The “G” Shield

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Knowhere

–Jack Sullivan–

Ugh. The moment he gained consciousness, he snapped upright and opened his eyes to scan his surroundings, only to regret it a second later because a sharp pain spiked through his head, making him close his eyes and hold his head.

He didn't know what was happening to him. All he knew was that he had somehow lost or suppressed his memories of the most painful incident of his life, both the current and previous ones. Rightly so, considering he could still feel the phantom pains of the Tesseract’s energy lashing out at his body, peeling off his barriers and then skin, layer by layer until the bone was visible.

He didn’t know how he did it but he was thankful that he at least managed to save Stark from the possibility of dying in space, all alone, by himself. That was something that brought relief but that was overshadowed by the huge migraine he was having at the moment.

It didn’t help that in all his time on this earth and the previous earth, he had never had any issues with Migraine. Yes, he was one of those miracle children who either didn’t have Migraines or didn’t feel them as strongly as other people did.

He had thought them weak at the time, thinking less of them as they were brought down by mere headache but now, he wished he could go back to his previous world and apologize to every single one of them.

He wouldn’t wish this sort of pain on anyone. He was sure that somehow, despite all odds, the migraine was more disturbing for his mind than the literal slow disintegration of his body that he had experienced.

The Tesseract’s energy coursing through his mind and body meant that he couldn’t fall unconscious so he was forced to bear witness as his powers fought, however pitifully, against the vast might of the TEsseract and failed in protecting him. Then came the double shocker of the f*cking Sceptre being shoved straight through his chest, somehow missing his heart. That same sceptre also shoved itself into the barrier surrounding Tesseract, holding him there, like he was Jesus himself.

He would bet his left arm that there was someone behind the sceptre just gaining powers on its own. It had been purposefully orchestrated. All of that plus he had to concentrate on the last wisps of his powers, exhausted and beaten but still trying to protect him… he had to wrestle control of his powers and create a complex barrier around Stark which ensured that he was violently ejected from his position, while at the same time, making sure that that Nuke was delivered to its rightful recipients.

When he had told Natasha to shove the sceptre even deeper, he had not expected the almost violent mental breakdown that she had right in front of him. That scene was not something that most people would ever get to see, Natasha Romanoff absolutely crying her eyes out as she did something that was objectively good. 

Sure, it would have meant losing him and not to toot his own horn, but he was awesome, even so, saving millions of people would have been higher on the priority list. He didn’t really understand her story and it was not even as if they were particularly close or anything. Something to ponder for later, then.

“I know you are awake, Mr.Jack,” The absolutely slimy voice of Tivan entered his ears as he suppressed a groan and sat upright from his bed. Hard as the bed was, it seemed the better option between laying down on it and looking at Tivan’s stupid smug face.

Oh, how he wished to wipe it off but he had to be patient. He didn’t know what had happened after he had been caught up in that explosion, something that would have given him trouble had he been at his peak. As he was when the explosion happened, he should have been reduced to atoms, instead of being on the other end of the Galaxy, captured by Tivan but more importantly, captured in one piece.

He simply looked at Tivan with a cool, calm, collected look on his face. Tivan simply stared back for some time before he opened his stupid smug mouth.

“Not particularly chatty, are we? I suppose that’s alright, I do love my own voice. It is quite melodious, if I do say so myself-”

He sneered internally at the self obsessive nature of Tivan. Then again, being one of the few immortals of the universe, he must have needed something to anchor himself to time, lest he lose all sense of time. In his case, it was his collection and to a lesser extent, himself. In the Grandmaster’s case, it was arena matches.

“Now, as I was saying, it is an absolute pleasure to meet the Green Guardian of Earth. I was told that Earthlings in particular are quite mellow when it comes to negotiation so I came here to see if I could cut a deal with you but….”

His eyes narrowed as Tivan whirled to face him, his hand resting on a button that looked bright red. He had an inkling of an idea as to what was about to hapeeeeee-

He glared defiantly at Tivan, even as his body continued to convulse under the onslaught of the electric shock that the collar was delivered straight to his nervous system. It must be the same kind that had managed to subdue even Thor. Somehow, Thor, a god with a domain of lightning, was subdued by tasers, however advanced they might have been.

That led him to believe that the collars were not actually shocking his muscles but something else entirely. Something related to his brain and it turned out to be true because the way his body completely lost control was indicative of that. He had persevered through much more volts of electricity before his body succumbed to it.

“...but I can see that you are not yet compliant enough to listen to my words properly. That is rather ungrateful of you but I am nothing if not noble and forgiving. Perhaps some time spent in the pen would do you good. My brother’s goods certainly behaved well after spending a couple of cycles in the pits,” Tivan’s voice became fainter and fainter before he stopped hearing even his footsteps.

Only then did the shock stop as he laid down on the ground, gasping for dear life, as the phantom pains still assaulted his body, forcing his limbs to shake at odd times.

God, he hated that man and moreover, he hated himself for being this weak.

He tried to move, to get up, to do something but his body or rather, his mind gave out before he could do anything, plunging him into darkness.

…..

….

The next time his eyes opened, he found himself facing the same drab ceiling he did when he first found himself as a part of the Collector’s vaunted collection. He still could not believe someone actually had the audacity to call him a part of their collection.

Well, it was not as if it was untrue though. He did actually manage to capture him. He had to wonder how though. 

He was sure that he had multiple scars on his back that even the most advanced of technology shouldn’t be able to heal without outright regenerating everything on that part of his body. 

Well, he sat up, only to see the same drab scene from before. He had no actually viable way of establishing contact with anyone. Well…there was that thing he could try,

He looked around, trying to see if there was something that the Collector was using to spy on him and figuring out that they were either absent or in a form he didn’t know to look for, he shrugged and sat cross legged, making a show of him meditating in his room.

The cushion below was terrible but it served its purpose. He took in a deep breath and silently whispered a single word.

“Heimdall.”

He immediately braced for impact in case the Collector had some built in measure against the Watcher’s name being uttered but after opening one eye, he saw that nothing had changed, and not in a good way.

He could not feel Heimdall’s gaze on him, at all. Heimdall the Watcher was blessed with a universal sight that allowed him to single out areas and he was always listening to someone calling out his name. He had felt his sight on him multiple times when he was on Earth and it was actually very easy, for mystically attuned people, to sense if they were being watched or not.

It was like a subtle pressure being applied on their very soul, so it had nothing to do with the power suppression that the Collector had applied on him. He could not feel that weight on him at all, which meant one of two things.

One, Heimdall’s reach did not extend this far, which was very unlikely.

The Second option which was much worse and far more likely. The Collector had somehow shielded this place from the Watcher’s gaze. That meant that the only people he knew who could travel this far and do something about his situation, Thor and the Asgardians, could not be reached by him at all.

This sucked, he thought to himself as he sighed explosively and laid back down on the bed, the very rigid, uncomfortable bed.

Well, there was nothing else to do so he just closed his eyes and meditated. What? There was no rule that one had to sit cross legged to meditate, it was just the most efficient pose for beginners and he was no beginner at the art of meditation.

He tried to, once again, look for the ever present dimensional energy around him and tried to slowly, trickle by trickle, bring it into his body. He succeeded…at first. Then, out of nowhere, he was once again subjected to the shocking experience that he absolutely hated.

Small blessing that this time, he wasn’t knocked out immediately this time. It was because of his body developing some resistance or the shocking duration being very short this time, he did not know.

He was once again left a sweaty mess as the shock subsided. A robotic voice came from the ceiling as the shock left his system.

“Please refrain from performing activities that raise the energy of your body. Please be warned that the next penalty will be more severe,”

The warning was repeated three times before it finally stopped. He rolled his eyes and stood up, one hand on his chin as he thought of his options.

Heimdall was out of option which meant the chances of someone rescuing him was out of the question as well. External help was ruled out then.

All he had was some rudimentary knowledge of the Collector and judging by the fact that there is no mention or signs anywhere of Thanos succeeding in his snap, it would be safe to assume that he was not too late for that endeavour of his.

He had his powers and his mystic arts but he literally could not do anything involving energy without being rendered helpless by the damned collar. There were rituals he could perform, using his blood as a medium but he didn’t know much about them.

Just an emergency one that uses the surrounding energy, any energy, and one’s blood as a medium to function as SOS. It was one of the requirements to become a Master of the Mystic Arts and he had done that purely as a formality.

He was no Master Harris, who could probably create a ritual using his blood that could bring them back to Earth. Well, that might be a tad bit exaggerated but he would not be wrong to proclaim Master Harris to be the foremost rituals expert in Kamar Taj, second only to the Ancient One and that was only because of her extensive experience and age, confirmed by herself during one of their many sessions.

He also knew that somehow, Tivan knew his name. Not his alter ego’s superhero name, no, Tivan spoke his real name. He did tell it to Romanoff before he was engulfed in that huge ass explosion but he had only done that because he thought he was going to die.

And even if Romanoff had respected his wish, she could not have publicised it so much that even Tivan, from so far, would know about him. Maybe he was now famous in the galaxy then?

Defeating Thanos’ Chitauri army, however small it may be, might have indeed gotten some attention but even then, that was too far of a leap.

Well, it would seem that getting Carina’s attention would be his only bet then. He would have to–

His thoughts paused as he looked at a section of the wall flashing as it changed its colour, revealing a small rectangular block that receded and was lifted into the ceiling, to reveal a small walkway leading…somewhere.

He looked around in doubt, had his wishes been answered so soon? 

Only one way to find out, he thought to himself as he gingerly stepped foot outside his pod. The walkway was long. It was a long cylindrical walkway surrounded by white walls that lit up the path. It was just the right dimensions for him to walk without hunching and some.

He walked for almost 5 minutes, at least he thought so before he reached a dead end. At Least that's what it looked like, before the door too receded back, revealing a white entrance. He squinted his eyes in suspicion before heading straight in. It was not as if he would go back into that prison of a pod.

He came out of that tunnel and found himself in…..a stadium?

He looked at the litany of aliens that came in all sizes, shapes, and colours as they paused in whatever they were doing and looked straight at him. It was more than a little weird to look at thousands of eyeballs, especially since he was sure that the people were only in the hundreds.

“Um..hi?” He smiled nervously as he slowly raised his hand, so as to look non-threatening, and waved at everyone.

Everyone looked at him and then at each other before they carried on with their tasks. Many of them made movements that looked suspiciously like shrugging.

“Ahahaha, A Terran. How interesting. Come, come Terran. Tell me, what is your name?” A six legged (handed?) creature came sliding straight at him, leaving a suspiciously shining fluid behind on his path. He tried to look him in the eye but it was made more than a little bit difficult by the three sets of eyes on one below the other.

“Um, Hi. My name is Jack,” He said as he hesitantly shook the outstretched limb, immediately relieved that his hands were not slimy.

“J-a-ck. Hmm, what a funny name. Something only the interesting Terrans could come up with, I am sure. Ah, you guys have the most interesting media. I have long since wanted to meet one of your kind but you people never really figured out how to leave your gravity well.

Ah, who would have thought that I would meet a Terran here, in the Collector’s lair? No offense, but you Terrans are not really rare items or are you now? Did something happen to Terra while I was here?”

The alien (Snail”) somehow came close and held his shoulders as he asked him that question with utmost seriousness.

He shook his head as he shrugged off his hands(legs?), “No, Earth still stands. I am somewhat of a rarity among humans. That is why the Collector brought me here,”

He chose to keep his powers a secret for the time being. It looked like some sort of open prison with others talking with each other in harmony, while some others played some sort of sports in one corner.

All of them wore the same collars as he did though, so he had no misconceptions regarding their status.

Let’s see what this place leads to. Beats staying in his pod, all alone, anytime

“Ah, where are my manners? As you Terrans like to say. My name is Kumpo,” The six limbed alien said as he bowed, imitating some orthodox noble introducing himself in a cheesy old movie.

 

Word Count - 2793

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