103
Space
The Benatar
528 Hours Adrift
The shattered face of the Iron Man mask sat alone upon the Benatar’s metal floor. An alien blue, neon green, a mixture of the two colors blanketed the flooring, the walls, the empty seats and everything in-between in a soft, alluring glow. Beyond the windshield of the spacecraft, the endlessness of space rested ahead. Stars dotted the black canvas in a whirlpool of colors, not just black and white. Blues, violets, reds, greens and even yellows painted the canvas and gave it even more life. The Milky Way Galaxy swirled and stirred, the heart of it like a star shimmering down into the emptiness of the Benatar.
That light fell upon the seemingly abandoned Iron Man mask. It never was. A cold, dry, and shivering palm reached forward, gently caressing the face of the mask like it held a deeper meaning, a connection only man would feel with machine. For Tony Stark, that connection came with a price, the greatest price of all. He had relied so heavily on the suits that they eventually became a part of him, something he could never truly let go of lest he abandon a piece of himself. It was that choice he made that guaranteed a life of torment, of hiding, of refusing to deny and only to further dig deeper. He caressed his mask like it was a part of himself.
Then promptly abandoned even that and pressed down on the side of the mask.
The eyes ignited, Tony Stark sighing and tapping away on the mask’s forehead. “Is this thing on?” he asked, the eyes shortly scanning his person from top to bottom. Constant flickering followed in the unknown gaze of the Mark 50. That was the best he was going to get out of it, Stark imagined.
As for Tony, he sat leaning forward on the Benatar’s cold floor, staring hopelessly into the mask’s eyes and knowing he only had so little time with the recording. Better make it worth it. He leaned back, the black wife-beater frizzled and sweat-stained against his bone-like appearance and glowing Arc Reactor resting over his heart. A grizzled fuzz had grown across his pale, white face, eyes bloodshot and nerves shivering after every syllable. He fought through it.
“Hey Ms. Potts… If you find this recording… don’t feel bad about this.”
For her.
Stark kept up his minimal movement and blood flow, just to gain those extra, precious moments of life still beating in him. He leaned forward and rubbed his face with a shaking palm, sighing, “Never wanted… to leave you the way I did. Never wanted to leave you like this. For what it’s worth, even if this message somehow gets out there… I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry… for everything. For leaving you, my friends, anything I could have called… a family. You probably think of me as that selfish assho… that selfish man I used to be, and you’re right; I still am. I just thought I could change what happened. I thought I could pull off one last trick. I didn’t want you to worry, but I realize now that’s never gonna happen as long as I’m still kicking. Well, you won’t have to worry for much longer. Recollecting…”
Tony shook his head, grinding his teeth together and eventually closing his eyes. For ten years, it had been a constant fight for survival. From beginning to end, Tony Stark now realized the full weight of his failure. A world he could have protected only ended up suffering in one of the worst ways imaginable. Not only home, but Equus and every life with it. All he wanted to do was keep the Avengers as a team, protect his world… and the ones he loved. Sitting on the brink of collapse, Tony knew exactly… what it was like to lose. He carried that pain.
Not much longer it seemed. When he opened his eyes, Stark stared deep into the eyes of the Mark 50. He sighed through bated, shivering breaths, exclaiming, “God, it seems like a thousand years ago. I fought my way out of that cave… became Iron Man… realized I loved you. Hell of a journey we’ve been on together. Yeah, you know what they say…”
Tony leaned back, sighed painfully with his back against the cold, metal surface of the Benatar.
“Part of the journey is the end,” he mused, somehow finding comfort in that dreaded revelation. “You know, being adrift in space for… twenty-two days now is a lot more fun than it sounds. Food and water ran out… four days ago… oxygen will run out tomorrow morning… and that’ll be it. It wasn’t all bad, though. Got to finally meet Smurfette… sorry, ‘Nebula’. Oh, she’s great, you’d love her. Once you get passed the whole… ‘want to kill you with a sideways glance’ demeanor she’s actually really sweet… gave Twi and me the last bit of food.”
Upon the utterance of that name, a slight limp was heard within the bridge of the Benatar. Tony never heard it, nor did he pay attention to the life appearing on his far left, just out of his vision. When Twilight Sparkle stepped forward, she stopped just barely out of the shadows, listening intently but refusing to interrupt Tony when he was in the middle of his recording. She looked utterly distraught, but mostly tired and weakened. Her rib cage was visibly evident on the sides of her chest, a disorganized and frazzled mane and tail hanging limply from her person. Her coat was unkempt, pale and poor to match the lifeless expression on the Alicorn. Even her wings were barely knitted together on her sides, almost drooping, but still hanging on. Still holding onto that life.
Her vein-filled eyes stared from the shadows, silent breaths falling even more silent as to catch every word Stark said.
Tony breathed in sharply, resting a palm over his weary gaze. “God… Twilight. If you’d known her, you’d see she’s just as stubborn as me. Wouldn’t let me leave the facility without her; thinks she’s my guardian angel or something. Could you imagine that? I really wish… you could’ve met her. I’m sure you two would’ve hit it off. Or she would just annoy the hell out of you like she does me.”
Twilight’s ears fell, a downtrodden expression filling her face and eyes. She lowered her head and eventually felt that weakness continue to push her down… only to halt momentarily when Tony spoke again. Her ears perked upwards.
“Only… I don’t mean that,” Tony said with a soft shake of his head. “If I was able to find some solace in these final moments, I’m glad it was with her. Tell her friends I’m sorry… for not bringing her back home. Tell everyone I’m sorry… for not coming back. For not coming back to you.”
It was that statement alone that made Twilight sniffle, a boiling sensation filling her eyes and leaking out what little moisture was left in her body. Not many tears left to cry, not much fight left to live. Twilight Sparkle took another step forward, her face unveiled from the shadows and showing that loss of life, showing the skin sagging inwards and revealing the bone. She paused, watched as Stark fared no better than her and leaned forward to his mask.
He tapped on its face. Said…
“When I drift off, I will dream about you… It’s always you.”
And with that, he turned off the recording, the final sounds of the Iron Man mask fizzling into silence. Then nothing. Tony Stark caressed the face of his mask with a thumb, that alone being his final will before he fell back onto the cold surface of the Benatar’s walls. He breathed so very heavily, as if believing the next intake would be his last, knowing that with given time… it would be.
Time was short and he gave his heart where it belonged, back to Pepper. All he could really do was pray the message got out, or someone else found it and somehow had the goodwill to deliver it properly. A fading hope, but one Tony could dream about alongside her. His chest rose and fell in a chorus of inhales and exhales, even that beginning to drift off as his eyes flickered to a close.
Then promptly shot back open when he heard those soft trots to his left.
He turned in that direction, wanting to smile but not even having the strength for that when he saw her approach him. Twilight Sparkle walked with a visible limp, the wound on her hind leg still recovering as far as he could recall. She looked just as “great” as him, bone-dry and bone showing without the proper necessities to keep them afloat. Stark was surprised to at least see her walk. He had given that up about a day ago.
Settling herself down with a visible struggle, Twilight released that growing discomfort when she took a seat right next to Tony’s left. The pain in her leg continued to throb, Twilight wishing to release it but not having the strength to concoct a pain-killer spell. Any attempt to concept a spell of any kind—in her condition especially—resulted in nothing but dying sparks flaking off into nonexistence. They ran out of medicine a week prior, so that definitely didn’t help, either.
Instead, she faced forward and stared at the broken Iron Man mask, knowing Tony’s eyes were on her but being completely unable to find the right words. Her mind was going, as was many things. Finally, it was Tony who asked, “How long were you listening in?”
Twilight’s jaw hung open as she breathed heavily and stared onto the broken mask, almost expecting it to respond. She eventually closed her mouth and shook her head. “Enough.”
“I hope it was worth it,” Tony pointed out, weakly lifting his hand and slicing at the minimal air, “because I am not saying that again.”
A weak chuckle from her end. Barely even a smile before they both faded away. Twilight’s bloodshot eyes lifted high above, to the ceiling that had entrapped her for weeks on end. That same lifeless expression returned to the Alicorn, an arising sense of dread filling her before Twilight forced herself to imagine otherwise.
She even forced herself to hold onto that hope, force herself to say, “Tony, you know you can’t give up hope. There’s always a chance.”
A sharp inhale from his end, Twilight barely even looking over to gaze to him. “We took that chance already, Twi. This,” Tony said, lifting his arms and letting them fall just as hard against his legs. “This was our last chance. Unless you can… find the coordinates to Earth, power up this thing, and get us back home before tomorrow morning…”
Both of them knew the grim fate that awaited them the next morning. There was no rising sun in space, but the hours alone resembled that awakening and dawning of the day and night. Their hours slowly ticked away and every second felt like a punch that took some semblance of breath with it. That terrifying realization filled Twilight once again. Usually the optimist and always finding a way out of immanent disaster, Twilight Sparkle finally realized the severity and hopelessness of their situation. No time for hope, for optimism. Not now. Not ever again. There was no rainbow blast to get her out of her situation. There was no magic of friendship to make all the bad things go away.
All there was… was her, Tony Stark, a ship dead in the water, and time.
They had fought hard, pushed their conjoined minds to the limit of their personal expertise, and still came up short. Just short of the Milky Way Galaxy. Stark had given in long ago. Twilight still believed to the bitter end… until it became apparent what fate ultimately led to. And when Twilight finally accepted that, she was terrified. It barely showed on her facial expression, but it was clear in her eyes. Her vein-filled, bloodshot eyes.
“There was never a doubt in my mind we could do this,” Twilight whispered shakily, gulping rather softly and tasting nothing. Not even saliva. Every last bit of moisture in her body went to the tears, the Alicorn weakly crying and fighting harder… knowing it was worthless. She tilted her head to the ceiling and shut her eyes tight, teeth clenched as those tears flowed down the sides of her face. “I just wanted to believe again.”
Without even a moment’s hesitation, Tony lifted up his left arm and draped it across Twilight’s withers. He weakly pulled her towards him and knew he wouldn’t be able to do more than that. He was relieved to see her curl up by his side, head resting against his shoulder, pushing forward and allowing Stark to hold her. That was exactly what he did, cradling the Alicorn on the floor of the Benatar as she rested her face against his chest, against the dying light of the Arc Reactor. Facing the dying of the light in the endless canvas before them.
Her cries were concealed, every last drop of tears vanishing as she fell fully into Tony’s embrace and felt his arms wrapped around her. Her face glowed against the light of the universe shining down upon them. It glowed against the Arc Reactor. “We should have never left,” Twilight whispered, head resting on his chest.
Tony could only nod, his head eventually falling in the same direction she faced. “Yeah.”
They stared out the Benatar’s windshield and watched the galaxy turn, felt each other’s heartbeats, their breaths. Waited together.
Waited to die.
Weeks Earlier
Earth
The Nation of Wakanda
9:35 a.m.
A short circuit and the crumbling of the outer armor later, the walls of the Milano fell inward to reveal Rocket Raccoon standing on the other side.
He wasn’t alone. With him stood and walked Groot and Nebula, the remaining Guardians of the Galaxy entering into the darkness that was their ship at one point. The inside was but the barren and torn remains of what the spacecraft once was. Limp wires hung from the ceiling, the shattered windshield spreading broken glass alongside the strewn seats. The ship was tilted slightly against the earth, forcing Rocket, Groot, and Nebula to pursue the ship cautiously, watching step after step.
Rocket paused by his seat, the torn chair lying with blaster and claw marks ripped into it. Memories flooded almost instantly, the Battle of Wakanda taking one of the hardest tolls on the raccoon. Other memories persisted, clear ones of him and Quill trying to fight over who would drive the Milano. Quill was always an idiot. Rocket could still see his excited smile as he got them out of meteor shower slightly unscathed. He laid his paw on the worn leather, sighing through his whiskers and digging into his knapsack. He pulled out three repair tools and spun slowly around, holding them out to the taller figures standing behind him.
“Just point the pointy end to anything that looks broken and pull the trigger,” Rocket explained, watching as Groot toyed with the repair tool curiously, Nebula simply staring at it, heaviness in her robotic eyes. Her eyes shot up when Rocket declared, “Chop, chop! We don’t got all day.”
“What will you do, fox?” Nebula asked, lowering the repair tool but continuing to grip it.
Rocket was already hard at work, spraying a fresh coat of circuitry, metal, and armor onto the damaged surfaces of the Milano. Even onto the seats. Everything was instantly repaired where he pointed the tool, the Guardian hardly looking back as he mumbled, “Just try to finish up here. Go work somewhere else. And Groot, don’t try and point it in your face. It doesn’t taste good.”
“I am Groot.”
“Of course I’ve tried it. It tastes like ass.”
Whatever their conversation devolved into, Nebula had no idea nor did not care as she stumbled off elsewhere into the Milano. With the repair tool in hand, she stopped and stared straight up into the ceiling, pointing it upwards and spraying a helping of the unknown gas-like substance onto anything worth repairing. That was all she did for minutes on end, eventually turning into hours as she continuously searched up and down the ship for damages. There was a lot of them.
A lot of time to think.
The worst had come and gone. What might as well have been the end of days only started another tomorrow, a new beginning for her and the very people she could have considered friends. Maybe even family. Maybe not. Nebula didn’t know nor didn’t even dare to consider the possibilities. The only family she had left were either dead or gone, the sister taken out of her own control and the father vanished after having achieved his goal. Since that wretched day just mere days prior, all they could really do as a means to recover was come together, gather themselves, and pick up what they had left. By the looks of the Milano, it wasn’t much. Still, progress was being made with her repair tool.
Out of all the trials in her lifetime, Nebula had known no greater pain than to deny her father his wishes. Even then, when she stood against him from acquiring his destiny and taking the Soul Stone for himself, that pain she experienced was nothing compared to what followed. For even if she considered Gamora an enemy at one point in her past, recent memory saw her as a friend. A sister. She didn’t deserve the death at the hands of their father. A meaningless death. Another soul taken in Thanos’ ultimate conquest and achievement.
Nebula nearly dropped her repair tool, trying so very hard to maintain her breathing patterns. Her robotic lungs functioned only to what was allowed, never to consider the flaming emotions burning in the Luphomoid right then and there. Her tear ducts were removed long ago as to prevent that showing of pain, of weakness. Just the thought of her sister taken from her, especially after what they had formed… it forced an unknown sensation into her. Pain, surely, but something else entirely. Real, raw emotion flooded the pain, filling it with the alien sensation of loss.
So much of it. Nebula actually fell down from that weight, sitting down on a repaired bench and clutching the side of her metallic head, trying so hard to cry and release that pent-up pain in the quietest way possible. For her, for someone so broken, that was impossible.
“Hey!” Rocket called out, Nebula turning her eyes over to the right to see the raccoon standing in the Milano’s hallway. “You finished in here? We’re ready to test her out!”
Her only response was a weak nod.
Following Rocket back into the bridge and pilot’s cabin, she observed a clean finish of what was once a demolished wreckage of what once was. The windshield was fixed and without a scratch, still embedded into the earth and tilted sideways, but that could be fixed. With just a few flicks of the switches, a couple more buttons pressed, and the throttled pushed into action, the Milano groaned to life and began to rise from the dirt. Nebula quickly ran to the nearest seat and buckled herself in, turning to see Groot smile her way and offer an off-putting thumbs-up.
Probably because he was happy their ship was airborne once again.
It took some fighting—and even more swearing—for Rocket to get his full grip around the controls and pilot the freshly-repaired Milano, but sooner rather than later, it was a success. They were traveling faster than any jet could ever achieve in the sky, flying clear across the barren and dead landscapes on the outskirts of Wakanda. The storm clouds were beginning to gather, painting the approaching skylines into a sickly gray.
That didn’t seem to deter Rocket in the slightest, the raccoon calling back to Nebula and Groot, “New ship, new name! I think I’ll call her the… Benatar! Bit of ring to it! What do you think?”
Groot agreed with several solid nods and his typical response. Nebula was silent.
As they flew over the dead landscapes, Nebula could only gaze to the massive, rotting skeleton of Typhon—of Set—lying amongst the body-filled graveyard surrounding what remained of Mount Bashenga.