cutting_edgex23 | yellow bird flying

Thor inclines his head to her very slightly.

He offered her his assistance when he came. That offer holds.

And she is the one who's been having prophetic dreams about all this. (Maybe some of these white-clad folks have too, but X is the one whose competence and good sense Thor knows to trust.)

"If you'll come with us to the Foundation," Reed offers, "We can show you the data we have on the quake and its causes, too."

"And we can strategize," Sue puts in.

Maybe she's reading X's microexpressions. Or Thor's.

X is silent for a few seconds, thinking it over. But given the circumstances --

"Okay. But it will be better to be quick."

Edited 2014-04-24 22:02 (UTC)

Well enough. But first things first:

"I am Thor Odinson of Asgard."

He's pretty sure they know that already. But some diplomatic preliminaries are important anyway. There are things for which clarity matters.

"I'm told I have another self in this world. I am not he. But the Lady X is a friend, and I have offered her my aid in this matter. I will come as well."

All of this is directed equally to Reed and Sue. They seem to be the leaders of the white-clad warriors of this Foundation.

X's shrug is one-shouldered and quick.

"Milliways."

"Ah."

There will likely be an exchange of courtesies as they walk -- and possibly some less-than-diplomatic questions about other realities from Reed -- but the trip to the Baxter Building is relatively quick.

And inside the building it's almost like a Milliways-ian old home week. Aliens and children and novel instrumentation are coming out of the building's seams.

Sadly, very little of it -- at least at this point -- relates to the recent earthquake.

"It was limited to one block, which is strange enough, but the epicenter was the physics building of the university." Reed gestures to several graphs and a glowing blue map. "There was an energy spike just before -- "

There are some interesting readings here! Some of them for their own sake, and some of them... because the equipment is antiquated enough by Asgardian standards that he has no idea how it works. (Don't tell Reed.)

"Yes," Thor rumbles.

"Soul-embers, we would say."

It's not the most precise of terms -- accurate, but broad -- but Thor isn't a scholar.

"Souls did that?"

"Whose?"

Somewhere in the background Valeria Richards is fiddling with an elaborate sensing apparatus. Adults arguing is boring. Confused adults are even worse.

X, meanwhile, frowns very slightly.

"The physics building? I -- "

She closes her fist around the star on her palm, even though it is no longer glowing and remains well-covered by her fingerless gloves.

"We were there. There was light."

Thor glances at her, and back to the others.

"The energy," he says slowly, "was from elsewhere. Perhaps another realm -- I don't know which. I am no expert in this, but it seemed to be pushing through. Not wholly, but as if a hafgufa were squeezing through a crack."

"It pulled upon X. Not on me. The energy in her fought against the pull. Then the tremors began."

X flexes her fist again, as if to check whether or not the scar wants to start burning again.

"I have been dreaming," she allows. Eventually. "Of the symbol. In the sky. It is not a good thing."

Beat.

"There is a demon."

Valaria chooses this moment to pipe up with her own observations. "He's right, Dad. There are two energies, only one is older, a lot older, and passive. That's the one she has!"

And Sue. And Spider-Man. But it is strongest in X.

That may also become more clear when the scar on her hand starts glowing again.

Reflexively -- or perhaps just because she is used to things being weird -- X reaches out to grab Thor's wrist with that same hand.

Just in case.

"Oh, geez," Spider-Man says. "I think I know what this is. It's the Uni-Power, guys."

He keeps talking, but Thor's only half-listening. The device in the small child's hand seems of greater interest.

And then X's hand -- which shoots out to clamp his right wrist, tight around the vambrace, and suddenly they're somewhere else.

A ruined plain of black stone and sand beneath a febrile orange sky festooned with broken moons. This is nothing but desolation. He stands beside X, Sue Storm and Spider-Man with them, and no one else.

No one else except the army ranged across the plain before them.

Thor's left hand tightens on Mjölnir.

"We did not leave your realm," he murmurs, a deep rumble into the silence of this stricken world. "Not by any means I know."

"We still have to find some way back. My life plans didn't include a years-long coma."

X ignores the banter, focusing instead on the army before them.

Thor's words will likely be important in a minute, but for now --

She peels the glove off her left hand, scar burning dully.

From the plain before them a howl rises up. "I smell -- starlight!"

The scar brightens as the army flings itself forward, spears poised as they run toward X. And Thor. And Sue. And Spider-Man.

snikt

If they were truly on another plane, X might not hope to win. But if this is something else -- if it is an inner struggle, or if it truly takes place in some kind of Hell --

She has been here before.

There are worse fights. (If few that are more important, in their way.)

The army's ruddy, horned warriors howl, and as one they launch their spears. Sickly, dark-glowing energy bubbles within each haft. There are hundreds of spears, clustered into a vast cloud, too many to dodge or parry --

Thor spins Mjölnir low and fast, drawing on its energy and his own to build together in a crackling rush. He slams the hammer to the ground, a great overhead swing that carries him down to one knee and sends a shockwave exploding outwards from the small protected circle of this group.

Rocks crumble. The very air smells scorched. But the spears pass through, utterly unhindered.

Illusion. Illusion, almost certain. But -- but the look of that black-orange energy --

Thor spins and throws himself towards Spider-Man. He's tough, X will heal; these two are human, so far as he knows.

X does not swear. There is no point, and she is not a bastion of profanity at even the worst of times.

She does, however, fling herself backward, twisting mid-air to try to ensure that as much of Sue Storm is shielded as possible.

If only she were a few inches taller. And a few inches broader.

The spears slice home, stabbing through skin and muscle, digging deep into the earth below.

X hisses in a breath, body remaining motionless as she looks down at Sue.

The other woman is not breathing. In fact, the only heart she can hear is hers.

Yanking her own flesh away from the spears, twisting to try to cut the shafts so that she can at least regain her feet, X fights to turn toward her friend.

Sadly, the demons reach her first.

Thor is several inches broader and taller than Spider-Man. (And X, and Storm.)

In this case, the size of the target doesn't really matter. There are enough spears to go around. And between the heavy, razor-sharp points and the dark energy bubbling behind them --

(I'm sorry, father he had time to think, just in case this was real after all, before he was thrown into a blackness he's floated in once before. He's beyond remembering that.)

Thor's heavy body is a limp sprawl atop Spider-Man's. His armor is dulled by blood from the spear-shafts pinning both of them to the ground.

X fights.

X always fights.

But even with healing, it makes no difference.

Fortunately she has died before. The feeling is familiar. (And, maybe, a comfort.)

Drawing a breath again is -- not.

"Thor," X says, ignoring the intense blackness surrounding them. "Sue. Spider-Man. You are okay?"

It is best to check the important things first. They can figure out where they are -- and how they are there -- in a few seconds.

"I am well."

Thor's eyes have narrowed. His fist is tight around Mjölnir -- or the dream-projection of itself.

Spider-Man is saying the same thing with a great deal more words, and Sue with attempted reassurance.

"But I find myself very annoyed."

"Yes."

X's agreement is prompt.

Her hand is burning again, matched in color and intensity by the lights that begin to appear all around them, flickering gently.

Like stars.

My hosts.

The voice comes from everywhere and nowhere, within and without.

My chosen heroes. I, the Enigma Force, am with you.

"I knew it was the Uni-Power!" says Spider-Man.

"Where are we?" asks Sue.

"I have died before," says X. "This was slower. But not different."

Little avatar, says the voice, closer to hand, you have already learned your lessons.

"Hey!"

They're... surrounded by lights, which seem to be talking to them.

Or something. At any rate, they're all conversing with something, which seems to be the same thing for all of them.

Thor's face is eloquent of his bemusement.

Well, it doesn't seem to be harmful yet!

"I hear nothing," he contributes in a low voice, towards X.

Just in case it's relevant.

"It is the Uni-power," X says in response. She is not trying to be quiet. "The Enigma Force. The Sword in the Star. It protects Eternity. The universe."

She has, after all, been here before.

Yes. I was prince and sword both, once. And my ancient enemy, the King of the Whirldemons, he who sought to conquer your world and devour its inhabitants -- he has very nearly broken free of the prison I put him in, one million years ago.

X relays this word-for-word to Thor, leading Spider-Man to grumble about a tape delay. He falls silent, however, as the Enigma Force continues to speak, detailing the horrors of the Whirldemons, those same creatures that so recently killed X and Thor and the rest. Their plan is the same as it always has been, to conquer, to kill, and to feast.

"We will stop them. Him." It is a solemn promise from X.

"Will you help us?" Sue wants to know. Spider-Man, too.

Floating in black nothingness, Thor listens.

This is not a tale he knows. Perhaps a scholar of Asgard would, one who knows ancient history and other realms in greater detail than he; more likely, this Uni-power and Enigma Force don't exist in his world. Either way, he will remember it.

No.

For what it is worth, the Enigma Force sounds genuinely regretful.

I am in a . . . distant place. I will try to reach you, but --

"We will protect them," X says, fiercely. "Everyone. We have done it before. I know."

It's not like they have much of a choice, honestly.

And it is what they do. It is what she does.

It is what she chooses.

Remember this, little avatar. The King will know you are different from the others. His eye will be upon you. Be wary of that.

"Why is she different?" Spider-Man does not mean to sound jealous, but he genuinely wants to know. Stuff like this is always important. Always.

She knows what it is to choose, more than any I have met. We are all made of stars, Peter Parker. But we must choose to touch them. She does.

Edited 2014-04-25 00:24 (UTC)

Thor's mouth quirks in the very faintest of smiles.

And then Reed and Ben are fighting the man X saw in the crowd. His brow is marked with the glowing dark-energy sigil of the Whirldemon King, and he stands relaxed and at ease amid heroes that other villains find of at least mild concern.

None of their blows appear to touch him. It makes him laugh, self-satisfied and vicious.

Given his preoccupation, X takes a moment to check where the children are.

And the aliens.

In case they need to be moved to safety.

The one alien who is tall and blond -- rather than small, green, and currently living in the Baxter Building -- sprang into motion as soon as they returned. (Or awoke.)

For what good it does. Even Mjölnir's blows can't touch this man, wrapped as he is in a shield of orange-dark energy. Lightning would likely fare no better, and it would wreak destruction upon this building.

But Mjölnir's blows do knock him backwards, as Sue's shields and the Thing's rocky fists do not.

The man dislikes that -- and it distracts him a little from strikes at the others. Both are reason enough to keep it up.

The man declares himself weary of games, through a smirk that he would like to be vicious. (It is, but Thor mostly finds his manner annoyingly tacky.) A soundless burst of energy rocks the room, sending the others flying backward.

Thor is unaffected, though he has to brace a little; it lifts his hair like a strong wind.

So is X.

"Look at you," the man -- the demon -- says. "Still standing, and with energy so like that of my old foe. I wonder what that means, little one."

X just looks at him, gaze flat.

"It is irrelevant. I will not let you hurt anyone here. Or on this world."

She darts toward him, swift and unerring.

"Charming," he says, amusedly watching her move closer. "You actually think you can -- "

snikt

The gash in his cheek begins dripping blood.

She follows that up with a brutal stab to the throat, which then turns into a diving slice.

Just to be thorough.

"Oh little one," the Demon King says through bubbles of blood, "did you really think it would be that easy?"

Valeria is standing just behind him, ray gun in hand.

X's eyes widen.

It is already too late.

She's a child, and --

Mjölnir smashes into the man's face, hard enough to pulverize stone. X is not the only one who believes in being thorough. Whether it does damage now or not, though, it's too late.

Valeria's young face is wearing the demon's smug, obnoxious smirk, and a familiar sigil has begun to glow orange on her forehead.

"Open the portal to my people," she purrs, in a voice too resonant for a child's, "or the girl will die."

Thor breathes out in a low, furious growl. His hands are fists, ready for a deserving target.

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