Chapter 12: Res Ipsa Part 2
Chapter 12 Res Ipsa Part 2
When I woke up, it was in a SHIELD interrogation room. I was in human form again, both of my arms handcuffed behind me, omnitrix still on. I took slow breaths, breathing calmly.
This place looked familiar. I hadn't been in it, but all of them looked the same after enough time. Metal walls in a honeycomb pattern, a plastic table, cuffs made to hold superhumans. Fun.
The door opened. A man in an old SHIELD uniform from the comics came in and sat down across from me, holding a manilla folder. He looked very serious. I decided to give him a second before I'd counter.
"Good afternoon. I'm Agent Todd Cleery of SHIELD. Do you know why you're here?"
Reaching. He wanted me to suggest why I was here.
"Yes, I do," I said seriously. "You want my recipe for jalapeno poppers. However, that is privileged information. I'll only give it with my lawyer present."
He smirked. "Have you done something that requires a lawyer?"
"I did share a chimichanga recipe with Deadpool once."
He winced, glancing around like Wade was going to pop out of a wall, which to be fair had good odds of happening. Then he glared at me.
"Son, you know the name of one of our newest headaches. That doesn't bode well for you."
"You realize being in handcuffs in a spy organization's interrogation room usually means things already aren't going well? What, I don't get read my rights? Do secret organizations not follow the law of the land anymore?"
He smirked once more. "Boy, you showed up in the middle of New York City and spiked every geiger counter in three miles while speaking with a Russian accent. Oh, or maybe you aren't connected to the Soviets. Your human form looks Middle-Eastern to me. Iranian, maybe?"
"Nah man, I'm a New Yorker. Fugedaboutit. How about you? Are you actually a SHIELD agent, or one of those asshole HYDRA infiltrators you always seem to have in abundance around here?"
His face went very, very still. He opened up his folder, looking annoyed. "All right. Clearly you have no idea what sort of trouble you're in."
"For helping a known superhero arrest five supervillains destroying a few city blocks?"
"Oh, is that how you'd put it?" Cleery smacked his folder. "Because first, Spider-Man is a vigilante, who you aided and abetted…"
"I like to think of it as very proactive citizen's arrests," I countered.
"Left enough radiation to cook a Christmas roast from a hundred paces…"
"I made sure none of it was more harmful than your average cell phone, thank you very much! And I cleaned it up afterwards, unlike some other radiation spewing people."
The agent paused.
"Son, do you have any idea how expensive a cellular telephone is?"
"Too expensive," which was true no matter what century you were in.
"Hmm. Then, to top it off, you have no identity we can find." He dropped the folder on the table. "We can't find any information on you. Your face doesn't match any one in any government database we've ever seen. Is that even your real face?"
He leaned in, looking closely at me. "Shapeshifter, right? How far does that go? You a mutie? An alien?"
"The second one. Sometimes. I usually stick to being human. Also, mutie is derogatory as fuck, what the hell dude?"
"It's accurate," he countered, leaning back. "Muties, aliens, those rampant tech idiots. Might be that big gauntlet we can't get off of you is part of it. Point is? Guys like me keep guys like you from killing others. And unless you give me something I'll have to consider you a threat to the American people."
I thought about that. Then I leaned back. "Lawyer."
He scowled, rising to his feet. "Fine. Have it your way. But this is SHIELD. We don't have to give you a lawyer. I'm going to leave you in this room. And until you agree to cooperate, I'm going to make sure nobody remembers you're in here."
Adorable. The agent left the room, probably smug about how I was going to be freaking out in there.
Hm… Now. What would Natasha do? Probably sneak out and show up back home with no one even knowing she'd gone on an adventure.
But me, I kind of wanted Cleery to pay for being a dick. A racist dick at that. Iranian, really? A SHIELD base, with old SHIELD protocols, security systems, and vending machines. I kept my eyes off where the camera was hidden. Okay. Let's have some fun.
Agent Todd Cleery
Ten hours later, Todd Cleery was walking through the base, grumbling under his breath. He was a little annoyed. His lunch, labeled and everything, had disappeared from the break room fridge. Of course. Hopefully he'd get clearance to access the cameras and find who had stolen it.
"How goes the Arab Alien?" Todd said as he walked into the security room overlooking the prison block..
"Your new guy?" Another agent said, looking over at Todd before flickering the camera to the image of the newest prisoner of the SHIELD Staten Island black site. "Bored. He's been sat still for the last ten hours."
"That shows training at least," Todd mumbled, eyeing the camera. The bearded man with his hair pulled into a ponytail was staring forward unmoving. He didn't seem too bothered.
"What are you thinking, Russian?" the other agent asked.
"Maybe. They do real well training their operatives to do the accent. But this guy is too brown. And the Iranians don't have anything like him. He's one of the other dune coon's."
Todd chuckled at the rhyme, ignoring a look of disgust from the other agent. While he was chuckling, the screen bounced. Todd blinked. "What the hell?"
"You see something?" The other agent asked before Todd hushed him. He stared closer at the screen.
For a long moment, things were normal. Then the image bounced again. Todd flinched. "It's on a loop!"
"What!?" The other agent shouted, horrified. "How!? This closed circuit thing is brand fucking new, and the tapes are in the other room!"
"Quick, fix it now-"
"I'm doing it, just give me a-"
After a mere moment of pressing, almost too easy a set of button pressing, the live feed came up from one of the cameras.
"...No fucking way," Todd said, horrified. He'd been worried the Arab Alien had escaped. It was worse.
He was eating. Eating lasagna and sipping a coke. On the bag the food had been contained in, a single name rested. Todd Cleery.
That was Todd's leftover lasagna. He'd brought it from home and left it in the break room. He recognized the tupperware.
"THE RAGHEAD STOLE MY LUNCH!"
The prisoner was bobbing his head, a pair of orange earphones on his head and a matching CD player on the table.
"And my Walkman!?"
Dial/Mahmoud Schahed
Todd had good taste in music. Kinda. There was a sad lack of Queen or 90s hip hop. Though maybe that was cause it didn't exist yet here. The hip hop, not Queen.
It hadn't been too hard to mess with the cameras. Upgrade let me do it with ease. Put it on loop to show the moments before I changed. From there, sneaking into the break room and stealing some food. It was going to just be something random, but I went for Cleery's food the second I got the chance.
I had a better handle on the date. The expiration dates on the soda and chips Cleery had let me find out it was 1991, before December. The same with the magazines I'd found. All of it was out of date though.
As I finished up the lasagna, the door burst open. Todd stared at me, rage in his eyes.
"Sup, Todd?" I raised his soda. "You want to finish this? Have the last sip?"
He stepped in, grinning at me savagely. Then he slammed the door behind him. "Okay. I was going to be nice. But now?" He reached for his belt, unhooking the taser that rested there. "…I'm going to enjoy this part."
Todd Cleery strode towards me, cruelty in his eyes.
"Hm… NRG." A flash.
Cleery stopped. Stared. I stared back, unmoving in a full suit of metal. He hesitantly stabbed the taser at me. I didn't move. Then he experimentally punched at me. Just a light nervous tap. Finally he turned and walked out.
"You want your walkman back?"
He flinched, but kept moving.
"Ah well. Next time I guess."
Now I was feeling like reading a bit more. There were some magazines in one of the rooms I'd passed.
Cleery tried. He really really tried. But I just kept at it. I'd sneak out, find something to do, then return to the interrogation room. I defaulted to Ethereal a lot. Made it harder for them to read my body language. And made it fun to read their minds.
"Cleery, you've got to know. John, your friend? He's not a fan of your homophobia."
"Did you know that many agents in your organization spend stakeouts where nothing happens playing Galaga at the arcade?"
"Jane and Samantha are in love, and neither will admit it. For the love of god, please tell them to shut up and ask each other out already."
"The entire IT department is full of furries. I don't know if that's actually news to you, but I wanted it said."
Also, making up conspiracies. Or in some cases, not making them up.
"So yeah, there's a hollow earth, with a king currently roaming around. He's gonna end up causing trouble soon with the Mole Man. You should keep a lookout."
"The aglet is the name of those tassels at the ends of shoelaces. Their true purpose is far more sinister."
"Tony Stark is actually a genetically created superbaby created to stop the end of the world using his genius. He does have a brother as well, who is far better looking."
"The Earth is flat. I know I said it was hollow like a day ago, but that was just a clever misdirection!"
"There is a 32nd flavor of Baskin Robbins ice cream. Don't let the elite find out you know of its horrific existence."
"Doctor Doom sometimes travels back in time to booty call King Arthur's sister and learn magic. He also sometimes is immortal, no clue how he pulls that shit off."
"Everything from ancient Egypt is inevitably evil. Except Moon Knight. He is ok, if a bit crazy."
Okay, look, I was three days in and Cleery looked so hopeless.
They kept trying to take things back when I stole them, which ruined the Feng Shui of my cell. I'd put up nice posters, photos of their family, I'd rest their wallets across my table in interesting ways and geometric patterns, and then they'd ruin them. Sad.
The security measures got more and more interesting, but I always had an alien on hand that could bypass them. They didn't try to hit me or anything. The fact I didn't try to hurt anyone or even attempt to leave the facility probably helped. But I kept escaping my cell. And they kept despairing.
On day four, someone entered the room while I was playing cards with myself in Ethereal form (And losing, somehow). I glanced up at her, then really looked at her.
"You aren't SHIELD."
"What was your first clue? That whichever asshole SHIELD had break into my apartment this time grabbed non-matching suit separates?" The woman dropped a briefcase on the table and pulled a folder out of it. "Here. Mostly standard boilerplate. You got the same nonstandard identity clauses I gave to Spider-Man."
"Spider-Man?" I asked, my four arms coming forward. "He's okay?"
In my Ethereal form, I could have tried to dip into her mind. But I decided against it. Better to be nice now that I might have help on my side. Still, I wondered what she was thinking... And why I felt almost pulled in by her.
The woman looked at me, and shuddered.
"... I am so sorry to ask this, but, um." She fidgeted slightly. "According to what little that ass out front said, you're a shapeshifter, and that form is just… I don't know, but I can't help but feel really unsettled. Would you terribly mind…?"
"Huh… yeah, I guess I look weird." I got the sense it wasn't that. But for the sake of being nice, I tapped the Omnitrix.
In my human form, I looked her over again.
Blonde. Short, very short. But she reminded me of some of the other badass ladies in my life. She had a toughness to her. Maybe not the same kind as Jen's more boisterous toughness or Nat's knife sharp kind, but I could still see it.
"I guess if I'm signing this, you'll need a name?" I picked up the folder and opened it. "I'm Mahmoud. Codename is Dial. You?"
She looked up at me and gestured at the folder.
"Shouldn't have said that until you signed," she told me. "Especially that latter half. Read, decide if you want to sign. If you do, then we can talk freely."
I decided to listen to the serious lady. I looked over the folder, doing it the way Jen taught me. Make sure not to skip over the legalese where it might confuse me. She couldn't make me a legal expert, but she could make sure I wouldn't get screwed over.
Which I wouldn't. I read it all the way through. Including the date. September 28th, 1991.
"Waking up, to ash and dust, dada, dada," Humming to myself, I reached under the table and grabbed one of the drinks I'd taken. Then I looked over at her. "Oh, you want anything? I stole soda, tea, and coffee."
"Eight hours of sleep and a bowl of chicken soup. But you don't have that, so just a bottle of water," she said. Then blinked. "Huh. That song. What is it?"
"Radioactive," I said. I grinned. "You might not be ready for it yet. Yer kids are gonna love it."
"Hmm…" She held a hand up to just beneath her lips. "Back to the Future. I imagine you think you're rather clever, don't you? Mr. Schahed."
"Not half as clever as I should be," I said with some small honesty. "Where'd that-"
Wait. What the fucking hell.
"How did you know my last name?"
"The first thing you should have asked is, 'are the cameras off?'" The woman waved a hand up at the corner. "CCTV won't be widespread for another few years, and they're still trying to fix whatever you did to their system already. But you should absolutely have been more careful before giving your name."
Fair. Natasha would have smacked me for doing it. But in my defense, Mahmoud was one of the most popular names for guys who looked like me… Nah, Natasha would have smacked me again.
"Yeah, I should have. But even then, how do you know my last name?"
I didn't add to that. Figured I wouldn't have to. She seemed like the type to know when a guy was suddenly dangerous.
"Hmm," she hummed. "How indeed?" She raised her other hand and snapped her fingers.
The sound of shattering glass and static. Her form flickered, rainbow glass fluttering over her skin then drifting away. Like a magical girl transformation in fast forward.
Actually, it kind of felt like magic. Barely.
It was fast, and impressively beautiful. When it was over, a magical creature stood before me.
She had horns, curling back from the sides of her face, another bit of cartilaginous material on the bridge of her nose and on the sides of her cheeks, trailing down her neck. A tail swung behind her, long and spiked at the ends.
"Speaking as an expert on transforming, 7 out of 10," I said, feeling just a bit lost. "Points for subtlety, but needs more giant muscles."
The woman frowned. Okay, tone it down. "Seriously. What is going on? You look familiar? Are you a-"
Marvel character was what I wanted to ask. That seemed wrong somehow. Where had I seen someone like her from. Who-
"Mm. You know, I'm a little disappointed. I would have thought a shapeshifter could tell when somebody else wasn't." She sniffed. "It was an illusion. This is just how I normally look."
"You'd be a pretty bad shapeshifter if I could tell... That was pretty good honestly." Seriously, the illusion had been subtle. A slight shifting of her hips with the weight of her tail, the way her hair floated just a bit oddly in small sections. It would have taken me a long time to figure it out. She was either good or used to hiding it. Maybe both.
Agatha would have nodded in small approval.
"True. Regardless, we're losing the point." The dragon-woman pulled out a pen and set it on top of the contract. "Sign, and we can talk freely."
I took a hold of the pen and signed it. Hopefully Jen's lessons had helped. Didn't want to accidentally sign my soul over. Agatha would have been pissed if she had to make a portal to hell again.
Once signed, I handed her the contract. "So. We good?"
She flipped open the folder to inspect the contract, then nodded at something and put it away.
"Mm. So, Mahmoud. What's the last year you can remember before things got weird?"
"2014," I winced. "Kind of. Lady, you need to know, that is a loaded question."
What, was I supposed to tell her I was from 2018, then got sent to 2014, and now was in the days of the Fresh Prince?
"Mr. Schahed." Uh-oh, she was back to my last name. "If you want my help, I need honesty. If you lie to me again, I will walk out the door and leave you to face Mr. Fury's tender mercies in another twenty minutes, alone."
"Can't have that. I don't want to destroy a SHIELD facility again," I mumbled. "Okay, 2018. It was 2018 for me."
"Hmm." The woman smiled. "Interesting. 2021."
No. Fucking. Way. My eyes bugged out of my head. I'd seen some strange shit. But this… You didn't need to be Tony to connect the dots here.
"How long!" I half-asked, half-yelled. "Were you here, I mean? Wait, I have way more-"
I groaned, rubbing my head. "You know me? Don't you? The real me."
"I think I did once, a long time ago," she said. "It's been… God, it's been that long already?" The woman shook her head. "Count yourself lucky my memory is as good as it is, Mr. Schahed. I've forgotten more than you could imagine."
"You should write in a diary," I joked. Please let her know I was joking. I rubbed my head again. "Okay. You're a visitor-"
"No," she interrupted. "This is home for me."
"Well I'm not going to say the other thing. Dimensional immigrant? We're DIs, how about that?"
She shrugged. "Won't hold up in court. But good enough, for now."
Why is life so weird? "So uh…meet anyone cool-" I cut myself off. "Scratch that. How much do you need to know so that I can get back to my world and girlfriend? And how much cool shit can you share?"
"How long ago the big names arrived on the scene, two or three major recent events, and if there's anything or anyone noteworthy that's missing," she said. Then she leaned forward, a scary grin on her face. "And ooh, a girlfriend, hmm? What's her naaaaame?~"
Oh god, this was going to sound like a lie. "Jennifer Walters."
She blinked and fell back into her seat. Her mouth fell open slightly, then closed with a click.
"... oh she is going to freak when I talk to her next."
"Don't tell her dad or cousin, I can't take getting chased by the Hulk again," I sighed. "Okay. So let me start with… the beginning, I guess? I was writing, late at night. Not something uncommon for me. I was working on a new story after a long day-"
"Not helpful," she said with a wave of her hand. "First major, world-shaking event, and who was involved. That's what I need."
"Tony Stark built a suit in a cave with a box of scraps?"
She raised an eyebrow. "You are singularly bad at this. Where and when?"
"2008, in the middle of… Afghanistan? He got kidnapped by the Ten Rings. Later fought a weird Russian dude named Whiplash. Then Thor came to Earth and boxed with the Destroyer- uh, do you know what is the-"
"No, and I don't need to know," she said. "Next?"
"Cap came out of the ice," I continued, getting into my groove. "Then the Avengers came together to fight an alien race called the Chitauri with Loki leading them. Uh, 2012."
I'd forgotten to mention the years of the other things.
"... I see," she said. "That's probably all the information the geniuses are going to need to work their magic, but…" She sighed. "It's going to take some time, I'm afraid. And that's all assuming you can even get Fury to not try and put a bullet through your forehead."
"Don't worry, I can survive it," I said helpfully. "Oh, uh, do you know about Ben 10?"
Maybe I was being too free with information? I don't know, I liked her. She was grumpy and fun.
The woman frowned, tilting her head to the side slightly.
"... what?"
I tapped the Omnitrix. In a flash of green, I transformed again, this time into arguably the most iconic Ben 10 alien. "FOUR ARMS!"
The woman flinched, hands coming up to the sides of her head.
"Ow! Holy shit, why did you have to yell?"
I looked at her, confused. I didn't think it was that bad. "S-Sorry? But uh… yeah. I'll be fine. If I get shot."
Thought only Matt acted like that when I did the yell…
She sighed, rubbing at her temples. "Fury had better just tell the government to smile and nod when I bill this… I was on vacation, damn it!" She slapped the table in frustration. "Vacation! In Hawaii! With two beautiful women!... neither of who were—anyway! Tropical! Vacation! And SHIELD ruined it!!"
"...You want to vacation in my universe? I can offer all the things." Look, I was trying man.
"I can't," she replied, voice glum. "Even on vacation, I have to stay by the phone. Welcome to being an attorney, I guess." She sighed. "I miss ebooks."
Oh right, Jen had the same thing going on.
Sitting my sculpted red butt down, I crossed my arms. "Well. You've told me the score. So. What's your name?"
She looked up at me. And then, she gave me a small smile, and offered her hand.
"Noa Schaefer, Esquire. At your service."
I shook her hand gently in one of mine. "Nice to meet you, despite the circumstances. Next, can we get me out of this prison and into my universe without me needing to destroy a SHIELD facility and possibly starting a war with the superheroes here?"
Noa looked at me. Her right eye was twitching.
"Please never put that particular string of words together in that order ever again," she said. "But yes, I think I can get you out of this cell. As for getting you back to your own universe… that's going to take some calls and scheduling. Depends how busy Reed Richards and the good doctor are this week."
"Cool," I said. Awesome. I wouldn't have to start a fight with people… maybe I could do it anyways. I kinda wanted to see what supervillains were around. Fighting the Six had been fun. "So. Wanna trade stories later?"
"I have a feeling mine will be substantially less interesting than yours," she said (Probably lied. I got the feeling her life was more interesting than she wanted, even without my boxing Infinity Stone users). "But sure." Then she frowned, bringing a hand to her lower lip again. "Hm… I'll need to make sure SHIELD gets you a hotel room. You don't exactly have a valid ID… eh," she shrugged. "I'll make it Fury's problem."
"Wow, you really hate Fury, don't you?"
She gave me the side-eye. "Oh, you have noidea."
"You should meet mine." The door opened as I was speaking. "He looks like Sam Jackson."
"Now that does sound interesting." That wasn't Noa. Not without that baritone voice.
I looked over at the speaker, a very white man with an eyepatch and hair shaved into a military cut. Who was also built like a brick shithouse, wearing a SHIELD command uniform. He smirked, eyeing me.
"Fuck off, Fury," Noa interrupted. "It hasn't been thirty minutes yet and you know it."
He didn't flinch, only smirking. "Yes, I know. Just seems our cameras might be broken. I wanted to make sure they're working."
I looked at Noa, who was shaking her head at me. Not gonna talk then. I watched Fury, Nick 'Howling Commando' Fury, walk in, making a show of looking up at the camera.
"Funny how someone we don't know understood SHIELD protocols well enough to slip around our security. Even seemed to anticipate our answers to those holes in our net. I'm not interrogating, by the way, simply making conversation."
Wow. I think he liked Noa. My Fury had the same weird smile on his face when he was messing with people he liked.
"The 'just being friendly' approach wasn't appreciated when you broke into my home, and it isn't appreciated now," Noa said with crossed arms. "Just slap a fitting label on his file and let me make some calls. Make it… I don't know." She took one hand and waved it airily. "Code Dorothy, or Code Oz."
"Code Lyoko available?"
"Oh for the love of - shut it," Noa snapped at me.
"Lyoko," Fury mumbled, but let it go. Well, pretended to let it go. "Sure thing, Schaefer. Let me get right on that. And you," he glanced at me. "You don't let her shut you up, you hear?"
In response, I tapped the Omnitrix and silently changed to Goop. No body language to read anymore.
Fury frowned, but walked out casually. "Let me know if you need me, Schaefer. You have the number."
The door slammed shut. Noa slunk down into a seat, fingers massaging her temples, and let out a deep sigh.
"I fucking hate that man."
"...You wanna see the stuff he hides in his office?" I asked her. "He's closer to the IT department than you'd think, if you know what I mean."
"Fury's real office is somewhere inside the Capitol Beltway around DC," Noa grumbled. "I think. If there's an office for him here, he deliberately left it just to mess with and test his agents."
Ah. She thought I was incompetent now. The Capitol Beltway wasn't that far from here. Well, I'd tell her later. Okay. I'd trust that the random lady who knew who I was and where I was from would have my back. Just needed to let the law do its thing.
I missed Jen. She'd have loved this shit.
"Okay." Noa stood up from the chair. "I'm going to go pester the ass out front to get accommodations arranged for you. Then I'm taking you somewhere that SHIELD doesn't have wired six ways to Sunday."
"Sure thing," I said. "Where would that be though?"
I mean, I had a mental list, but who know how viable those were. Did the Avengers Mansion exist? Or did Wanda break it?
"Oh, that's easy," Noa said. "My condo."
"Mrs. Schaefer, why I never!" I said with a grin.
"One, Ms.," she corrected. "Two, you're not my type."
"Ah. Gotcha. You want me to introduce you to people who are your type?" Because I got the sense she was Fantasma's.
"Thanks, but no," she said with a smirk. "I do have a girlfriend."
That bit of banter aside, the meeting seemed to go well. Now to let the law do its work.
… wait.
"Hey, how do you know SHIELD doesn't have your condo wired, anyway?"
"Hm?" Noa paused, one hand on the door handle. "Oh, I had my godfather check."
"Ah, I see we're into vague answers that mean nothing out of context. I like it, very ominous."
Noa Schaefer's condo was in Greenwich Village. We were on Staten Island. Bout a 40 minute drive or so, depending on exact location and traffic conditions.
So plenty of time to get to know each other.
Once out of all the security surrounding the prison block, (I made a note to send Fury a list of improvements he could make) we entered into a private garage and approached a Lincoln Town Car with a driver waiting. There was a partition in the car, affording us some privacy. Some.
Just in case, I entered Fasttrack mode just before we entered. A quick run around. Three trackers, two of which were obvious, one of which Nat's lessons marked for me. A very weak bug in the glove compartment, one more in the backseats hidden in a seatbelt. And three cameras, one hidden on the grill to see where we were going, and two inside the passenger lights inside the car.
The driver was legit at least. Or as legit as my spy training could find after checking his wallet at super-speed then putting it back.
I tossed all of those aside, then went Upgrade and melded with the car, ignoring the look on the driver's face. This had to be done. Only one more tracker, this one hidden inside the rubber tire. I disabled that and separated from the vehicle after making some small repairs, reentering my human form.
"Had to make sure," I explained to Noa, who shrugged.
"I think they were a bit blatant with this one," she said. "When I got paid a visit, the man himself didn't actually leave any bugs. The paranoia was more than enough, I guess."
"I was thinking it was a test, honestly. Only one of them was really trying," I looked over at the driver. His mouth was open a bit too wide. "You okay, man?"
"Uh," the professional driver in him came back quickly. He swallowed, nodding. "Y-Yes. Ma'am, sir. If you will?"
He held the door open. We hopped in, the car starting up. As he rolled out, I looked Noa over while she slid shut the car's privacy screen.
I shouldn't trust her. She was, technically, a lawyer brought in by Fury. Who knew my last name. And could turn into a dragon…scale… person.
That last part was the least relevant, really.
At the least, she wasn't a mind reader. I'd have sensed that as Ethereal. Actually she felt like the… opposite of a mind reader? A mind book, of sorts? I'd almost felt pulled in. Point was, she was a mystery.
"If you have questions, ask away," she said. "You're not going to insult me."
"I have a bunch of questions. But I need to figure out which ones are best," Come on, Dial. You've got a lawyer girlfriend, a spy teacher, and a businessman best friend. You know what to ask now that Fury isn't listening in. Start small.
"How do you know me?"
Noa frowned. "We were friends… I think. It's been years, and I've forgotten a lot of specifics. But I didn't know very many Muslims by name, and I still don't, so… well, you're lucky you have a memorable name."
"It's one of the most common names in the world," I said, though I chuckled to let her know I got it. "In that case, I wish I knew who you were, in turn. I miss my old friends and family. I mean, I love my new life. But sometimes…"
My mom would have hated Jen. She always wanted me to marry a good Muslim girl. But I'd still have wanted them to meet.
"Don't worry about it," Noa thankfully cut off that sad line of thought with a smile. "Not like you'd be able to recognize me anyways."
"How about you? Miss anything?" I asked while thinking out the next more serious question.
"The internet. Having to go through law school again, and without it this time? And don't get me started on knowing precedent that isn't precedent yet." She laughed. "Oh. Seafood. I'm allergic to it now. That, and most thai food uses shrimp stock or paste, so… can't have that."
"Oh damn, that sucks," I said, shaking my head. "I kinda lucked out by comparison. Granted, I get punched in the face more, but at least I've got internet. Fair trade. How involved are you with the comic shit in this universe?"
No subtlety. She was a lawyer, my lawyer. I wanted answers, not to win some weird spy conversation. I'm sure Nat would have had her bent over in a few conversations, but I was making friends.
"In truth, I've tried to stay as far away from it as possible," she said with a frown. I held in a laugh. "Unfortunately, it's had a way of, well, findingme."
"Well yeah! That's the best way to run into that stuff," I said with genuine humor.
"Well, normally it doesn't drop adoption papers at your doorstep," she countered.
"Okay, see, now that you've said that, it's going to happen to me," I joked. "Some young shapeshifter in need of guidance will show up at the door looking cute as a button."
Noa laughed and shook her head, but she didn't say anything more.
"How long have you been practicing law?"
"Oh, a decade now, I think?" she replied. "Time kind of blurs together when you're working fifteen hour days… glad I'm not anymore, now that I think about it."
That was a comfortable amount of time.
"So then, here's a question you probably already predicted, but I gotta be somewhat suspicious or Natasha will be disappointed. Why did Fury go out of his way to get you? Instead of some other lawyer on his payroll? I mean, you're either a great actor or you hate his guts."
"I… don't really know," she said with a sigh. "Part of me thinks it's purely Fury trying to rile me up, get something out of me. But then again, remember that godfather I mentioned?"
"Yeah?"
"Mossad," she replied. "Also, who's this Natasha? I thought you were dating your world's Jen."
"I am. Natasha is one of my teachers. Black Widow… is she still a baddie in this world? Cause she's an Avenger in mine."
Granted, Natasha had never been a 'baddie' in my world. Just, you know, raised into an evil spy organization. Very different.
"I…" Noa trailed off. "Who is that supposed to be?"
"Superspy, Russian. I got trained by her, though Ares does most of the physical stuff now."
"Sorry," she said, shaking her head. "Our Avengers were Iron Man, Thor, Ant-Man, Wasp, and Hulk to start. Then Rogers thawed out, and most recently we got Quicksilver, Scarlet Witch, and this Captain Marvel is a woman?" She paused. "Or was it Miss Marvel, but she happened to be a captain? I don't remember, I'll have to ask."
"Ant-Man is retired in my world, he's an older guy. Wasp disappeared. We still had Tony, Thor, Bruce, and Steve, but Nat and Clin-Er, Hawkeye, rounded out the team. Nowadays things got crazy. The six months I've been there have been a damn ROLLER COASTER."
Noa turned and looked at me. Her eyes were haunted.
"Be glad that things still weren't too terrible," she said. "You probably didn't lose a full percent of the world's population in twelve hours."
"...Which one?" I leaned forward, pressing my fingers together. "Who was responsible for that?"
"G…" She cut herself off, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath before trying again. "It was G… g… god damn it!" She smacked a fist on her thigh. "Why can't I say it! It was G-G… Ga…"
"Stop." I put a hand on her shoulder. "I know." I remembered him. High above me. A presence that cut into my thoughts. Clouds appearing like birds against the backdrop of an impossible palm. The Ethereal form, in some ways, had protected me. In some, it made things worse. The memory would never leave.
I wished I could have promised to help with that, somehow, to arrest Galactus or kill him. But you can't get revenge on a supernova.
"I almost died," she whispered. "All I did was look in h-His general direction. Pietro saved my life."
I thought about that speedy kid, quick to smile and always showing up at the tower to say hi to his sister. He and Le Vent came over to have tea at super-speed sometimes with X, Jarvis, and me. Just to help Le Vent feel normal again.
"Pietro is good folk."
"Mhmm." She blinked. "Wait. Are we talking about the same Pietro? I-I mean, our respective worlds'?"
Oh good, I got her out of her funk!
"Speedy? Talkative? Sweet guy when he stops acting like a high school jock?"
"Hm. Not the jock part, but yeah. He's… uh. Wait, how does this one work?" Noa murmured, one hand coming up to draw lines on an imaginary board in front of her. "His father is… but his little sister is… hm."
"Noa-Uh, hopefully we're on a first name basis now?" She waved a hand at me, so I'd take that as a yes! "Noa, we're dealing with some straight up timey-wimey bullshit. Who knows where things are supposed to be. People who should be related-"
"Oh, no, that's not what I was getting at, not at all!" She laughed, light and airy, her precious funk all but forgotten, thank goodness. "It's that his father is my godfather, but his youngest sister is my goddaughter, and it's not like there's a convenient in-between generation to just add a word in there, is it?"
"I, er-" Godfather was Mossad. Quicksilver's father. Youngest sister. "..."
"Eh," Noa waved it off. "Don't worry about it. It's not a big deal."
Like hell! "Okay, we've got what, 40 minutes? I have got to hear your story, because that sounds interesting as fuck!"
I'd trust her, for now. She was fun. Serious, business-minded, a bit brisk, but in a good way. Reminded me of a younger more humorous Agatha in some ways.
I wondered what she got out of all this. I'd have to offer her something in return for keeping me from having to break out of prison. We'd see.
This story is crossing over with another fanfic, one called Pound The Table by my friend October Daye. I highly recommend the story, as it's a very good one. Like Law and Order but in Marvel. Less giant monsters, more of Doctor Doom putting restraining orders on Reed Richards. Links for that are below, but not necessary for this fanfic technically.
Spacebattles Link
Archive Of Our Own Link
While I do think crossing over with October's story is good for fanfic reasons, it also works for this one. Namely, Dial gets to encounter other universe versions of his friends and allies. Some are obvious, some less so. There is also the time travel element. This is the early nineties, before MANY of the things that Dial has to deal with come about. Now, it has dealt with some things he hasn't, thanks to the nature of the MCU, but he is well suited for making some early warnings. Maybe.
So yeah. It's an early Marvel universe based on the comics.
Anyways, this chapter ended up long, so I'm breaking it up. Next one is tomorrow. The full thing, all 33 pages, is on my Patreon, but you'll get the next one in hours. Let me know what you thought so far. Later!
Chapter 13: Res Ipsa Part 3
"Well, here's home." Noa unlocked the door and pushed it open, but not before tapping the little wood thing on her door frame. A mezuzah? Well, she was wearing a Star of David on her necklace, but it had been a while since I'd seen one. "You gonna stand there all day? Come on in."
I followed her slowly, feeling a bit awkward. Entering a new house is always weird. You can't help your curiosity, but you don't want to be rude. So I wandered in, trying not to look around too closely. Couldn't help it though.
The condo was t-shaped, the entryway with some abstract art on the walls we walked past. Beyond that, the vertical part of the 'T' had a dining room and kitchen, both of which looked well used. Not dirty, but there were scratches and dings in the countertop where someone was too enthusiastic cooking, with care and love put into where the cooking implements were placed.
There were also two knife blocks on either side of the sink. Always notice potential weapons in a new environment.
The head of the condo had the living room. To my left I could see another bedroom. When I glanced at it, I could see a poster on the wall. The periodic table of elements. Under that, on a dresser, was a photo of Spider-Man, signed. Huh.
"Try not to spend too much time peeking in my goddaughter's bedroom," Noa said. "She's twelve."
"Twelve?" I thought about that. Lorna Dane was the likely goddaughter. She was just a baby, man. She had so much ahead of her.
"You know, Kamala and Pete are about that age in my universe," I mumbled, my stomach growling as I followed Noa, who sat on the couch. "I spend a lot of time worrying about them getting pulled into the craziness of my world."
"Mhmm?" She hummed. "And was that your stomach?" She stood up from the couch.
"Uh…"
"Kitchen," she commanded. "Now."
"Ah. Sure thing," I couldn't help the grin on my face. There was something very momlike in the way she said that.
"I don't have much, I just got in from out of town, but we can order carry-out." I followed her into the kitchen, where she pulled out a collection of paper menus from a drawer. "Pick one, go nuts."
"I don't suppose the pandemic of places all calling themselves 'Famous Ray's Pizzeria's' is universal, is it?" I asked while flipping. Mmmm. Chinese.
"… no."
"Well, traditionally I'm supposed to go for shawarma, but Chinese sounds good. I'll take your recommendation on that. Good thing we're both kosher!"
"Halal isn't kosher," Noa said with a smirk as she took the menu I was eyeing. "You have fewer restrictions on food."
"Sure, but it's nice to share something similar. Anywho." As she made the order, I looked more closely. Newspaper clippings. Those had caught my eye from the start. Hung up on the walls were articles, like a hunter's trophies. A lot of Daily Bugle ones actually.
As Noa spoke to the Chinese place, I read one of them. Noa had defended Pyro? That was a major one too. Man, he was a kid accused of assault with superpowers? And Steve had spoken out against it when Allerdyce had been found guilty. Apparently it was pretty clear the trial had been a marsupial kind. And Magneto dropped out of the sky to pick him up.
Erik, Max, Magnus, whatever name he was given or side he was on, he was always a prima-donna. A badass one, but still.
Steve's picture was there, facing Magneto, while one of Noa in the courtroom rested a bit lower. Heh. I couldn't help smiling at the sight of him. He never changed. Kind of.
"Steve is played by Chris Evans in my universe… And no one knows what mutants are yet." I said softly, though I wasn't sure if Noa could still hear it or not.
Funny. This article was technically a loss. Yet she hung it up all the same. More articles with Noa. Some wins. Some small losses. Front page, or little mentions.
And photos of friends and family. I kind of figured this was Noa showing trust in me. She didn't have to bring me here. A home, a well-lived in and loved home, is in many ways, a key to a person. It reveals more of them than they could ever realize.
Noa was proud of her judicial career. But she also was proud of her family and friends. Photos of her standing in front of the Stonewall Inn with someone I didn't recognize, another of an older couple hugging her, a cute one of a green haired girl throwing up a peace sign from between a brunette woman and silver-haired man, an embarrassed looking redhead with a cane at a desk.
I heard the phone getting put down and moved to sit at the couch in the living room again. Noa walked out of the kitchen and walked into another room next to her goddaughter's room, coming back out with pens and paper enough for a small army. She laid them out, a thoughtfulness in her eyes.
Law time, then. "So our first problem is that I'm not technically a citizen, right?"
Noa shook her head and clicked a pen. "No, you're skipping ahead a few steps. The biggie here is nobody knows who you are. If you weren't a US citizen, but, say, Egypt or Jordan has records of you, that would be fine. The problem is that nobody has records of you, and the bigger issue is the why."
"Can't be the first time it's happened though, right? Even disregarding tribal folk who don't interact with the modern world, aliens, time travelers, alternate dimensions, that stuff has been happening for centur-" I cut myself off. "No, this will be one of the few times modern laws deal with the supernatural version I'm guessing."
The Rio Timequake had led to dozens of cases like that. People from all across the timeline, who didn't exist because they were either born in the distant past or the future.
"I'm, like, ninety percent sure it has," Noa hedged. "But not publicly. Or at least, not to the extent that you were plainly visible. We've probably had dimensional fallers tumbling through in the middle of nowhere. But you?" She waved one hand at some of her framed Daily Bugle articles. "Odds are, Jameson is going to have a field day with this, and that's before we worry about any cross-contamination between timelines from anything you brought along. Which raises the problem of, again, how we handle this."
Noa pulled out a piece of paper and scrawled SHIELD up at the top, then drew two branching lines down.
"See, I'm pretty sure now that Fury dragged me into this because he needs an outside perspective," she said as she wrote. "I guarantee SHIELD has procedures in place for this kind of scenario, but nothing that would stand up to the kind of media scrutiny you're likely to get. Which is why he's outsourcing all the hard work to somebody who won't just tell him to do the exact same thing as usual, then just browbeat and suppress the media."
Under one of those two lines, she'd just written a few question marks, and a line from that to a little text bubble she drew in, where she wrote 'business as usual'.
Then she peeked at my Omnitrix, drew in its design under the other arrow, and went further from there.
"Basically, he wants something he can write down on some forms, take it to the President or whoever has authority on him, and be able to say that yes, he knows who they are now, where they came from, and what they want. He wants me to give us a civilian bureaucracy approach to a superhuman issue." Noa sighed. "Wouldn't be the first time I've done this, but that doesn't make it any less annoying."
I thought for a moment about Nick Fury's twisty mind and how he would think things out. "He's having you design a, what do you call it, a precedent for dimensional immigration and deportation?"
That tracked. Nick Fury was a twisty mind. "Man. I wonder if Maria will ever get as bad. She usually just asks for this kind of thing."
"By 'Maria', you don't happen to mean Maria Hill, do you?" Uh-oh. I knew that tone. She was pissed.
"I mean… yeah?" I said, chuckling nervously. "Why do you ask?"
"Because that fucking bitch is the one who dragged me away from my vacation!" Noa yelled, an open hand pounding on the table in front of her. "Not even an apology, either! Just shows up, literally drags me off a pool chair, frog marches me to my room and watches me pack… urgh! Oh, I hate her so much!"
"I guess that's one point for my universe?" I said, trying to keep from being slightly intimidated by the tiny woman. "My Maria is better than the other ones. Can't see her trying to arrest Steve… Speaking of being arrested?"
"Hmm?" Noa asked. "What about? You're not under arrest."
"But I was, so now we have our current problem. Aka, letting me walk around your universe without needing to resort to turning into Godzilla when a helicarrier drops out of the sky," I focused. Enough wisecracking Dial, act like a goddamned professional. "I'm not super familiar with what the process is for normal folk? I mean, the equivalent version. Most of the law stuff I've focused on has been trying to stop a Civil War situation."
That was not going well. People tended to ignore a lot of morals when they were scared.
"As you well should. And the immigration issue is even worse, because… hmm, wait, but… ah. Hmm.. shit." Noa tapped her pen against the papers in front of her, and sighed. "Alright. Mahmoud, I'm going to apologize in advance, but I need to ask you a very uncomfortable question, with an equally uncomfortable answer. Please just give me the benefit of the doubt on this one?"
"Uh… sure? Hit me."
Noa took a deep breath, then sighed. "I'm sorry about this, but… I need you to describe the kind of, well, prejudice and profiling you and your family experienced post-9/11."
"... Well holy shit," I rubbed my face as I tried to process the… well, the everything that followed that question, the memories and emotions it brought out. "G-Give me a second. I was about… Eleven? Yeah, eleven… The FBI visited my house. We were living in Cali at the time. Some people came to our home. They asked for my dad. Just wanted to ask questions. I remember my mom being confused. But my dad was worried. They wanted to see what sort of ties he had to other Muslims. Asked if he had family from Afghanistan. Fucking hell, we were Moroccan, I don't know why they-"
I stopped myself. "Uh, other than that. My mom wore full hijab, the uh, headscarf. Same with my sister. So every once in a while someone would yell at us to go back to our country. Call us terrorists. I think it was like, three months that someone asked me if I hated America? Which, fuck that guy. I was born here, I'm more American than goddamn apple pie."
I was speaking a lot faster. I stopped. "Sorry. I wasn't-" I squeezed my fists, thinking. "I just remember that day, seeing the planes hit on the tv in my dad's room. I wasn't happy to see that shit. I was a kid, man. I was horrified. And then people I thought I knew treated my dad like shit. My dad wasn't perfect. He had his issues. But he was no terrorist. My mom was everything, and she got treated like a threat because of her hijab. W-Why do you need to know this, Noa?"
She didn't answer immediately. I looked at her notes, and saw she'd stopped writing something about halfway through a word and left a blotch on the page where her pen stopped.
"I… I'm sorry about that." Noa set her pen down and reached a hand across the table, resting it atop mine. "I wish I didn't have to ask about that. It's just, I… I may have learned about the Patriot Act, the backroom lawyering and flimsy justifications and wholesale fictions spun to let it happen, but it's been decades without. Decades in a world that, despite all the superheroes and magic and craziness, has felt more sane than the one we left."
Her breathing shook. I could tell she was just as rattled as I was.
"I don't remember what the Patriot Act said. But if… if I know some of what it did, I can work backwards. Reverse engineer what utter bullshitgot written to allow its trespasses. And then I can make sure that what we make here becomes a model. So that when – no, if the time comes, they don't get to pull that shit again." She looked up at me with a thin, almost watery smile. "With any luck, what happened to you and your family will never happen here."
"... Thanks, Noa. That means a lot," I smiled, though I think it was just a bit more cracked than I expected. "We kinda worry about uh… not the Patriot Act. But there's some rumblings about a Superhuman Reg Act. And Jen, Matt, they brought up the Patriot Act. How enough fear and… well, it made people give up their freedoms for some fake sense of safety. I don't think I've ever told them how terrifying that is to me."
"It's probably worse for them," Noa said. "They understand the fine details of things. And given their education almost certainly included 9/11, then they can see just how bad things have gone." She tapped her pen against the pad. "They— actually, hold on. This is a long shot, but… you wouldn't happen to have the actual text of whatever this act is on hand, would you?" Noa asked.
I did. I tapped the Omnitrix. Long practice had long taught me how to manipulate the Omnitrix. Ben probably was better with it, but the Omnitrix was really just a mega computer at the end of the day, transformations aside. And one thing I held was a series of useful files.
Including survival manuals. Never again.
A hologram popped up, glowing with that slight green I couldn't remove. I angled the hologram for her to see, flipping open the folder holding the proposed act. "Keep in mind… Jen threw a couch out the window the first time she read this."
Rather than say anything, Noa looked closer and leaned in over the table. She mouthed some of the words as she read, eyes growing wider and wider as they darted back and forth across the document.
"Nope, not trying to hand-write this." She set down her pen, then motioned for me to get up and follow her. "I am going to transcribe this whole damn thing, because this is about as perfect a template of what utter bullshit not to doas I can get, and you're just gonna have to sit there while I type it out."
"...You have a lot in common with Matt and Foggy," Granted, they'd more just desperately asked for the file, but still.
"Well I should hope so," she said with a sniff. "I did help teach those two, here. And paid them, because 'for course credit' is bullshit."
"Ha! Really? That's awesome!" Matt in my universe wasn't as lucky. If it wasn't for me they'd be the poorest lawyers in NYC. Oh right. "Uh, here," I tapped the Omnitrix and opened up a second page. This one, with notations from a host of folks. Jen and Matt, sure, Foggy as well. But also a few others, people I didn't know. "This should help."
"That'll help. Anyway, food should be here in half an hour, and that's more than long enough to get most of this down."
Guess I'd have to bear with this. "Fine. At least put on some music."
"Of course. AC/DC okay with you?" Noa asked.
"You would love my Tony Stark. Hell the fuck yeah."
There was a lot more to do than could be covered by a couple of hours of conversation. Noa typed damn quick, but it still took time to copy down everything I had on the SRA and its gross violation of human rights. She sat down in her den, an old CRT monitor shining on her face as she worked. I sat next to the desk, every once in a while manipulating the Omnitrix to display something else for her.
I was glad I'd been so meticulous in downloading things. X helped, often sending me things he thought I might need.
It was in the middle of that, me nodding my head to 'Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap', that Noa asked me a favor. She was done transcribing. So why not have me help her out while she figured things out.
I agreed. She was helping me out, I was bored, why not?
But then of course, she said the favor. Which was much heavier shit than I expected, even if she did tell me I could just say no. Still. Off I went.
Flying in Astrodactyl form is just so goddamn fun. Even as short as any flights were as my favorite orange pterodactyl, I loved it. The sheer acceleration, my jetpack exploding with fire, the air blowing past. Almost made me forget where I was headed.
GPS on the Omnitrix got me there. Poland was a pretty country. From thousands of feet up, I zipped over picturesque cities, summer giving the countryside a bright green landscape. Any other time, I'd have loved to visit.
I approached my destination. From high up, I could read the words on the gate leading in. Arbeit macht frei. Work sets you free.
God, it took every scrap of discipline I had not to rip that fucking set of words apart out of spite. One blast would have done it.
Auschwitz concentration camps. A complex of over 40 of the things ran in occupied Poland. Including extermination camps.
Noa's godfather, who she hadn't admitted was Magneto but obviously fucking was, had apparently kept up with his Nazi hunting efforts. I think she implied he expanded it to include a few other horrific folks, sex traffickers and the like, but only sort of.
Good.
Point was, he had his suspicions about the place, but couldn't bring himself to go back. Noa had some suspicions as well. There were some mysteries about the place. I'd never looked into it back home. I really should have, based on what Noa said.
'Herr SX' was mentioned in a Hydra journal found by Magneto. He'd been involved in the camp. That was horrifying to hear.
So here I was, flying over the quiet complex. People dotted the place here and there. Tourists, taking photos, speaking softly to each other, staring in horror. It was all very respectful. One day, there would be an epidemic of 'influencers' taking selfies with a host of emojis in the captions, trying to farm tragedy for interaction.
But for now at least, it was respectful.
I dropped behind a building and shifted to human form. Noa's Pietro had left some clothes behind, so I wore a jacket to hide the Omnitrix. It was easy enough to join a tour group. The only one, it looked like. There were tourists, sure, but this late in the day, only one guide, an old man in a button up shirt and jeans. He was bald, wrinkled, and had hair coming out his ears. He looked like a grandfather.
"When I lived in the camp," he was saying as I joined. He had almost no accent. "The things they subjected us to, sometimes, seemed normal. You would be surprised, yes, very surprised at what you can get used to."
He walked us into a building, leading us to a hallway. One with photos on a wall. "When the camps opened, they took photos of each of us. Our names, birthdays, yes." He tapped on one. "See? That is me. Erwin Mintz, political dissident. I am lucky. These men, here?" He tapped each photo. "Dead. Dead. Dead."
With everyone else, I looked at the photos. One woman, shaking, turned away from the lines of photos, walking quickly away, the man who was with her chasing her.
I shuddered. Those photos. Hundreds of them. Thousands. Men, women, children. This was-
The Graveyard had something like this. In computer format. Photos of people who had been dragged in, experimented on, killed. The horror of it had left Fury himself quiet. Hydra could say otherwise. But they never really left their roots, did they?
I glanced at the tour guide. He was smiling at his photo. He looked back at me, smile fading. Turning away, he waved. "Come, come. More to see. To understand."
I wish I could say that my previous experience made it easier. That I was conditioned to horror. But it was harder than I expected. I'd seen a small taste of what these kinds of places were like. When I saw the stone beds where prisoners were forced to lie, I could easily picture those I'd saved in those beds.
Then he led us to the ovens. The nail scratches on the walls inside them from the desperate people trying to escape.
I left, heading out to a grassy hill just outside the camp. I needed a bit. This place was cursed. Not magically. I wish it had been. But this was worse. Soulless, mechanical evil. Efficient death made into an industry. And somehow, still continuing.
The sun fell down in the distance as I waited there. Tourists streamed out of the camp slowly. I thought about calling Noa, but decided to leave it. I couldn't help the shame I felt at just leaving that place. I was a superhero, right? I was supposed to be able to handle this.
Except that Bucky and Steve had liberated camps like this. The looks in their eyes when they mentioned that stuff…
Guess it wasn't shameful to want to leave at the thought. I felt numb for a good long while, watching the camp from the distance.
When darkness fell and the camp had emptied out, I snuck back in. Easy enough to do even in human form. This place wasn't exactly guarded by the elite. Why would it be? It's reputation was enough.
Then I walked around, retracing my steps. I hated it. The whole place just felt off. The darkness didn't help. But I had a favor to fulfill. According to Noa, her godfather had a suspicion that a hidden laboratory was beneath a section of Auschwitz. Inside might be information that could lead him to one of the worst figures of the camp.
I approached one of the buildings he'd pegged as a possible location. With a look around, I whispered under my breath.
"Big Chill."
The bright flash of green illuminated the camp before I floated forward, entering my intangible state. Even in this powerful form, I still felt unnerved. I fought through it.
I imagine I made for quite a sight. A floating ghostly figure, stalking the halls of Auschwitz at night, moving through the walls and diving into the ground. Good thing no one was around.
The first building was clear. Horrifying, but the publicly displayed kind.
The second one was as well. I stopped briefly in a dark room filled with the dozens of items on display that had once belonged to prisoners. Shoes in one room. Briefcases in another.
More horrifying, a room filled with hair, shaved from the prisoners.
I moved on.
It was as I was floating to reach the third location that I saw him.
The tour guide? What was his name again, Erwin Mintz?
He was alone, walking calmly through the camp, a set of keys in hand. He was… whistling?
How used to this place was he? He wasn't skipping or anything, but he was very casual. I floated overhead, following him. His bald head shone in the moonlight, the old man twirling his keys.
We passed the third building I was supposed to search. I hesitated… then I followed. Something in my gut told me to.
He headed into a different building. Building twelve out of the twenty that Magneto had marked. It was a former prison reception center, a L-shaped building with a red roof, ringed with a barbed wire fence. He locked the door behind him, never seeing me floating quietly above him.
This was all too weird. A former camp survivor, walking around it at night and entering one of the buildings I was set to search? Was he looking for the same thing I was?
I doubted he was Magneto. He didn't have that kind of edge to him, and Noa would have told me.
He walked through the hallway, ignoring the various signs documenting the history of the camp. Instead he headed to what looked like a kitchen, stepping into the back through a single wooden door.
I waited a moment. The sound of something grinding filled the air. I hesitated, waiting for the sound to finish, then poked my head in.
He was gone. I stepped in fully, looking around. It was a storage room of some kind, filled with cleaning items. I imagined that it had once been a pantry. The bricks were painted grey, the shelves new and metal. I probably could have studied the room, found the secret lever.
Fuck that. Big Chill let me cheat. I walked through the wall on the other side of the room. It took a bit, but after floating around the perimeter I found a hatch in the floor with a ladder leading down into a tunnel. I followed it, entering another brick hallway. A whistling song echoed off the walls of that hall. I floated into the hall and prowled quietly forward. No plaques, signs, or photos in this hallway. It wasn't meant for the public. There was a door set into the right wall, with a small barred window in the center. I looked in.
A cell. The bed was occupied by a corpse. I stepped fully in, shuddering as I looked around. The cell didn't smell very strongly. Musty, if I had to describe it. The corpse was too old. It looked almost mummified. I kneeled down, studying it with my wings folded around me. Small. Only about four feet tall, less. Prison clothes on it. I looked around. No other furniture inside, just the bed, and no belongings.
I left that cell, floating into another one on the left. The corpse there was taller, but still wearing the same. I entered the hallway again, looking forward.
Dozens of doors. Hundreds. And a set of stairs at the end. If only half of them had bodies inside…
I floated down the hall. On the floor at one point, I saw a set of long scratch marks on the floor. Someone had been dragged along by force.
At the end of the hallway, beside the stairs, was a room, the door open. It was an office, not a cell. I entered and found cabinets, a desk, and a map of the camp on one wall. When I opened the cabinets there were dozens of folders with names on them in alphabetical order. I opened one. A photo of a girl stared at me. She'd been shaved, the photo in black and white. She was so… so young. Younger than Ruby. It was written in German of course, but the Omnitrix translated it.
Leah Abrams, 12. Physically weak, mentally deficient. Injected with a variant of the Erskine Formula. Developed advanced Alzheimer's, arthritis, and cancerous bone growth. However, musculature shows promising advancement.
Subject Destroyed, sibling brought in to attempt again.
Ice exploded from my hand, freezing the papers in my hand then shattering them. I regretted it immediately. That loss of control might have cost a family closure. I focused, opening another folder.
I almost hurled. An experiment with entirely removing blood from one subject and replacing it with blood from someone who had the… the gene. They didn't specify what gene, but they didn't have to.
The subject who got the blood survived unchanged. The other obviously died.
More and more of that, getting worse and worse. Some of it was superpower related. Testing the Erskine Formula, trying to make mutants, testing of wonder drugs meant to increase lifespan. Then there were the worse ones. Injecting them with malaria, hepatitis, syphilis. In children, babies. Transplanting organs. Mutant to human, human to mutant. Just to see what would happen.
It was all clinical. They would use words like inferior sometimes. Impure. But otherwise, they avoided anything that spoke like these were people.
I placed the fifth folder down after reading how they had to dispose of a young boy who had responded… badly to experiments in replacing his mind with a grown man's. It was part of some greater project. If 'Herr SX' was who I thought he was…
All of this horror was in the name of creating the perfect body. Even if they hadn't been disposed of, these children never would have lived normal lives after. They died in pain, broken and mutilated.
I wanted to destroy this place. To find the perpetrators and kill them. I'd only read five folders. There were 8 full cabinets in the office. And I hadn't lived through the horrors.
I left the office, going down the stairs. I heard a sound as I went down. On a hunch, I changed back to human before I got to the bottom.
"Hello?" I asked, faking a scared hesitant voice. "Is anyone there?"
"What!?" Erwin Mintz's slightly accented voice returned. I reached the bottom and saw him there, in a long, wide room. Dozens of beds dotted the place, medical trays from yesteryear next to them. Erwin himself was wearing a labcoat, looking befuddled at me. I stopped, putting every bit of acting skill I had into the next bit.
"Oh thank god!" I said in relief. "I'm so sorry, I was just looking around, and it got dark. I was trying to find the exit and I saw you go in here so I followed, but then I was in that hallway and- There were bodies! Old dead bodies! What is this place!? You're the tour guide, you've got to help me!"
"H-Help you?" Erwin stared at me, shocked. Then, for a flash, calculating. "Oh! Yes, you were in the tour group. American?"
"Y-Yeah dude!" I played it up.
"And you came alone?"
"Uh, yeah. I uh, wanted to try dating Polish chicks."
I could see his eyes narrow slightly as he roamed over, his legs shifting a bit stiffly. He tried to hide that he clearly thought I was a moron. "And you came to… Auschwitz."
"Well there was this girl in the tour group, the blonde? With the uh-" He stopped when I raised my hands towards my chest, looking both amused and calculating.
"I understand. I was young myself," He licked his lips. "So then. You are alone?"
"Yeah. Please man, you gotta get me out, is the exit around here?"
"The exit… yes," he looked me up and down. My skin crawled. "Well, right this way. I suppose I should continue the tour, yes?"
"Uh, sure? I mean, I didn't really come for a tour though-"
"Nonsense! History is important, young man!" He placed a hand on my shoulder. A very bony hand, gripping tighter than needed. "Come, come."
Walking forward, I made a show of looking around nervously. There were ovens at the edges of the room. Some old glass tanks with tubes coming out of them. And cages. Dotting the room, some beside the beds and medical trays, were some very small, rusted cages.
"Yo man, what the hell? This place a torture dungeon?"
Erwin chuckled. "Oh, yes, I am sure it was, to some. But where many saw horror, brilliant men saw innovation. Are you familiar, my dear American, with Unit 731?"
My skin crawled. I pursed my lips, pretending to think. "Uh… is that a math thing? No, that's a movie right?"
"... ah, to share your ignorance. Unit 731 was a Japanese research unit. The men there did terrible things. Horrific. And yet, their experiments led to innovations that to this day continue to save lives," Erwin waved a single hand outwards. As he did, he pulled me closer.
At my back, I felt something metal brush my spine.
"This room," Erwin monologued. "Was where even greater triumphs emerged. The men here weren't simply curing diseases. We were attempting to make Gods."
"Like Thor?"
"Ha!" He led me to the back of the room, where a set of doors like. "A paltry Asgardian? No, my dear American. Far greater than that," Erwin sighed sadly. "Shamefully, they were forced to stop. Who knows, however, how many lives could have been saved had they continued?"
"I mean… wasn't that good?" I asked dumbly. "They rescued you, didn't they? You were on that wall."
Erwin stopped. I turned, facing him fully. With stiff but calm movements, he reached under his lab coat. The gun he pointed at me was a Mauser C69. An older gun. Famously used by the Germans in World War 1. And 2.
"Yes… I was on that wall," Erwin seemed more amused than ever. "It wasn't hard, you know? When we realized the Allies were on their way, my friends panicked. Tried to destroy what they could above, locking away our good work here. Only I was smart enough to hide in the city. After that, I only had to wait. I was a scientist, you see. No prisoner recognized me, because any that would, well, they came here!"
Erwin, if that was really his name, laughed, gesturing for me to move. I raised my hands up, doing my best to seem scared. "Whoa, whoa, what the hell man!? What are you doing!?"
"Taking advantage of an opportunity, my dear simpleton," Erwin forced me into a door in the back of the room. Another office. A clean, well-maintained, office, more cabinets on the back wall. More surprising was the modern fucking computer on a desk. And another bed, with much more up-to-date medical supplies. "Tie yourself down to that bed."
I eyed his gun. He cocked it. "No. Do not be stupid, American. This is not your Hollywood movies. I will kill you before you can try the slightest thing."
"Why are you doing this?" I don't think he noticed I'd calmed down. Man was feeling himself.
"For the future. I have been working for years, decades, scraping together what I could from our work," the gun shook with his excitement. "I am close. Immortality. Youth. But I need to test. And you are a very healthy specimen."
"Never thought I would regret working out," I said, lowering my hands and sitting casually on the bed.
He laughed. "Do not worry. If I succeed, you will be the first of a perfect race. If not, then I can promise you. The pain will not last. The ovens are still quite efficient."
"... How many people?"
"What?"
"After the camp closed. Down here. How many did you test on?"
He scoffed. "Really? Why care? Tie yourself down."
"Listen, Erwin-"
He fired the gun, a bullet flying past my ear. It was horrendously loud, in this small space.
I made a show of rubbing my ear with a wince while he glared at me. "My name. Is Heinrich.Now tie yourself down. I won't ask again. I can work with a corpse if need be."
"Heinrich, really?" I mumbled. I hopped off the bed.
"I said-"
My hands flashed out. Grab the wrist, twist away so the barrel isn't aimed at me, then rip the grip out of his hand, toss the weapon behind me.
Just like Nat taught me.
The gun was on the bed. He stared at me, mouth agape. I still had his wrist in hand as I sighed, cracking my neck. "So. A fake survivor. Still experimenting on people. After all these years. I know someone who is going to be very happy to meet you."
"W-Who are y-"
I pulled him into my arms and wrapped a hand around his throat. Knocking out an old man is tough. Without killing them I mean. Gotta be gentle.
"Urgh! Ugh! Unnnn!" He struggled briefly, and even tried to bite me. But finally he was out, going limp.
I moved quickly, tying him to the bed. Ignoring the old spot of blood under the pillow as much as I could. Then I moved over to the computer once he was secure. As I sat at it, I opened the Omnitrix comms, calling the latest number. Once it answered I spoke fast.
"Noa. I've got something."
"Oh god," I heard her say on the other end. "I, I almost don't want to know…"
"I wish I didn't. But I think maybe I'll be meeting your godfather faster than I thought," I opened up the computer. No password. Why would there be? "There's a lot. And he's gonna want to know about it- Huh?"
Among the files I was flipping through was basically a dossier. Names and photos, scans of ID's and other documents. All the same man, but at least a dozen different identities.
"Looks like Heinrich had an obsession," I mumbled. "Noa, I think I've got your guy? Can you start writing down these names in case these files self-destruct? I've got uh, Nathaniel Essex, of course, Nate Xavier, ironically, Brian Banson, Dr. Nathan Wilbury, Dr. Michael Wilbury, Robert Windsor—"
"Stop, stop, wait, slow down, stop, stop, Mahmoud, stop, STOP!" Noa yelled through the Omnitrix's phone line. "Mahmoud, s-slow down. Can, c-can you say t-that again? S-slower?"
Ah… Shit. She sounded real goddamn worried. "Okay. Uh. Robert Windsor was the last. Before that was Dr. Michael Wilbury, Dr. Nathan Wilbury—"
"That." I didn't like the sound of her voice. "Oh, God. Oh, oh fuck. I, I, I-I… oh, God, I'm—"
I heard the sound of her landline clattering to whatever surface she had it on, followed by the faint sound of retching. Then gagging. And minutes later, crying.
I didn't speak, just kept the phone line open. I grabbed the files as fast as I could, shifting them into the Omnitrix. No need to worry about viruses. Anything that could beat the Omnitrix's protection deserved to hack it. Dozens of files. Some much too recent.
"... h-he was i-i-in my, my—" Noa said finally, a few minutes later. "I s-spoke with him. I, I, I shook his fucking hand! With a, a, a—!"
"Noa!" I cut in, finishing up. "Call your godfather. Now. Tell him to meet me here, or at least send someone he knows. Then call someone you love and trust. Talk to them. I'll grab everything here. Essex isn't the only name here. And I've got a prisoner who needs speaking to."
I got up, looking around. "Please, call someone who you can speak to. Promise me you will?"
"I…" She sniffled on the other end. "I-I'll try, I… s-sorry. I'll t-tell him."
The phone line clicked. I stood for a moment. Then I walked over to one of the file cabinets, opening it briefly. Had to wait around. Might as well get this shit upstairs.
"Fasttrack."
The second I was in my blue furred form, I got to work.
Considering my speed, it didn't take long. I ran in and out of that secret lab, lifting cabinets and placing them outside, pulling out folders from desk drawers. I 'gently' brought Heinrich out, still unconscious and tied up to the bed, and placed him out there.
I left the bodies. There were a lot. And some were… Heinrich had probably not experimented often. But he had been free for a long time. I did at least count them to give an accurate number to whoever showed up.
And cover them with sheets. The dead deserved that much.
They arrived not long after I was done. Which didn't surprise me. To most they would have been a blur, but I saw one jog almost casually towards me while carrying another. They came to a stop and stared.
"Whoa," the Pietro Maximoff of another universe said, staring at me as he put his 'passenger' down from a fireman's carry. "Fuzzy."
"That I am," I said with a grin. Pietro was wearing jeans, running shoes, a Metallica t-shirt, and a leather jacket. He looked like a rocker boy, rather than the track athlete of my universe. His hair was a brighter shade of silver too.
Still built as hell. Not as much as his passenger.
He stood tall once Pietro put him down. He was dressed casually, much like Pietro, but his clothes were of a much older style. A simple brown suit with a button up shirt, no tie. And he had enough muscle to win Mr. Olympia without even trying.
But his smile was the same. He looked me over curiously.
"So you're our visitor?" he asked. "The one Fury's complaining about, I presume?"
"I mean, probably. I got the impression Fury complains about a lot of things," I tapped the Omnitrix, returning to human form and stepping forward. I held out my hand. "This is funny, but back home, my Steve Rogers and I are pretty close. Hope we get along too."
Same hand shake. Captain America smiled just a bit more.
"Would that we had met under better circumstances." And at that, his smile faded. "What do you have for us?"
My own smile fell as well. I turned, looking behind me. "A fake survivor. And files on people who were experimented on, both paper and digital. It's a lot. He was continuing the experiments. Nowhere near at the level they once did, but you combine the amount of time he was free to work?"
I glanced at Pietro. "Noa all right? I didn't tell her everything, but…"
"She is not alone." His tone was clipped, almost angry. I could tell it wasn't with me, though. Not with where he was looking.
"Good. Good. So," I waved a hand out. "I don't know for sure who will deal with this. But it's all yours, guys. And uh, Cap?"
"Yes?" he asked, a look of expectation on his face."
Something had occurred to me, while I'd been at work. And I had the perfect person to mention it to. "Back home, Steve, uh, my Steve, and Nat, we all found something similar to this."
"In your Auschwitz?" Pietro asked.
"No. Though I'll have to check now. No, we found a Hydra base under Camp Lehigh." Best to rip the bandaid off.
I saw the change come over Captain America's face instantly. The way he set his jaw and squared his shoulders, how his chin lowered and his brow furrowed.
"I see." His voice was tight. "You have my thanks."
I sighed. "No problem… Just, I really hope-" I stopped, not knowing what to say next. Finally I shrugged. "You know, in the comics, meeting alternate versions of friends is fun. I'd get to tell people who they're dating. Or who their sister is dating."
Pietro smirked, but didn't take his eyes off Heinrich. Cap only flickered his eyes at the display before him, then finally turned to me.
"I suppose we'll need to leave that for another time. For now, it might be best for you to head back. We'll call the right people to pick this all up."
"Okay… Okay, yeah." I mumbled. "Fasttrack."
Back in my blue form, I glanced at Pietro. When I spoke again, it was in super-speed. "You ever need someone to talk to. I'll be around for a bit, okay?"
Then I sped off. Half a mile away, I shifted into Astrodactyl form, blasting towards the ocean.
This had been a lot. I would have preferred monsters. Robots, some aliens. Something crazy, but silly.
Instead, I'd found an old man and enough horror to fill my nightmares for days to come. It had been important. I felt good about ending it, if much too late. Still. Hopefully my next few days here would be more fun.
A NOTE FROM MAHMOUD SCHAHEDThis chapter was hard to research. Not for a lack of information, but for an abundance. Fiction can be horrifying, but then you find things in reality, things with the weight behind it of 'someone actually did this. This isn't just human imagination, but something people did, then repeated over and over, turning it into a business.'
So I'm sorry if anyone expected robots or monsters, but this is kinda Dial running into something painfully real. With just a bit of comic edge, since Mr. Sinister was involved.
I hope the interaction between Dial and that old man was fun at least. I didn't know until I wrote it that Dial's first instinct was to allow a monologue and play up the dumb American thing. I liked writing that.
But yeah. This was interesting to write. Hard, but interesting.
After this, some more fun moments will happen. Dial meeting more counterparts of his friends, trading stories, figuring out how to get home, all that goodness.
As always, the next chapter will be on my Patreon. Hope you guys liked this one, let me know what you thought.