Samuel Sterns could still think.

  He’d felt it as something had slithered into his mind, invading him, violating him on a fundamental level… seizing, overriding, usurping control. His conscious mind was now distant and separate from his body, like it had been trapped within a bubble inside his brain. There was nothing he could physically do to stop himself from standing up and falling in line with the others as they started toward the media centre’s exit.

  But he could still think.

  There was a 93 per cent probability that he was currently experiencing, first-hand, the power of the Eternal called Druig. Based on the limited information he’d been provided with, Sterns’ preliminary assessment had concurred with the Avengers’ expectation that Druig was highly unlikely to assist the other Eternals in any sort of attack. Unfortunately, once again, he’d been incorrect.

  The gift that his gamma mutation had given him was monstrously beautiful—unique, powerful, capable of great things—and yet the accuracy of his predictions had seemingly dropped off a cliff ever since the Avengers had infiltrated Camp Zero One. It was starting to become… frustrating.

  He’d had hated being held prisoner—being used—by Ross, but at least the man had supplied him with comprehensive access to all government systems, the former SHIELD database, HYDRA’s recovered files, and any other source or scrap of data he asked for. The Avengers were much more cautious about sharing information, which meant his models had become less and less accurate over time. More than that, Wanda Maximoff’s mentality and source of information particularly vexed him—he had a few theories about alternate timelines, precognitive abilities, and so on, but they all seemed to be missing key elements. Nothing quite fit. And his deeply flawed model of her threw many of his other models off in a cascade of failures that had left him scrambling just to keep up.

  It had only been a couple of days since the Avengers had freed him and Sterns was already getting pretty sick of being wrong about things. He’d thought he’d left that part of humanity behind him.

  After arriving at the compound, Sterns had very rapidly become aware that the Avengers had found themselves unexpected dealing with some sort of crisis in addition to Wanda Maximoff’s disappearance—a priority threat that was keeping them from committing fully to the political back-and-forth with Ross and the President. The situation had been to his benefit, even. As the Avengers weren’t able to fully focus on Ross, they’d been quite receptive to Sterns’ offers of assistance, allowing him the opportunity to build connections and a sense of obligation that he could leverage into more later—a foundation that had, unfortunately, been shaken quite badly by yesterday’s encounter with Wanda.

  Despite what had been said and Wanda’s continuing suspicions, Sterns had been given a light briefing late yesterday regarding the Eternals and their involvement in a potential world-ending threat, the details of which were still being withheld. Sterns had been given the opportunity to relocate to a safe location, but, well, he always had been more curious than cautious. Aside from presenting the perfect opportunity to align himself more closely with the Avengers, there was hardly anywhere else he was going to get the data he needed to inform his models.

  This outcome wasn’t one he’d predicted, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t extrapolate from the current situation. The odds of him being a specific individual target were essentially zero. Druig was capable of mass mind control—96.6 per cent probability that he’d attempted to compromise the entire facility simultaneously. If Druig was willing to assist the other Eternals, then a sudden, stealthy strike, seizing control of the minds of every human inside the Avengers compound at once, was an obvious optimal opening strategy.

  From here, it was a little fuzzier. This could be the first step in a plan to approach Thena and Gilgamesh to talk, as they had originally predicted. Sidelining the humans, isolating Thena and Gilgamesh from their allies, so that Ajak was able to negotiate from a position of power.

  There was an 84 per cent probability that, at this stage, the Eternals didn’t intend to just kill them all, extrapolating from the fact that Sterns’ body had not been immediately directed to slit his own throat or otherwise execute himself. Low confidence, unfortunately. Sterns couldn’t discount that there might be inherent limitations to Druig’s power they were unaware of that precluded such an act.

  Still, locked away in his own mind without more information to go on, it was impossible for Sterns to determine much else. He needed more data. He needed to be able to observe what was going on.

  Sterns’ mind flexed, trying vainly to break the Eternal’s control—to find some sort of weakness or flaw—but he had no idea where to even begin. He just didn’t know enough about Druig’s power for him to be able to understand how he might escape or defend from it.

  Yet.

  He could still think, which meant the Eternal’s control wasn’t absolute. And while many of Sterns’ other predictive models were off due to incomplete information or otherwise flawed, there was still one that he knew he could create with 100 per cent accuracy, nearly effortlessly.

  His mutated brain matter pulsed. This was difficult. It didn’t feel natural. But then, there was nothing natural about Sterns’ power to begin with.

  He ceded control to the model.

  Sterns #2 blinked, faltering as he gained (regained?) control of his body mid-step. The others that had been with him in the media centre to observe the White House press conference—Hill, Romanoff, Rogers, Wilson—stopped in unison as well, turning as one to look at him with eyes clouded over with golden power.

  “Huh,” the Eternal puppeting Captain Rogers said.

  Sterns #2 went to speak, but before he could get a word out, a tendril of power wrapped around his consciousness, trapping him.

  Well, the theory was sound, at least. Artificial, temporary alters. Sterns #2 ceded control.

  “Druig, I assume?” Sterns #3 said. “Could we—”

  “This isn’t a particularly—” Sterns #49 had a bare moment to get out.

  A handful of seconds later there was a brief lull in the intrusions, the four mind-controlled individuals surrounding Sterns #371 each giving him identical thoughtful looks. “What are you?” Druig asked, speaking through Hill.

  “I am human, if that’s what you’re asking,” Sterns #616 said. “Or I was. I’ve taken a step or two beyond that.”

  “How utterly bizarre. Sorry about this, but I really need you to just cooperate with me,” Romanoff’s body said.

  Sterns #893 saw it coming, but knowing it was going to happen didn’t make it any less painful as Captain Rogers buried his fist in Sterns’ stomach. The blow doubled him over, bile rising in his throat. His legs went out from under him and he was left gasping for air, trying and failing to pull air back into his lungs as two pairs of arms roughly grabbed his shoulders, keeping him mostly on his feet.

  Sterns ignored the pain, partitioning an extra alter just to carry it as he continued to spin off even more of them, maintaining just a basic awareness of his body as the two people supporting him resumed walking, dragging him down the corridor that led out of the building. Druig captured each instance nearly as quickly as Sterns was able to create them, but each was still able to cede control to the next. Hundreds became thousands became tens of thousands. He was holding onto control by his metaphorical fingernails, but that was just a distraction—a smokescreen to keep the Eternal occupied while he worked on the larger problem. It didn’t take long before he found something interesting.

  It wasn’t something that had immediately been apparent. Each thread radiated only a minuscule amount, after all. The Eternal’s power was so tightly and efficiently controlled that it was almost a rounding error, something that would only show up as the tiniest blip on even the most sensitive equipment the Avengers had access to. But with so many connections between Sterns’ mind and Druig’s power, he could feel it now. Something utterly unmistakable.

  Gamma.

  This so-called ‘cosmic energy’ that was the source of the Eternals’ abilities emitted gamma radiation. And there was no one on the planet, not even Bruce Banner, who understood gamma radiation like Sterns did. Each small data point enhancing his model, each fractional scrap of information contributed by the tens of thousands of alters he’d spun off—all testing and pushing at Druig’s power—was adding certainty to an overarching hypothesis: The Eternals’ cosmic energy was something he’d researched before.

  Sterns had never personally experienced working with the Tesseract or Loki’s sceptre, but he’d extensively studied SHIELD and HYDRA’s data on the artifacts, and there were unmistakable similarities, things that matched up too perfectly for it to be anything else. Sterns still needed more data to be sure—proper measurements, taken using proper instruments—but the connection felt intuitive.

  Like he was made to understand this.

  “Do you know how many times I’ve been dosed with gamma radiation?” Sterns #758,014 mumbled as the Eternal-controlled Avengers dragged him from the building. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the polished metal of the doorframe—the gamma-green glint in his eye was more intense than ever. “My particular mutation seems to have quite the appetite for it.”

  --

  I pulled Pietro in a little bit closer as Thena and Gilgamesh left the building, our foreheads pressing together almost painfully. It was so hard, using the Mind Stone to stretch Thena’s protection to cover both of us, but there was something about the closeness that seemed to make it easier. My brother’s sparkling blue eyes were locked on mine. Staring into them, drawing on our sympathetic connection like this… it gave me strength. Shored up my own resolve, somehow—like this was something we were doing together. Briefly, I wondered how it felt from Pietro’s end.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “What’s the plan?” he asked.

  What was the plan? There was a sureness in his tone, like he was utterly confident that I knew what to do. I wished I felt like I deserved to have someone have that much faith in me.

  “Druig’s not trying to break through right now.” I still wasn’t sure why, but it meant Pietro hopefully had a window to act while the Eternal wasn’t actively trying to take control of him. “He’s either given up, is trying to lull me into a false sense of security, or he’s distracted. When I drop this, I’m going to need you to move as fast as you can, before he realises you’re not protected anymore. Hopefully, Thena and Gil will help keep his focus off of you.”

  “Move fast—I can do that,” he said with a small snort of amusement. “Doing what, though?”

  “When we’re ready to move, I’ll open a portal to Kamar-taj and tie it off. You need to run around the compound and grab as many of the others as possible, as quickly as possible, and chuck them through. Try to keep out of sight.”

  “Kamar-taj?”

  “I can’t protect everyone. The sorcerers are the only ones I can think of who might be able to break Druig’s control,” I told him.

  It was a gamble. I knew that the Ancient One had protections against mental intrusion that had prevented me from messing with her head when we’d originally fought. Beyond that, though? I really had no idea whether she actually had any way of stopping Druig. I had a vague memory from the other version of myself, when I’d attacked Kamar-taj chasing America Chavez, where I’d used a mental suggestion to breach their defences. Not exactly a good sign, but what other options did we have? When it came down to it, the sorcerers were the only other people I knew who had enough experience with Infinity Stones and cosmic energy that they might be able to do something.

  “The others might try to fight you when you grab them. If you move fast enough, hopefully you can get most of them before Druig realises what’s happening.”

  “I can try, but… that’s all? That’s your plan?”

  “Part one of three.”

  Okay… and the other two parts?”

  I licked my lips nervously. “Well, first, I’m going to try to carve a replica of the Eternals’ mental protections into… my arm, I guess?”

  And link it directly into my mind and nervous system, I didn’t say aloud. Those sorts of details would only make him fret more.

  “You what? Is that— Are you sure that’s safe?” Pietro asked, his voice tight with sudden worry.

  “Of course not.”

  “Uh, then is it really a good idea?”

  “Is it really a good idea?” I repeated back to him in a gently mocking tone, then paused and let out a small sigh. “I mean, no. It’s probably not a good idea. But if Thena and Gil can’t talk the other Eternals down and we don’t have an answer to Druig, we’re fucked. There’s nothing else I can think of that might work.”

  “…Okay.”

  “Hold on to me?”

  Pietro obliged, putting his arms over my shoulders and drawing me into a tight hug, keeping our foreheads pressed together.

  I let go of him and reached up to retrieve the Mind Stone from the pendant hanging at my neck. Keeping my arms tight against my own body, I slipped both of my hands between Pietro and me, clasping my palms together over the Stone, so that essentially the entire surface of it was touching my skin. Some part of the Stone seemed to reach out to living things naturally, so the extra contact meant that its energy was fractionally easier for me to draw out. It wasn’t that big of a difference, but I felt like I probably needed every slight advantage I could eke out, considering what I was about to attempt.

  At the same time, I felt out the shape of Thena’s internal structures of cosmic energy—Celestial programming, wrought by Arishem’s intent and power and linked into her mind and body—making sure I had the designs clear in my mind’s eye. It felt a little weird to be able to do this at this sort of distance, but the connection that Thena had forged between us ran deep and, as far as my magic was concerned, it was as good as having her right next to me.

  The Celestial language structure I was about to try to create was absolutely not designed with human physiology in mind. What Thena had inside of her was a complicated network of interlinking systems, drawn together in a complex web anchored throughout her body and mind, and all tied directly into her personal source of cosmic energy. If I tried to copy the energy channels that I’d seen when I’d examined the interface that Thena had designed for the Mind Stone, tweaked for a minor draw, I could use them to circulate and manage the flow of power… I wasn’t sure, but I really did think I could actually do this. I could see how it would all fit together. I just needed to actually be able to pull that vision into reality.

  Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and started to draw more deeply on the Mind Stone, using my magic to tightly control a thread of concentrated cosmic energy in the same way that I’d done when inside Thena’s mindscape. The Stone burned cold as I started to lay the foundation and I gritted my teeth. It felt like I was clutching a piece of dry ice, sizzling and spitting, against my skin. The spike of sudden pain made every muscle in my body tense up and I went utterly rigid, fighting desperately against the raw animal instinct that was screaming at me to snatch my hands away from the thing that was burning me, to drop the Stone and get it away.

  Pietro adjusted his grip, pulling me in a little tighter. I was trembling now, the tension in my body making it more like I was vibrating with pain. An involuntary whimper escaped my lips as the burning sensation climbed up to my wrists. My breath was coming in short, sharp gasps. I tried to control it, to breathe more deeply and slowly, but I absolutely couldn’t—my focus was already split between trying to keep myself and Pietro protected from Druig and concentrating on the work I was doing.

  It felt like I’d injected myself with liquid nitrogen and it was tracing a path inexorably up toward my heart, the burning cold branding my flesh as it went. The muscles in my arms started twitching, spasming uncontrollably. I ignored them, forcing myself to power through the feeling as I built the structure outward.

  As it hit my chest, my lungs felt paralysed. I could barely get any air at all, my throat seizing up and letting me take only the smallest hiccupping breaths. I could barely think through the pain. It was a miracle that I was somehow still managing to hold on to the shield that protected Pietro and me as I continued to work. My eyes were open now, but unseeing—I didn’t have the spare focus left for my brain to be able to process the signal.

  “Много боли, бато,” I sobbed out without any sort of conscious decision, my voice hitching and catching on the words. It really hurts, big brother.

  “Ту сам, сестрице. Имам те.” I’m here, little sis. I’ve got you. Pietro squeezed me against him, and I could feel his warmth through our connection, dulling the outer edges of the cold pain that radiated through my body.

  And then I was done.

  The pain receded. I could feel the Celestial structure sitting inside me, heavy and cold and solid, overlapping with the protection I’d stretched over myself through the connection with Thena. The structure was drawing a tiny thread of energy from the Mind Stone in my hands, powering itself without any further input from me. Carefully, I released my mental grip on Thena, relaxing the extra strain I’d been placing on her slowly to try to avoid any snap of backlash. Flexing my new protection, there was a bit of tension and strain as I covered Pietro with it as well. It was easier than pulling Thena’s all the way across both of us, but it still felt uncomfortable.

  There was a wet sensation between my hands, tickles of it running all up my arms and chest along the raw, sensitive nerves that had been in the way of the cosmic energy I’d been channelling. I shrugged my shoulders slightly, my breathing still shaky but starting to settle a little, and Pietro let me go. I leaned back, pulling away from him as I tried to control my breathing and steady the pounding in my chest.

  “Wanda…” Pietro was looking at my arms.

  I followed his gaze to the faintly glowing lines running across my skin. It was like I’d been tattooed with threads of molten gold, forming a clear physical representation of the structure I’d carved into myself. The Celestial designs started in the palm of each hand, went up my wrists to the inside of my forearms, continued past my elbows onto my biceps, curling above my armpits onto my collarbone, meeting at the base of my throat.

  Oh, and then there was all the blood.

  “I’m okay,” I said, though there was still a little bit of a quaver in my voice. “It worked. I did it.”

  “What did you do to yourself?” he murmured, eyebrows knitted together in concern.

  “What I had to.” I suppressed an irritated grimace as I realised I was echoing Thena’s words from yesterday. “I told you what I was doing.”

  “Yes, but…”

  “I’m fine,” I reassured him, taking a step backwards and wincing a little bit. Ugh, I couldn’t maintain my protection over Pietro from much further away—the strain seemed to intensify exponentially with distance. I still didn’t understand the nature of what Thena and I shared, but it was pretty clear from the way I’d been able to use it that it wasn’t a ‘normal’ connection.

  My fingers trembling and greasy with my own blood, I returned the Mind Stone to its locket. The golden lines threaded through my flesh had come together in a circular design at my throat that it sat perfectly in the middle of. It almost seemed as though they’d been deliberately designed with that in mind, somehow, even though I hadn’t consciously done anything like that.

  Gingerly, I reached into my pocket with a finger and hooked my sling ring, trying not to get blood on my space pants as I retrieved it. I really liked these pants. I didn’t want to ruin them.

  Focusing my magic, I gestured and a small portal appeared. Five vibranium spears flew out, edged in wispy threads of red energy, and settled into place, floating around me. Their presence felt good. Reassuring.

  “What are you going to do?” Pietro asked quietly, eyeing the weapons.

  “Thena and Gil might be able to talk Ajak down. If they can, all good. If they can’t…” I trailed off, then shook my head. “Part three. I don’t know for certain that the sorcerers can protect the Avengers from Druig. And if things escalate further, it’s not just the Avengers’ minds at risk—what if the Eternals decide to flush us out by mind controlling President Ellis? They could turn the US against us, undo all of the wins we’ve had. If Druig really is on their side and we need to fight, I just don’t think we can win.”

  “You’re going to kill him?”

  “…Yeah. I think I’ll have to. If we can’t talk this out, it’s the only move that levels the playing field.”

  I ran the edge of my hand along the bridge of my nose, a coppery tang filling my nostrils, then forced a grin. “So, how do I look?” I asked, holding my arms out to either side.

  Pietro let out a small chuckle. “…That top is hanging on for dear life and you're covered in your own blood.”

  “Perfect. Okay.” I blinked and glanced around the training facility for a second. It might just be that I was feeling a little lightheaded and delirious, but if Pietro was going to be running around the compound rescuing people, then… could I? “FRIDAY?” I asked aloud. “You there? Will you listen to me if I tell you to do something?”

  The light, Irish-accented voice answered from thin air, filtering through hidden speakers. “I’m here. Given the situation, I’ve activated crisis protocols—your system permissions have been temporarily escalated to Avenger. You have full access, Ms Maximoff.”

  My heart swelled in my chest. If Tony were here, I could have kissed him. “FRIDAY, tell Tony I take back all the bad things I ever said about him. Well…” I shot Pietro a small smile and shrugged. “Let’s say maybe sixty per cent of the bad things I’ve ever said about him. Let’s not go overboard.”

  “Will do. What do you need from me?” It might have been my imagination, but I thought I heard a touch of amusement in her tone.

  “This is extremely important: Once I spin up this portal, I need you to play Sweet Dreams by Eurythmics over every speaker in the compound. Do you understand?”

  “Got it.”

  “What?” Pietro looked utterly confused.

  “It’s a distraction.”

  “But why—”

  “Makkari can sense vibrations,” I said firmly, cutting him off. “Keeping out of sight might not be enough; this’ll give you some extra cover. Are you ready?” I really had no idea how sensitive Makkari was to vibrations, so I didn’t know how effective that might be as a tactic, but I obviously couldn’t explain to Pietro why I’d chosen the song.

  His expression shifted and he nodded. “I’m ready.”

  I gestured, feeding magic into my sling ring and opening another portal. On the other side, the central courtyard of Kamar-taj was dappled with the warm amber of late afternoon. Tying the gateway off, I fed a spike of power into it to keep it going for a bit. I flicked my head toward Pietro. “Go!”

  He went, exiting the training facility in a sudden blur, moving almost faster than the eye could track. The familiar electronic synth beat of my music request started up almost immediately.

  Steeling myself, I turned and headed for the exit, following the trail of my connection with Thena—it felt like she’d walked out into the middle of the central lawn. As I passed by the twin Quinjets in the hangar, I glanced upwards, listening to the music playing from the building’s speaker system, then looked around.

  “Well, that was actually much less cool in real life than I thought it’d be,” I muttered.