Proxima Midnight
They came out of the wormhole with reality screaming behind them. She sat behind the console, her hands gripping the handles of the Q-ship tight. With a rough jerk, she twisted her wrist, and the warp drive hidden and protected in the heart of the ship came to a slow stop, letting out a stabilizing whine as the wormhole closed behind her.
Faster than light travel was always a pain, but it was a pain she was ready to endure no matter what in search of her father’s goals. The entire ship shifted from whining into a stable hum that spoke to the integrity of the vessel. She flicked her wrists once more, and the metallic appendages that held her limbs in place released them.
She turned away and looked out of the view glass into space.
Proxima walked away from the console until she was at arm’s reach from the view glass, and what she saw made her frown. The vast depths of space were expected. The stars, the glowing constellations, and the twinkling of asteroids and other celestial bodies drifting casually in zero atmosphere were all expected. What was not was Asgard.
The realm was whole.
The last true threat that had stood in her master’s way for so long stood whole and strong despite the information they had originally received. Their master had not believed it, regardless of the fact that Asgard stood, the fact remained that the greatest threat to his ambitions was gone. Few remembered who Odin had been, Allfather of Nine Realms. A man whose sudden growth of a conscience had stayed his hand from conquering the rest of the universe.
Her master was one of the few.
They had confirmed Odin's death on that little mud planet. His sons were weak. Asgard was supposed to be destroyed alongside the daughter they had all been cautious of. Now here she was, kilometers away, staring across the vast emptiness at an Asgard that looked somehow stronger than what previous pictoglyphs had shown. The realm floated as it ever did, alone in the midst of the cosmos.
“Our information was wrong,” a voice spoke up behind her. She had not heard him come. Her partner was as silent as the wind when he wanted to be.
“Yes, it was. The Master would be… displeased.”
Beside her, Corvus Glaive shifted his weight, allowing her to finally note his presence. His namesake weapon gleamed dully in the strange light that seemed to emanate from Asgard itself as he stepped into the ship through the viewport. He eyed the weapon for a second.
The glaive was a weapon that had been forged by the dwarves. A weapon so sharp that they had not yet found something it was incapable of cutting. Proxima envied her partner for a second until he spoke, distracting her.
“We can turn back, or we can see just how wrong the information was,” Corvus said, his voice carrying that flat tone he used when he tried not to let his thoughts show. “How do we proceed?”
Proxima did not answer immediately. Instead, she studied the golden realm before them with renewed focus, her enhanced vision picking out details that should not have been possible from this distance. The realm stood intact, its spires gleaming. She could see movement, tiny figures going about their business just like any other day.
Something was wrong. She had to find out what exactly. To return to Thanos with news of failure was a harsh fate to anybody not named Gamora.
“We’ll find a way,” she decided.
They had spent five days searching for one. They drifted farther away, with their ship shifting into low power as the prototype cloak mechanism was activated. They circled the realm through the void, using the realm’s own gravitational pull while looking for weaknesses in whatever defenses the Asgardians had erected. Proxima had expected it to be simple. Asgard might still stand, but it had lost its king. Without Odin, they should have been vulnerable, easy prey.
But the realm was protected, and not with technology, she realized after the first attempt to breach it, but with some sort of energy. Magic. There was a barrier that surrounded the realm. It pulsed with power, pushing back against any attempt to cross or even get close to it. Then there was the physical structure as well. Towering stone walls that surrounded it on all sides.
Corvus had tried to cut through with his glaive, the weapon that could slice through anything. The barrier had held, and worse, it had pushed back. For the first time in centuries, Proxima had seen her husband stumble.
“This has to be Odin’s work,” Corvus muttered, annoyance seeping into his tone at the futility of the task before them. “The Allfather’s final gift to his people.”
“Yet, Odin is dead,” Proxima reminded him. It was one of the few truths they had been able to confirm. She did not know magic, for she had no access to it. The firstborn, Ebony Maw, was the only one who was somewhat familiar with it, yet he was light-years away. What she did know was that magic was not without its weaknesses. “Magic fades with its user. The barrier would fall in time. We just need to be patient.”
However, even as she said those words, she knew that was not the answer to this particular riddle. Patience was a luxury they did not have. Thanos had sent them to scout and, if possible, secure the Space Stone, to secure it before moving on to Earth and the Time Stone. He was expecting word from them, and already they were running late. Time was running out.
Until it was not.
Corvus found it on the sixth day.
“Here, Proxima,” he called, his voice tight with satisfaction. “There’s a weakness.”
Proxima moved to his position at the holographic table bearing a map of the planet as created by their deep-scanning technology. Her eyes followed his pointing finger to a section of the holographic map depicting a part of the great stone wall and a crack in it. A crack that flickered, revealing a break in the barrier that protected the realm differently than the rest.
She smiled.
“Prepare the pod, Corvus.”
The journey down was quick, and seated together inside the pod, they waited until a soft thunk and a jerk of the pod told them they had landed. They stood up together, and Proxima led the way, with Corvus lurking behind her, half hidden by her frame.
The pod doors opened directly into the hole in the walls, and she dove through the opening first, her body streamlined for speed, taking her the distance. She felt something weak, some sort of energy scrape against her as she passed through, but it was too fragile to stop her. Then she was inside, landing on grass that was part gold and part green, with a roll that brought her to her feet, eyes taking in the clearing she had appeared in.
Corvus followed a heartbeat later to stand behind her. They stood together in a plain, and before them, and surrounding them on all sides, were buildings that gleamed with beautiful architecture and a sea of green. For a moment, there was only silence. Their infiltration had been perfect. Or it would have been if not for the two figures standing before them.
The first was a dark-skinned man with long locks of hair bound back behind him. His body was covered in a gold interlocking plate, while his eyes, gold orbs, stared at them nonplussed, his frame leaning on the huge greatsword beside him. The second figure was a mountain of a man, heavily muscled, with pale skin and red tattoos curving around his body. Amber eyes sat in a weather-beaten face, half hidden behind a great beard, while a rune-etched axe sat firmly in his one-handed grip.
“They were expecting us,” Corvus muttered behind her.
“We were,” the dark-skinned man replied to them. “You’re intruding on Asgard, and by the will of the Allfather, you shall submit yourselves for questioning, or you shall die.”
Proxima looked away from the dark-skinned man. Her instincts, forged from the genocide and conquest of multiple worlds alongside her fellow brothers, told her she could take the man. If she fought alongside Corvus, it might have been difficult. They knew of Heimdall and his all-seeing eyes, but she knew she was up to the challenge. The problem was the other man.
The man who had not said a single word since she appeared. The man that she had been unable to take her eyes off because something at the back of her head told her that if she did, she would be dead before she knew it.
They could fight here, but the question remained. Did they need to?
“Corvus,” she called out, her voice low, attention still on the pale man. Her fellow Order member understood her even without any words. He unclipped a device from the back of her hip, pressed the activation button, and hurled it at the duo. The dark-skinned man made to move, but the pale man was already there. His movement was a blur. He strapped the axe to his back, then caught the explosive, clenching it between his two fists with a great frown on his brow.
Proxima smiled.
Who was stupid enough to hold a plasma charge built to pierce armored tanks and weapon placements? The man, as if he could feel her smile, looked up at her, his amber eyes freezing the smile on her lips. A second later, the charge activated, coming to life in a great explosion that, even while contained, sent forth heat, light, smoke, and a devastating shockwave that flung her halfway through the gap she had entered and towards her drop pod, Corvus’s body behind her, dampening the force of her fall.
She rolled back to her feet in a split second and looked back at where the man had been, and all she could see was smoke.
Proxima stayed still for a heartbeat, contemplating a way forward, when an annoyed grunt rang out, and in the midst of the smoke, she made out dull amber eyes staring back at her, unimpressed.
“We’re leaving, Corvus.”
“Must we, our goal—”
The ash-skinned man took a step forward, the thick black smoke curling off his frame and refusing to find purchase on his skin. His hands were red and steaming, yet the fact remained that he had hands, a feat which should've been impossible.
“Now, Corvus!”
Her partner finally moved, and together they turned as one, racing back towards the entrance, until they heard a whistling sound. Proxima spun, her tri-section staff unfolding as she spotted an axe flying towards her, but she knew she wouldn't be fast enough.
The axe got within inches of her neck, giving her a clear view of the strange runes that covered its blade edge, when all of a sudden, Corvus's glaive intersected its path, and he let out a scream as he deflected it upwards, the force of the blow flung him back and through the doors of the pod. Proxima flung her spear behind her using her continued momentum, before following after Corvus and slamming the pod door closed between them. Her last glimpse through the viewing visor was of the pale man slapping her spear to the side with a strange shield that had appeared on his forearms, then those amber eyes trailed after her and, with a hum of energy, the drop pod came to life and hurled itself away from the crack in the wall, returning them to the ship.
"Ahhhhh!"
Corvus scream forced her to return her attention to her partner, and she turned, in surprise at the figure of her mate, or more accurately, his right hand. Two of his fingers were broken, and his elbow was twisted the other way around. This much damage just from deflecting a simple axe throw? Her eyes trailed off to the glaive resting on the ground, and she spotted the thin line the axe edge had left on the impervious metal.
“Who was that?” Corvus grunted out at her in pain, yet she could do nothing but stare at the doors, her mind filled with the past few seconds. Pale hands closing over a plasma grenade. A pale figure striding out of black smoke, the axe that almost took off her head, and those dull amber eyes looking at her like she was something lesser.
“I don’t know.”
She growled low, baring her teeth in anger and shame. They had run. They had been sent fleeing without even a chance to fight back. However, their jobs had never been to fight. It had been to scout.
“What now?”
“We retreat,” Proxima finally said after a deep breath, her voice hoarse. “We tell the master what we found, but first, something must be done about your hand. We shall not let him see us weaker than we already are.”
Corvus said nothing, so she glanced back, and she could see the shame in his eyes. The same shame she felt burning in her chest.
They returned to their Q-ship, and Corvus went straight to the recovery room, where his hand was braced and healed before returning to her, and with a flick of a button, they activated a transmission straight to Sanctuary, their mothership.
There was silence in the communication room for a minute until, with a flicker, the holographic projector that took up the bulk of the space came to life. Before them was the projected figure of their lord. Thanos, hidden partially in the shadows of his throne room. At the sight of him, they immediately dropped to a knee, heads bowed, allowing them only the sight of his feet.
“My children, you bring news.”
“Yes, my lord,” Proxima started, and with only a glance at Corvus, she delivered their report. The Mad Titan listened in silence, his expression hidden in the shadows, as was his judgment.
“Our informant was partially wrong. Odin is dead, but Asgard is whole and barred from us, my lord. It is heavily protected, even more than it used to be, and has recruited unknown figures with great power that... worries me,” Proxima concluded.
The silence that followed her conclusion was deafening. Around them, the ship hummed with activity, but in this chamber, there was only silence. Proxima remained rooted in place, sweat trailing down her back while her twin hearts beat furiously in her chest. She could feel his stare, even with her eyes down.
Thanos sat on his throne, his massive fingers steepled in thought.
“The universe changes,” Thanos said finally. “Reality shifts. I had thought to move with subtlety, to retrieve the stones quietly before the realms could mount a defense. Before the universe saw me as an infection and created antibodies to resist my presence and will.”
Proxima raised her head to look at Thanos, and she saw he had leaned forward. His eyes were dark and fixated on his two warriors. “But if the universe changes, then perhaps so must I…”
“My lord?” Proxima questioned.
“You have failed me, Proxima, Corvus. You have failed me woefully. But I am not without mercy.”
“Tell us what we shall do to reclaim your favor, my master,” Corvus called out, his voice ringing with panic and fear.
“If Asgard stands too tall to fall, then we shall go for the others first,” Thanos said, standing and slipping out of the shadows that encompassed his form. His full height was imposing, his presence filling the chamber like a physical force even through the holographic screen. “The Space Stone might be too well protected, but there are other stones. Weaker targets. The Mind Stone rests in the head of a synthetic being on Earth. The Time Stone is held by a mortal sorcerer. These we can take.”
“You want us to assault Earth?” Corvus asked.
“You asked how you can return to my grace. This is how. No more mistakes. No more failures. Return to me with either one of the stones, or do not return to me at all.”
“Yes, my lord,” Proxima and Corvus said in unison.
A chance, Proxima thought. This time, she could not afford to fail. Death before dishonor.
__
Vision
The nightmares had started a few months ago.
Vision stood naked in front of the window of their latest hideout, staring out at the streets without truly seeing them. His synthetic mind worked to replay the images from his sleep cycle, analyzing them for the hundredth time, searching for patterns or meaning.
His synthetic mind struggled to interpret the vague feelings that pulsed forth as dreams, for devoid of sleep, the dreams shifted into vague impressions. There was something out there. Something vast. It drew nearer and closer with every breath that he took. It did not have a face, and it did not have a name. There was only the impression of overwhelming force and inevitability. Pressure built at his temples as he felt wrongness cut deep, as something was ripped from him.
The Mind Stone glowed softly in his head.
“You’re doing it again.”
Wanda’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. She sat in the bed, her nakedness hidden behind a duvet, her beautiful red hair loose around her shoulders. Concern was clear on her features as she looked at him while blinking the sleep out of her eyes.
“Doing what?” Vision asked, though he knew what she meant.
“Brooding,” Wanda said, rising from the bed and discarding the softness of the mattress and the duvet behind as she walked toward him. She hugged him from behind, pressing her naked breast into his back, and he could feel her body instinctively react to the cold, her nipples hardening and poking into his back.
Her body was warm, a stark contrast to his synthetic skin and the simulacrum of a human man with blond hair he placed over his true body. “You’ve barely spoken since the nightmares started. Talk to me, Vis.”
Vision was quiet for a moment, organizing his thoughts as he stared outside, trying his best to ignore the feeling of the woman he loved behind him and the complicated emotions it stirred in him. “The Mind Stone is active. More so than it has been since Ultron created this body. I can feel it pulsing in ways it has not before. And with that activity comes the visions.”
“Tell me,” Wanda said softly into his ear.
So he did. He described what little he remembered, the feeling of pressure, of something coming. He told her what it felt like to have something vital ripped from him as he returned to the cold void from which he came.
There was silence in the room for a minute as they basked in each other’s presence. “What do we do?” Wanda’s voice came as a whisper.
“I don’t know,” Vision admitted. “But there’s something else,” he continued. “Something changed a week ago.”
“What?”
“Last night, I saw something, and I remember it clearly. It is not a vague feeling. It was a figure standing in the midst of a battlefield, staring at the world with blood-soaked hands. I do not remember his face, only the bright shade of red hair on his head, lightning sockets for eyes, and a great stature overlooking a sea of bodies. And anytime I lay my eyes on him, the stone reacts. It pulses as if it knows him. As if he is important somehow.”
Wanda’s hand tightened as it snuck its way across his chest. “A week ago? That was when the world changed, wasn’t it, when it merged with another,” she said. “It must have affected the stone. It’s older than our universe, right? Sensitive to changes?”
“That’s my theory,” Vision agreed. “The Mind Stone predates this universe. When the merge occurred and a new reality was suddenly grafted onto our own, it would have felt that. Perhaps these visions are a warning. A prediction of what’s to come.”
“Then we need to find him,” Wanda said firmly. “This red-haired man. If the stone keeps showing him to you, there’s a reason.”
“Wanda, we don’t even know if he’s real. He could be a projection, an enemy, a symbol—”
“Or he could be the key to keeping you alive,” Wanda interrupted, her eyes flashing with determination and fear. “I cannot risk losing you, Vision. So if there’s a chance that this man can put a stop to whatever doom the stone has been showing you, we have to take it.”
Vision turned to look down at the woman he loved, at the fierce protectiveness in her expression, and felt something in his synthetic chest warm. “Very well. Where do we start?”
“We call Natasha,” Wanda said, her bright green eyes staring into his false blue. “If anyone can track down a random mysterious red-haired man, it’s the Black Widow.”
Vision nodded in agreement and returned his gaze to the window. Somewhere out there, a storm was coming. He could feel it building. The yellow stone in the middle of his forehead was warning him as much as it could. The Mind Stone pulsed in his forehead, and for a brief moment, he saw the red-haired man again.
This time, the man was looking directly at him.
A/N: Ah, There goes the beautiful butterflies, flapping their beautiful wings. Anyway, amusing fact, canonically, the mind stone was the only stone that actually tried to protect it's user.