not to mention the fact that this whole hostile invasion becomes unnecessary,” Tony added, waving at the unseen multitudes of invaders. The leader of one of the greatest militaries in the galaxy’s eyes bounced between Quill and Stark several times, as if attempting to discern their trustworthiness.
“You’re in luck,” she said, coming to a decision and setting herself into motion towards them. “For unknown reasons Thanos is no longer present in the vault,” she continued as she brushed past them into the command center for Nova Prime.
Tony was the first to react to this surprising news. “Excuse me?” he asked as the entire gang about faced to follow her.
“What do you mean he’s no longer present?” Gamora added.
“That’s all we know,” she said, leading them up set of stairs to a raised platform that ran the perimeter of the room. She walked up to a tech sitting at a workstation. “Show them the video,” she ordered.
The tech tapped several commands on the station’s holographic keyboard and brought up a video file. On it Thanos was in the process of giving instructions to the minions surrounding him when he suddenly stopped and looked up at the ceiling. An unholy grin spread across his face and then he was gone in a flash of blue light that seemed to pass through the ceiling.
“Wait, what was that?” Quill asked.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Tony replied, squinting at the video as the sequence started over again.
“I have,” Steve replied in a quiet voice. “That’s what happened to Red Skull when he touched the Tesseract back in 1945.”
Colonel Rhodes was the first to process that data. “Shit,” he uttered.
“So?” Quill asked. “We already knew he had the Tesseract,” he said pointedly. “The only question is where he’d go.” He shrugged, “Anywhere’s better than here as far as I’m concerned,” he added, echoing Nebula’s earlier statement.
“No,” Tony replied, with just a soupcon of condescension in his voice “the question is why he’d leave when he had an infinity stone within his . . . shit,” he finished as his train of thought arrived at the same destination Rhodes’s had moments before.
“Within his shit?” Gamora asked confused.
“How’d he know?” Steve asked, also coming to that conclusion.
“I don’t know but somehow he did,” Tony said as the blood drained from his face.
“Do you understand any of this?” Drax asked Quill. The star rogue shook his head.
“Somehow he knew we were in orbit,” Rhodes explained. “He used the Tesseract to teleport to the ship and get the mind stone while we were in transit.” There was a moment of silence as everyone realized what that meant. Both groups had left people behind on the ship. Most of them had been left there for their own safety. And now it looked as if they’d had to deal with Thanos on their own. It was hard to not feel as if each and every one of them hadn’t abandoned their friends to a painful death, or perhaps an even more horrific life.
Nebula recovered from this news the quickest, though some might have suggested that feat owed more to her not caring about anyone than any mental flexibility. “We must hurry,” she insisted “retrieve the power stone, and escape before he comes back.” To say that statement failed to earn her any friends would have been an understatement. To say that she could have cared less would have been equally so.
Without thinking about it, Tony’s arm snaked out. He snatched her by her armor’s collar and hauled her into striking range, the other arm cocked to do . . . something; he honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead. The armored fist just hovered there.
He could feel the tension level in the group ratchet up like a torque wrench at its upper limit. Suddenly the tentative alliance between them was wavering. They’d gone from one group into three. Tony’s Avengers were clearly ready to back him up. The Guardians were just as ready to defend Gamora’s sister, mostly out of respect for Gamora, he was certain. That left Steve’s Avengers caught in the middle, unsure of what to do.
Even in his sudden anger Tony knew they could not afford this divisiveness. He knew it, but he just could not make himself lower his fist.
Of all the people there, only Nebula seemed completely calm. She just stood there and stared at him impassively. She’d assessed his character before they’d made it to Earth and was well aware that he wasn’t the type to take his mistakes out on others. Nor was he a cold-blooded killer. She knew that type very well. It looked out at her in the mirror every day.
Eventually the arm dropped. “Monster,” Tony hissed as he forced himself to release her armor.
“Does that make me wrong?” she asked pointedly, giving him that unnervingly deathlike stare.
“No, it doesn’t,” Steve said firmly from Tony’s side. Tony glanced at him as if suddenly remembering all the spectators to his little outburst. He nodded, signaling both thanks and agreement.
“Alright then, we’ve got to move,” Steve said. “For whatever reason Thanos hasn’t returned yet, but we have to expect him to any moment.” He turned to the Nova Prime. “What’s the fastest way to this vault?” he asked.
She didn’t respond immediately. The look on her face made it clear that she’d rather have just about any other group to help her people through this crisis. But she didn’t have any other group. She had them. And they were still her best hope, even if they did squabble like sibling enemies.
The pause was only a moment or two. “Take the elevator on the east side of the building to ground floor,” she instructed them. “The structure just across the tarmac is the entrance to the vault. You’ll have to figure out how to get down there,” she continued. “It’s three deg below the surface and Thanos’s soldiers took the elevators.”
“That’s already taken care of,” Tony assured her. “I have just one question. What’s a deg?”
She blinked in surprise at the question, then looked about the room. She needed a referent, something she could point to. A ruler would have been the simplest, but she didn’t make a habit of carrying rulers on her just in case warriors from a backwards planet might show up. Finally, she settled on the height of the multi-story room they were standing in.
“This room, from the floor to the ceiling, is about four hecks,” she told them. “A deg is one thousand and five hundred hecks.”
Tony glanced first at the floor, then the ceiling, letting the laser range finder in his suit measure the distance. “That’s just over four miles,” he stated.
“Right, let’s move,” Steve said, instinctively grabbing the reigns. Nearly everyone turned immediately to obey. Quill paused for a moment, as if debating arguing for authority. But, as much as he hated the idea of entrusting his team with someone else, there simply wasn’t enough time. Besides, it wasn’t as if this was an order that could be argued against. In the end he turned to follow the others.
“Thanos may be gone,” the Prime called after them “but his lieutenants are all down there.”
“We can handle them,” Nebula replied without turning. Everyone else ignored her.
“Clint should stay here,” Tony stated as he and Steve followed the others.
“What? Why?” Clint asked, spinning to confront Tony.
“Overwatch,” Tony replied.
“What?” he asked disbelievingly. “No. This is about Wanda, isn’t it?” he accused. “You don’t want me to go down there with you because you don’t think you can trust me.”
“Clint,” Steve said, stepping bodily between the two “this isn’t about who trusts whom. He’s right. We need you here, keeping an eye on all the monitors.” Clint thought it over. It didn’t seem right, but he trusted Steve. Tony remained silent, though it appeared to take some effort. He appeared to be biting his tongue.
Clint glanced back and forth between them a couple of times. “Fine,” he acceded, brushing past Tony on his way back to the dais. Behind his back Steve gave Tony a meaningful glance before hurrying to catch up.
They found the indicated elevators. A quick scan showed them to be freight elevators. They piled in.
“Just so we’re clear,” Tony said as the doors began closing “I didn’t want him here because I don’t trust him.”
“Does that go for me too, Tony?” Steve asked.
Tony shook his head. “I get why you made your choice,” he ground out, surprising all who knew him with the intensity of his anger “but Clint decided he was so moral he could make someone else’s choice for them.”
“You wouldn’t know anything about that would you, Tony?” Steve asked pointedly.
“You may recall that I didn’t push for The Accords,” Tony bit out. “I just made sure there was an escape clause.”
“I was actually referring to Ultron,” Steve muttered.
“Ultron?” Tony asked in disbelief, turning to glare at Steve. “If Ultron had worked, we wouldn’t have to worry about a homicidal purple gorilla trying to upstage Jack the Ripper.”
“But it didn’t work, did it?” Steve replied. “You made a unilateral decision that affected the entire team without even consulting us. You did it again when you maneuvered Secretary Ross into running the team.”
“Is that what this whole thing’s been about?” Tony asked incredulously. “You just couldn’t handle being replaced?”
“I couldn’t handle how you never listen to anything anyone else has to say. You just assume we couldn’t possibly have some intelligent input,” Steve shot back.
“When one of you says something intelligent, I’ll listen,” Tony snapped back angrily. He knew it was the worst thing he could have said. He knew it wasn’t technically true. But he was just so tired of people accusing him of not listening, particularly when he was getting it from people who were so obviously tuning him out when he talked. It was infuriating.
Steve regarded Tony with a look of shock, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “I’m curious Tony,” he asked quietly “is there anyone on the team you will listen to? Is there even one person you consider your equal?”
Tony looked directly at Steve just as the doors opened revealing the otherworldly tarmac. “There’s one,” he said bitterly “but he’s probably dead now.” With that he stomped out of the lift. Steve followed.
Through the argument Quill, Gamora, and Drax had done their best to blend into the metal walls of the lift. It was obvious that some serious family arguments were being aired. In a small way they were glad that it was happening now instead of in battle. On the other hand, they couldn’t help but wonder how this behavior boded for the two factions’ smoothly working together in battle.
Either way, even Drax had been aware that he should stay out of it. It wasn’t their business, and even if any of them had the temperament to play arbiter, there simply wasn’t enough time for them to catch up on even the few issues mentioned.
As the two feuding leaders departed Drax finally spoke up. “Man, these guys have issues,” he stated. For once, Quill and Gamora agreed wholeheartedly with him.
“What’s an Ultron?” Quill asked as they exited.
Ahead of them Steve was trying to figure out what to do about Tony. The twenty or so meters they’d stomped had granted him enough time to cool off and take stock of their argument. He was fairly certain most of it had actually been Tony’s worry for Peter. It was clear he’d come to respect the kid. Apparently, he had good reason considering that Parker had somehow managed to hack Tony’s security.
What Steve couldn’t decide was whether or not he should reveal the kid’s location. Tony was angry with himself because he thought his orders had gotten the kid killed. Finding out he was safe would definitely put that issue to rest. But it might also cause Tony to turn that anger towards Steve right before they went into battle. And they needed to work together.
He knew that. But he also knew that letting Tony go into combat angry with himself would be to handicap him. He wouldn’t think as clearly, and it was his mind that he’d always waged war with. When most people fought it was instinctive. A martial artist used trained instincts to react with lightning fast speed. Some people simply raged and broke things.
But Tony’s brain never shut off. It was his true gift. And Steve had watched Tony in combat long enough to know that he used that gift in battle. His greatest advantage wasn’t the suits he’d created. It was the ability to use them to their fullest potential by applying that prodigious intellect to everything he did.
Steve flipped a mental coin, ignored its result completely, and activated his comm. In the end it was far better to have Tony angry with him than with himself. “Peter,” he said on the group’s comm frequency.
“Yeah what?” Quill called from behind him.
“Not you,” Steve called back. Then he waited.
There was only a slight pause before a much younger voice came over the comm. “Yes, Captain Rogers?” it asked. Tony halted mid stride.
“Meet us at the structure on the east side of the building we landed in front of,” Steve commanded as he came abreast of Stark.
Tony grabbed his shoulder, stopping his motion. “Peter’s here?” he asked, somehow managing to sound both relieved and concerned at the same time.
Steve shrugged. “He was certain we were missing something.”
“Me too,” Tony admitted “but did that mean he had to come with us?”
In response Steve put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Tony, sometimes we need to hear that the people we respect have faith in us.” Tony started to argue that this wasn’t about faith, but a memory stopped him. He couldn’t recall much of his time with his father when he was a kid, but he could never forget that one. It was the first time his dad had let him use his torch. He remembered how determined he’d been to prove himself. And how great he’d felt when his father told him he’d done a good job. No matter how they’d eventually parted, or what their relationship had turned into, that day was always at the core of his relationship with his dad.
Tony looked back at Steve as that half second memory finished and nodded. He opened his mouth to say . . . something, but before he could Peter showed up.
“Someone’s eager,” Falcon called out as Peter swung around the spire of a building and landed a few steps behind Rogers.
“Reporting as ordered,” Peter said with an attempt at a salute.
Steve glanced back at Peter before returning his attention to Tony. He knew he could have given the kid orders and been obeyed. He knew that everyone, even Tony, would have accepted that. But this was Tony’s charge.
“Tony,” he prompted tilting his head in the kid’s direction.
Stark glanced at Peter as he stood there, eagerly waiting. He knew Steve was right. He could feel it, deep down. But he couldn’t help worrying about what would happen. What if the kid got hurt? What if he was killed? Steve knew how to handle that responsibility, and Tony’d always been grateful to slide it over to him.
But this time it wouldn’t be Steve’s responsibility. It couldn’t be. If something happened to Parker, Tony wasn’t sure how he’d live with himself. But that didn’t change who Parker was, the man he was becoming. Responsibility or not, did he even have the right to stand in his way?
In a sudden epiphany Tony began to understand his father. The way he’d acted, the times he’d held him back. He was doing the same thing to Peter. Maybe it was with the best of intentions, but then his father’s intentions had quite possibly been equally well meaning. He’d seen how that turned out, and Peter was at least as intelligent as him.
Tony took a breath. “So, Peter, Steve tells me you think we’re missing something?” he asked, finally looking, really looking, at the young man.
“I can’t explain it,” Peter said, starting to lower his salute. Realizing what he’d done he raised it again, but then he wasn’t sure if he should have reversed it. In the end he settled for clasping his hands behind his back.
Tony grinned good naturedly as he watched Peter fumble with military courtesy. In truth he didn’t understand it himself. It was one of the reasons he ignored it. “Good,” he said as he turned back to the structure they’d been heading towards. “I am too,” he added as he started walking, trusting Peter to see that as an invitation.
“That’s great,” Quill replied as the group began moving again. “I’m glad you two had this moment. Now could you guys be a bit more specific about your bad feelings? Or are you just trying to see if you can get us to wet ourselves?”
“Haven’t a clue,” Tony replied as if he found that rather dismal fact to be amusing. Or perhaps he was just amused at the prospect of needling the space thief again. “But that only reinforces the need for us to keep an ace in the hole,” he added.
“Me?” Parker asked.
“You,” Tony confirmed as they entered the facility. Its massive doors had been forced open, and all the security devices on the other side were a smoking ruin. At the other end of the cavernous bay were a pair of freight elevators. The red lights suggested they weren’t currently available at this level.
“Just tell me what you need,” Peter replied eagerly.
“The Power Stone is in a vault that’s roughly four miles under the surface of the planet,” Tony explained. “Once we get down there, I want you to hang back in the elevator shaft.”
Peter stopped suddenly, then hurried to catch up. “Wait, you just want me to stay behind and wait?” he protested.
Steve spoke up without turning. “Keeping a reserve available is a time-honored military tradition,” he said with a slight reproach in his voice. “And it’s an important task. Although it usually includes more than one man,” he added.
“That’s just because no army in history has ever had a Spiderman,” Tony replied, laying the praise on perhaps just a bit thick. Peter saw through it of course. But he also saw that, corny as it was, the implied compliment was genuine. It was the first time Tony had ever said anything like that. At that point he’d have probably jumped down that hole swinging if Tony had asked.
“You can count on me,” he assured them.
“I sincerely hope we don’t need to,” Tony replied ironically.
“Because then that thing we’re worried about will have happened,” Peter replied with a wry grin.
“Right,” Tony agreed. “But if it does, we’ll be counting on you.”
“Yes sir,” Peter replied, suddenly hoping himself that that thing wouldn’t happen. The idea of having the fate of the galaxy on his shoulders was a bit scary. Okay, a bit more than scary.
“Now that you’ve gotten that taken care of,” Quill said as he stepped up to the elevator doors “how exactly do you plan to get everyone down there? They haven’t exactly practiced flying in these steel cans of yours.”
“Just jump,” Rhodes advised stepping through the group. “The suit will take care of the rest.” Then he made to demonstrate that advice.
“Colonel Rhodes,” Peter called out, stopping him mid-step. “Do you mind if I hitch a ride again?” he asked.
“Hop on kid,” Rhodes replied. There was a distinct grin in his voice. Peter hopped on, making sure to keep low so as to avoid getting brained on the entrance as War Machine hopped through. As soon as the suit was through the doorway Rhodes turned, giving them two thumbs up. Peter waved. Then they were gone, plummeting to the bottom of the shaft, more than a kilometer below.
Gamora stared at the doorway. “This is insane,” she muttered to herself.
“Well why don’t you just stay up here then?” Nebula growled, shouldering past them and dropping through the door. Wade followed immediately, then Steve followed by Tony. Those that couldn’t fly paired off with those that did. Brunnhilde rode with Thor. T’Challa paired up with Bucky of all people. Antman caught a ride with . . . somebody. By ones and twos, they descended into the abyss.
Quill stepped up next to Gamora. “You alright?” he asked.
“I can’t believe I’m about to trust an antiquated suit of armor to keep me from falling to my death,” she muttered, eyes set on the entrance as if she were looking at death itself. But Peter knew she wasn’t seeing that entrance; nor was she seeing the base of the shaft it led to. She was seeing what was beyond it. She was seeing her father, waiting for her. Not that he blamed her. It was twisting his intestines into bowline knots, and he’d never lived with the monster.
But somehow, he knew empathy was the wrong way to approach her lack of movement, particularly when she was wearing powered armor, antiquated or not. It would suggest weakness in her. She’d told him enough what happened to the weak in Thanos’s household.
He searched for something, anything that could help her past this. “Nebula did,” he blurted suddenly. The look she gave him in response was enough to make him regret it.
“She could take that fall without the suit,” Gamora snapped.
“It would still hurt a lot,” he pointed out.
“Yes, but she’s insane,” Gamora shot back angrily.
Peter decided, for his own good, to leave the sisterly rivalry aspect alone. But that still left the question of how to help her through this. Thanos wasn’t there right now, but that could change any moment. The longer they delayed the more likely they’d still be down there when that happened.
“Well, you could always dump the armor and ride down with me,” he offered whilst giving her the smarmiest smile in his toolkit.
Gamora glared at him momentarily. Then she stepped forward and dropped down the hole. Quill turned to see T’Challa and Bucky, the only others left, watching him. He shrugged. “Sisters, am I right?” he asked with a grin. When they didn’t respond he stepped forward and dropped down the shaft. T’Challa and Bucky glanced at each other, grinned, and followed.
“So, what do we know of these lieutenants?” Tony asked as they watched the smoothed rock of the shaft pass in front of them.
“What, now?” Gamora demanded.
“No time like the present,” Tony replied. They looked down to where he was floating. He’d taken the pose of someone resting on a couch as they fell. He had his hands tucked behind his head with one knee up, and the other leg crossing it. It was unclear whether his deliberate show of nonchalance at plummeting roughly four miles into a planet was earning him respect or resentment from the group. A modest answer would probably be ‘both’.
“The black order is comprised of Thanos’s most devoted children,” Nebula said, surprising everyone. “They are his generals, not lieutenants,” she added coldly.
“Right,” Gamora replied, jumping into the conversation. Tony wondered yet again at the cause of the unending competition between those two. He was forced to put that on hold as Gamora began listing the various capabilities of that group. As the litany increased it became painfully clear that, even without Thanos, this wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.
As the various groups approached the bottom of that pit their suit thrusters activated, slowing their descent until they touched down. For some it was a bit unnerving to lose control of their arms and legs for the landing sequence, but it got them down safely.
Once they’d landed, they stepped out of the shaft to avoid being landed upon. The shaft opened into a massive spherical hole in the ground. A bridge bisected the hole, leading from the elevators to the opposite side. There were dozens of security devices dotting the walls, all of them lying in various stages of vandalism. Most had been so damaged that their internal power sources had exploded, splitting their housings as if they’d been struck by lightning. Those that still contained viable power supplies had little means to direct that power.
The hole and the tunnels beyond were all covered in some sort of purplish metal panels. There were gaps revealing bare rock, where fighting had knocked them free. Many security cameras appeared to still be operational. That didn’t really surprise any of them though; the monster that had been described to them would want an audience to his overpowering strength. He’d want people to watch in helplessness.
Despite the overwhelming arrogance that implied, Thanos had apparently left a platoon sized rear guard of minions to watch the elevators. They turned, eerily as one, as the team began piling out of the shaft. Several of them alighted from where they’d been standing, flying towards them from either side.
Steve took one glance at the situation and began snapping orders. “Rhodes, take left,” he called out. “Tony take right. Everyone else stick to the bridge.” Rhodes and Tony blast back off taking their assigned sectors while everyone else charged the ground bound. Parker jumped from War Machine’s back, webbed the side of the bridge, and swung under it. He came up perfectly placed to kick the rear most member of the rearguard off of said bridge. Before they knew he was there he’d webbed the next group of three together, and then he was gone.
“Hey Rhody,” Tony called as they each set to their own mayhem “most kills buys.”
“Good thing you’ve got deep pockets, Tony” Rhodes replied as his minigun opened up. Tony grinned and queued up some music. ‘Cowboys From Hell’ by ‘Pantera’ blasted through every suit’s comms. The media icon began blinking for anyone whose irises showed irritation, allowing them to adjust the levels. Several of them turned it off entirely.
Everyone else charged up the gut like they needed that one last yard for a first down. They tore through Thanos’s goons with such ease that several of them simply couldn’t believe it. In less than ten seconds the entire chamber was clear. In that time most of the makeshift weapons they’d crafted for themselves had begun to look more like twisted clumps of metal than anything resembling a weapon. All except Nebula’s industrial pins. Not that she hadn’t also bloodied her weapons; she’d simply chosen hardened steel rods that were designed to handle a ton of weight without bending.
It wasn’t so much that Thanos’s children were fodder either. Thanos’s army of mutilated minions was considered to be one of the most dangerous fighting forces in the galaxy. They were strong. They were tough. They were brutal. And they absolutely would not stop. In every way the very epitome of a terrifying fighting force. But Thanos’s recruiting methods, while efficient at culling the weak, had the odd side effect of rendering said recruits rather inflexible.
They would do whatever he asked of them, more from the sadistic streak he’d bred into them at this point than anything else. But even as the unlikely team up reviled them, they could not quite hold that against them. When your world has collapsed to the two poles of feeling agony or watching others feel agony, who among them could truly say they wouldn’t have come to favor watching others suffer?
Either way, sadists rarely make good combatants. The arrogant certainty that the pain they visited on others could not be revisited on them was a requirement for the very detachment that allowed them to enjoy viewing that very torment. Arrogant warriors rarely last when pitted against their equals.
And the unsteady alliance they currently faced were far more than just their equals. Their individual power might vary greatly amongst that group, but they were all more capable of ruin. The minions’ slightly larger number were not close to what would be required to make up that balance.
When it was all finished Rhodes and Tony landed in the front of their formation. “Got seven,” Tony stated.
“Same,” Rhodes replied.
“What?” Tony asked. “You’re not counting that one that jumped at you and missed, are you?”
“I dodged out of the way,” Rhodes replied. “That counts as enemy action in my book.”
“Boys?” Steve asked pointedly, eyebrows raised in disbelief.
“Right,” Tony said quickly. “Sudden death?” he asked Rhodes. The black suit nodded. Steve pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He felt a sudden kinship with the character of Aragorn in the Lord of the Rings. How he must have wanted to clock Gimli and Legolas.
He refrained from making that observation in favor of activating his comm. “Clint, talk to me,” he said into his mic.
Before Clint could respond Quill stepped up to Tony. “Could you turn that noise off?” he shouted.
“Noise?” Tony replied, aghast at his choice of adjective. He looked about to argue, checked his situation, and lowered the volume to a manageable decibel.
“I found it relaxing,” Drax offered. “It reminded me of a lullaby I used to sing to my daughter.” The near argument about the musical value of Pantera was put on hold as that statement drew disbelieving stares from nearly all in attendance.
Steve was not one of those. He was busy focusing on another conversation entirely. “Well,” Clint’s voice said in his ears “you can forget about a stealth assault. I count at least a company of the monsters plus four heavies, and they’re all ready for you.”
“How far?”
“The place seems to be a deliberate maze,” Clint replied. “The next room fans into six passages. Based on enemy deployments I’d say you want the third passage to your right as you enter. After that you’ll pass three intersections, make a left, go up some stairs, take another left, take another set of stairs down, and make a sharp turn right.”
Steve glanced at Tony. “Did you get all that?” he asked.
Tony nodded. “Friday, update everyone’s pathing,” he ordered. A moment later everyone saw a globe icon blinking. When they focused on it the icon unspooled into a rather unobtrusive line drawn on their HUDs. It was perfectly contrasted with whatever background it was superimposed on, yet not so bright as to be distracting. The line led down the bridge to the next room before hooking right and disappearing past the entrance.
“Alright, let’s go!” Steve called out before starting down the bridge. He started at a trot, worked quickly into a jog, and ended in a full run. Most of the others managed to keep up with his progression, despite their unfamiliarity with the suits. Rhodes, Tony, and Nebula, however, blasted into the air and charged over their heads. Quill came right on their heels.
“The next room has about the same number you fought on the bridge waiting for you,” Clint said just before they crossed the threshold. “No heavies.” In response Tony and Rhodes accelerated, passing quickly to the other side of the room before arcing around.
Fire erupted from around the entrance, trying to hit them, but they were simply too fast. They crossed paths, Tony taking the high road while Rhodes took the low, and charged back at their would-be assailants.
Before they could bring their weapons to bear the ground force swarmed through the entrance. Their ambushers didn’t have enough time to retarget from there aerial assailants before they were swarmed over. Tony and Rhodes were forced to abort their strafing runs in favor of avoiding friendly fire.
The fight barely slowed them down. The last body hadn’t finished sliding down the wall it’d been slammed into as they charged down the indicated tunnel. Room by room they slammed through their waiting foes like a bulldozer through a rotted house.
Indeed, their biggest threat turned out to be each other. As they rushed headlong towards their goal it became next to impossible to avoid tagging an ally here and there. Everyone just kept swarming around. Some enemies got grouped up on. Some were almost completely annoyed. Parker was forced to dodge an allied shot several times. Thor was forced to abort his whirling hammer of death attack on two separate occasions to avoid launching an ally into the walls. Tony almost plugged Quill with one of his penetrator missiles (patent pending) three times. Rhodes was forced to give up on his minigun and concussion pulses completely.
In spite of their coordination issues the group had no issues with any groups they ran into. They quickly found themselves barreling through rooms, barely slowing down to clear them. Each room was so alike to the others that they soon stopped noticing the details. Each had smashed defensive batteries, shield emitters, and guard stations. The bodies of Thanos’s initial march through the maze were littered everywhere. Propelled by their haste to reach the stone before Thanos could return (and, if they were to be honest with themselves, the euphoria of crashing through all resistance with such ease) they’d allowed the entire running fight to become something of a blur, which nearly proved fatal.
As it turned out not all of Thanos’s minions were completely tactically inept; some had set an ambush by hiding against the rock of one of those side tunnels. As soon as the group was past, they erupted in their rear.
Fortunately, Clint was in the mixed group’s ear about it before any serious damage could be done. His acerbic comments as to their carelessness lasted far longer than the ambush.