[HEY If anyone wants to see the picture of the things that are described in this story go to the Scribble Hub version of this fanfic and search for this story. There should be picture or concept art that is embedded into the story. And if you are already here then Thank you and please enjoy this chapter.]
This work is purely fanfiction and doesn't have any relation to the property of Marvel Comics.
I don't own Marvel Comics.
All rights are reserved to those Companies.
Rated M, 18 and Above for Violent and Sexual Content.
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Marvel: Genesis Arcana.
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A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.—Oscar Wilde
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[Chapter 2: The Dreamwalker]
1997.
A day later…
Dreamland.
In the heart of the woods, the air hung heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth, a primal perfume that seemed to cling to every breath. The moon, a silver sentinel in the night sky, cast its luminescent gaze upon the forest floor, painting eerie shadows that danced and twisted with each rustle of the leaves above. The forest was far from silent; it hummed with the symphony of nocturnal life, each creature's call a testament to the unseen world awakening in the darkness.
Amidst this nocturnal tableau, a figure lay crumpled on the forest floor, their breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps. Consciousness began to trickle back into their mind, like water seeping through cracks in a dam. Eyelids, heavy and unyielding, slowly fluttered open, revealing eyes that caught the silvery light of the moon. Confusion swirled in their gaze as they took in the alien landscape surrounding them.
The man, Vine, pushed himself up on trembling arms, his heart pounding a staccato rhythm of panic against his ribcage. He glanced around, his eyes wide and wild, trying desperately to make sense of his whereabouts. Each breath came in quick, shallow gasps as if his lungs could not quite keep up with his body's demand for air. Beneath him, the ground was uneven and carpeted with a thick layer of fallen leaves and twigs that crackled under his shifting weight. He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering not just from the cold, but from the fear that gnawed at his insides like a ravenous beast.
"Où suis-je?" Vine whispered, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of night sounds. He took a tentative step forward, his eyes scanning the darkness for any semblance of familiarity. But there was none—only the endless expanse of trees stretching out like spectral sentries, their gnarled branches reaching toward the haunting glow of the moon.
As he moved, the shadows seemed to close in around him, their shapes shifting and morphing into grotesque forms that made his heart race even faster. The forest felt alive as if it were watching him, waiting for his next move with bated breath. Each snap of a twig and each rustle of leaves echoed ominously, sending shivers down his spine.
Vine stumbled over a gnarled root, catching himself just in time to avoid falling. He steadied himself against a nearby tree, its bark rough and unyielding beneath his touch. The forest seemed to whisper secrets to him, its ancient trees holding stories of those who had wandered here before. Stories of loss, of fear, of desperation. He could almost hear them, the echoes of the past mingling with the whispers of the wind.
Determined to find a way out, Vine steeled himself and began to walk, each step taking him deeper into the unknown. The trees loomed overhead, their branches intertwining to form a natural cathedral, both awe-inspiring and terrifying in its vastness. He could only hope that he would find his way back before the night consumed him completely before he became just another whisper in the wind, another story held within the ancient heart of the forest.
As he stumbled through the underbrush, a flicker of light pierced the veil of darkness ahead. At first, it was a mere suggestion, a hopeful illusion that could be dismissed as a trick of the moon. But as he pushed onward, the light grew more substantial, less fickle. It grew into a beacon, a promise of refuge in the endless sea of shadows. What seemed to be a cabin of some sort took shape in the distance, its windows glowing with a warm, welcoming light. The sight filled him with a surge of relief so profound it was almost painful.
The sound of birds grew more distinct, a cacophony of caws and croaks that seemed to beckon him from the canopy above. The crows, or perhaps they were ravens, their calls piercing the night's embrace. They sounded almost... excited. It sent a shiver down Vine's spine, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from the light. It was the first sign of life he had seen since he woke up here, and he needed to find out where it was coming from.
The cabin grew larger with each cautious step he took, the light from its windows casting a warm, golden glow onto the surrounding foliage. The closer he got, the more he could make out the details—the chipped paint, the crooked shingles, the unkempt garden of weeds and thorny brambles. The door was ajar, the hinges groaning softly in the stillness like the moan of a forgotten soul. His heart was in his throat now, the throb of his pulse in his ears.
Vine's eyes darted around, searching for any sign of movement, any hint of what lay within the cabin's welcoming embrace. The crows above grew more agitated, their calls increasing in volume and urgency. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as if they were trying to warn him of an unseen peril. His hand reached out, trembling slightly, and pushed the door open further. It creaked open to reveal a simple room with a dust-covered table and chair, a fireplace long unused, and a staircase leading up to what he assumed were the sleeping quarters.
Wait a minute… wasn't the light coming from the windows? Vine felt a sudden force push him deeper into the cabin and before his mind could fully comprehend the situation, the door slammed shut with a bang that echoed through the silent woods. The light from the mood vanished, leaving him in complete darkness. Panic swelled inside him as his eyes darted around the room, trying to adjust to the abrupt change.
But then, a flicker of orange began to dance in the fireplace. It grew from a mere spark to a crackling flame, casting a dim, flickering glow that illuminated the dust motes dancing in the air. The warmth began to seep into the cold room, bringing with it a sense of comfort that was almost tangible. The crows outside fell silent as if waiting for what would happen next. Yet that wasn't the only sound that had ceased—the usual nightly symphony of the forest had been replaced by an eerie calm.
Vine's eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, and his bewilderment grew as he took in the scene before him. There, in a rocking chair positioned directly in front of the now-blazing fireplace, was a figure. It was shrouded in shadow, its back to him, the chair's rhythmic creaking the only indication of its presence. For a moment, he thought it was just a trick of the light, a figment of his overactive imagination. But as the flames grew stronger, he realized with a start that it was all too real.
The figure was indeed an old man, with a grizzled beard that reached his chest and a tattered cloak that hung off his skeletal frame. His eyes were closed, and his hands rested on the chair's worn arms as if he were lost in a deep slumber. The room, though dusty and long abandoned, was filled with a sudden sense of life—or perhaps it was the echo of a life long passed. The crackling of the fire was the only sound in the cabin, a comforting lullaby in the face of the unnerving silence of the woods outside.
Vine's hand hovered over the doorknob that was no longer there, his mind racing. Panic surged through him, a cold, clammy wave that threatened to drown him. He patted the wood around where the door had been, searching for any sign of a handle or latch, but found only smooth, unbroken wood. The realization set in—he was trapped. The cabin had swallowed him whole, sealing him inside with this mysterious, possibly malevolent presence.
"I'm no cruel soul, if that's what ye wondered, bearer…" the old man murmured, his voice rough as stones falling down a weary hillside. "Or… not anymore, leastways…" He did not turn, his eyes stayed closed, as though he'd not even marked Vine's coming.
The Frenchman was still quiet as he tried to process what the old man had said, his eyes darting around the room for any clue of his intentions. "Who...who are you?" His voice was barely above a whisper as if he didn't want to disturb the delicate balance of the moment.
"Ah, so ye do speak!" The old man chuckled, a sound like brittle leaves crushed beneath an autumn boot. He tilted his head, a knowing smile tugging at his lips, though his eyes stayed closed. "First, I owe ye an apology for any unrest I may've stirred. Know this—'twas the only way I could reach ye." He drew a long, rattling breath, as though the weight of his tale pressed hard upon his chest. "I am the last steward of this realm… or rather, of what remnants linger here."
His voice softened, touched with the ache of old memories. "This land was once known as Dream Land," he murmured, a flicker of longing woven into his words. "It was my home, afore the Court came and laid waste to all we knew." His smile faded, leaving only a shadow of sorrow, the lines of his face etched deep with the burden of a lost world.
"The Court?" Vine echoed, his voice still fluttering. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing for ye to fret o'er, Mr. Chow, or at least…" The old man paused, his eyes slipping open, revealing a gaze sharp as a raven's claw, drilling deep into Vine's very soul. "Not yet… ye're not ready to ken the truth of them… not yet."
The Frenchman frowned deeply, his mind racing with questions and fear. "How do you know my name?" He began to slowly approach the rocking chair, his eyes never leaving the old man's face. "And why am I here?"
"Let me see if I've got this right," the old man began, his voice a smooth, steady baritone. With each point, he marked a finger, his smile widening bit by bit, like a fox savoring the thrill of its wit. "Your full name is Vincenzo Lazaro Chow, though those close to ye simply call ye Vine. Yer father, he served with pride in the French Armed Forces, and yer mother, she was the PE teacher at the village school, was she not?"
Vine was deafeningly silent with a wide-eyed look. "What?" He took a cautious step backward, his hand unconsciously reaching for his side, suddenly feeling the emptiness where his pistol would usually be.
"Ye followed in yer father's steps, enlisting in the French Army young, full o' that fire to serve. Even volunteered for those small UN peacekeeping missions in Africa. A noble choice, truly. After an honorable discharge, they brought ye into the ranks of the GIGN, where ye made quite a mark as a sharpshooter—one o' the top ten, if memory serves." The old man's gaze sharpened, amusement mingling with a hint of calculation. "Then, after four years in service, ye retired at the grand age o' twenty-four and now ply yer trade as a freelancer. Quite the tale, that…"
He leaned in, voice dropping to a quiet murmur, threaded with intrigue. "Now, tell me, Vine. How much o' that tale rings true?"
Vine felt the blood drain from his face. His mind was racing, trying to piece together how this old man could possibly know such intimate details about his life. He took another step back, his hand still hovering near his side where his pistol would be if he weren't in this bizarre, unarmed state. "What are you? Are you some kind of god?" he spat out, trying to keep the tremor from his voice.
"Now, now, let me put yer mind at ease, Bearer," the old man replied, lifting his hands in a gentle sign of peace. His voice was steady, sure, though a spark o' mischief danced in his gaze. "I've left the darker dealings far behind. A lifetime ago… perhaps even longer." He paused, a wry smile tugging at his lips, as though savoring a jest known only to him. "As for yer question—aye, ye could say I was a god, once upon a time. Before fate drove me from my own universe to seek shelter in this one."
He straightened, the glint of ages past flickering in his eyes. "I am Nodens, Lord of the Great Abyss, the last Elder God to survive the fall of my realm. Here, in this world, those few who know of me call me simply… the Old Man in the Woods."
The Frenchman narrowed his eyes in suspicion, his hand still hovering near his side. "If you really were a god, how did you end up here?" He glanced around the cabin, taking in the dilapidated surroundings. "And why would you stay here? This place is a dump."
"Ah… ye know, this place wasn't always as ye see it now," Nodens began, his voice softening, eyes drifting to the dance of the firelight. A distant wistfulness clouded his gaze, as if lost in the dim echo of a memory long faded. "Once, it was warm, welcoming—a true sanctuary, the kind o' place where one might settle, raise a family, and call it home."
Vine's eyebrows lifted slightly, a question poised on his lips, but he thought better of voicing it. A palpable sense of sadness radiated from the old man, and Vine had no desire to deepen that sorrow with probing inquiries. Instead, he let his gaze wander around the cabin once more, taking in the modest surroundings. His eyes settled on a dusty, neglected frame hanging on the wall. The photograph within was worn at the edges, and its colors faded over time. It depicted a younger Nodens, his arm wrapped around an indistinct feminine figure, their faces blurred as if shrouded by a veil of forgetfulness. Two smaller figures stood before them, their features equally obscure, like ghosts from a past best left untouched. The scene was a haunting echo of a life long since passed, a reminder of the happiness that once filled these now-empty walls.
The old man continued, a weary sigh slipping from his lips as his chair creaked in a gentle rhythm. "But such is the way o' time, I reckon. It moves onward, and the universe shifts along with it. Now I'm but a relic, a half-forgotten shadow lingering in the corners of a realm that was once so full o' peace." His eyes drifted closed, as though shutting out the ghostly echoes of that lost world. "But… that's a tale for another day. Just now, there are more pressing matters between us, ye and I."
"What kind of matter?" Vine asked, his voice tinged with apprehension. Even as the words left his lips, a creeping suspicion began to insinuate itself into his thoughts, suggesting that he already knew the answer. "Does this have something to do with... something I have?"
"I'll be plain with ye, Mr. Chow." The Lord of the Great Abyss spoke with a solemn weight, his rocking chair creaking in time with the low crackle of the fire. "The item ye hold… it's a relic of immense power, capable o' bending reality itself—on a scale that stretches far beyond this single realm. Such a thing, well…" He gave a grim smile, his gaze flickering with shadow. "It would place a mighty red mark upon yer brow if the great powers, both from this universe and others, learned of it. And if they did?" He paused, letting the silence sink deep. "Ye'd be lost before ye even knew they were upon ye."
"What?" Vine stiffened as a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. "Can you further elaborate on that? What do you mean by 'universal scale or even beyond'?" His voice was tight, the implications of the old man's words weighing heavily upon him. "Is this some kind of joke? There is no way that my notebook could do even more than that… Right?"
"No… this is no jest, though I don't expect ye to understand it fully… not yet," Nodens spoke with a calm patience, a softness that seemed almost strange in the charged air of the cabin. "But in time, ye will. The object ye speak of—you may know it as The Scribblenauts, yet to my kin it is known as The Genesis Arcana."
The former Elder God paused, letting the name linger in the air like a dark omen. "The Genesis Arcana… it's no mere artifact, but a shard o' something far greater. It was forged as a weapon—a safeguard against the Court, back before their rise, before the Great Schism that drove me to exile." His voice softened, weighted by distant memories. "Our leader, Kthanid, held it in his grasp the last time I saw him, as we pulled back from the battlefield."
The old man's eyes grew shadowed, heavy with the burden of ages past. "And now… somehow, it's fallen into your hands."
Vine felt the weight of the world drop on his shoulders, his mind racing as he tried to process the implications of the old man's words. His notebook is a weapon capable of rewriting reality? It was too much to take in. "My god… How did it get to this point" he asked, his voice shaking slightly. "How did I get it? What am I supposed to do with it?"
"I wouldn't fret too much over it, lad," Nodens murmured, his voice carrying a gentle reassurance that seemed to still the storm of thoughts in Vine's mind. "How ye came to hold the Genesis Arcana matters far less than what ye choose to do with it, now that it's bound itself to ye. Fate has marked ye as its bearer—and whether for better or worse, that's for time to reveal."
"Bonded?" The Bearer's voice cracked with apprehension and confusion. "What does that mean?"
"It seems that yer very soul has twined itself with the Arcana," Nodens murmured, his eyes opening to meet Vine's with a gaze as knowing as it was unsettling. A slow smile spread across his face, as though he found some quiet amusement in the gravity of the moment. "When one bonds with the Arcana, their essence melds with it, and the Tome answers solely to the bearer's will. Quite the burden, truth be told."
He chuckled softly, the sound stirring the dust motes that drifted lazily in the cabin's dim air. "Ah, but there's more," he went on, his gaze fixed and unyielding. "This bond makes the bearer… singular. Unbound by the laws o' reality, beyond the grasp of any outside influence." His eyes sharpened. "It grants ye true sovereignty over yer own being. As a consequence, no reality-warping or mind-twisting trickery can touch ye."
Leaning in, his voice dropped to a deep, solemn tone. "When I warned ye of doom should certain powers learn o' ye, perhaps I stretched the truth a bit. But that doesna mean those near ye are safe." Nodens closed his eyes for a beat, as if weighing the warning. "As the saying goes: if they cannot reach ye, they'll set their sights on what ye hold dear. And that, lad, is where the real danger lies."
Settling back into his chair, his gaze returned to the flickering fire. "Some will hunger for the power ye wield, others will fear it. But all will do what they must to keep their… precious order intact, even if it means turning their sights to those close to ye." He gave Vine a knowing smile, a spark of warmth amid the warning. "Still… somehow, I've a sense that, in the end, ye'll fare just fine."
The gravity of the situation washed over Vine, leaving him feeling lost and overwhelmed. "What about you? Why are you telling me all of this? What do you want from me?" he managed to ask, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"Ah, I seek nothing from ye, my young friends," Nodens replied, his smile warm though his eyes held a keen edge. "I am but a guide, one who knows the weight o' the burden ye now carry, and one who wishes to aid ye. The Genesis Arcana… it is a tool, aye—a mighty one, yet fraught with danger. A double-edged sword, as it were, that cuts both ways. It can grant yer heart's truest desires… or lead ye to ruin. How ye wield it—that choice lies with ye alone."
"How can I be sure you're telling the truth?" Vine asked, his brow furrowed deeply with skepticism. His eyes darted around the cabin, probing the shadows as if expecting to find deceit or malice lurking within. "This is all too much. A god, a reality-altering artifact, and now I'm supposedly some chosen one?" He let out a sharp, incredulous laugh that echoed through the small space. "If I were still back in my own universe, I'd think I was going mad," he continued, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "But I'm not. And now, I don't know what to believe anymore." His voice was tinged with a mix of confusion and frustration, the weight of the alleged truth pressing down on him like a physical force.
"Just so ye know," Nodens began, a knowing smile softening his weathered features as the firelight cast a warm glow across his face, "I was among the few fortunate enough to bear witness to the creation o' the Arcana itself. I daresay I know a thing or two about it." He paused, his expression turning understanding. "But I ken yer doubt well. Ye've been thrust into a world ye once thought mere fancy, burdened with powers ye never sought. It's a heavy weight to take on, all at once."
He rocked gently in his chair, a thoughtful look settling over him. "If proof is what ye seek, however," he added, "ye need only ask the Arcana itself. The Tome, if memory serves, has a bit o' a mind o' its own. It should vouch for the truth o' my words."
"Wait… I'm sorry, what?" The Frenchman furrowed his brow as he asked with a bewildered tone. "What the hell do you mean a mind of its own?"
~* Rumble*~
Suddenly, the ground beneath them quaked, a low groan echoing through the cabin. Nodens frowned, rising sharply as his eyes narrowed. "It seems our time here is cut short," he said, urgency threading his voice. "I can feel my strength fading—the link between yer dream and my realm grows fragile, as the Arcana fights to expel my presence from yer mind."
Fixing Vine with a grave, steady gaze, Nodens spoke with a voice like distant thunder. "Heed me well, young Bearer o' the Arcana, for this is my first counsel: be wary. Keep the Tome's true power veiled, and avoid stirring its reality-bending might in plain sight… unless ye know full well ye can mask or escape the consequences. Mind the old wisdom: with great power comes great responsibility. Who ye share this secret with—that choice is yers alone."
~*CRACK!!!*~
The cabin began to shake violently, and before Vine could react, the ceiling collapsed on top of the Frenchman, striking him on the head and sending stars exploding across his vision. Darkness claimed him as he crumpled to the floor, unconscious. Nodens' voice echoed distantly, following Vine into the black abyss.
"Oh! And one more thing—…!!!"
~*RUMBLE!!!*~
~*CRASH!!!*~
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Boston City, in the state of Massachusetts, of the USA.
The room was veiled in the soft, indigo hues of early dawn, casting faint, elongated shadows across the walls. As the first rays of light began to slip through the thin curtains, they spilled onto a figure ensnared in a mess of blankets. Vine stirred, his eyelids fluttering open, revealing eyes still blurred by the remnants of a strange dream. For a moment, the Frenchman lay still, trying to hold onto the fleeting images that hovered at the edges of his consciousness. The dream had been vivid, almost too real. He could still feel the warmth of a distant fire, hear the echo of Crow or Raven's voice, and see the shadowy old man who had whispered a final, haunting word.
—"Seek out the Black Queen, should ye wish to learn more! TELL HER I SENT YE—…!"—
Blinking then Shaking his head, Vine sat up against the headboard and closed his eyes once more, attempting to dispel and recall the strange dream. The Frenchman tried to grasp the fleeting images, but they shimmered and vanished like mirages the more he reached for them. Opening his eyes, he blinked a few times to orient himself, then squinted, surveying their new living space.
Ah… that right, the new place that Vine had acquired for himself and Emma as a surprise a month ago. It was a significant upgrade from the nearly rundown hotel room they had been staying in. The spacious loft was a welcome change, and thanks to his notebook, money was no longer an issue. Stacks of American dollars materialized before his eyes, allowing him to cover the rent and renovation costs without a second thought.
After treating Emma to dinner, Vine leads her to their new residence. Initially, Emma was taken aback, her surprise quickly giving way to joy. "How were you able to get a place like this?" she asked, her eyes wide with wonder.
"You like it?" Vine had asked with a tentative smile, watching her reaction and at the same time subtly admiring her exposed back and tight shapely figure as she began to look around, her short dyed blonde bob cut cascading down her shoulders like a waterfall of gold. "It's a bit of a shock, I know, but I thought we could use some more space, some more comfort, so as a surprise and a thank you for helping me this past month, I got us this place. It's not much but it's home, at least for now."
Emma Frost, after recovering from the sudden kiss back at the hotel, was no longer without clothing, having acquired an outfit that was both casual and tempting. She wore a white spaghetti-strap tank top that clung to her curvaceous form, accentuating her ample chest and revealing a hint of cleavage while leaving her midriff enticingly bare. Paired with this was a set of denim shorts that were cut high on her thighs, showing off her shapely legs and hugging her hips snugly.
The blonde dye telepath looked around the loft, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. It was indeed a stark contrast to their previous accommodations. The floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a breathtaking view of the city skyline, a stark reminder of the chaotic world outside their new sanctuary. The modern furniture blended seamlessly with the exposed brick walls, creating a cozy yet sleek ambiance that felt both welcoming and safe.
"It's not like the mansion that I grew up in, but it's even better than what I hoped!" Emma declared, her voice filled with genuine appreciation as she ran her fingers over the leather couch. She turned to him with a warm smile, the light from the streetlamps outside casting a soft glow on her face. "Thank you. This is more than I ever could have asked for."
"You are welcome." Vine winks good naturedly at the blonde hair telepath, before walking up to the fridge and taking out what looks like a bottle of champagne. He had picked it up the previous night, hoping that this moment would come. He had been planning this surprise for weeks and the anticipation was almost unbearable. He knew how much Emma had been struggling to adapt to life on the run, and he wanted to give her something to hold onto, something that felt like home. "Let's celebrate our new beginning with a toast, shall we?"
Emma's smile grew even wider as Vine popped the cork with a flourish, the sound echoing through the loft like a gunshot. The bubbly liquid spilled over the edges of the flutes he filled, the scent of sweet berries and apples tickling their nostrils. They clinked their glasses together, the crystal chiming in the quiet room and everything after that became a blurred symphony of laughter and excitement.
Vine vaguely remembers carrying a pass out Emma to the bedroom and tucking her into bed, her head lolling back onto the pillow with a contented sigh. The last thing he recalls before drifting off to sleep was the feel of her hand in his, her grip tightening briefly before releasing. Now, as the light of day grew stronger, he found himself feeling oddly restless. The dream lingered in his mind, and he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something important he was forgetting.
Beside him, he watched the blonde-haired beauty sleeping softly, her face calm and serene. Gently, he brushed a stray lock from her forehead, feeling a wave of affection wash over him. Though their beginning had been rocky, there was no denying how much Emma had come to mean to him. In just a few months, she had become more than an ally; she was a companion he trusted. Vine sighed, feeling the weight of his past and the cryptic message from his dream settle heavily on him. He couldn't ignore it any longer—he finally had what seemed like an objective to pursue in this world.
"The Black Queen…" Vine murmured under his breath, suddenly aware of the notebook in his hand. He glanced at its blank pages, considering writing down the name, but hesitated and ultimately decided against it. It was only a dream, after all. With a sigh, he set the notebook on the bedside table. As he moved to rise from the bed and start his day, he froze, a sudden realization dawned upon him. "Selene…"
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20 minutes later.
Vine steps off the Taxi after paying the driver, his gaze sweeping over the still, shadowed street. The early morning air is thick with quiet, and the yellow glow of street lamps barely pushes back against the night. A handful of early risers pass by, their footsteps echoing in the silence. Adjusting the strap of his bag, he feels the weight of his sparse belongings settle against him. His phone screen lights up briefly, revealing the time: 5:47 AM. He's got a few hours before sunrise and before Emma wakes. Quickening his pace, Vine heads toward a self-storage complex on the city's outskirts—row upon row of decently sized garage units stretching out before him in the half-light.
The complex is unsettling in its silence, with only faint traffic sounds and the occasional rustle of wind breaking the stillness. Vine spots the storage unit he's after and unlocking it with a key he had on him. The metal door grinds open, unveiling an interior nothing like the standard storage space. A single flickering bulb casts erratic shadows across the floor, illuminating a makeshift yet highly advanced workshop that looks straight out of a sci-fi novel.
Against one wall, a large fridge-size server rack hums softly, and screens flash to life as he steps inside, their glow casting a cold light over the room. On the opposite wall, a meticulously organized gun rack holds a mix of firearms—some with bulky or sleek, advanced designs that look completely futuristic, others more conventional but no less deadly. He inhales as he shut the door behind him, the faint aroma of stale coffee or tea and metal filling his lungs, grounding him in the familiarity of his hidden sanctuary.
"Cooper... are you there?" The Frenchman's voice, barely above a whisper, slices through the silent workshop, a sultry summons into the darkness. Abruptly, a small yet vivid, ethereal form materializes before him—a stunningly provocative brunette woman, her curvaceous figure scarcely clad in a skimpy leopard-print bikini that leaves little to the imagination. Her holographic skin is etched with a lattice of shimmering code, pulsating with a rhythm that echoes her sentience, her awareness. She's a modern pin-up model's interpretation of a classic jungle goddess, exuding raw sexuality amidst the cold steel and gleaming weaponry of the dimly lit sanctum.
Her eyes, sharp and gleaming like the edges of the very blades she was designed to analyze, sweep the space with an intensity that could cut through any darkness or doubt. Yet, when her gaze lands upon her creator, the harshness of her stare softens, and her full, sensual lips curve upward in a smile that could melt the heart of the most hardened of warriors.
"Morning, darling. It has been a week since we last talked. I was starting to think that you would leave a girl hanging in the digital void forever," The UNSC smart AI teases, her eyes sparkling with mischief before they become slightly annoyed as Cooper crosses her slender arms and pouts cutely, unknowingly or not causing her ample bosom to jiggle enticingly. "Do you realize how boring it is here without your charming company?"
"What? Is unrestricted access to this universe's world wide web and a whole library of media and classic literature not keeping you entertained, Coop?" Vine retorts with a smirk, his voice a mix of affection and sarcasm as he sets his bag down beside the workbench. He runs a hand through his hair, still damp from a hasty shower, and tries to ignore the way his body responds to the sight of her. "You'd think a girl like you could find something to do in all that vast digital space."
"Yeah, well, it's true that there's room for real estate if it wasn't for the fact that the internet here is practically prehistoric AND you know it!" The UNSC Smart AI, known as Cooper, practically pouts, her digital hologram flickering slightly as she crosses her arms and rolls her digital eyes dramatically, the leopard print bikini doing little to cover her ample assets that seem to bounce slightly with every movement she makes. Her Mini soda-can-size avatar struts closer to him, her holographic form leaving no footprints on the cold, metal table. "I've had to resort to all the literature and media we have in our database—books, movies, video games, and even... the more adult content..." The Smart AI suddenly pauses, a faint blush appearing on her angelic feature before she shakes her head. "Anyway! I must have gone through all of them, a dozen times now in a span of a Nanosecond." The bikini-clad AI sighs dramatically, her voice laced with frustration. "It's like being in a desert, with nothing but the same old oasis to visit over and over again. Is torture, I tell you!"
"Okay, okay, I understand, you're feeling neglected. But how about this—maybe I can make it up to you in my spare time. I may have a few ideas that might pique your interest," Vine says with a chuckle, briefly appreciating her holographic form before turning to the surrounding screens. "You know I've been slightly busy this past week, finding a new place for me and Emma and getting everything settled." He begins to tinker with some of the tech scattered on the table, ignoring the AI's subtle, reproachful look that shifts into a sly, mischievous expression at the mention of Emma, his mind already racing with thoughts about the Black Queen of the Hellfire Club. "Anyway! moving on, what about the other tasks I assigned you? Give me a quick rundown of what you've found."
"Ah yes, back to business then." The Bikini-clad AI expression lights up with excitement as she snaps her fingers, and a slew of information appears on the screens around them. "S.H.I.E.L.D. network security is a joke, honestly. I breezed right through it and accessed their database without triggering a single alarm," Cooper declared, her voice humming with excitement and evidently quite proud of what she did. "I've gathered all the intel and information on various projects and operations that could be valuable to us. They have an extensive collection of files on mutants and some of the more... unusual occurrences."
"Well, that's not surprising for an organization that's been dancing with super-powered individuals and phenomenon for decades," Vine remarked with a smirk, which faded as he began to scrutinize the data, his eyes scanning the information with the practiced precision of a seasoned military operative. "Alright, let's cut to the chase. Have they or have HYDRA not already infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D.? Are there any signs of their influence or known and potential double agents?"
The bikini-clad AI winced, her fingers absently twirling a lock of her hair, causing Vine to stifle a groan. "Based on my analysis, I'd say there's a 70% chance that something shadowy has weaseled its way into S.H.I.E.L.D. The evidence is piecemeal, but the patterns of encrypted communications and unexplained system glitches suggest something nefarious at play," she reported, her voice taking on a serious tone. Cooper's eyes darted across the screens, displaying a multitude of data points as she continued. "But without more time and better resources than this..." she gestured around the improvised workspace, "...it's like trying to solve a puzzle blindfolded. Not to mention that the technology here is still so primitive that I can't provide a complete picture."
"Figure… Great! Add upgrading our setup to the ever-growing to-do list then…." Vine muttered, rubbing his temples. "It could be HYDRA or it could be something else entirely—we just wouldn't know until we have more information to confirm it." The Frenchman grimaced and then shook his head. "Want to wager that the U.S. government in this world, and by extension the global government, is also compromised?" He posed the question rhetorically, a note of resignation in his voice. "Not that it's surprising. The comic lore always depicted HYDRA as a hydra, literally—a many-headed beast, infiltrating every shadow and crevice of world governments." He paused, his eyes scanning the data Cooper had presented. "Hold on… well, isn't this interesting?"
An image and its corresponding file pop up on the screen, instantly capturing Vine's attention. It's a report on a blue, luminescent cube, marked "Tesseract." His eyes widen as he scans the details, recognizing the object from various films and comics. "Ah, so the Space Stone is here," he murmurs to himself, a touch of awe in his voice as he considers the implications. "This could be either very troubling or…" The Frenchman shook his head. "Regardless, excellent work, Cooper. But let's set this aside for now. I have another pressing task for you."
"Oh? What is it that you need your dear AI to do?" Cooper's holographic eyes gleamed with curiosity as her mini-avatar suddenly reappeared in front of Vine, her expression shifting from playful to eager. She clasped her hands behind her back, straightening her posture in a way that accentuated her curves. "I'm always ready to serve, darling."
Vine tried to ignore the way Cooper's barely-there bikini left little to the imagination as she leaned closer, focusing instead on the task at hand. "I need you to dig deeper into the Hellfire Club," he said, his voice firm. "Find out everything you can about their operations, their members, and most importantly, one specific individual—Selene Gallio. I want her potential residence and base, her connections, her subordinates, and what she's been potentially up to. I want a full profile, down to the dirtiest details."
"Peeping Tom, are we?" Cooper's smile was wry as she leaned against the workbench, her digital form casting a ghostly shadow on the metal surface. "But alright, I'll get to work on that right away. Just remember, I'll need some juicy details about your rendezvous with the lovely Miss Frost to keep things even-stevens, yeah?"
"Hmm, I should have expected you to be the nosy type, Coop," Vine quipped, though the seriousness in his tone didn't waver. He knew Cooper was just trying to engage him, eager to learn more about her creator, about the man who had summoned her into existence. But he had more pressing matters to deal with than indulging in banter about his love life. "Just do what you did with the S.H.I.E.L.D. intel—discreet, thorough, and fast. You did an excellent job for your first time out-of-the-box, I trust you'll nail this one too, right?"
"Easily, darling." Cooper winked, her digital form shifting in a way that accentuated her curves, intentionally or not giving Vine a generous view of her assets. With a snap of her fingers, the screens flickered to life, displaying a map of the USA with various locations highlighted in red. One location in particular stood out prominently—New York City. "So, what's your next move while I'm digging up the dirt?"
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AN: I apologize to my readers for the delay in updates. Life has been hectic, and when it's not, I've been either exhausted or unmotivated, making writing feel like an uphill battle. But I'm back, eager to share more with you. I hope you don't mind the wait, and if life cuts me some slack, you might see more frequent updates. Until then, thank you for reading this chapter.