Sam Alexander
Sam’s traveled to other universes. He’s seen their suns so up close they become fields of fire. He’s seen other suns, too: the red, molten ones, the newborn corn-yellow ones, the violet corpses of dead stars. And - he won’t ever tell his mom this - but he’s soared into planets made of burning ice. Planets that smell like rum and burnt sugar. Planets with scaly humanoids who swim in lava. Until today, Sam thought he knew everything about the universe. Because those unending galaxies? Those shimmering, scary estrellas? They’re his home.
He can't picture his universe cracking into shards of nothings. He can't picture all those planets fading away like drawings in an etch-a-sketch.
"Sam," Miles says through their shared comm. "I can't see anything, man. Even my Spider Senses aren't helping. Do you have a better vantage point?"
Sam steers his thoughts away from the impending apocalypse. "Yeah, hold on." Soon, he's ascending higher, defying the laws of physics as he does. "Oh, man."
"What is it?"
"It's...there's a hole." Sam's throat dries. He can see it now: the universe falling apart at the seams, like a makeshift sack dress. Rips in pockets; chasms between solar-systems. Buttons falling off; stars plunging into an unending abyss. "It looks like someone cut out Midtown with a pair of scissors."
Miles pauses. "Lunella said there's some green in there. You see any of that?"
"No, I'm too high." Sam twists his body to the right and tucks his head closer to his chest. "Um...green?"
"That's what the energy reading looks like, yeah."
"I don't see any green at all." He bites his bottom lip. "Hey, does your suit still have thermal goggles?"
"Yeah." He hears a click, and then Miles curses.
Sam's heart staccatos. "What?"
"Sam, there's only - only blue. Everyone is...is gone - "
Last night, Sam assumed all the people in Manhattan were safe. Now, he knows he was wrong. Everyone he hadn't spared a thought to is now gone and Sam wants to say he’s not responsible, but it feels a lot like he is.
He turns on his own heat imaging sensors. "I'm heading toward the Tower now. Miles..."
"Y - Yeah, Sam?"
"Don't die, dude."
“Yeah. Right. Sam - ”
Spotting the tower, Sam bends toward it, flattening his arms to his sides. “ETA five seconds until I reach Manhattan.”
“Sam,” he says after the briefest of pauses, “stay safe.”
Three seconds. Two seconds.
“I will.”
One second.
Sam lands and his comm crackles in his ear. Shit. Lunella had tinkered with these pairs before they left; if the green energy can tamper with her designs… “I’m screwed.”
But he’s been screwed before. He’s been the nobody nothing in the middle of Arizona. The stupid kid who didn’t have friends. Who cleaned the school bathroom and yelled at his dad. Sam isn’t new to this...to this kind of despair, this frustration; he’s felt almost all of his life. And he’s won against it almost all of his life. He'll win this time, too.
Sam steps forward toward...toward - He can’t see what it is...And yet, his feet keeping moving in that direction, like he’s standing on the shore and the tide is pulling him further into the water. Seconds pass, minutes maybe. Sam braces his shoulders, readies himself for the impact, for the bang, the explosion.
Come on, come on -
A flash of brilliant green light. Sam doesn’t look away, even as his eyes water.
What -
Sam sees a hole in the darkness that looks like the opening of a tunnel. The light curves around the edges of the tunnel; Sam takes a deep breath and inches closer, until he can see what’s on the other side -
Brightly lit skyscrapers colored neon green and orange. A starry sky with five moons. A billboard reading Wayne Industry’s Latest Automobile. Broken roads; the distant sound of screaming, of things smashing. Sam’s breath catches in his throat; exactly at that moment, something yellow flashes into the sky, brilliant yellow-black against a backdrop of black-blue: a bat sign.
Sam doesn’t know what the hell that means, or what city this is, but he isn’t an Avenger for nothing. Before he can even think about what he’s doing, he’s racing toward the city, determined to help prevent its fall. Sam jumps -
Something collides into him. Sam falls but his helmet quickly balances his momentum. He skids to his feet, his body aching, his arms held in front of him defensively.
“Name yourself!”
Sam looks up. Then, he looks down. “Uh...Who are you?”
Sam can’t see the kid’s eyes - they’re obscured by a green mask - but the kid scowls. This is a kid, right? He’s definitely shorter than Sam and his voice is higher-pitched.
“I asked for your name. I will not ask twice.”
Sam takes a step back. “I’m...I’m Nova.”
“Nova?” The boy sneers. “I’ve never heard of you. You must be another knockoff Batman.”
Now, Sam’s frowning, his hands curling into fists. “I’m not second rate anything. Who the hell are you?”
The boy straightens. “Robin,” he says simply, stalking forward, away from the hole, from the city about to be destroyed. His voice turns grave. “Son of Batman.”
“Is that supposed to mean something?” Sam asks.
“Yes.” Robin’s voice is steely. “It means I’m going to save Gotham.”
Before Sam can say anything else - like ask this kid, Robin, what the hell Gotham is - the tunnel-hole-thing behind the two of them stretches wider with a slight tear. And then, Sam hears it: the silence that he had first listened to when the Avengers Tower fell, the silence that marks the end. And then...And then a small, subtle click. In seconds, in milliseconds, Sam wraps around Robin’s wrist and he’s flying again, carrying the two of them out of Manhattan.
Get out get out get out -
“I’m more help on the ground, you buffoon -”
The click becomes a boom and mid-flight, Sam realizes that he’s not going to make it. His chest sinks as fire cascades over him, as a shockwave slams into him and his helmet is shoved off of his head by the force of an exploding star. A universe breaking in two.
Sam starts falling. Somewhere along the way, Robin loses his grip. Somewhere further along the way, Sam thinks briefly of his mother and his sister; of Gamora and Rocket; of Miles and Kamala; of his father. Then - then, nothing.