THE ODYSSEY

Part I: On The Docks

By Ben Hobson

Out/Inside Space and Time

This place is made of dazzling colors, blindingly bright, their shapes made of pure energy. They twist and contort all around, making spatial judgments completely irrelevant. It almost looks like outer space, if only space was a turbulent sea with no control. Brilliant reds explode against a blue background that shifts into green, spirals out into yellow, then contorts into purple only to start all over the again. There are no points of reference in this world between worlds, only the shifting of colors and space. In fact, the only definite point in all of it is a bright circle that shifts with the walls around it. But is it the beginning of this place or the end? No normal person could tell.

Thankfully, the pair traveling down the corridor were anything but normal.

The first can hardly still be described as human. He is human in form; head, legs, arms, and body; but opposed to flesh, blood, and sinew, he is living energy, his texture matching that of the area around him. Stars and energy bleed from the tunnel into his being, then back out, a continuous loop of inexhaustible energy. Only his eyes remain, pure white, with no pupils to speak of.

Behind him is a middle aged woman. She floats behind him with no tether, rather, she follows in his wake, it’s forces pulling her forward. She grew accustomed to this form of travel along time ago, so she doesn’t experience any form of discomfort. Long white hair, prematurely colored, floats out behind her in a ponytail. Her face is well aged; managing to appear ten years younger than she truly is. Like her hair, her pupils are pure white and milky in appearance, as if blind. Orange and grey armor covers nearly her entire body and what it doesn’t cover is by a thick black material. A sheathed sword, long and wide, rests on her hip.

“Please Cameron,” she thinks to herself, her worried eyes watching the being before her. “Hold on.” Suddenly her eyes flick past his body, to the white hole before them. “We’re almost there…”

Bells Beach
Torquay, Victoria
Australia

To call the day beautiful would be an insult.

Bright sunlight shines down from a blisteringly blue sky. Long lines of thin white clouds drift lazily. There’s a strong breeze in the air, blowing the salty sea air ashore and washing those too close with spray. The ocean, bright, clear, and cool, churns against the beach. The waves from the Southern Ocean are world famous for the stability caused by their crossing over the shallow reefs here. They slow the waves down, allowing them to grow in height. Today is a good day for waves; many of them topping out at fifteen feet. It’s a wonderful, gorgeous, amazing day to be at the beach. Even more so if you’re a surfer.

And Davis Cameron, you better believe that HE is a surfer. Born to the task like a bird to flight, his board glides over the crest of the wave as it rolls beneath him. He smiles wide and eyes the wave eagerly. Twisting his hips he slashes the board around, making an “S” with it, then rolls down and up. As the wave continues to rise, so do his emotions.

He cuts back, allowing the wave to roll, and slides through the pipe, his fingers tracing lines that disappear instantly as he passes. Davis bursts out onto the other side, cuts up, and flies into the air! Salty spray follows behind him as he spins around, bringing the board all the way round him. Feet and legs shift, keeping him steady, and he cruises into the shoreline, the wave finally dying. Davis doesn’t even hear the crowd on the beach or the electrically tinged voice of the announcer as he lowers himself onto the board. He lays down, dipping his arms into the water, and begins to paddle back to the beach.

“—Davis Cameron, long time participant in the ASP, finishing up an AMAZING run just now,” one of the announcers says, his voice booming over the beach.

“Can’t agree more, Martin. In fact, I will be amazed if he doesn’t bump out Parkinson from the leaders position with that performance.”

After a brief chuckle, Martin comes back. “Yeah, he has definitely lived up to that wildcard that got him into the event in the first place. Alright, we got scores comin’ in for Davis’ last run.” Once more they switch.

“Following up his lovely 8.9 earlier in the day, Davis Cameron has scored A 9.7 EARNING HIM TOP SPOT IN THIS YEARS RIP CURL PRO!”

As the electronic systems shriek from the announcers shouting, a huge roars bursts from the crowd. Davis grins from ear to proud ear as he hops off the board, having reached the shallows. He hoists up his board, resting it against his side. Before he can even make it to the beach though, a beautiful blonde practically bowls him over!

“You did it Davie!” she shouts, hugging him tight. “You did you did you did it!”

Struggling to hold himself up against the taller blonde, Davis wraps his free arm around her. “Calm it down Heather, ya’re gonna embarrass a boy.”

“Then BE embarrassed,” she says, turning to gesture at the cameras rushing towards him. “Cuz your spotlight has arrived.”

“Davis!” A raven-haired woman says as she tromps through the sand, her cameraman behind her. “You just took first place after four years of competing; how’d you feel?”

“Bloody fantastic,” Davis says, planting his board in the wet sand. He shakes his hair a little bit, forcing it out of his eyes. “But I’d be better on a wave.”

“Are you planning on competing again soon?” a man questions.

“Soon as possible,” Davis says, squinting.

The man grins. “Are you going to be taking your girlfriend there with you?”

Davis bursts out laughing as Heather turns red. “Girlfriend nothing! I’m his SISTER you idiot.”

Now it’s the man’s turn to turn red. As he starts to stammer out an apology, Davis waves him off. With ease he pulls his board out of the sand, grabs Heather by the hand, and marches through the crowd.

“Alright now, enough of that,” he says to the reporters, turning around slightly. “In case ya didn’t notice, I just WON. Which means I’m required to celebrate!”

Later That Night

The parties lasted the rest of the day. First a beach party, then a bar party, then an apartment party, then back out for a bar party—all of which was kind of funny to Davis as he didn’t drink. Well, not a lot anyway. He ATE a lot, but a high metabolism will do that. Heather ended up good and plastered, but Davis couldn’t blame her. Despite being twenty-five, he still lived with her and she was the breadwinner.

Well, until TODAY. The Rip Curl Pro. Davis smiles as he exists the bedroom of his nice hotel suite. He’s dressed in a nice, relaxed white t-shirt and striped boxers. He slings his towel over the back of the couch, his curling hair still damp. With a smile he heads for the small kitchen, scooping up the TV remote from the counter.

“The Rip Curl Pro,” Davis mutters to himself gleefully. Searching the small fridge, Davis grabs a Styrofoam container from lunch earlier. “Not just any Rip Curl. The Rip Curl PRO. Why pro? Cuz I am one. I am a surfer,” he says, a cocky shake of his head accenting the “I.” “A PRO surfer. Not a beach bum, not a slacker, not NOTHING—but a pro.” Davis slides the container of Chinese food into the microwave and gets it cooking. Peeking his head around the wall he clicks the TV on.

“—still managing to make the top news story around—” A newswoman states, her voice slow and professional.

Cutting her off, Davis says, “Davis Cameron, long time surf-wannabe, makes PRO. Let’s repeat that shall we? P-R-O baby.”

“—are the X-Men. While their history largely marks them as outlaw heroes, several recent incidents which can only be considered terrorist attacks are making lawmakers and citizens alike re-think the mutant situation. This is the footage that has been running since—”

“DON’T CARE!” he replies, popping his arm around the wall again to change the channel. “Don’t need to ruin my day with talk about those freaks. We are all positive here in Davis World, no evil mutant shenanigans bringing things down.”

An over-excited sports announcer comes on next and it’s just the type of background sound Davis was looking for. He leans back against the cabinets, rocking his head as if to some music, and watches his food cook. As such, he nearly misses the brilliant display of energy and the odd scent of cool, fresh air that fills his apartment.

Davis dashes around the corner, wondering exactly what was on TV to produce a lightshow like that. He quickly finds that it wasn’t the TV making those lights—it was a woman. And a man actually. Who just appeared in his hotel living room.

The woman is slightly taller than the man and much younger. Covered in a strange orange armor, she holds up her companion. Long white hair runs down her back, held up in a ponytail.

“It’s alright,” she whispers to her companion. “C’mon, we just gotta get you to a couch…” The old man nods his head and, with what looks like great effort, manages to walk around the couch.

He’s dressed oddly. His thin body is covered in a black and red suit, armored at the elbows and knees. Whatever color his hair was, now it’s white, and pulled far away from his brow. Letting out a great sigh, he slumps down onto the couch.

Then the microwave beeps. The woman looks up, eyes wide, and stares right at Davis.

“We found you,” she says, her voice practically a whisper.

His brain freezing up, Davis stays perfectly still.

Then he ducks back into the kitchen. “You, uh, didn’t find anything! You found nothing-at-all in fact! So, uh, uhm, just…just go back to whatever weird crap you’re doing and leave me alone!” Much to his dissatisfaction, the woman comes around the corner. He’s trapped now.

Nowhere to run.

“No, please, we need your help!” she says, her almost white eyes pleading. Then they go wide. “Oh! That’s right! They’re following us!” Taking a step back, the woman presses a small depression on the neckline of her armor. There’s a snap-hiss sound as it depressurizes and then expands away from her slightly. She shucks off the armor in a rush and soon stands in nothing more than a skintight black piece of fabric. The only thing she keeps is the belt and sword, buckling it back onto her waist. “Alright, that’s good,” she says, gathering up the armor in her arms. “Here,” she says, trying to peer over the lump at Davis. “Get rid of this.”

Not knowing what to do, Davis just accepts the clutter as she practically dumps it on him. He stands there a second, confused, then walks over to the trashcan. Pressing the flap with his foot, he pops it open, the drops the armor onto it.

“Not like that!” the woman says, walking over to him. “I meant with a portal!”

“Look, Super-lady,” Davis replies, a tired edge creeping into his voice. “YOU come here in your Master Chief armor with Old Man Winter and start making demands of ME? I don’t know you! I don’t even know what the hell is going on here! Who the hell are you? What’s with the Spartan armor? Oh God,” Davis says his eyes going wide. “You’re a super-person aren’t you. One of those-those irradiated, hydrogamma bomb, mutant freaky things?” Davis scuttles away from her, pressing his back against the wall. “Oh, please please PLEASE just get out of here and leave me alone! I got no problem with you, at least, not like, a REAL problem, so please, just leave me alone.”

Sighing, the woman presses a hand to her head. “Davis, I’m sorry, but I just don’t have time for explanations, I honestly DON’T. We’re being followed RIGHT THIS SECOND and we need to get out of here. That’s why we came to you—we just need a ride to shake the Hunters loose.”

“Well, my sister’s car is right downstairs.” Davis says slowly. “My keys are in my pants pocket…in my bedroom. Feel free to take it. Well, don’t feel FREE cuz Heather’ll be pissed, but—”

“We need a warpwave Davis, not a car,” the woman says irritably.

Davis glares at her, picking up on her tone. “Yeah? Well I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT IS.” He crosses his arms. “Some kind of new model?”

The comment is missed by the mystery woman however. She’s completely quiet as an odd panic sets in. She takes a step back. “You…don’t know what a warpwave is. You didn’t know what I meant by portal either.” She studies Davis for a second. “You don’t have your powers, do you?”

“Lady,” Davis replies, putting a hand to his chest. “I couldn’t get any more unpowered if I tried. I’m just a surfer.” Then he adds under his breath, “a pro surfer.”

The woman just blinks a few times, clearly confused, and then looks away. She shakes her head as he turns around, walking back to her companion on the couch. “Cameron,” she says, shaking his shoulder gently. While Davis can’t see the man clearly, he does notice the old man’s head shake slightly. “Cameron. Something went wrong, he doesn’t have his powers.”

At this, the man named Cameron slowly turns around, eyeing Davis. Groaning tiredly he pushes himself up to his feet. The woman dashes around the couch, catching him by one arm, but he shakes her off. “Give me a minute.” He says in a low voice. Cameron slowly walks around the couch, then heads towards Davis. With a slow, shuffling step, he comes to a halt, only a foot away from the younger man.

Then he sticks his hand out.

“Davis Cameron?” the man says, squinting to see. “I have been…wanting to meet you for…quite some time. It’s a pleasure.”

The apprehension clear on his face, Davis looks from the woman to the old man. “Yeah,” he says, reaching out slowly. “A, uh, a real pleasure for me too. Nothing like super-powered strangers appearing in my hotel room to round out a day.” Taking the older man’s hand, Davis can feel the pressure of the handshake—surprisingly strong—with a powerful hint of something…more…behind it.

A brilliant light erupts from the old man’s eyes. He rolls his head back slightly, his eyes wide, as he tightens his grip on Davis’ hand. It starts to hurt in fact as the old man rises into the air! His body trembles, the odd lights flash, and then suddenly it swirls around Davis! The energy slides over him like velvet, running up his arm, over his chest, and down the rest of his body until it covers all but his head. Davis pulls back, trying to shake himself free, but Cameron doesn’t let go. He CAN’T let go. Panicking, Davis looks at the older man, locking eyes with him, and that’s when he feels it.

For a brief second it’s like everything in Reality stops. There is no sound. No motion. Nothing to see, nothing to feel, nothing at all. And then…like a the first drop of rain falling on a still puddle…every sensation rushes back into Davis. He reels at the stimulus, breaking free of Cameron, and falls back.

“Cameron!” the woman shouts, jumping forward to catch him. A visible sheen of sweat coats the man’s skin and he’s panting hard.

“’m…fine…’m fine…” he pants. Nodding a weak agreement, the woman turns to look at Davis.

The younger man stands there, amazed. The technicolor energy flows around him like water, gripping his skin. In a flash of white light, it suddenly solidifies into a copy of Cameron’s red-and-black outfit. There’s another burst of light and a small board appears in front of Davis.

It’s a shortboard—roughly five feet high by a foot wide, approximately an inch thick. The board is all glistening silver, sleek and smooth. To any regular person it would look simply beautiful. To Davis though, it looks absolutely perfect. He runs a hand over it, a child-like smile growing over his face. He laughs slightly as he wraps his hands around it. Holding it, he chuckles some more, and he honestly doesn’t know why.

“’at’s…the diff’ence…” Cameron says, sitting up weakly. “Difference between…he ‘n’ I…”

The opening of the portal doesn’t make a sound, but somehow it catches Davis’ attention. He spins around, gazing at the hole in the wall, knowing that it was there somehow even though there’s no way he could know.

“Is…” Davis starts, reaching out hesitantly. “Is that…the warpwave?”

The woman nods. “Yes. Explaining the quantum theories behind it would take more time than we have and probably just confuse you though. Suffice it to say that the warpwave is a direct hole in reality from Point A to Point B. You are able to navigate it thanks to that board—and we can follow behind in your wake for instantaneous travel.”

“Like racing?” Davis says, glancing back at them quickly. The shifting colors and form of the wave have his total attention—as does that odd tugging in his body to just jump on that board and let it take him wherever.

“Exactly like,” the woman says, standing up with Cameron. “Now please, we need to get out of here.” Davis opens his mouth to protest, but she cuts him off. “I don’t have time to argue and the destination doesn’t matter. They were tracking my armor. As long it’s here and we’re somewhere else, we’ll be fine.”

“Waitaminute.” Davis says, looking over his shoulder at her. “Just who ARE you running from?” Before she can answer, there’s a large POP sound and the room fills with orange, yellow, and red bubbles! The sound of bodies hitting the floor is clearly audible, even if they aren’t even seen.

“They’re here!” the woman hisses, drawing her sword. “Cameron, get behind me,” she says, moving to her feet. “Davis, connect that warpwave to a destination, we gotta get out of here.”

“What?” Davis asks, not really paying attention, as he’s struggling to brush the bubbles away from him.

“Listen to that, folks!” A man’s voice suddenly says from the heart of the rapidly popping bubbles. “We found ‘em!”

Standing in the center of the room are five beings. The first is a man with long blonde hair. Black goggles cover his eyes and a thin smile is spread across his angular face. His body is thin, yet muscular, also covered in black. The only spots of color on him are large yellow circles around his ankles, wrist, and neck and an amulet on one hand. It’s bright red in color and completely circular, resting on the top of his hand. His arms are spread wide as he looks at the woman. “Ah, I see ya finally noticed our little tracker on yer armor. Don’t worry about that,” Bouncer says, cracking a knuckle. “Now that we’ve got you, we aren’t about to let you go again.”

The second is crouched low to the ground. It looks like a gigantic grasshopper, nearly five feet long, with six legs on either side. Two sharp claws rest on the bottom of each foot. It’s dark brown in color. Two wings rustle nervously underneath a hard covering on it’s back. Strangely though, where it would have enormous eyes are instead two small pairs of eyes on either side, black in color. Like the first, a red jewel is wrapped around one leg. “Let’s just capture them and be done with it.” Pariah says, his voice like rustling leaves.

The tallest of the group, Hawk-Eye, steps forward as he puts a hand to the quill of arrows at his back. His head is a falcon’s, complete with sharp beak and staring eyes. The grey and brown and purple feathers extend down his neck, ending just above his chest. Great wings, tinted purple, sprout from his back, a quiver of arrows resting between them. He carries no bow, for he needs none. So great is his strength that he can just hurl an arrow hard enough to imbed it in steel. He’s tensed and ready, just waiting for the order.

Kazarbua’s muscular form twitches as she bends down, her muzzle pulling back into a growl as she approaches the woman. A dark blonde in color’s, Kazarbua’s fur stands on edges as she approaches. A black and orange suit clings to her body, tiger striped along the rips, arms, and legs. Long claws tip her fur covered fingers. “Don’t just CAPTURE,” she says, her green eyes wide. There is a long scar over one of them, slashed across her face diagonally “Let’s have some payback first.”

“Try it, bitch,” the woman says, waving her sword. “See if I can’t finish carving out that eye.”

“WHO the HELL are these guys?!?” Davis panics as he has no idea what’s going on. The breaking of his concentration causes the warpwave to close behind him.

“They’re the Hunters,” the woman gravelly replies. “They’ve chased us across dozens of realities.”

Davis shakes his head. “I’m sorry—of WHAT?”

“That’s right, Legacy baby,” Bouncer says as he steps forward. “HUNTERS. ‘at’s what we do. Leastways, till we get you two back to the Palace. Then it’s back home and happy days. So lay down the sword and come peacefully huh?”

“I haven’t done that yet,” Legacy says, stepping back slightly. “I’m not going to start now.”

Bouncer laughs, hopping from one foot to the next like a little kind. “Thank GOD for that. Because I like this part—” he hops one more time, and then suddenly explodes upwards! Rebounding off the ceiling he shoots forward, slamming a fist across Legacy’s cheek! “—BEST!” he shouts, moving past to bounce off the back wall, the ceiling, and then thud to a stop on the carpet.

Grinning like a madman he stands up. “FUCK that felt good.”

“Stop…them…” Cameron wheezes as he tries to sit up. “Stop it.” he says weakly. He only manages to get the attention of Kazarbua though. She stalks towards him, her fangs bared. A large paw presses down on Cameron’s chest as she puts her full weight onto him.

“You got no fight left, old man,” she says, licking the air. “But if I can’t hurt the lady…” Opening her mouth wide, Kazarbua turns her head, lowering her face towards Cameron’s neck. He can feel her hot breath as she gets closer…but when her mouth closes it isn’t on him. She rears back, Davis’ shortboard colliding with her face!

“Holy shit, you can’t just bite dudes!” Davis shouts, standing over Cameron. “And what are you supposed to be anyways? A cat guy?”

A loud roar fills the room as she prepares to pounce. “I’M A WOMAN.”

Chuckling to himself, Cameron sits up. It takes most of his energy, but he manages. He looks at Legacy as she tries to stand herself, her sword laying on the floor nearby. She can feel his look and returns it—then with a grim smile, nods. Cameron’s eyes flash the rainbow and suddenly a warp wave appears behind the Hunters!

“HUNTERS!” Bouncer shouts, struggling against the warpwinds. “GET THEM, NOW!” The entire group springs into motion—Kazarbua lunging forward, beams of yellow light firing out of Pariah’s eyes, Bouncer jumping into the air—but none of them manage to escape the warpwinds. They’re pulled in against their will, Pariah’s beams going wide as he falls back.

A portal then opens behind Davis and his group and the same affect hits them. Legacy grabs her sword then moves to Cameron. Davis helps her pick him up.

“Nicely done, my love.” she whispers as he closes the portal. “Now let’s go.” What neither Legacy or Cameron realize though is that they missed one.

Hawk’s-Eye springs out from the other side of the couch! His purple wings launch him into the air and he slings out an arrow! The projectile slams into Davis’ shoulder, sinking to the fletching. He doesn’t get a chance to react to the pain though as Hawk’s-Eye rams into the group, plunging them all into the warpwave!

Davis doesn’t have time to get on his board.

Cameron doesn’t have time to sync to the wave.

So rather than traveling to the destination somewhere on the other end…they fall.

Down through reality.

And out the other side…

NEXT: In which the other side looks a lot like a hippie flashback. In which we meet the sorcerer supreme of another reality—get ready for Ms. Marvel like you have NEVER seen her before. In which this is much more explaining of goings ons. And in which Davis probably freaks out some more.