Avengers

by James A. Moore

  * * *

  ABRUPTLY THE wind stopped blowing, and Thanos frowned. An instant later the air around him exploded in electrical discharge.

  KRAK-A-THOOM!

  The sky roared and lightning danced across his body, arced from his form to hit the ground, boiling sand into glass and roasting the bones of the dead. The assault was massive, but he was Thanos and had endured far worse.

  He looked to the skies and smiled.

  “Do it again, thunder god.”

  Thor obliged. KRAK-A-THOOOM!

  This time the light was enough to blind, the sound enough to deafen. The lightning came upon him and continued for what seemed like an eternity. Debris leapt into the air. The pain was a living thing.

  Finally the worst was done, and the glazed ground around him cooled enough for him to move his feet.

  “Is that all?” Thanos said, his form smoldering. “Or do you have something more?”

  Thor leapt to the challenge, and Mjolnir came down in a broad arc. The hammer slammed into Thanos’ skull and sent him to his knees. Lightning arced between them, and sent daggers of pain across his side and his face.

  Sometimes he forgot that others held true power, as well. Thor was powerful indeed, and Thanos suspected he was capable of killing if the mood struck him. He had lived for thousands of years, and he wielded the power of the storm. He brought Mjolnir around a second time and slammed Thanos to the ground.

  “One of us will die here today, Thanos,” the thunder god pledged. “One of us dies now!”

  He swept Mjolnir over his head and brought the hammer down. Thanos knew then he had been right. His opponent’s intent was no less than destruction. Thanos blocked the blow and caught the head of the hammer with his hand.

  When he struck back it was with the same intent.

  * * *

  “DON’T YOU love chaos, Thane?”

  The Ebony Maw squinted against the glare of the lightning that was raining down upon Thanos. He spoke as calmly as before.

  “It is in times of chaos that lesser creatures lose their mettle and submit to instinct, to panic. They run. Yet some, the best of us, thrive on these moments.” He found a button at the base of the containment device. A moment later an arm rose from the device, displaying a small control panel. He tapped a series of commands into the panel, and it was only a matter of seconds before the containment field faded away.

  “So as you witness Thanos, refusing to be beaten by mortal or immortal, I release you.”

  “Why?” Thane asked. “Why would you?” Thane was not a fool. He stepped away from his temporary prison.

  “To see if you are truly evolved.” Again that kind smile that belied the man’s actions. “I want to see if you will run.”

  They watched together as Thor was cast backward by a massive energy blast. The Titan was battered, yes, bruised and bloodied, but he was still strong, and his enemy looked little better. Thanos struck again, smashing Thor into the ground and then blasting him backward.

  “You’ve spent your entire life running from who you are,” the Maw continued. “Trying to be that good and noble man.” He leaned in closer. “Well, here is your chance for one final good act. You can save all of them. You can save the people who came here to fight for you, but in doing so you become what you have resisted for so long.” The Ebony Maw whispered into the young man’s ear. “You have a decision to make, Thane. Will you reach out and take what is yours?

  “Are you the son of Thanos?”

  Not far away, Thanos channeled energies into his fists until they were white-hot. His enemies were down. They were defeated. The look on his face was of raw, unbridled fury, and it was clear in that moment that the Mad Titan knew nothing of mercy. He had come to kill someone, simply for the act of being born.

  “Yes. I am Thane. Son of Thanos.”

  He reached out.

  “I am the son of Thanos.”

  His clawed left hand had killed before. If he used it, his father would die as any other would die.

  But his right hand? That one also glowed, at first with a golden light, and then white-hot like his father’s. His right hand was living death.

  Ever wary, Thanos turned toward him at the moment the hand made contact. The very air around the Titan crackled and bled. The air itself screamed in agony as Thane touched his father. The ground shivered; the air froze. The tyrant let loose a scream no one would ever hear.

  “What have I done?” Thane said.

  “If you’ve wondered what would be worse than death, now you know,” the Ebony Maw said. “Thane, son of Thanos. Greater than his father could ever hope to be. Greater than a world like this one. No single world can contain what you will become.” As he spoke, they were enveloped in a glow and began to fade away.

  “After all, what is one world for a man who could have many?”

  * * *

  “BAD DREAMS?”

  Steve Rogers opened his eyes and looked up at the armored face of Iron Man. The air around them was a cloud of dust and darkness. Every part of his body ached; in a few places the pain was enough to make him want to say so. At least it was a friendly face he saw as he awoke.

  “That depends,” Cap replied. “What kind of world am I waking up to, Tony?”

  “Ours.”

  “Then I guess the dreams are okay.”

  Iron Man offered him a hand, and he took it. Not a dozen feet away, Hyperion also was rising to his feet. He had been caught in the backlash of the battle between the thunder god and Titan, and the damage added to what he had already endured. Captain Marvel was on her feet, but looked a little unsteady.

  The next thing he saw was the destruction—ruins of a city he’d never known existed, and the bodies of the countless dead. The completeness of it, the savagery with which it had to have been accomplished, bordered on the unimaginable.

  “What happened?” Captain America asked. “You and the cavalry arrive in time to save the day?”

  “No.” Iron Man shook his head. “It wasn’t us. Near as we can figure, it was the son.” Thor stood nearby, his armor blasted away from his body. Even in his current condition, scraped and bruised, the thunderer stood straight and true. “He appears to be quite a gifted boy,” Tony continued. “If he had a hand in the decimation of this city, then he’s definitely his father’s offspring.”

  Not far away, Bruce Banner stood looking at something. The smoke cleared, and Cap was stunned to see Thanos. The Titan stood perfectly still, his arms up in a defensive posture, frozen in a block of amber. Proxima Midnight stood by his side in the translucent prison.

  “Not really sure how he did it, but it looks like he took out his father.” Cap and Tony moved closer. “No idea what that stuff is, either—it looks like amber, but it’s much tougher. Not in any database I can access. I’d say it’s as unbreakable as your shield, Steve.”

  Steve Rogers looked into the eyes of Thanos, and saw something he never expected to see. Fear.

  “So did we win here, Steve?” Tony’s words were calm, but there was a hint of uncertainty.

  “We’re alive, and Thanos has been beaten,” Captain America said. “Let’s call that a victory.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  FROM THE ASHES

  DEEP IN the Himalayan mountains, the brothers met.

  It was just the two of them for the moment, with Lockjaw, but soon enough they would begin gathering their people together again. The Inhumans were not dead. That, at least, they had seen to successfully. Everything else about the future remained uncertain.

  Black Bolt held out his hand, and Maximus looked at him for a moment before reaching into a protected pocket and pulling out a glowing red gem-like device.

  “This feels positively ceremonial, brother,” he said. “Is it our funeral? I think it should be.”

  He frowned, and saw that Black Bolt frowned, as well.

  “Well, I mean, really, what could the royal family—or any of the Inhumans at large—believe except that
you and I are dead? That you were killed by Thanos, and I perished in the fall of Attilan.”

  Black Bolt looked at the glowing ember in his hand. Then he studied the ground beneath him. The spot where, for endless seasons, Attilan had rested before their king deemed it necessary to move on.

  “Oh, they will mourn us—you more than me, I imagine— but they will mourn us, and rightly so,” Maximus said, and then his expression turned to concern. “We’re not going back to them, are we?”

  The ground changed. The same light that burned within the ember began to ripple, to shift and send patterns across the snow.

  “Why else would you be leaving the Codex here?” Maximus continued. “Where it has been hidden before, to be found by whoever would take up your mantle?” Maximus shook his head, and for a moment a familiar haunted expression came across his face. “I can’t help it—can’t stop the spiders from crawling through my mind, weaving the same question in their webs. Why? Why the trickery? Why the nature of the bomb? Why sacrifice the city?” he said. “Why are we here, Black Bolt? Why do these things, unless…

  “Unless…

  “Oh.”

  Black Bolt held up one finger and placed it before his lips. On the ground around them, the red light continued to glow and spread, witnessed only by the three of them. At six different points, the stone began to rise. In a place where human eyes could not see, where the clouds around the mountains hid the truth from any eyes looking down, Attilan began to rebuild itself.

  It would not be the fastest process, but it would take hold, and the city would rise again as it was always meant to be. For humans the term was nanotechnology, but when the original planners of Attilan had designed the secrets hidden within the Codex, they likely used a different phrase.

  Maximus, who thought he knew the ways of his brother, laughed in delight.

  “Ah, Black Bolt, who is the mischief-maker now? You were always going to scatter our people, weren’t you? Like seeds… because Thanos or no, you were always going to detonate the bomb. I was so wrong.” He laughed and spread his arms. “I thought you were giving us the last of the Inhuman age, but this? This is the dawn of a new one!”

  Black Bolt smiled silently, and his brother laughed for the both of them. Around the planet, new Inhumans would be awakening, the results of Terrigenesis. Some of them might remain scattered, but most would be found in time, and they would be offered what should have been offered to them in the past. They would be invited into the Inhuman family. Some might say no, true. But most, he suspected, would say yes.

  Soon the Inhumans would gather again, and they would gather in Attilan, which rose slowly from the ground even as Maximus laughed madly.

  * * *

  THEY STARTED on Whaan Prime. The Ex Nihili gathered to mourn the passing of their brother, Jerran Ko, who brought death when his time to leave the universe was forced upon him.

  They mourned, yes, but they did more than that. They rededicated themselves to what they were always meant to be: a force for life and change in the universe. They started on Whaan Prime, changing the dead world and bringing back what had been stolen away.

  As they concentrated and offered portions of themselves, the once-rich land grew fertile again; life began and quickly evolved. Grass grew, algae formed, plants came back, and trees rose in forests. In time more life would arise. The seeds were scattered and tasked to flourish.

  When they were done, they would move to another world destroyed by the Builders. Some were dead and others scarred, but the Ex Nihili would work to restore the balance that had been taken whatever the case. Their sister, the last of the Abyssi, would watch over them to judge their efforts.

  Once again in their existence, they had a purpose that made sense.

  * * *

  ON CHANDILAR, the Shi’ar throne world, Gladiator looked at the data files presented to him and nodded. His head hurt from absorbing information, and not for the first time he wished for a simpler life of hitting things and leading his elite forces into combat.

  We seldom get what we wish for the universe, he mused. Mentor stood nearby and sipped at a warm drink.

  “I can feel your frustration from here.”

  “When did you become a telepath?”

  “I didn’t.” Mentor smiled. “I can just read the expression on your stony face.”

  “We lost so very much.”

  “We kept what matters,” Mentor replied. “We have an empire. We maintained our core beliefs. You led us well through what was a hellish situation at best.” He held up his cup in salute. “Long live the Majestor.”

  “We have to rebuild the fleet.”

  “Of course we do.”

  “We need new members of the Imperial Guard.”

  “Naturally.”

  “I mean sooner rather than later.”

  “We’re already searching for a replacement for Titan. We’ve dispatched an honor guard to his homeworld to properly show our respects. Rest assured, Kallark, we are well at work on this. All of what you are saying is in the reports I presented to you.”

  “There are a great number of reports, Mentor.”

  “Yes. That is why I presented you with the summary.”

  “That fact terrifies me more than the possibility of another invasion.” He stood and moved away from the reports. “Whatever the case, the top priorities are rebuilding the fleet and bolstering the Imperial Guard.”

  “As you say, Majestor.”

  Sometimes he wondered whether the praetor was merely humoring him.

  * * *

  HALA, AS with so many other worlds, was recovering from the war. In a ceremony broadcast across the planet, Ronan the Accuser stood before the Supreme Intelligence as attendants completed repairs to his containment tank, and listened to the litany of sins he had committed. The word “treason” came up several times.

  The other Accusers stood with him. They had left with Ronan to fight the war against the Builders, and those that survived fully understood their fates were tied to his.

  When he had listened long enough, Ronan raised a hand and spoke.

  “I do not come here to surrender myself to your justice, Supremor,” he announced. “I come here as an Accuser. I come here as the Head Accuser, and I offer myself in that position to the Kree Empire, which we have brought back from defeat.”

  The Supreme Intelligence grew silent. The amalgam of a million years of Kree history contemplated the words for a moment, and then responded.

  “In that spirit, and in that context, you are welcomed back into Kree society and back to your post on Hala.” There was a moment of silence as Ronan nodded his head, and then the artificial intelligence added, “All charges of treason will be forgiven and removed.”

  “That would be for the best,” Ronan said.

  Inwardly, he seethed.

  * * *

  AT PRAXIS-2, the stargate did not close. It was not converted to its original purpose. The vast hole between universes stayed exactly as it was when the drone army of Annihilus began to swarm the planet. Vast armies of the insectoids swept the landscape. Those few people assigned to posts there fled in terror.

  They were permitted to leave.

  Praxis-2 became Annihilation World. There was no one left on the planet to disagree.

  * * *

  ON TARNAX II, the Skrulls gathered and celebrated their victories. There were feasts aplenty and orders to rebuild. Their armies and fleets were heavily depleted.

  Long before the feasts were finished on Tarnax II, the Council of Warlords agreed to crown a new emperor. There was little discussion. Warlord Kl’rt was one of the greatest warriors in the history of the Skrull people, and his abilities as a commander were beyond reproach. Past defeats were forgotten, and the Super-Skrull was placed upon the throne by unanimous decree.

  As his first order of business, he stated that—for now at least— Earth was no longer to be considered a target. Many thought that a wise choice, as the planet had, thus far, ref
used to be conquered. Others remembered that the Avengers had led the way to victory over the Builders.

  Still others muttered that Kl’rt continued to lick the wounds of his past, as Earthers had beaten him on several occasions. They were not, however, inclined to say it too loudly. Those who did had a tendency to disappear.

  Throughout the Skrull Empire, a reward was offered for all technologies found from the Builder and Shi’ar fleets. The munitions plants were active night and day, as were the shipyards. Skrulls were born with conquest in their blood, and expansion was their birthright.

  * * *

  ON SPARTAX, a close neighbor of the Skrulls, the celebrations were more modest. The Skrulls had deemed the people of Spartax “traitors to the cause,” and though no one attacked, no warships came for them, the people there soon understood the term “to sleep with one eye open.”

  Shape-shifters made for terrifying enemies, and Spartax received no assurances they would remain safe from attack.

  * * *

  ON TITAN, a tyrant grew.

  He had started his life believing in fairy tales, in the possibility of mercy and peace, but Thane no longer held to those childish notions. The time had come for him to grow up and take his place in the grander scheme of things. The Ebony Maw stood by his side and offered advice on all things of importance.

  The Maw was a good instructor, and Thane listened, intent on becoming all that his father had been and more. He wanted to be a fitting match for a universe that he learned was dying.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  LOST KINGDOMS

  DOCTOR STRANGE looked at the rest of the Illuminati, focusing on Iron Man. Tony Stark removed his helmet and held it in front of him.

  “What did you tell the others?”

  “That I would take care of it.”

  “And they believed you?” Hank McCoy looked his way and raised one eyebrow.

  T’Challa responded, “Why would they not? They see the world as they want it to be, not as it is.”