Into the End of Days

The look that Christian gave Safi lacked any playfulness; it was slightly more pale than usual and very serious, “I wasn’t going to let you die, Safi.” Safi told him, out loud, that he trusted him, and Chris blinked and flushed; it wasn’t the dark blush he would usually be sporting; Christian was too tired for that, but it was a blush nonetheless, “Well, the new one should be...better.” He’d put enough energy into it, that shield should last a whole lot more than just two hits, and it would put anyone who tested the theory on the floor, of that Christian was confident.

Belle. Christian wouldn’t lie; he wanted to save all three of the kidnapped ladies, but Belle had been his focus. Save her, and the others would be saved, too. He turned to let her dress behind him and Safi, eyes on the room, not the women, but assessing, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He didn’t know how he felt about Safi calling her ‘fiance’ or telling her she was sexy, even if it was just a joke, but he didn’t complain about it.

Christian lived in a nearly constant state of fear. When he was in Gotham, and since he’d arrived in this dying world, that fear amped up into terror. He had managed it pretty well; only one panic attack, and only then because he had honestly thought that Safi might die. If Safi died here, it would be Christian’s fault, and the small man knew he’d never be able to live with himself for that. So when the fear washed over him, it was just more of the same he’d been dealing with; abject terror, but nothing so much worse than what he’d felt when Safi had gone flying at the hands of the Hulk.

Safi, who was aiming at Virgil.

“No.” Christian moved immediately, involuntarily. Safi had asked him once what he would do if someone innocent was threatened by someone with a gun, and Chris had given the bodyguard the honest answer: he would put himself between the innocent person and the gun. Christian’s personal shield was weaker now than it had been when he’d cast it; he’d been drawing on every piece of power he had when he’d cast on Safi, and that meant taking some of the power of the spell. Might it stop a bullet? Probably. But it was a better bet that Safi wouldn’t pull the trigger if Christian was in the way. Chris bet on that far more than he bet on the remains of his spell. “You’re better than that, Safi. You’re a bodyguard. You guard people, you don’t do this.” Chris reached for Safi, eyes wide, not even noticing the agent that had approached until he had kicked the gun away. “Thank you,” Chris told the man before turning his gaze on Marten, his voice a low, angry growl, “Ya bastard.” It was perhaps the nastiest thing that he’d ever said about someone else, at least in the presence of others, and it was spoken in a thick southern accent, all pretense of being from anywhere else dropped in a moment of heated emotion.

Christian was able to feel hate. He could be angry, just as strongly as he could be terrified. Chris had been walking the sword’s edge of terror since Belle had disappeared. Fear for Belle, fear for Safi, fear they wouldn’t be in time, fear that he’d get people killed, fear that they would fail, fear of dying with this world when it came to it. He had bolstered himself against that fear with determination and the comfort that Safi was here, and Safi wouldn’t let him fail, wouldn’t let anyone die. He had made himself a shield of confidence, in Safi, in each and every one of his companions. But this sort of anger and hatred dwarfed terror.

Reaching into his satchel, Christian drew out his magnets, glaring at the man in black, “This world had nobility. It had heroes. It had good people an’ hope an’ dreams. Ya killed all a that!” Christian didn’t flinch at the sounds the ghostly newcomers made, not even at the roar of the Hulk; he didn’t turn to look at them, he didn’t look at the magnets even as he arranged them properly in his hands, knowing by rote how to position them so that their poles aligned the way he wanted. One for the floor, one for his target, and Christian put magic into the spell to lift Marten over the floor, giving the floating magnet a vicious twist to set it spinning rapidly, “But we’re all here now.”

He held the spell in place with one hand, the other reaching into his satchel, fingers brushing against the doll that he knew immediately represented Belle. He didn’t bother pulling it from the bag, instead simply channeling energy into it as it was in order to heal and energize Belle. He didn’t flag, he didn’t have the luxury of letting the expenditure of energy wear him down; he could sleep later - right now he had to focus.

Queth was completely unsurprised when her bullets did little more than chip the paint on the shield that got in the way. Being fully honest, she didn't expect to get that close in the first place- considering the gunslinger who was a faster shot than she failed to take out this asshole. She still crushed the sonic arrow under her foot and did a combat roll to shoot again from a different position. Even if she didn't hit him, hopefully she could draw some of his attention away from the others- something that was very important.

Especially when she stood up and watched all of the others flinch in sudden terror- a spell that she vaguely noticed as it slid over her. Wasn't like you could terrify furniture after all- and her lack of soul was surprisingly useful at times like these. She moved to keep firing when she noticed Belle channelling the dead.

Without even thinking, Queth dived to catch the redhead before she hit the floor- knees skidding on the floor as she slid in underneath her. Softening the other woman's landing, Queth took the time to carefully place Belle out of the path of the battle before rejoining. Angrier than ever. Because somehow this man was scaring her companions out of their wits and Queth did not approve- something she hoped her unloading of her clips into his general area emphasized.

There was a saying that Green Lanterns were totally fearless and completely honest. It was, Jake knew, complete bullshit. Nothing was totally fearless unless it was completely unfeeling, after all. They weren’t fearless, they were just able to overcome that fear, push it away and operate in spite of it. They were able to never let that fear be their master, ruling them, their actions, their decisions… and so the universe had come up with this myth that they were totally fearless.

The ‘completely honest’ part? That part of the bullshit was just careful branding.

Jake was used to being able to push fear down to a dull roar in the back of his head, concentrate past it so that he only felt it as an afterthought. To feel it like this, right now, uncontrollable and visceral… well, that threw him for a loop. When you talked about people’s fears, they usually would come up with things like ‘their friends dying’ or ‘failing to protect someone,’ or at least that was what they’d tell you were their greatest fears. In truth? Jake could tell you (at least now) that those fears were rooted in compassion. There were other fears, though, that every person had, things so primal that no living creature was without. The fear of monsters, of beasts, of creatures they could neither understand nor rationally tolerate… people were smart enough to fear things that could do horrible things to them, and Jake was no exception. That fear crashed through him, his ring promptly stopped functioning as the antithesis of willpower overcame him, and he promptly tumbled through the air, crashed to the floor, and lay there, frozen in terror. In the back of his mind, he registered Kai there, but he was too afraid to really process it or do anything with that knowledge. He certainly processed the spectres, but that didn’t exactly help with his state, now, did it? It did, however, draw a reaction from him, as he shoved himself closer to Kai, closer to that comfort of human touch, his eyes wide with…

FEAR

The white ring blazed yellow… and the whole world changed for him.

He could feel the terror around him, feel the power of it, feel it from Kai, feel it from his companions, feel it from himself. He could touch it, and oh god, was it a beautiful feeling. There were so many things that could be done with it… and now that was fascinating enough to draw him from his own personal terrors. “Fear,” he said quietly. He looked up at Marten, surrounded by the spectres of the dead, and a cold chuckle formed in his throat. “Beware your fears,” he said, lifting the fist with the light ring, “Made into light.”

The yellow light burst forth from his ring, spinning into the shape of a grotesque, wiry, enormous spider on the throne that Marten had vacated. Hungry mandibles clacked, legs came to a razor-sharp point, dripping ichor, and the whole creature moved with a terrible, malevolent grace as it rose, starting toward the sorcerer.

He was a bastard? “Truer words, little magician,” he said, smirking infuriatingly back at Chris.

Unfortunately, truth be told, he had bigger things to worry about. A ghost wasn’t a huge thing to worry about, all things considered. A city’s worth of them, though? That was somewhat problematic. How that had been managed, he wasn’t sure, although he was going to be looking into the matter. He would look into it right after he wasn’t dealing with all of these blasted things that were now focused on him.

He made a gesture, and a spirit disintegrated into spectral vapor, but another was there to take its place. Each time he flicked his hand, there were more spirits than he could dismiss. He began binding them, setting them on each other, trying to deal with the more troublesome ones. The Hulk… You know, in the next world, he was just going to make sure that son of a bitch was never born.

As he rose into the air, spinning about the room, he reached out, and a magical hand seized Chris, dragging him up into the air where Marten grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, dragging him close as he spun in the air. “Do you hate me, little magician?” he purred, holding the man momentarily in thrall so that he could actually get a word out… these heroic types were so apt to just not listen. “Well… just remember the truth of this. I barely had to do anything in this world. Ten common, everyday acts… and this world destroyed itself. You shouldn’t hate me… hate humanity. They were the ones who killed this world.” Then he tossed Chris away, seized onto the magic that was spinning him dizzily about, and suddenly rocketed in an arcing path across the room. The appearance of that all-too-familiar spider was just the final straw, one last ‘nope’ in the list of shit he just wasn’t going to deal with. This had gone on far enough… honestly? It wasn’t fun anymore. Hell, they wouldn’t even kill the gunslinger.

“I think I’ve wasted enough of your time. Have a good escape.” He turned back to the group, smirking at them. “If you still have time for it.” His thoughts went briefly to his treasures around the room… but no. The ones from this world, he could always find on new ones. The ones that were his… well, they always did turn up again.

Laughing, the Man in Black fled through the portal.

Of course. He was going to try to get them to do his work for him. Virgil wished he was surprised, but in truth, it just stank of Marten’s usual plans. The thing that did surprise him, though, was the gun he could feel, as any good Gunslinger could, pointing at the back of his head. Now… the others wouldn’t let Safi shoot him, true, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t disappointed. “Is that how it’s going to be, sai?” he asked dryly. He reached into his pocket, drawing out the turtle, lifting it high over his head… that fragment of the Great Turtle Maturin, who guarded entire worlds, guarded the path to the Tower, guarded all of reality. Just touching it, seeing it, broke the terror of this place. The White broke the hold that the Red had on any man.

The magic, the Touch, was strong in this group. He knew that Chris could work tricks, but what his sister did… well, that was truly terrifying. How it worked, he didn’t really care, all he knew was that it was working. This was probably the closest that he’d seen the man to being afraid, and that was enough for him. Marten was a fight that he was going to have to prepare long and hard for, now that it seemed to be one that he was going to be saddled with. “Fly back to your master, Sorcerer,” Virgil said. “Go gloat over your dead worlds and shattered lives. The White stands ready to see you both undone.” He gave a little dry smile and an ironic tip of his hat. “And tell him that the line of Eld stands ready to see you both in hell.”

As soon as the man was gone, though? “Hurry,” Virgil barked, pointing at the now-unguarded portal, “For your fathers’ sakes. We don’t know how much time this world has left, and that’s the only way out of it.” Only… this wasn’t the end of his journey, was it? He looked at the turtle, the warm presence still in his hand, and nodded, putting it back in his pocket. He caught Queth’s shoulder, then glanced down at the bulge in his pocket when she looked back at him. “Something tells me that we have more business.”

Queth had scooped Belle back up the instant that the battle had ended- she figured that Safi could grab the redhead's brother, but Queth would be surprised if either of the siblings made it through the portal without aid. Hell, at this point she counted four people who would likely need assistance- even if one of those was only because she didn't have shoes. She had discarded her weapons- something she was not want to do, but they were in a hurry, and she could replace them. The living were much harder to replace.

She was halfway to the door when the gunslinger touched her shoulder. Passing Belle of to the nearest unhindered person, she gave the older man a look of mild terror. Not because she was afraid for her life but because hell her wish was becoming real and it was only now occurring to her how little she wanted her family to see the person that she had become. Wordlessly she drew the scroll from her arm before offering it to Virgil.

Swallowing around a very dry mouth, she managed to speak."I received this when I wished for a way to go back and prevent my family's deaths." Queth explained, waiting impatiently for him to read it, but unable to make her voice form the sounds.

Kai let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding when Jake curled into her touch. She couldn't hold back a small sob- Kai didn't understand what the sorcerer had done but she was so mercilessly terrified. Her shaking was worse than ever, the only part of her that wasn't nearly vibrating from the movement was the hand she had on her- something- 's shoulder. She was completely overwhelmed, her own terror coursing through her veins and near drowning her- and the quarter of Jake's she felt was just pulling her right under.

Jake's fear- that was solid. She snapped her own fear down and out of the way- the feeling of being unable to breathe disappearing as she allowed her aumakua to suck away the emotion- and she focused on the portion of the lantern's that was still causing her heart to race. For a moment it occurred to her how scared he must be for her to feel it so intensely- and even with her thought processes slowed by the amplification of Jake- her mind was plenty strong enough to make the connection that him being the target of the spell- the rest of them were just being hit with effectively magical run off.

She gaped slightly at that, and held on tighter to Jake, moving to draw him into her arms when his new ring blazed yellow. She had a lot of questions for him in that moment- and she knew they'd all have to wait until they were safe. Once Marten was gone, she pulled one of her pohaku back to herself- unable to handle the complete intensity of Jake's emotions, even as the fear spell was broken by the oldest of her rescuers.

Something Kai cared little about- since her real goal had been returning enough strength to herself to stand and throw her arms around Jake's neck. It seemed like she might never stop shaking at that moment in time but Kai found a well of energy that she hadn't known she had until she was pulling in the yellow clad man to press her lips to his in what was both a thank you and a thank the stars you're alright.

His rational self believed the cowboy; that even if he did what the asshole wanted it was just a long leap to hell.

Staring into disappointed huge brown eyes Safi knew he was willing to fucking pole vault his way there. “I didn’t always.” His voice was harsh with emotion the gun shifted, because no he wasn’t going to fucking kill Chris.

’Or I’ll taze you and watch Super Nanny.’ Ghosts a motherfucking tattered suit wearing ghost kicked his gun away, the weridly echoing words in his skull were ignored. He had too there was too many other things to process.

Like the fact that Belle was apparently a necromancer now. He could just see the first tendrils of white threading through her normally vibrant red. Calling the dead had a price on the living.

Fine. They would fight this battle because what Belle had done meant that there was an opening.
“Go!” He doubted anyone was listening to him but if they were…

He sprinted after Chris trying to cover him with his body as he taunted the Magican, to no avail.

Safi had taught Chris his shield spell, he didn’t know how it worked exactly but he’d had it cast on him in combat before. He knew how to break it from the inside.

A gutterall word brust the power surrounding him, sending it rushing back at its caster, so that when he caught the flying man his shield didn’t bounce him to the goddamn moon.

Belle leaning on the gunslinger, Chris in his arms Safi made a beeline for the portal.

“You did what you had to, Safi. That doesn’t change who you are now, or who you’ll be tomorrow. Today, you are a guardian. You protect people, and you feel strongly about that.” Christian didn’t so much as blink at the gun; Safi would never pull the trigger, not on him.

A magic user, trained and prepared, could sense magic. Christian hadn’t had as much experience with nearly any of his spells in the past, but Agatha had trained him. The old witch had drilled many lessons into him, but she had worked hard with him on certain things, important lessons that a magician needed to know. Recognizing the presence of magic aside from his own was one of those things that Agatha had made him practice and work on until he’d had it down.

The moment he had walked into this room, Christian had been aware of several things; Marten Broadcloak was very much a magical being, just like Chris himself was, and there was a magical item nestled on a specific shelf not so far away from where Christian stood. He didn’t know what it did, but it definitely did something, and it was quite powerful, enough that it had pulled at him immediately.

When Marten took ahold of him, Christian yelped and began searching for a way to break the spell, to free himself. The man in black dragged him past the shelf, and Christian barely had to reach out to grab the right item, just a small little green sphere, a crystal ball, and slip it into his satchel. Maybe he could use it against the sorcerer…

The question took him just a little bit by surprise, but Christian’s eyes narrowed, his voice quiet but firm as he answered the man, “Yes.” Yes, he hated this man, who would murder an entire world. Who would smirk and gloat about it. “I don’t hate humanity. I hate the man who would purposely destroy a world’s worth a hope jus’ ta see it burn! Who kills a world’s heroes, an’ gloats about it!”

He didn’t stop healing Belle, not even when the man sent him flying back. At this moment, angry as a hornet, Christian wasn’t afraid, he wasn’t timid. Chris was furious, and he was channeling that fury into something productive: healing and empowering his sister so that her spell wouldn’t end before the sorcerer was defeated. The onslaught of energy that slammed back into him at the destruction of the shield forced his eyes wide and earned a soft murmur of surprise and discomfort from the magician. It also strengthened his current active spell, which was the one channeling his power and energy into Belle. Honestly, he was grateful for it; this would allow him to help his sister better…

And then he was in Safi’s arms. He didn’t fight the hold, he didn’t squirm or even comment; he simply relaxed, his eyes closing. Safi meant many things for Christian, and one of the most constant among those things was safety. Satchel securely around his shoulder, Belle was safe, and they were on their way home. Things were finally going to be okay.

He might have thought differently if he’d realized that Belle wasn’t with them as they reached the portal, but his eyes were closed.

"Hey." Natasha said, giving Safi a nod of greeting. Black Widow hoped that personal nonsense wouldn't interfere with the rest of the mission, which seemed likely, considering that he was apparently engaged to the other redhead. Which, well, she couldn't fault him for his taste, Natasha thought, and then, reflecting that she didn't want to rip up her feet, accepted the offer of being carried from Bucky with a nod of thanks and saying "Carrying me is the rest of it." as she slipped onto his back.

Not that she was there for very long, as he set her down so that they could try to kill the Man in Black. Not that bullets or arrows seemed to do much-Belle had more luck, calling up an army of ghosts. She knew most of them, had fought beside most of them, and one of them was even closer to her than that, a red haired woman who took the pistol from her hand with a smile of thanks before she took her place alongside a ghostly archer and the ghosts drove her former captor away. She knew better than to say that he was beaten, but for the moment they were alive and he'd retreated and with a portal open she'd take that as a win.

"Give me a lift out of here?" she asked, and when Bucky nodded she jumped up lightly onto his back, and then they were through the portal, safe and away from the dying world.

The fear spell dropping from Jacob was a huge relief. Sure, the yellow power from the white ring had been useful, at least he thought it had. He'd felt something like fear from the Man in Black, but... well, who knew with someone like that. All the same? He had far too much history with the Sinestro Corps to feel comfortable throwing the yellow light of fear around. Or... he supposed, more accurately, he had too much history to feel comfortable with how natural it had felt.

He'd have to figure that out later. Right now, the important thing was that the asshole had run, his mind was clear, and he could access the green ring again. He glanced up, offering Kai a weak smile, then generated her clothes again, the first set having vanished with the rest of his green power.

"You don't have to tell me twice," he muttered as Virgil ordered a retreat from the world. He pushed himself to his feet (somewhat painfully, he'd taken a hard fall), then scooped Kai up again. He flew over to the portal, watching to make sure that everyone else got out... or, at least, that's what he did at first. After the first few people got through, he pushed through too. If it had just been him, he'd have been the last through, but it was Kai, also, and he wasn't going to just hang back with her while other people dawdled. Anyway... the cowboy seemed to have the 'keeping everyone rounded up' bit down pat, he'd make sure they got through, wouldn't he?

Suddenly, Lori was surrounded by people she knew; her family and friends. Tears sprang to her eyes; yes she was happy to see them, but seeing them here, like this…. it meant they were dead. And this scene was like something out of one of the Harry Potter movies.

Life was weirder than fiction.

The appearance of Black Wodow and Hawkeye earned a watery smile. But the agent who kicked the gun out of Safi’s hand was nearly Lorelei’s breaking point. “Papa,” she murmured, just before she turned her attention to the vile son of a bitch who had killed everyone she loved on this world (save Bruce but she was pretty sure he had his fingers in that, too) and released arrow after arrow at him in a volley that rained down at him from different angles.

It was pain, not anger or hatred, that fueled her attack, but that pain didn't make her aim any less true.

It was a useless gesture; she'd known that before launching the first arrows, but she had needed to do something, even if it were hopeless. When he tossed Tony Adorable Tony across the room and the Old Cowboy called for a retreat following Marten’s departure, Lori hesitated, turning to regard the ghosts of her loved ones, “I love you. All of you. Until after the end.”

She wanted to go home. She wanted to see the two men who weren't really her parents but were just like them. She wanted to cuddle Bruce and tell him she loved him and the Hulk both, and to hug her uncles. She wanted to do her nails with her aunt and shoot with her dad and watch Super Nanny with her papa.

She needed a hug. Turning away from her dead family, Lori crossed the portal to Hub, knowing she was going to go hug Justin and tomorrow, maybe she'd ask Arjay to send her home for a few hours.

The enormous rush of power hitting Belle brought the woman to awareness suddenly; gasping crawling to her knees Belle found herself leaning on the older man who had so gallantly offered her his duster.

Chris feeding her power meant that she didn’t recognize that the ghosts came from her or that she was feeding their time on this plane. For all Belle knew it was something someone else had done. After all in their last adventure there had been ghosts...if of a different type.

Her brother was safely in the arms of his...Safi which left the only other person she knew apparently staying on this doomed earth.

“Where are you goin’?” If her voice was panicked it was Because with her positioning Belle had HEARD Queath say she had somewhere else to be and this world was doomed soo…once she had her answer Belle only nodded once, determination settling in her bones, if Queath wanted her she’d go. There was only one person left running towards the portal, she tagged their arm shouting over the noise, “Tell my brother I’m ok!” before pushing away to rejoin Queth.

Stupid decisions she’d made to get here but this didn’t feel like any thing other than necessary.

Which she reminded herself of when the portal slid shut behind the red head with a deadly degree of finality