America Chavez is the medic to the multiverse! (multiversemedic) wrote in ageofmarvels, @ 2016-04-24 20:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | miss america |
[Narratives!]
Characters: America Chavez
NPCs: Various nameless alternative universe people (If you would like an alt version of your character to have been who America interacted with in any of these, let me know!)
Location: All across the multiverse~
Timeline: 4.5 years ago to 2.5 weeks ago.
Description: America’s multiverse adventures
Rating: R (America's mouth, graphic violence, death, questionable situations, implied torture/torture aftermath, war, suffering, implied murder/murder, etc.)
The multiverse, the omniverse really, left America with a sense of wonder, and more often than she cared to admit, a sense of dread. Every time she ventured out into it there was no telling what she was going to find. Who she was going to find, and what state they, or their planet, was going to be in. The only constant in any of it was…. That things always changed. "Sometimes I wonder why I'm even here." America’s attention immediately snapped over to the man that had just spoken. The one she’d been teamed up with for venturing out on this mission with. Eyes narrowed as the man continued to keep a lookout on their position hunched down behind a half demolished car. He was a friend, and hearing those words spill from his mouth… She hated it. The landscape before them vaguely resembled a junkyard… Too bad that the entire world looked much like that too. “Shut up.” There was a harshness behind the words she spoke with narrowed eyes at her teammate. “Fuck you, America. You don’t even live here. You can leave anytime you want.” He was right, and he knew it. “Yeah, and I keep coming back here to save your sorry ass you ungrateful fuck.” Her words were also a statement of fact, and it seemed to quiet him for a moment. Honestly, if she’d been teamed up with anyone but him, she probably wouldn’t even be engaging in this talk right now. “Take me with you?” His tone had changed, there was a sincerity there, a desperate plea. This world was broken, harsh, falling to pieces and the people in it were dying every single day. Not like the universe she’d come from, not like the one she often went to. These people died in masses, were tortured, were used like machines, chewed up, spat out and left to die in mass graves with little to no one to mourn them when they were gone. This wasn’t a world anyone would want to live in. “No.” “Fuck you, you stupid bitch.” The man angrily hissed at her, and for a moment it stung. It made America want to chew him out, to tell him he didn’t get to decide how bad things were, to tell him that he needed to grow the fuck up, but instead she remained silent. “We don’t need you here. We don’t need your fucking pity. We need a new world. We need somewhere where not killed in droves for the master race controlling this place.” He was angry, tired, hurting, bitter, and at his wit's end. The emotional swings said it all. “No. You need to fight. You need to win your world back.” And those were the last words she’d speak to him before standing, allowing the sentry that had begun watch to see her and turn on her. “Intruder. Halt. Submit or lethal force will be administered.” The automatic mechanized voice declared with America in its sights as turrets were turned on her. “Fuck off, pendajo.” With that she rose into the air, flying towards the machine as it rained bullets upon her. The force of each high velocity steel core round stung as they struck, but so far that was all. Hopefully, this would give the team the distraction it needed to breach the outer walls and invade the inside of the facility to retrieve the weapon they’d so desperately need. Hopefully, this would let them win this war. The blow caused her heels to dig in, and body weight to shift forward as the force caused her to skid back, leaving boot markings in the ground. That one was going to leave a mark in the morning. America would have to be a little more careful not to get hit like that too much, otherwise this fight might be a lot harder than she’d anticipated after all. With balance returned, and teeth gritted the tank locked eyes on the target. This universe was a never ending war. One that seemed like it was meant to watch everyone tear each other, and ultimately themselves, apart. If they could just get to the figure causing the chaos, the one who had started all this trouble, the one in control, then maybe, maybe this insanity could be stopped. "I am going to watch you bleed." Sneered the area’s controller. The beast that oversaw this section of this world and had been forcing those within the territories grasp to battle to the death. If they did not obey, well… Their families paid the price. “Try me.” America growled, cracking her knuckles while staring across the craggy ruins at the beast. A deep booming roar echoed through the night causing birds to scatter and fly off as the monster charged towards her, and America grinned before rushing to meet the beast in the middle of their arena with her fists raised. Before the end of this night one of them would win, And the tank was determined that it was going to be her. She’d set this world right yet. The war was done. The people were still unsteady. They were unsure of what was to come but the trumpet had sounded to signal the defeat of the oppressors. The main forces had been destroyed some weeks ago but pockets of evil still remained. At this time, America had agreed to help clear up some of the remaining trash that still littered the otherwise peaceful landscape of this world. It had been easy enough. Meet up with everyone going out. Break up into sub-teams to take on different pockets of issues, regroup after to report back what they had been able to clear out, or what still needed to be done. With the major threat gone, most of the pockets of resistance fell quickly enough, take out a small time leader and the rest of the group often didn’t know what else to do. America had been asked to handle a situation by herself, which… Well, it had been taken care of easily enough. The technology on this planet - while advanced - wasn’t anything that was ultimately worrying to her. However, the the task had taken some time to complete even if it was easy and she found herself landing back into camp long after the original agreed upon meeting time. The bruiser was a bit scuffed, and rather tired, but overall not much worse for the wear. However, after only a moment of looking around something seemed off and America made her way over to the reporting tent. What was it that was wrong…. Why did she…. Pushing back the flap of the tent it finally hit her as her eyes laid upon the commander leaning over a table with a map of the lands. “Where’s Team Delta?” The tank’s brows furrowed. It was unlike her friends not to beat her back here on a mission like this. Especially, with how long she’d taken on it. The commander froze in place, seeming like the question was unexpected. Slowly, solemnly the other woman’s posture straightened, a pull at her jacket given as she looked America in the eyes, and her face filled with sympathy. "I'm sorry, they didn't make it." The man was a priest. Or at least, that was America’s guess due to the guys garb, air he put on and the accessories that adorned his person. The stone and mortar temple she’d found herself in was starting to collapse around them after this asshole had flipped some secret switch that he’d of course revealed at the last possible moment. Did this asshole think this was some sort of movie shit? Yet, when he’d done it the structure around them began to shift, a low grating noise was quickly followed by a rumble as the building above and around them began to shake. The man before her let out a twisted, demented laugh, one that only someone lost to their own madness would ever make. One that seemed to say he’d thought he’d won. That this fight was over and done. That America now didn’t have a single chance to escape. “The sacrifice has begun!” He shouted aloud to the room, and America’s eyes instantly darted around, trying to take in if she’d missed anything, anyone that he might now be talking about. “Think you’ve missed what a sacrifice is, buddy.” America growled back at the man loud enough that he’d hear it across the shaking, and soon to crumble room. Another demented laugh slipped forth as he seemed to be attempting to restrain himself from doubling over at whatever it was he deemed so terribly hilarious. “No! No! The gods have foreseen it! My fate! Your fate! The fate of us all! The masses shall perish so that the godly ones, the people true to their faith, can rise again!” The fervor with which he spoke could not be missed. This was someone who had lost their fucking mind to something bigger than themselves. Someone who’d tossed away their own life, own sanity to be a servant at someone else’s feet without second thought, without remorse. However, it was only then as America’s eyes narrowed on the man, on the little victorious and self-pleased dance he’d begun that she noticed something else, something that had eluded her before as she’d been too far away to really see it. There was a… Shaft. Was it a shaft? Maybe more like a shoot, down to… A cry could be barely heard over the gravelly sound of rocks shifting as the temple continued to crunch slowly down around them, but without mistake America could make out that it belonged to a child. “Fuck.” She cursed underneath her breath. She didn’t want to use her powers. It was something she’d tried to avoid, something she hadn’t wanted to display on this world as those with powers seemed to not exist here, but…. With a temple shaking like this so it could collapse, a priest gone mad, and what would appear to be a pit with at least one child - possibly a missing child if she had a guess - America didn’t have another god damn choice. “We need to get out of here!” The tank yelled at the man, while she could probably survive having this place crash in on her, he probably couldn’t, and a child likely would fare even worse. “Oh ho! No, no we shan’t! We are to await the coming of the gods! They spoke to me! Told me that they will come! Oh yes! They will come and bring with them a new time, a new dawn for us, and they shall allow us to rise up! Allow me to carry on as an eternal being in their glory!” “There’s a fucking kid in here! If you wanna die, fine, but let me get the kid!” America stumbled around, grabbing ahold of this or that as she made her way across the room towards the priest. If he wanted to die. Fine. Whatever…. But no one else needed to pay for this shit. “No, no!” Came an almost…. Twistedly playful retort. Did this fucker think this was a fucking game? “The gods need their souls! Their energy is young and pure and the gods must have a source from which to fully emerge! The children must stay! Oh yes, they must stay and bring in the new age of our gods, the glory of our coming lords with me! With you! With us! Our gods shall rise anew and it will be all thanks to the sacrifice of a few, we will be immortalized-” His words were only cut off as America angrily took a chance on dashing across the room in a hasty maneuver before grasping his throat and lifting him off the ground as her eyes narrowed dangerously at the man before she spoke in a growl. “If this is how your gods are gonna live they need to stay dead." There was a rift in this universe. One that had pulled apart the very fabric of time and space opening a door to another place when this particular universe was never meant to encounter or deal with anything like this. It was hard to explain how the bruiser knew that information to be a complete fact, but she did. It was this unsettled feeling that seeped down into the very core of everything she was. The energies of this universe clashed with that of the rift, they repelled it almost, it was like trying to fit a large square block through a small circle hole. It didn't make the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, but it made everything around it feel wrong. The number of questions that could be asked about what this was, why it was happening and how to fix it were nearly unlimited, but... In a sense they didn't matter. This was a universal abnormality that could be fixed. It wasn't supposed to be there, and could be removed. With eyes narrowed America had flown up to the rip between the universes and eyed it carefully. This was unlike anything she'd seen before and... Some lingering discomfort told her it wasn't the last time she'd run into a problem of this sort. Somewhere, somehow, someone was playing with something they really ought to not. Yet, upon inspecting the universal rift it became clear that how it had spread, the way the energies from the other universe were leaking through were anchoring hooks into the universe she'd been in and.... There was no other way to close this door other than to go through it and rip the fucking hooks out from where they came. Which... Was something she'd never fucking seen before, and.... Had no idea how the fuck this had even come to be. Frowning America braced, sucking in a deep breath and stepping through the portal unsure of what she'd find on the other side. The scene that unrolled before her eyes felt like a non-physical knocking of air out of her lungs. The colors that swirled through the atmosphere reminded her of Utopia, but the ragged rock ledges that floated without support offered an idea of a world destroyed, and the strange nightmare like creatures that wafted through the world with gaping maws lined with razor sharp jagged teeth were easily the size of a ten story building. It was no wonder this universe wouldn't want to let go of somewhere full of people and peace... A world half destroyed and filled with monsters would always need more food. Eyebrows narrowed as the bruiser flew over to the nearest rock, landing and examining the situation before her. There was only one solution she could think of, and... Honestly, she wasn't sure it would work, but.... A frown pulled at her lips for a moment before America summoned up the happiest thoughts she could manage. Eyes and stars across her form began to glow, and the tank began to dance, something slow, simple, sweet. It would be a passive dance with friends, the beginning of a slow dance with her lover, an easy sway that might happen while listening to a song she liked. Slowly the rift began to relent, it started being stitched back together with each movement, and every thought but the tug of energy, the pull from something she'd never done before planed a definite strain upon her mind, upon the very force of energy that kept her alive. Yet, even with the strain America pushed through, struggled with each step, every thought and pulled at the string that pulled the rip back together to assure the universe that it had original threatened would be safe. And with significant drain - had she ever felt this tired before? - and effort finally the rip between the two universes closed and America sucked in a deep breath before her chest heaved and she folded in half as forearms came to rest against her thighs. Gulping in what little air she could from the atmosphere she'd found herself in the glow faded from her eyes, and the stars that littered her form. "My, aren't you pretty? I think I'll be adding you to my collection soon." A man's voice - a deep bass - came from no where which caused the tank's eyes to snap up to see another portal opened. This one was much small more akin to a window than a humongous tear. "What the-" Before she could finish the sentence and as quickly as she could lay eyes upon the man's toothy grin he waved at her - a tease from him, or perhaps a taunt? - and the window he'd been looking through snapped closed. "-fuck." It was in that exact instance that she knew she had to get out of this universe, that she had to get home..... Forcing herself upright America reached out, feeling for the energies of the universe she'd decided to commit herself to and... It felt so weak, it felt so.... Hard to grasp. It felt so... How'd her home universe get so far away? Where the hell was she? "Mierda." Was huffed under her breath as the tank summoned up what strength and power she had left. Maybe if this fucker was watching her she'd be better off not going directly home... Maybe it would help throw him off of her, maybe it'd help protect everyone she loved, maybe.... America wasn't sure she had two kicks left in her, but... That was the number she needed, and it was the number that was going to happen today one way or another. Bracing, the tank's eyes began to glow - the energy not feeling as steady as it normally did, it was draining her more, a headache was beginning to storm through the front of her skull - before a punch was unleashed to break through to another world. Her eyes her been locked onto the casket as it was lowered into the ground, and while she wanted to cry America found herself completely incapable. Maybe it was the sheer number of deaths she'd seen in the last seventeen years, maybe it was a growing detachment to things with how she shifted from universe to universe, maybe it was shock, maybe it was because she didn't want to admit this hurt, that she didn't want to burden anyone because they had enough problems of their own. America didn't need to bring problems into other people's universes, she was there to take the problems out. Whatever it was the tank had stood solemnly through the entire ceremony to pay her respects to a fallen ally and friend, to support those that remained alive. Now though, it was down to her and a few stragglers. One man in particular stood with his eyes never removing from the casket as silent tears streamed down his face. The man was the tank's friend's - former friend - now widower. Their wedding hadn't been too long ago. A year? Maybe two? Sometimes it was hard to keep track of how time worked between the universes... America had been there for it. Had been happy for both of the man to be able to marry, and now... Finally, America turned to look at the man who remained - his other friends a distance away in a small group speaking with one another as they waited for him to finish paying his respects to his departed husband. "I'm not ready to say goodbye." The words were surprisingly clear as the silent tears continued to stream down his face. Only then did his eyes break away from the he casket to look at America, and she felt her heart break for him. If only she could have saved his husband... Her friend. “You never are.” Traveling the multiverse was exhausting. Fighting was exhausting. Life was exhausting. However, in the downtime, sometimes, there was a brief bit of respite, a peace of sorts that she was always hesitant to accept. If her life had been nothing but fighting then how could anything outside of fighting be real? It was just an interlude between things that needed to be punched in the face that never stayed. It was fleeting, unreal, and... Intangible in so many ways to her. America's life had been a fight, and not just of the variety where she punched people in the face either. There were the physical fights, certainly, but there was also the constant uncertainty of the shifting multiverse, the constant having to adapt to new situations, make choices in seconds and sometimes the choices she made decided who lived and who died. The tank may be a savior to some, but she'd also become a reaper to others and that weighed on her as well. For every life saved, how many had been lost? While she wanted to be a hero like her mothers, like the Demimurge, would she ever be able to pull far enough away from a tango of good and evil deeds to be fully fledged hero? Some would say no, others might say that murdering a murder, a traitor or other monster made her more of a hero than those who wouldn't do such a deed. A hand clasped her shoulder, jolting America back into the reality of the world she was in, and a glance was shot over her shoulder to see who it was. Ah. That's who... A faint smile flickered to life before it disappeared. "You still with us?" "Yeah." "Lookin' lost." ".... Spaced." "Somethin' troublin' ya?" A frown pulled at America's face. She hated being asked that. "I'm fine." It was the truth.... Of a sort. "You know I'm with ya, right?" Eyebrows furrowed for a moment, tossing the other woman a brief look of confusion and questioning all at once. "You and me, we're alike." The questioning look remained etched into America's features. "We fight. We do what's right even when others wouldn't call it right. We make the hard choices that others don't want to hear about, don't want to know exist. We do the work that most people would be afraid of." The smile on her friend's face remained. It was sincere, a strange sort of happiness there but it was tempered with the pain of how true her friend also felt these words were. "We're the ones that will send ourselves to hell to save them all, and they'll be cursin' our names the whole way there." That was the point of this, that was what accepting this life was all about. Knowing - that if hell existed - you were probably going there, and that ultimately, you were going to pave your own path there with all your good intentions. It was a matter of making sure those good intentions played out to the benefit of as many people as possible before you died. "Mm." Was all that America offered at first. "People like us? We don't get happy endings." "I know." And that was a painful truth to swallow. He'd asked to meet her alone, sent out a message that she wasn't sure how she got, and of course America had answered by arriving to the meeting location. Just as he'd asked. A passive glance was cast about the mostly barren field as she walked up a small hill to where the man stood beside one old and dying tree. He had a serious, militaristic look and feel to him. The tank had met this man before, fought within the same group as him, but never directly with him. He wasn't one to ask for help, but... He'd ask to meet up. That was perhaps as close as he'd ever get. As she approached they traded nods of recognition and a brief exchange of names before he produced a small electronic device. "Got a video for you to watch." There was a pause as her eyebrows furrowed at him after he spoke. "Okay." With that he turned the machine on and the video loaded before beginning to play. Eyes scanned over what was displayed, watching it for any sort of hint, a clue, anything. It was clear within seconds that something was wrong, that something was going terribly awry in this world but.... She needed some sort of answer to the burning question of what was the right thing to do here. The man next to her, the one holding the display watched America carefully, his eyes locked on to, his mouth pulled into an emotionless, stern line as he looked for any sort of reaction, a reflection of whatever she now felt. However, the only thing she'd display would be how she searched for something in this display, something new, something... More. The video played, depicting a scene of two political powers fighting to gain control of the land that was divided amongst them. It wasn't all blood and gore, it wasn't all battlefields and graveyards, but those were included in this war... Some of the video that played showed rallies. It showed riots and protests and grandstanding. These people were supposed to be leaders, but all they were doing were leading their followers quickly into shallow graves. Finally, after seeing enough people promoting hate and yelling slurs, rallies turned riots, fist fights breaking out in streets, people being chased down, the remains of tortured bodies and souls, humans blown apart by planted bombs, and all of it devolving into war the man shifted pushing the video player closed as the video closed. "Thoughts?" Shifting he moved to replace the device back into a pocket to keep it safe. "There's no right in this war." "Right." "What do you want?" "I want you to help." "With what?" "Making a move to take out part of what threatens my world." "You're fucked no matter what you do." An impatient frown slipped across her face. America didn't like where this was going. Both of the political parties were evil here. There was no 'good' to be found in either side. The leaders both promoted hate, the abolishment of what the other side stood for, for intolerance, for out casting a part of the world's populace at the end no matter what. "Sometimes your options are fucked or royally fucked." "You want the least fucked." Fucking Christ there was nothing good that was going to come out of any of that. "You got it, kid." "Mierda." America couldn't help the exasperation that slipped into her voice with the single word as she let out a heavy sigh. What was she supposed to do? Eyes slipped away from the man to look down the hill and across a couple dozen acres to a heavy line of pine trees in the distance. "So?" The tank let a long silence linger. Her eyes remained looking over the forest as thoughts ticked through her brain. If she could chose fucked or royally fucked, which would she choose? Obviously, this was a rock and a hard place. Which was better when both left you crushed? Finally, her gaze broke from the trees - they may all disappear before this was over - and landed back on the man who'd summoned her here. "Fine. I'll help." A thunderous boom accompanied the lightning which shot across the field towards her, hitting America in the shoulder and temporarily throwing her balance off kilter and causing her body to jerk off to one side from the sheer force alone. A sharp, pained inhale of breath was sucked in through gritted teeth at the blow. “You know not the affairs in which you meattle!” Laughter cackled from the woman she fought, a twisted joy ripping through air heavy with the scent of blood, and the mourning of death. “I am their salvation. The only ticket to heaven these worms of Earth shall ever have!” The woman shot another bolt of lightning at America, this one also connected causing another pained noise to arise, this one more akin to a restrained yelp, something cut off in her throat before it could emerge to be more. “Bow down to me! Bow down to the coming of this world’s ultimate queen!” Another cackle of laughter ripped through the gore soaked air, a third lightning bolt unleashed towards the tank but this one - unlike the first two - would miss as America darted out of the way by the use of her speed. Darting out of the way was easy, the hard part had been stopping right in front of this fucking witch, this bringing of death, this wretched soul that thought it had a chance at more than being pounded into the pavement below America’s feet…. But stop she did, inches away from the woman’s painfully beautiful face with a single arm reeled back, wound up to deliver a strike that was very likely going to remove the bitches head from her shoulders. “I don’t bow.” Were the last growled words that warlord would ever hear as America put her fist clear through the other woman’s head. Molten rock swished and splashed up from one side of the floating mounds of earth that were being swept along within the river of lava beneath their feet. This fight was a minefield of danger and bad ideas, but here was she facing down some new asshole in order to try to save another world. "This whole world needs to be cleansed in purifying fire!" The man before cackled as he raised up some sort of staff - probably some fucking magical item or another - and thrust it towards the sky as if he’d already won. "No, just you." Yup, this guy was an asshole that was going to lose his head. She needed to be home by diner, she’d promised. "Why don't you just leave?" The woman’s voice gasped, something in it desperate, on the brink of tears and it froze America in her tracks as the words vibrated around her skull, ringing through her so similarly to something that had been said to her by someone else she knew, loved, and had lost not long before… “What?” The sheer level of anger in the single word resonated throughout her entire body. “It’s what you’re good at! You’re always leaving!” The woman’s voice was choked with emotion, but her posture remained steady, looking for a fight almost. Challenging the bruiser to stand up against her, to fight back even if it were with words instead of fists. “I don’t run.” “You run all the time! You-you just don’t see it.” Finally the woman’s voice cracked a little, the hooded cloak hiding her face so that America couldn’t see the tears streaming down her face. “You leave us all the time. We’re fighting here, hanging on to strands of hope and all you can do is step in whenever you decide we’re worth your time.” This woman, this woman America had helped, had thought she was making progress with in helping this woman become the leader these people needed was….. Why was this happening now? Why was her life in this world mimicking her life in another world and why… “What do you want from me?” “I want you to stay, to be our sister in this. To settle into this world. To be here, home.” The words were almost pleading, and struck so many different cords within the tank all at once that she couldn’t do anything other than narrow her eyes at the cloaked woman who stood before her. “I’m here to save your world. Nothing more.” It hurt to speak those words, it hurt to realize that perhaps the world she’d spent the last several years in perhaps wasn’t the only one where people wanted her to stay, but… A sob finally emerged from underneath the cloak, and words were cursing her name. America couldn’t understand a lick of the language, but she knew the tone. One that was bitter, hurt, angry… One that wanted more, had reached out for more and had been denied but still wouldn’t allow retaliation against what had done the hurting. “I’m going out to fight.” A push of the heavy duty captain’s tent flap was shoved back and America emerged from it into the cool night air. She wasn’t sure how she’d done it again, wasn’t sure if it was in the same way - she assumed it wasn’t - but somehow, she’d broken a heart once again. “NO!” America had been unaware that such a desperate outburst could even come from her lungs before this very moment. Yet, it was coming from her, had come from her. Eyes filled with distress, fear even, and watched as the two bodies before her hovered up into the air. “You can’t! You can’t do this again!” There was a pleading quality - something that bordered on begging - that seemed unreal even to her, even though it was happening right now, even though the sound that was being emitted was from her. “Not again! You can’t do this again!” And she ran, sprinting as quickly as she could towards the ongoing disaster that was sure to take them all. “America, you can’t stop us from doing this.” The white and red uniform shifted as the woman’s body moved. “It’s what we’re meant to do.” A firm crossing of arms caused muscles to flex beneath the uniform of blue and white. The words were firm, final, much like many of the times America had spoken to others across her travels in the multiverse There was a beat before something a little more tender emerged. “Mom’s protect their daughters.” If anyone ever met her mom’s they’d instantly understand where America got it from. “No! You can’t leave me again! Not like this!” Even though she was begging them, pleading with them not to, the tank knew their words were true. This was what they were meant to do. However, that knowledge struck even more fear into her heart. “America, honey. We’ll always love you.” There was a soothing quality to the voice. “You can’t leave me again!” The outcry was selfish, anger filled, and deeply dismayed. “We’ll always be with you, mija.” Blue and white attempted to assure. “You’re fucking lying!” America cursed at them as blue and white looked over her shoulder, and white and red focused her gaze directly on the young woman their daughter had become. “You won’t come back. You didn’t then, and you won’t now!” A pained look streaked across the face of the mother who faced her, and for a moment America’s heart dipped, but at the same time the surge of anger vested deep within her body, seeping down to her bones just wouldn’t let go. “We need to go.” The sentence wasn’t spoke to America, but from the mom facing away to the mom who looked at her. "We don't regret any of it, not if it kept you safe." There was a scream that was lost to the nothingness that began to consume the realm, ripping reality asunder in its wake as her mother’s flew towards it, determined to fix this world for their not-so-little girl just like they had the last. America attempted to run after them. She was older now, stronger, powered. She could help, maybe, just maybe, unlike last time, she could save them now. America could finally display that she’d grow up to be the hero that she’d always wanted to be, the hero that could do the impossible, including save them. She wasn’t fast enough. America couldn’t catch up. Her parents were faster than her, stronger than her, had a head start towards the creeping blackness, the looming nothingness that threatened to consume and destroy them all, and as they flew towards this monstrous, faceless threat, it seemed to encompass them, circling in to devour them whole. …. If she just pushed more, if she just ran faster, if she just flew higher, if she just punched harder…. They were still visible, almost specs within the horizon now, and she could make it, she could swear she could make it when something haunting, hollow and mocking emitted some sound. A sound much like a distorted, deranged laugh as she watched her parents begin to be torn apart… In front of her… Just out of her reach… Even if they seemed so close. The looks on their faces morphing before her eyes from determination, strength, to strain, to pain, to sorrow, to….. Their uniforms were being shredded, gashes ripped at their skin, leaving their blood to flow in rivers along what remained in tact of their bodies and…. The tank’s body shot upright as she thrashed, attempting to fight off some invisible force that destroyed her world as tears streaked nakedly down her face. It was only with eyes flying open and taking in the calm multicolored sky, the serene, tall, old trees that she’s fallen asleep under that her heart and head began to calm from the dream… Nightmare. Sucking in deep gasps of breath, knees were pulled into her chest in an attempt at self calming. Maybe if she just breathed… And looked at the sky… and…. But breathing was difficult through the tears… And the sky just made her wish she could rip her own heart out so that it would stop hurting quite so much as it reminded her of Utopia… Of Karolina. Of her recently atomically failed relationship with the other woman that she’d loved so goddamn much. To goddamn much. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry about this… That she’d be stronger… But the sky taunted her into remembering the glowing multicolered pigment of her new ex-lovers skin, and the dream remained a reminder of just how out of place, how alone she really was here… In the multiverse. The notion only caused her to curl in on herself with legs hugged to her chest, and forehead rested against them more. This would not get to her, she wouldn’t let it, America wouldn’t think about how she’d brought a problem into another universe, how she’d failed as a girlfriend, as a protector, as someone who always wanted to make things better instead of worse. No. This hurt wouldn’t be one the tank would give in to. She wouldn’t give in. And no matter how she fought, tears still stained her skin. The battle was won. It wasn't easy. No one would celebrate the end of this pyrrhic war in any significant way. There was nothing to celebrate other than the fact that this fight was finally over. This wasn't one you went home cheering about. This was a fight that you picked yourself - and whoever else was left alive - off of the ground bloodied, beaten, and broken and limped through the carnage of your fallen allies bodies to a place that reeked less of blood and death. America had been covered in the splattered remains of the many foes she'd punched her way through as eyes swept the area. She was tired. Weak from over exertion - but not out yet - and ready to just.... Go home. When she was about to give up, about to turn around and leave this god forsaken land was when the tank finally noted a body hunched over and shaking with.... Well, she could only assume sobs. It wouldn't take long for her to close the gap of distance between where she stood and the other person to find them huddled over the body of their murdered lover. The sorrow in their body, the sobs that wracked their their form... America's heart went out to them as she watched, but it wasn't until a moment later that she was finally able to recognize who it was her ally mourned so deeply over and a combination of shock and dismay instantly seeped into her bones. The uniform, the badge, the fist shaped hole through the dead enemy's head..... Finally, the ally seemed to realize America's presence and they looked up as their dead lover's body remained cradled in their arms. "Why?" Her ally managed to choke out through tears. "Why did have to kill him?" America stood silent for a moment. Unsure what to do, what to say.... It had been a battle.... "We could have saved him." Her ally's hands shook as they fingers fisted in the cloth of their former lover's costume. Finally, the woman's pained, accusing gaze fell from America, and the other woman's head fell down in attempts to hide her tears. America hadn't been close with either of them. Not like Kate or Robbie or Karolina or... She knew them both. She'd been friendly with them both.... "You're a hero. You could have saved him." The woman clutched her dead lover's body harder as she cried. A million different thoughts went through America's head of what she could do, what she could say, what she could offer her semi-friend for support... Though, at the same time, it wasn't her fault that this man had switched sides, betrayed her, and attacked her in the middle of a war... “I was never the hero that you wanted me to be.” "Get on your knees and beg." “No.” “Do you want them to die?” “No.” “Then obey me!” “Always another choice.” There was a deeply dark, twisted quality to the words as with a glow of her eyes and stomping of one foot his body was hurled into another unknown universe. The pressure and laws of gravity and physics in that universe would cause his head to swell until his skull exploded by the sheer force of that environment and brain fragments floated freely about his lifeless corpse. America didn't care even though she knew exactly what his fate shortly would be. The feat of his disappearance alone would be enough to shock his minions into a stilled, hushed non-action. One of those minions could either kill or save the group she’d come here for from being lowered into a lava pit. With that America turned her eyes and star symbols upon the minions that remained. “Who’s next?” |