Scorpio

THIRTY NINE - No Soul in Soldier On

The hovercraft bowed to him, before whizzing off. Sam glanced back into the giant hole. An unconscious man lay in the center - standard rescue op, then. Get in, grab the body. Get out.

Sam retracted his jet-pack, metal feathers clicking against each other as they folded up snugly into the shell on his back. There was no time for unease. Sam took a breath, then stepped off the side of the roof, the grates growing closer and closer to the bottom of his boots. Instinctively, he curled himself in, ready to tuck and roll...

...and the grates shifted to the sands of Afghanistan right before his eyes.

*******

Dr. Strange found himself in an odd position.

For him, two realities existed - one where he lay on a grate, motionless, as a large shadow cast over him, and one where he was landing punches on a buff-elf ghost while suspended in the air. He tried to focus more on the latter.

Undoubtedly, Thanos would have figured out their battle plan by now. If not, he'd have scoured some hapless soul's mind for it, and that didn't tip the scale in their direction, any. Thanos was looking for the stones. The Avengers, of course, single-handedly decided to bring all the stones to him. It was a mad gamble - ridiculous, really - and Dr. Strange was really hoping a moping goatee man and a senile buff one knew what they were doing exactly, because even if he turned back time now, he wouldn't be in any better of a position to argue for his cause. Going over this moment a thousand times would be just as effective as going over it once. He would know. He'd already done it.

A massive hand. A hiss. The swelter of a burn mark. The Infinity Gauntlet...melting? His body smarting as it was thrown across the room.

Corvus Glaive helped himself in Dr. Strange's slight lull in attention by kicking him full force in the ribs, and Dr. Strange reeled, groaning. A few more hits, then Corvus would be done for, body decimated by a particularly wicked solar blast. That Danvers woman had very little empathy for anything non-human - actually, she had very little empathy, period. The Skrulls sort of followed her like a queen, and the humans were her blood. But she was strong, and as far as he could see, on their side. It would not help their cause at all if they began spitting at each other for their faults.

Dr. Strange retaliated against the buff elf with a snap-kick of his own, then leapt forward to swing his fist across his opponent's chin, sending the pale creature spinning. Any second now. He spotted the Maw creeping behind him in the corner of his periphery, and an idea sprung to mind.

Abandoning Corvus, Dr. Strange faked his way to the Maw and he ducked beneath the proffered hand - the telekinetic punched like his grandmother swatted flies - before sliding up behind the scaly, bald head. Locking his elbow across the Maw's throat, he pushed off the wall, chucking the telekinetic's astral-projection best he could and hoping for the imminent conflagration of the elf.

Corvus, having recovered, opened his eyes just to see the Maw flailing out at him. The two aliens caught themselves in an awkward sort of tackle-pretzel - and that was all it took before Corvus burst into flames, howling as pure solar energy burned up his body, taking his and the Maw's souls as well.

*******

The purple light of dusk filtered through the gaping hole in the ceiling, consequently spotlighting the play below.

Three figures lay on the grated metal floor - one of them still as death, the other two spasming visibly. One appeared to be crawling away, sweating profusely and pulling himself forward on shaking forearms. The other curled into himself, cradling something against his chest, as if to hide it from the world - but not out of self-preservation, mind you. He was ashamed of it.