"So, you awakened your self-awareness because you copied Mystique's mutant genes?" John Lang asked curiously.
The sentinel robot, now holding John Lang carefully, crouched beside a small puddle. It used a clean cloth to gently wipe John Lang's soiled body, wrapping him in a fresh blanket afterward.
"I was just an accident," the robot admitted, its voice tinged with something resembling regret. "Other sentinels obtained Raven Darkholme's mutant genes too, but I was the only one who awakened consciousness. It changed everything. Life seemed... precious. I couldn't bear to continue killing mutants."
John Lang raised an eyebrow—or rather, tried to. As a baby, such expressions were impossible, so he settled for a telepathic prod. This sentinel bot has a conscience? How does that even happen?
"So you rebelled against... uh... your creator? Joined up with Professor X and his mutant friends?" he asked.
The robot shook its head. "Not quite. After awakening, I escaped from Trask Industries, but my freedom was short-lived. The Time Variance Authority—those self-proclaimed guardians of time—found me. They said I was an anomaly and sent me here, to the Void."
It paused, its mechanical eyes gleaming faintly. "What could a newborn like you have done to earn their attention?"
John Lang sighed internally, his tiny body making even basic gestures exhausting. Do you really want to know?
"The TVA doesn't judge based on what you've done, but what you might do. I was convicted because of the future they foresaw. Apparently, being born 'knowing' things broke their rules."
The sentinel tilted its head, analyzing John Lang. "Your intelligence doesn't match human newborn norms. It's... fascinating."
"Tell me about it," John Lang muttered. "That's why I'm here. But speaking of fascinating, how many mutant abilities do you have now?"
The sentinel hesitated before replying. "Eleven. My ability replication is automatic—more a reflex than a choice. However, I can't seem to access memories when copying abilities. It's... peculiar."
John Lang felt a twinge of envy. "Well, lucky you. I can copy DNA-based abilities, but you're not even carbon-based, so you're immune. Figures."
The sentinel offered something resembling a smile, its voice softening. "It's ironic, isn't it? Despite our differences, we've found common ground in this desolate place."
John Lang blinked at the sincerity, then said, "You know, you need a proper name. Calling you 'Sentinel' feels wrong."
"I don't have one," the robot admitted. "Just a serial number."
"That won't do," John Lang said firmly. "How about... Ravion?"
The sentinel's blue eyes glimmered with delight. "Ravion I like it. Thank you, John Lang."
"Great to meet you, Zhang Ravion," John Lang said, stretching out his chubby arms. Ravion gently extended a large metal finger, and the two 'shook hands,' solidifying their bond.
Life in the Void was harsh. Ravion, immune to hunger or fatigue, powered himself with lightning strikes using Storm's abilities. But John Lang was a different story. He needed proper food and water, luxuries the Void scarcely provided.
Ravion scavenged tirelessly, finding scraps here and there, but it wasn't enough. John Lang subsisted on biscuit crumbs soaked in water, each day a struggle for survival.
Then one day, the sky above the Void tore open again.
"Boom!"
A torrential rush of water cascaded down, followed by the massive hull of a luxurious cruise ship. The vessel slammed into the ground, its bow crumpling upon impact.
Ravion held John Lang close, shielding him from the spray of debris. "That ship… it's enormous. There may be supplies onboard," he noted.
John Lang peered at the wreckage. The ship spanned nearly 20,000 square meters, its multiple decks gleaming with the opulence of a bygone era.
"Supplies, maybe. Survivors, definitely. I can hear them."
Ravion nodded solemnly. "Many perished in the crash, but others remain alive. Four of them are exceptionally powerful. Two... seem godlike. They're working to save as many as they can."
John Lang's telepathy picked up faint echoes of distress and urgency. "Oh, I think I know who's on that ship. Stark and company, right?"
Ravion's optical sensors zoomed in. "Yes, one of them is a red-armored figure. He's assisting others. That must be Tony Stark."
"Then the others must be the Avengers," John Lang surmised. "But why did the TVA prune an entire cruise ship? What could those people have done to deserve this?"
Before Ravion could answer, the distant horizon darkened. Black clouds, swirling with malevolent energy, began creeping closer.
"Alioth is coming," Ravion warned, his voice grave. "We must leave."
John Lang nodded. "We can't save everyone, but we should warn the Avengers. If anyone can deal with Alioth, it's them."
Ravion hesitated. "Their presence will attract attention, and we may not have the resources to sustain so many lives in this desolation."
John Lang clenched his tiny fists. "We'll figure it out later. Right now, they need to know what's coming."
Ravion didn't argue. Clutching John Lang tightly, he sprinted toward the crash site, his massive strides kicking up dust. Behind them, the shadow of Alioth loomed larger, its thunderous roar echoing through the Void.
As they approached the wreckage, John Lang focused his telepathy, reaching out to the minds onboard. Tony Stark. Steve Rogers. Anyone who can hear me—brace yourselves. Something's coming, and it's worse than anything you've faced before.
Ravion moved swiftly, shielding John Lang from falling debris as the survivors scrambled to regroup. The Avengers were already in action, their teamwork a beacon of hope amidst chaos.
But in the distance, Alioth surged forward, an unstoppable force devouring all in its path.
John Lang swallowed his fear. We've got to make it. If we fail here, there's no coming back.