As Loe Halloway opened his eyes, the dull ache in his abdomen closing to his chest reminded him of the battle. The room was unfamiliar, yet peaceful. He touched his abdomen, feeling the bruises beneath his fingertips—his wounds had mostly healed, but the pain still lingered, sharp and real.
"My injuries..." he muttered, his hand resting on his abdomen, where the blade had struck him. Gritting his teeth, he could still feel the phantom pain of that fatal blow.
Suddenly, the door creaked open. Wong, the Tibetan magician monk, stepped into the room. His calm demeanor filled the space as he took in Loe's condition. "You're awake." Wong said, his voice gentle but firm.
Loe, still disoriented, looked up. "Where am I?"
Wong smiled slightly, a faint amusement in his eyes. "You don't remember? You were clinging to my legs after the portal sent you here."
It all came rushing back to Loe—the desperate leap into Doctor Strange's portal, the searing pain as he was transported. He remembered clutching onto Wong, barely holding onto life. "Yeah... I remember now.." Loe said, his voice rough with the memory of it.
"Thank you.." Loe added, looking at Wong with a mix of gratitude and humility.
Wong shook his head, brushing off the thanks with a modest wave of his hand. "Don't move just yet. You're not fully recovered."
Loe, nodding in understanding, tried to shift in the bed but winced at the sharp ache. "Where exactly am I?" he asked, eyes scanning the ornate room, adorned with mystical symbols and relics.
"You're in the Sanctum Sanctorum," Wong explained. "Doctor Strange and your friends are here as well. They're waiting for you in the living room, discussing what comes next."
Loe felt a surge of relief hearing that his friends were safe. "Good... that's good.." he murmured, though the strain in his voice was evident.
Wong glanced at him one last time before turning toward the door. "I've told you everything you need to know for now. Just rest, and don't push yourself."
Loe watched Wong leave, the door closing with a soft thud behind him. The quiet returned, and Loe let out a long sigh, his hand drifting to his abdomen again. His fingers traced the spot where the blade had once pierced through him—where death had nearly claimed him.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed since that battle, but the weight of the moment still hung heavily on him. The pain, though duller now, was a reminder of how close he had come to losing everything. But more than the physical pain, it was the uncertainty of what lay ahead that troubled him the most.
Loe lay back on the bed, his chest rising and falling as the pain ebbed. "I survived... I survived..." he whispered, almost to himself, still in disbelief at his narrow escape.
Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed in his mind. "Loe."
He instantly recognized it. Mindy. His wife's voice, soft yet powerful, reached him through their telepathic bond.
"Hon..." Loe whispered aloud.
"YOU IDIOT!" Mindy's voice rang sharply in his mind. "DON'T GET YOURSELF INJURED AGAIN! YOU SCARED ME TO DEATH!"
Loe chuckled softly, despite the pain. "I promise.." he said, closing his eyes, savoring the warmth of her presence in his mind. It felt as though she was right beside him.
"You better keep that promise," Mindy's tone softened, her worry breaking through. "I don't want to lose you. Not like this."
Loe sighed, a tired but tender smile tugging at his lips. "I'm not young anymore, you know... I'm already past sixty," he teased. "My body might look thirty, but... well, that's thanks to the serum."
"That's why you're not invincible just because you look young!" Mindy shot back, her frustration barely masking the relief she felt knowing he was alive. "You're still my Loe, and I don't care how old you are. Stop getting hurt!"
Loe's smile grew wider. "I'm sorry, love. I won't put you through this again. I mean it."
There was a pause before Mindy's voice returned, gentler this time. "You better be sorry. And remember, Thomas and I are on our way. We'll be with you soon."
At the mention of their son, Loe felt a warmth in his chest. "Thomas… how's he handling things?"
"He's strong, Just like you" Mindy replied, pride swelling in her voice. "But he's still our son, Loe. He needs you."
Loe's voice softened as he said, "I know... I'll be here when you both arrive."
A brief silence settled between them before Mindy asked, "By the way, where's Lenora? I can't sense her as clearly from this distance."
Loe smiled again, this time with a touch of amusement. "You have telepathy, hon. You could sense her, couldn't you?"
"Yes... Thank God, she's safe," Mindy sighed, her tension easing. "I was just worried with everything happening. But I trust she's okay."
"She is," Loe reassured her, feeling a surge of gratitude that, despite everything, his family was still together. "And so am I... for now."
"Good," Mindy said, her voice fading slightly as she prepared to leave. "We'll be with you soon, Loe. Stay safe until then."
"I will, Mindy.." Loe whispered, feeling the warmth of her presence retreat from his mind.
As their telepathic connection faded, Loe felt the weight of his responsibilities settle on him once again. His wife and son were coming, and soon, the battle for the multiverse would continue—but for now, he took comfort in the knowledge that his family would stand beside him.
......
In the living room of the Sanctum Sanctorum, Mark Taylor paced back and forth, his mind racing as he tried to comprehend the gravity of the situation. His wife, Emily, sat nearby, her gaze shifting from him to Dr. Stephen Strange, who stood calmly but gravely in front of them.
"So this... Thanos guy," Mark began, his voice tense, "he's going to cause chaos, and our universe will be plunged into war for years? That's what you saw in your vision?"
Dr. Strange nodded solemnly. "Yes, no matter how many times I've looked into the future, the outcome is always the same. A war against Thanos and his forces... inevitable destruction, loss. There's no scenario where this ends peacefully."
Mark clenched his fists, his frustration evident. "There has to be another way, some path where we can stop this."
Emily, sensing the weight on her husband's shoulders, reached out and gently placed her hand on his arm. "Babe.." she whispered, her touch offering some small comfort, though she knew the situation was far from hopeful.
Mark stopped pacing, his mind flashing back to his best friend, Michael Wilson—also known as the legendary Spider-Man. Michael was more than a hero; he was someone who had defied impossible odds time and again. If anyone could find a way to change fate, it was him.
"Wait..." Mark said suddenly, looking sharply at Dr. Strange. "In your vision... did you see two Spider-Men? Was Michael there? The legendary Spider-Man?"
Dr. Strange's brow furrowed in thought. "No..." he replied, his voice contemplative. "In the vision, there was only one Spider-Man. He wore red, but it wasn't the legendary Spider-Man... He wasn't there."
Mark's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean, he wasn't there?" His voice was urgent now, as a knot of worry began to form in his chest. "Michael's one of the most powerful heroes and he is the Spider-Man. How could he not be part of something this big?"
Dr. Strange shook his head, his expression reflecting his own confusion. "That's what has been bothering me as well. In every future I've seen, no matter how many times I look, the legendary Spider-Man is absent. It's as though... he's simply vanished from these possibilities."
Mark's thoughts raced. Michael's absence in such a pivotal moment didn't make sense. He had faced worse threats and always been there when it counted. But now, when the universe needed him most... he was missing?
(What's going on, Michael?) Mark thought to himself, his mind swirling with unanswered questions. (Why aren't you in his visions? Where are you?)
Emily, sensing Mark's turmoil, squeezed his arm a little tighter. "We call him, Mark. There's got to be an explanation for this."
Mark nodded, though his heart was heavy. The uncertainty of Michael's fate, combined with the looming threat of Thanos, left him feeling more vulnerable than ever before. But one thing was clear—something wasn't right, and he needed answers.
"We need to figure this out," Mark said, his voice firm. "If Michael isn't in these visions, then we're missing a huge piece of the puzzle. He might be the key to stopping all of this."
Dr. Strange's eyes flickered with curiosity. "Perhaps. But if that's the case, we'll need to find him soon, before it's too late."
......
In the wreckage of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Thanos stood tall amidst the chaos, surveying the devastation with cold, calculating eyes. Bodies of fallen agents lay strewn across the floor, their once powerful defenses shattered like glass before the might of his forces. Blood pooled beneath them, the stench of death thick in the air.
To Thanos' right, Ebony Maw floated, his movements graceful yet sinister. With a flick of his hand, he tore the legs off an approaching S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, sending the man's body crashing to the ground with a heavy thud, his screams abruptly silenced by a telekinetic snap of the neck. Another agent had been crushed against the wall, his body twisted in unnatural ways, leaving a smear of blood as he was crushed until he died.
In the center of the chaos, one agent had been skewered by Corvus Glaive's weapon, the glaive impaled through his gut, pinning him to the ground. His arms flailed weakly, eyes wide in agony, before the life drained out of him, blood spilling from his mouth.
Thanos watched the carnage unfold with chilling indifference. To him, these were mere obstacles—pawns in a dream he sought to reshape. His hand flexed, the Infinity Gauntlet glinting as he crushed the skull of a nearby agent with his bare hand, blood and bone cracking under the pressure.
The ground was covered with the bodies of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Some had their limbs torn off, while others had deep gashes in their torsos or their skulls smashed in. A few had been completely vaporized, leaving only their ashes drifting in the air, a result of Ebony Maw's dark powers.
For Thanos and his Black Order, this was a mission. For S.H.I.E.L.D., it had been a massacre—swift, brutal, and utterly one-sided. Their resistance, though admirable, was futile against the might of the Mad Titan and his loyal enforcers.
As Thanos surveyed the carnage with cold, indifferent eyes. "Did they do what they must do?" he asked, his deep voice resonating through the devastated halls.
Ebony Maw, always the sycophant, replied with a calm smile, "As we speak, our army...they are spread across different regions of this world, securing our objectives, my lord."
Thanos gave a slow, approving nod. "Good... good. But the true prize we seek is not here. We must find the Power Stone."
Corvus Glaive, ever tactical, looked to Thanos with a questioning gaze. "But how, my lord? The Power Stone's location is unknown."
Thanos' eyes narrowed, his thoughts already calculating the next move. "That magician," he growled, his voice laced with menace. "Doctor Strange....I am certain he knows something we do not."
Corvus bowed slightly, admiration and respect in his posture. "As expected of you, my lord. You see what others cannot."
Ebony Maw nodded in agreement, his voice soft but full of reverence. "Indeed, my lord. That Magician has knowledge beyond mortal comprehension, but none can hide from your sight. We will retrieve the Power Stone, and the universe will bow before you."
Thanos clenched his fist, the Infinity Gauntlet glinting only little bit due to becoming weaker. "We are on the verge of reshaping reality itself," he said, his gaze now fixed beyond the immediate destruction. "Find Dr. Strange.... I will tear the knowledge from his mind if I must."
To be continue