Infinity Era

by JDPrime22

Chapter 150 – Sacrifice

Natasha Romanoff kept her pistol trained on the slithering mass of shadow and light. Clint Barton did the same, but with his katana held tight and its end centered towards the snow-white expression and black eyes of the being floating before them. Like a phantom. A ghost.

Tempest Shadow and Elektra Natchios turned to one another after that answer from the phantom, the way she nodded as a response to how she knew they came from the future. Regardless, their guard was at an all-time high, Elektra’s pair of sai and Tempest’s horn jutted forward and ready to attack at a moment’s notice.

As for Mistress Death, she acknowledged the four before her with a waning glance each. Their journey led them to her, at that exact moment in time, for the future had been set and they needed the power of the Soul Stone to accomplish their goals. If it was as she feared, then Mistress Death held an even greater understanding of their situation. Their journey was but one of many she had foretold. She settled momentarily on two specific individuals before turning aside and creating a clear path for them to proceed. Directly passed her, the heart of the cave pulsated and glowed a heavenly orange amongst the vein-like vibranium walls beating their blue life force directly towards the heart.

Noticing the position she took on the sidelines, the Avengers settled themselves momentarily. They lowered their weapons slowly, began to proceed with caution towards the heart of the cave. They each cast Death a longing stare before settling around the massive circular well. Her voice emerged from behind, as each Avenger gazed into the well and its orange light reflected off their faces and pulsated in their eyes.

“What you seek lies before you… as does what you fear.”

“The Stone?” Natasha asked, staring deep into the well.

“Only one may acquire it. For the other…” Mistress Death began to say, then stopped herself. It was their decision to make, and one she could only allow. She had no choice. She watched them gaze into the Well of Souls. “In order to take the Soul Stone, you must lose that which you love. An everlasting exchange. A soul… for a soul.”

Clint furrowed his brow at that, sliding his katana back into his holster. He breathed in her words, found trouble breathing, and turned back to the Mistress with an utterly confused and shaken expression. “What?” he asked, practically breathless.

Death stared deep into his eyes with the never-ending pits of black in her own. “The Stone requires a sacrifice.”

“A sacrifice?” Elektra whispered, rising terror on her tongue. Somehow, she knew what was coming next.

The shadows cloaked around her, draping over her head in a veil of black. Despite that, they still saw her scarily white face beneath, her black orbs for eyes, and heard the dead whisper leaving her lips. “Your greatest love, so that whomever may posses the Soul Stone knows of its true power. Its knowledge… its strength… must only be held by the one who is truly and utterly willing to understand its wisdom. This is the price.”

Every single one of them took that moment to absorb every last word they heard and try to understand it. Secretly, deeply, they all understood it sooner rather than later. They all knew the price and what the Mistress demanded of them. Just trying to accept that price was another matter altogether, another matter that none of the four Avengers felt fully willing to face or commit to. Not immediately. They either backed away, strode alongside the Well of Souls, or stood in place. Frozen in time. Like a statue. All that moved was their chests. All of them breathing sporadically.

Licking her lips and letting loose a shaking breath, Tempest slowly turned to each of her temporary team members. They all seemed to share the same expression as her, that brightening realization of what was needed but the overwhelming shadow of doubt lingering still.

Finding her place in the mix of uncertainty, Tempest said, “We didn’t know a thing. Nothing. All we knew was the time and place, but that was the peak of our knowledge about the Soul Stone. If this is true… if what she says… is true…”

Natasha sat down on a slab of vibranium. Mistress Death stared at them in silence. Patiently.

Shaking her head, Tempest took in a deep breath through her nostrils, moments before she let it loose in a long-winded exhale. “Maybe we shouldn’t have come here. Maybe we should go back.”

“And risk the particles we have?” Elektra argued, finally stepping out of that silence that plagued her and her team. “We could end up in some alternate timeline, and then all we have left are enough particles to get us home. This is our safest bet. Right here, right now.”

“And just how…” Tempest said, turning her neck nearly fully around to gaze to her, “… do you intend to get the Soul Stone, Elektra?”

Her lips parted… but nothing escaped. Not even a breath. Until, finally, she fell back and leaned against the furthest vibranium wall. Utterly silent. Tempest sighed and faced forward once more to the well, staring into its never-ending glow of orange. Natasha appeared deep in thought from where she sat further away, fists resting just upon her chin. Her pale skin was a ghostly white, nearly resembling that of Death herself. Trapped in that state of total silence, the Avengers had nothing to say. Nothing to do. All Clint could really do for himself was pace back and forth, deep in thought, as well. His eyes fell back to the well, to the flowing shadows of black and white hovering to the side of it. He saw her staring at him and him alone.

“How’s it goin’?” Clint waved, then softly chuckled to the Mistress. She said nothing in return. Just stared. “Jesus... All right, maybe she’s making this shit up.”

Natasha stared dead ahead, at nothing. “No… I don’t think so.”

“What, ‘cause she knows your daddy’s name?”

“I didn’t.”

Clint turned to her.

As did Elektra. As did Tempest. They all felt that pestering silence linger still, infect each of them in different, more horrifying ways. Finally, after a shake of her head, it was Tempest who admitted, “She’s not lying.”

The room—minus the Widow—shifted the spotlight to the unicorn. She continued. “She can’t be. This is the bargain; this is what it’s all been leading to. One of us needs to give ourselves to the Stone… and one of us… needs to let them.” Though she tried her hardest to conceal it, Tempest was trembling in the finalizing words of her speech.

For she was asking more than any of them could ever give without losing their lives. It hurt her to say it and it hurt even more to try and meet their individual expressions to that forced revelation. Elektra was shivering against the vibranium wall, her eyes falling the moment Tempest turned to her. The numbing wave of pins and needles overcoming her limbs and fingers made the woman tremble even more. Noting how Natasha continued to stare off into her own reality, Tempest turned and stared at Barton.

Clint noticed how she lingered in that stare. He held out his hands, muttering, “Listen, Fizzle… juice… Tempest… I mean… I’m sure you’re great and all, but I don’t really know you that well. You know, I’m not trying to sound—”

“I get it, Barton,” Tempest interrupted him, a deadpan expression filling her features. Just the thought of them knowing her real name was hard enough. She didn’t need Clint to tell her an entire novel just to say he didn’t love her. They just met that day after all. “And I’m sure you feel the exact same way about Elektra. Like I do. Like I do for… all of you.”

Elektra hissed and shifted her fiery glare back to the Mistress. She said, “This is a sick… twisted game. Playing with our emotions, our love. You do not know what love is or can be, let alone laying it on the line like this!”

Mistress Death just stared at them. A soft pang of hurt filled her eyes, but they didn't see it.

Natchios was fuming by the time she pushed herself from the vibranium, needing a second or two to clear her mind and fill herself with enough air to think properly. She paced back and forth, hands behind her head, her stomach feeling very, very queasy just at the overbearing thought of what was needed to acquire the Soul Stone. They were trapped. There was no way they could simply leave, no hope of going back to the facility empty handed and expecting to make another trip. Right then and there, that was their moment… and it required the ultimate sacrifice. They were completely and utterly trapped.

It was Romanoff who broke her silence and asked, “Would you do it for Matt?”

Elektra broke herself out of her mind and turned to that question, to the woman it left and simply stared at her. Natasha was not staring at her. She did not meet her gaze. She was only focused forward with that hardened expression on her features. But she listened. She waited for a response. As if Elektra could even give one that mattered.

If Matthew had been there, if he was given the same choice as her, then Elektra could assume things might be simpler. Or they might be worse, because they would actually have a way out of their situation. They would have a way out because Elektra knew how she felt towards Matthew. She knew how he felt towards her. Both were willing to die beneath that building a lifetime ago just so they could be in each other’s embrace for those final seconds. If that wasn’t love…

Elektra sighed and closed her eyes. She felt her back strike the vibranium wall once more, the back of her head joining it soon. She trembled in her response, finally admitting not only to them but herself, “If he was here.”

Natasha weakly smiled at that. She didn’t know what to feel from Elektra’s response. She didn’t even feel as if a smile was an appropriate one, but just to know that they were willing, that someone among them was willing… was enough.

Natasha breathed in. “Thanos got the Soul Stone only after he took his daughter to Wakanda. Only after… we found her dead. It’s not a coincidence.”

Elektra laid a hand over her eyes, her face contorting into a deeper understanding of pain. Tempest backed away from the well, cautiously at first, then stopped dead in her tracks further away from the rest of her team. As for Clint… he turned to her. He stared at her. “Yeah,” he said to her.

To Natasha.

Tempest and Elektra were as far as they could be from the well.

They weren’t.

Natasha still held that sad smile. “Whatever it takes.”

Clint stared to her, realization striking him. “Whatever it takes.”

They turned to the two Avengers. Every other soul in the room shifted their gazes and stared to them. From Elektra lifting her tear-filled eyes, Tempest awakening from her shaken state of mind, and Mistress Death finding a keen interest in the two souls coming together before her. She stared with greater and closer interest, silence pestering around her like a sickness.

Hawkeye and Black Widow were able to escape that sickness. Natasha stood up, standing face to face with Barton. “We don’t get that Stone… billions of people stay dead.”

He breathed that in, knowing he could never go home without the Stone and his team safe and secure. He could never go home without knowing his family would be there to greet him. It took Clint less than a second to admit to himself that he could never go home. “I guess we both know who it’s gotta be.”

“I guess we do.”

They let their hands weave into each other’s. First, it was Clint’s reaching for her hand and grasping it softly. Then, both of her palms clutched and comforted his lone hand. Until they both found that warmth once again. A momentary relief. Tempest and Elektra were dead silent, staring to the duo with disbelief shaped on their expressions and clutching their hearts. They wanted to act. They couldn’t believe they didn’t. They wanted to go home but they didn’t want to if it meant… leaving one of them behind.

Clint gripped her hand, staring deeply and fiercely into her eyes. He couldn’t help but smile to see the adamant stare in her own. “I’m starting to think… we mean different people here, Natasha.”

Natasha shook her head. “The last five years I’ve been trying to do one thing, one more good thing that I can, get right here. That’s all it’s been about. Undo everything Thanos did, bring everybody back. That’s all I’ve wanted to do. That’s all I can do now.”

“He did it?”

Her voice broke into their world like a sharp and pained whisper. Like she was shocked when she uttered it. Almost as if… she didn’t expect it. They turned to Mistress Death, a weak nod from Romanoff being all the Widow could offer in her state. Death dropped her head at that and stared into the light, taking in a gasp of air. A gasp of fear. She was silent after that.

“No,” Clint growled, causing Natasha to wheel her eyes back to him. “No, don’t you get all decent on me now. Not after what I did. What I deserve.”

“You think I wanna do it? I’m trying to save your life, you idiot.”

“Yeah, well I don’t want you to. Not anymore. I want you to stop helping me when there’s nothing left to help anymore. This was… this was good. I was good again but only because of you.”

There were visible tears in his eyes, his face contorting and various creases showing ever level of pain in his expression. Natasha felt every inch of his pain and cried for him, for herself, with him all the same. A single tear slipped down her shivering face when he told her, “Natasha, you know what I’ve done… You know what I’ve become. That’s not worth saving.”

She gulped, trying her damnedest not to break her voice. “Yeah, well I don’t judge people on their worst mistakes.”

“... Maybe you should.”

“You didn’t,” she told him. “You let me live and you saved my life because of it. I still haven’t paid that debt. Knowing I saved you would make my life worth it.”

Clint shut his eyes upon that memory, a moment in the past he knew would come back to haunt him. But after years of working together, training together, bonding together, becoming a friend and even family to one another… Clint never wanted that debt to keep them together. He wanted to forget about it and hoped she did, too, because the debt didn’t matter anymore. What they had, what they were to one another, that was all that he cared about. He only cared about her. Knowing otherwise, knowing that she would hold that debt over him until the end of the line made it all the more painful. The tears in her eyes, the break in her voice, every emotion she expressed solely for him told another tale altogether.

It told Clint that she managed to look past the debt and love him. Her friend. Her first family.

The tears finally fell, Clint whispering sharply, “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

She could offer nothing else but that. They pressed their foreheads together, their shared strength and love comforting one another in that space broken, their shared tears falling in harmony. They held one another; eyes closed as their breaths sang in chorus. Elektra was openly crying. Tempest’s expression was barely holding together, the red in her eyes showing some mist. Showing some respect.

Mistress Death, however, watched them with longing in her blackened eye sockets. Never before had she seen such love expressed for two whose lives were focused elsewhere. One who was married, had children, and a life he could get back. And another who had lost it all, gained another family, and was doing everything in her heart to make right by herself and the world she felt she both wronged. It was unlike anything she had seen. So peaceful, with no hate. So innocent, with no lust. It was love in its most blessed form. A kind of love that was taken from the Mistress.

It came out. Maybe it was out of her will, maybe it wasn’t, but she said it anyway.

“When I see your love… I see only him.”

She said the first thing that came to her broken heart.

Breaking their foreheads away from one another, Clint and Natasha held each other a moment longer as their eyes settled on the embodiment of death. Elektra and Tempest followed, listening intently and watching with just as much intensity. They saw as Mistress Death took in a sharp gasp of shivering pain, her eyes lingering into the Well of Souls.

Her voice was an otherworldly echo. Raw and suffering.

“A part of me… still wants to believe he loves me. A part of me still feels that heartbreak. Yet I have seen it coming and I can only relive it. I knew his quest for power and I did nothing to stop him. Now, you come to me from a time I have yet to live… only to know he succeeded without me. There is no more order in the future. Your present… where life and death are fractured. I have seen it.”

She sighed, dropping her head, letting her white arms rest by her sides.

“And yet…”

The orange light of the well shimmered over her veil.

“This is one moment I have not foretold.”

It came to her in a way she could not explain. As a being that was before time, before creation, Mistress Death had an understanding over all life and death. She helped form the Infinity Stones into being and knew of their power, knew especially of the Soul Stone and the ultimate sacrifice. There truly was no greater love than to give one’s life for their friends. For their lovers. For their everything. That feeling washed over and the embodiment of death itself could barely explain it.

Deep down, she wanted to believe that Thanos had achieved his goal for her, that he achieved his destiny because of his love for her. To impress, to constantly shower with gifts and treasures and achievements beyond compare was not love. What they expressed, what the Avengers showed her… to love one another so much that they would lose their lives, give their bodies, their hearts, and their souls for each other proves what love truly was. There was no greater love.

Despite him breaking her heart, Mistress Death knew a longing when she felt it. His soul was fractured, broken, driven mad by his ultimate quest to see the universe “balanced”. The young Titan that had wooed her and proved to the Mistress that even Death could be loved… was a feeling she never could forget. She knew he was suffering. She knew the madness of believing to be a savior and the unbearable weight that came with it drove Thanos from her. His peace would never come because it was unachievable. There was no life with half of it gone. There was no love in that. Deep in her blackened heart and wounded soul, Mistress Death knew there was something left in Thanos worth preserving.

For both of them.

She fell to her knees at the well. Her hands rested in her lap and she gazed into the unending light and suffering and pain that came with the everlasting exchange. “That which you truly love…” she whispered, eyes slowly closing.

Death shed a tear as she relinquished her heart to it.

The light within the well expanded, rising forth and blinding the Avengers under the glare of a heavenly white. After it subsided, after they lowered their arms and forelegs respectively, all that remained in the Well of Souls was a black pit. Resting in the palms of the Mistress—as she turned to face them—was a shimmering orange gem. All four of them felt their breaths halt at the mere sight of it, none of them able to move. None of them able to breathe again. They were only able to do so when she approached them, her palms held open to them and the light of the Soul Stone showering through them.

It looked as if it physically pained her to utter the words that flowed from her cold, white lips, when she forcefully said, “When you return to your time… you must promise me… you’ll kill him. The exchange will be fulfilled once Thanos’ soul has been set free.”

Natasha stared from the Stone to the Mistress, brow furrowing. Whispering, “He’s still alive?”

Death looked away in pain. Another tear.

“Once you are finished, you must return the Stone to this exact moment. But only after you have returned the natural order of life and death in the universe,” she begged, holding out her palms to the Avengers congregating before her. The Stone was offered and still they were shaken by the revelation of Thanos’ fate in their timeline.

Finally, it was the Widow who took it. She held the Soul Stone softly in her gloves, gazing to it with mixtures of awe, wonder, and terror laced in a tight bow. “Thank you,” Natasha whispered. It was all she could really say, or offer, to the Mistress Death.

She stared to them. To two of them specifically. “Don’t thank me.” Her voice was raw with pain.

Then, she watched as they gathered together and activated their GPS devices, the Quantum Suits consuming their bodies and all four Avengers shrinking into the infinite expanse of the Quantum Realm. They were gone, with the Soul Stone in their grasp. And Death stood there in the growing darkness of the Well of Souls, her palms tightly knit with one another, her eyes unable to stare anywhere else but the future.

“This part of your journey will always wound me… Avengers.”

Her hands rose to clutch her heart, and even in that never-ending coldness, she could have sworn she felt the familiar warmth of the Titan’s touch. A warmth she could feel again.

She closed her eyes. “Even so… please… avenge us.”

Clint felt himself grow unnaturally fast. His stomach dropped as he flew through the swirling lights and vortexes of the Quantum Realm, passing too fast to see what appeared to be a city hidden in the lights. He couldn’t tell. It was almost all a blur. Then, he crashed. Hard. He groaned, fists planted into the gravel as he pushed himself up.

“Ow…” he growled, hissing through heated breath. He inhaled a lungful of dirt and coughed. Forcing his eyes open, he was able to see to dust blow free from the ground he coughed on. Dirt. Gravel. Near-darkness upon the vast landscapes surrounding him and the skies above. Clint’s eyes bulged open.

He spun over, looking about and seeing no one. Nothing. Nothing but miles and miles of empty, war-torn landscapes. Decimated remains of blackened skyscrapers against a canvas of white fog filling the seemingly endless graveyard. The fog was slow to consume the land he lay upon, and Clint was certain not to be caught in it. Stumbling to his feet, Clint let his breathing do the talking for him, for no words could be formed from the Hawk.

He spun around and gazed into the shadowed city. Not a single flash of light or anything could have existed within its veil of black. He merely stood on the outskirts, but even then, he could feel its presence dragging him closer and calling to him in a voice he could not explain. His eyes rose higher and higher to reach the tallest sharpened peak of the tallest skyscraper. He stopped only when he felt the palm grip his shoulder.

Spinning, Clint knocked the hand aside and ripped his katana free from its holster, jamming the blade outwards and resting its edge on the neck of the manic, demonic grin of the insect. Clint felt his heart freeze, taking in a sharp gust of air and blinking once. Just once, and there was Natasha with her hands held out, eyes shifting to the katana jutted to her throat. With her stood Elektra and Tempest. All of them eyed Clint with curiosity and shock to actually witness what he had done.

Just as quickly, he dropped his blade’s edge and sheathed it. His breaths only grew heavier. “What happened?”

“Are you okay?” Natasha tried to say, the only one among them to take a brave step closer.

“What happened?” he asked again with much more ferocity than before. He coughed, slivers of the fog reaching their group and filling his lungs.

Natasha was slow to react, turning back to Elektra and Tempest. It was Elektra who answered and said, “We’ve been looking for you for hours. Didn’t you hear us? All this time and you were just standing here.”

Clint slowly turned to stare at her. “Hours?” he asked, tried to get some clarification. None of them moved, or breathed. “No… no, I was just thrown out of the Quantum Realm. That can’t be right.”

He turned away from the others and onto the Avenger he could fully trust. Only, her expression seemed to have shattered. She looked so completely and utterly small that Clint had to have a double-take just to make sure he was scanning her correctly. “Natasha… what happened?” he asked a third time.

She managed to meet his eyes. Managed to say, “We lost the Stone.”

Clint lost his breath and took a step back, as if he was physically punched by that statement. “What?” he whispered.

“Must’ve lost it upon entry here…” the Widow mumbled, turning about to gaze to their surroundings. She kept her guard at an all-time high, the unsettling silence so unnatural that it couldn’t be real. It didn’t feel real. “Wherever here is.”

Clint had so many questions that he almost couldn’t formulate them all. Instead, he focused on one at a time, the first and most important question taking precedence and escaping his lips first and foremost. “Where is here?”

Natasha turned her gaze left and everyone followed her. They turned to the darkened city and saw the fog clear around them, unveiling a landscape shattered by war. That fog had separated them from the sprawling metropolis of pitch-black towers and an endless canvas of swirling space dust and stars dotting the night sky. Various yellows, blues, greens, and reds were slashed across the heavens, being the only form of light upon the world they stood.

Natasha breathed in the same fog. “Not home.”

The city was unveiled to them fully and they could only see the outlines of the fallen empire. Shadows of what once was littered the land and filled the earth with unending devastation and horrors beyond compare under the cold of the night. They looked up back to the canvas, back up to see a massive sun hanging in the distance. Only it wasn’t the sun. It wasn’t a star.

The black hole was ever-expanding, ever-consuming the Negative Zone.