THE ODYSSEY

Part III: Rough Waves

By Ben Hobson

The Betweenspace…

The twisting, pulsing colors of the space between Realities begins to blister. The body of Davis Cameron slowly appears, growing more and more solid. The coursing energy pulses outward as it grows, then bursts open, spilling its contents into the ether! Irene Cameron, his wife, the adventurer known as Legacy on a dozen realities, spirals away, unconscious. May Parker, the Sorceress Supreme of her Reality, is an accidental traveler, scooped up in Davis’ transformation when his wife came under attack by those hunting them. The last member of their party is himself – or rather, someone much like himself. The Davis Cameron of another reality, younger, more close-minded, and much less experienced. A him-that-could-have-been.

For a brief moment, Davis allows himself to be jealous as the path that this Almost-Him has taken. But then the happy moments of his own life come slowly back and Cameron smiles. For all that this journey has cost him, Cameron doesn’t regret the decision to run from his home reality. He has Irene and that is enough.

Although not for long.

A tremor passes through his body as he forces it to revert to physical matter. The process is slow and painful – it has been growing each reversion, but this is nearly unbearable! Screaming pain tears through his body; he can feel a sliver of skin peel off and transform, and it isn’t enough. He can’t finish the process. Cold realization washing over him, Cameron switches tactics and heads for Davis.

“Davis,” Cameron says, sliding through the waves of Reality to float next to the Almost-Him. “Davis, can you hear me?” He reaches out, his arm stretching, and shakes the younger man.

“What?” Davis looks around, taking in the scenery. “What the – where…?”

“The Betweenspace,” Cameron says, pulling Davis closer. “Listen, there isn’t much time for me left. It looks… it looks like my body… can’t revert.”

“What are you talking about?” Davis asks. Then he blinks, figuring it out, and looks at Legacy. “Then you guys – !”

“Don’t even!” Cameron says, grabbing Davis by the shoulders. “Listen, Davis, I can get you three to another reality, but that’s it for me. My part in this journey is done. You are going to have to lead them.”

“I’m not leading anybody!” Davis says, shaking free of Cameron. “Just send me home from here and I’ll be out of everyone’s hair.”

“I CAN’T. I don’t have any way to navigate what reality I’m going to – I just pick one and go,” the energy man says, his voice picking up speed. “So it’s either I send you SOMEWHERE or you stay here for the rest of your life. And I won’t let that woman die here, you understand? It was my job to protect her.” Concentrating, a quiver passes through Cameron’s body. When it’s done he sighs, exhausted, and then he reaches around his neck. With ease he pulls a small string through his neck, holding out the object to Davis.

“Now it’s your job.”

Davis looks as the small ring – a simple gold band, polished and shining. “But that’s-”

“It’s a promise I made,” Cameron says gently. “To love and protect her until death do us part. And I can’t do that anymore Davis. I need you to.”

There’s a long pause as Davis just floats there. He looks at Irene again, shaking his head. “Look, Cameron, I can’t – I mean – that’s not what I DO, I’m just – “

“You need to!” Cameron says, shoving the ring at Davis again. “Irene is your only hope for getting home, Davis – you need her just as much as she’s going to need you! You have the power now, you have the responsibility. YOU are Slipstream, Davis Cameron. Please. I need – please. Just… tell her that I love her.”

“Seems, heh, seems like I’m stuck,” Davis says, choked up slightly himself. “Look, I can’t… promise you that I can take care of her. I ain’t had that many girlfriends myself, much less a WIFE. But I will tell her. I can handle that much.” Reaching out, he grabs the ring. “I promise.”

“That will have to do then,” Cameron replies, his voice straining. Slowly he begins to float back – his body melting into the landscape. For a moment, there’s nothing – just Davis and his other floating companions. Suddenly, there’s a change in the air. The colors seem to shiver and suddenly one of the glowing Realities moves up, closer to the small group. It grows and grows, forcing Davis to twist away as it swallows up the small party!

As they are engulfed, a small tendril of energy brushes past Irene Cameron’s sleeping face.

The burnt out shell of a building that’s serving as an infirmary…

That gentle brush of energy snaps Irene back to the land of the waking. She opens her eyes slowly, realizing that she’s lying on her stomach. S’weird, she thinks, starting to push herself up. I don’t normally –

Her thought is broken as pain shoots through her back. Stifling a cry, Irene lies back down, burying her face into the rather foul smelling pillow. She thinks back, remembering the last reality.

That’s right. We were in Hippie Land. Davis was hurt. Cameron was too drained to move us again. And then… ugh, the hunters showed up. A hiss of breath escapes her lips as she remembers Pariah’s eyebeams burning into her back.

“Explains THAT,” she mumbles to herself, turning to look around. “Now where…?”

The room that Irene finds herself in is a small one. The bar above her head stretches the length of the room indicating that she’s actually in a closet. The walls are some type of concrete, while the floor is wooden. Dirt, dust, and small pebbles are scattered everywhere. A white metal basin rests next to her “bed” – which is little more than some blankets thrown on the ground – and a washcloth, metal tin, and bandages rest next to it. The doors to the closet are open, revealing a hallway just beyond. A man sits in a wooden chair, his heavy frame leaning back against the far wall. Finally he notices the movement and stands.

“Dotson!” he shouts, his voice loud and powerful. “Get her companion, she’s awake!” The man enters the room, kneeling next to Irene. “How’re you feeling?”

She stares at him for a moment, trying to place the face. He’s handsome looking, in a rugged kind of way. Strong jaw, covered in stubble, sharp blue eyes that look too-tired for their age, and a mess of blonde hair. It’s close… but Irene can’t quite place it.

“I’m…” Irene grimaces here, stretching her back. “Injured.”

“So we gathered,” the man replies, sitting back. He grabs the metal tin and holds it out to her. “Drink? It’s not water, but…”

Irene gladly grabs the cup and chugs it. The whiskey’s heat burns her throat as it goes down, forcing her to cough as she finishes. With watering eyes she smiles. “Ah – better than water.” The man smiles gently and takes the cup back.

“So what are you doing on my battlefield, miss…?”

Carefully sitting up, Irene watches the man. “I’m traveling. With my husband.”

“Where to?” the man asks.

“Anywhere but where we came from,” she answers coldly. “And probably away from here.”

“That’s good,” the man replies, nodding. “This isn’t any place for civilians.”

“Yeah,” Irene says as she finishes pushing herself up – and notices that she’s shirtless. Instead of her black top, she’s wrapped in bandages and FREEZING. “Just, uh, where is here?” she asks, wrapping the thin blanket around herself. “And where’s my husband?”

Her companion just sits there, an intense look upon his face. He shifts, resting a hand upon one leg, and looks Irene right in the eye.

“You – along with two other people – fell from the sky,” he says bluntly. “My men and I were engaged with… enemy forces… and the sky opened up and crapped out three people. I was able to get you,” he says, motioning at her. “While my men were able to get to your female companion – May Parker? As for the third, we weren’t able to retrieve him. He has been captured.”

“Captured?” Irene asks, confused. “Wait, by who? And only three? There should be four of us, where’s my husband?”

Before the man can answer, the clumping sound of running combat boots can be heard coming through the building. The owner finally rounds the corner, stopping at the room, and braces her arms on either side of the doorway.

“Irene!” May Parker cries, a wide smile on her face. The young sorceress’s odd combination of clothes has gained some new members, including a thick green military jacket and a rounded, dented helmet. She peers at Irene through her blue-glasses. “It’s about TIME you got up! Hurry up and get us out of here sister, cuz this World War stuff is NOT my scene.”

“World War…” Irene says with a few blinks. “Wait, which one?”

May stares at her. “You ain’t figured it out yet? S’World War TWO. What, you don’t recognize Captain America here?”

The name is easily recognizable – anyone who was alive during or after World War Two knows who Captain America is. But to see him here – in normal clothes, looking battered and beaten – it’s no wonder Irene didn’t recognize him.

“Are you… really him?” Irene says with a hint of apprehension.

Steve Rogers sighs a tired sigh. “I used to be. Now… May here tells me that you and your little group… aren’t from around here. Is that right?”

Irene goes a little slack jaw at this. She looks at May, who now stands with her arms crossed against the doorframe. “How much did you tell him?”

“What?” May asks, adjusting her helmet. “About us being from alternate realities? Don’t worry, I told him everything. Or at least, most of it. I don’t know EVERYTHING right, so I just-”

“Oh God,” Irene mutters, putting a hand to her head. “I need to find the Davis’ and get out of here.”

“I agree,” Rogers replies seriously. “And my men and I will even help get your other companion back.”

“That’s… really nice of you,” Irene says, looking at Rogers carefully.

“Isn’t it?” May asks, ruffling the man’s hair. “He’s just so nice!”

“Stop that,” Rogers grunts, slapping away May’s hand. “I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. My unit and I are here on a suicide mission. The men out there, they’re all volunteers. Following ME into Hell so we can kill that bastard Zemo.” Rogers leans back at this, but keeps his eyes on Irene. “It’s his men that captured your other companion. And if there’s a fourth – like you say – then he’s either dead on the battlefield or captured as well.”

“He’s not dead,” Irene says with certainty.

“Then he’ll be at Zemo’s castle. My men and I are planning to storm the castle tonight. When we do that, we’ll find your companions and return them to you.”

“We’re going along,” Irene says, looking up at May.

“Oh, we are?” May asks. “I only ask cuz I’m not really FOR fighting people? My spells are more… support magic? Healing, shields, charms, that kinda stuff.”

“Then it’ll have to work,” Irene says surely. “Because if you want out of here, we need to get Cameron and Davis back.”

“Oh, right, sure, sure,” May says casually. “I can dig it. I guess. Fighting! Yeah. It’ll be… it’ll be choice.”

Suddenly Irene jolts. “My sword – did I still have my sword?”

“We have it,” Rogers says, pushing himself up to stand. “And it will be returned to you. The castle is six miles south of here, so we plan to move just as the sun begins to set. You two should rest up and be ready to move.” Just as he’s about to leave the room, Rogers stops.

“Oh. And by the way. When we get your friends back… you’re planning on leaving, correct? Going to another world?”

“That’s right,” Irene says factually.

Nodding, Rogers smiles. “Good. Then I’ll be going with you.” Marching down the hall, he shouts back. “Now get some rest!”

Sighing, Irene puts her head in her hands. “God damn it.”

A formerly abandoned castle…

Irene isn’t the only one having a crappy day. Davis Cameron hasn’t been doing much better. It’s worse, actually, and getting worse by the second if that hand resting on that knob means anything.

“My men,” a deep voice begins, heavily affected with a German accent. “Tell me that you fell from the sky. That, and I quote, “the sky opened up and he just fell out. Now… I know that the Allies have their super-men. I know because we have been KILLING THEM. All of them, quite successfully I might say. The only one left is that damned Captain America!” Here the speaker pauses, and a phrase in German is muttered under his breath. There’s another pause, then the speaker resumes. “So I was left to wonder: Who is this stranger? What powers does he posses? Who controls him? You tell me that… you are nobody.”

Davis coughs, his lips broken open and bloodied. “S’true.”

“LIES!” the speaker shouts, cranking the knob to the right! Davis’ scream echoes through the stone chamber, bouncing off of the strange and esoteric machines that litter the room. When he’s satisfied, the speaker turns the electrical current back down. As the sparks from the machine fade away, long shadows fill the room again, hiding the stone walls and metal doors. The room’s only windows are high upon the walls, far away from anyone reaching them. Small streaks of sunlight pass through, but even this light is fading.

“I’m nobody!” Davis shouts, his body still twitching from the shock. “I-I’m just a surfer, that’s it! M-my name – “

“I DO NOT CARE FOR YOUR NAME!” The speaker turns the knob again and Davis screams. “I want to know WHAT you are!”

“T-told you…” Davis mutters between shaky lips. “Told you… nobody… I’m nothin’….”

The man’s footfalls echo throughout the chamber as he approaches Davis. “Well then,” he says, coming closer and closer. “If you are nothing…”

The man stops next to Davis. A slight click sound can be heard as the man unlatches his pistol and pulls it out. Putting the barrel to Davis’ head, the man speaks again.

“…then killing you won’t much make a difference to you, will it?”

“Please,” Davis begs, tears running down his face, blurring his vision even more than the light hanging above him. “Please, don’t…I’m just…I don’t want to…”

“You want to tell me the truth boy!” the man shouts, pressing the barrel even harder. “TELL ME WHAT YOU ARE OR – “

“ALRIGHT!” Davis shouts, pulling his head as far into his neck as he can. “ALRIGHT, I’m a mutant! I’m a fucking mutant, you prick! I’m a mutant, a freak! I’m a God damn freak, you GET IT!?!”

The pistol is pulled back.

“A mutant. Like the Sub-Mariner?” the man asks, clearly curious. “Then tell me, mutant… what can you do?”

Davis lies on the table, all energy gone. Rolling his head away from the light, he sniffs. “I’m… I can… create… these things… portals. Go from one place to another. Even… even other… realities… that’s it. That’s all I can do. Please… leave me alone…” Empty now, Davis sobs to himself.

“Other realities?” the man says, holstering his pistol. “You are able to – fascinating. No. Better than fascinating. Yes.” Mumbling to himself, the man turns and begins to walk away. “So that energy… controlling that energy allows him to break the wall of Reality… and if I can control it…” Underneath the hood, the man smiles.

“Then the world – then all worlds – can fall under the jurisdiction… of Zemo.”

Nightfall, just outside the castle…

“Are we going to attack,” Irene whispers to Rogers, “or are we just going to sit here all night?”

“Yeah,” May adds with a shiver. “And it’s COLD.”

May’s observation is more than true. A light snowfall began just minutes after the small troop began its march to the castle. Belgium’s trees give them some shelter from the wind and snow, but it’s still definitely cold.

They reached the castle just minutes ago, their odd group fanning out around the building. While Legacy and May stayed with Rogers, the other thirty men spread out. Surprisingly, Rogers has decided not to wear his Captain America uniform. Instead, he is dressed like any other soldier, save for his red gloves (which are stained a shade darker than they first were) and his shield.

“Just wait,” Rogers says quietly. “The sun has only just gone down. Let them get used to the darkness.”

Impatient, Irene drops back a few steps and rests against a tree. One of May’s spells has healed her back – and restored her shirt – but fatigue is setting in. From their previous reality to Davis’ to May’s to this one – it wore a person out. All realities are different and it takes time to adjust. The stress from being hunted and running is finally catching up to her.

Which reminds me, Legacy thinks as she closes her eyes. I never did analyze this reality…

Concentrating lightly, Irene activates her mutant ability and information floods her brain. By and large nothing seems too different – until she starts to focus in on Cap. The Captain America she knows – from multiple realities even – isn’t like the one she’s met here. And what could possibly drive Cap to want to leave this reality? As her mind flies through the history, as she reads his story, it all becomes perfectly clear.

“The plan is about to start,” Rogers says quietly, shaking Legacy by the shoulder. Her eyes snap open to see the man moving back to the edge of the woods.

“Wait a minute,” she says, pushing past May, but staying a fair distance behind Rogers. “What is your plan?” Rogers stands there for a minute, flexing and unflexing the fingers of his shield hand. Then he turns his head and solemnly looks at Irene.

“We’re going to scare them shitless.”

And then his face bursts into flames.

The process is as sudden as it is slow. It seems to take forever to Irene, but it’s all over in the flash of a flame. Gone is Steve Rogers, the man once known as Captain America. Standing in his place is a demon – or an angel, depending on which reality you are in. The uniform he wears is now black, and studded at the shoulders with small spikes. Torn pieces of cloth hang loose, allowing molten fire to drip down into the snow. A thick, black, worn chain is wrapped around his neck and dangles across his chest. The knuckles on his glove are studded and black, and his shield is ringed with broken, dull, slashing edges. A thick A is carved into the skull as it turns away from May and Irene.

They follow his gaze and watch as the other soldiers complete their own transformations into Spirits of Vengeance.

In a voice that sounds like crackling flame and broken agony, Rogers says, calmly, casually…

“Charge.”

At the location of both Zemo and Davis Cameron…

An explosion rocks the formerly abandoned castle to its foundation. The stone walls shake, causing dust and pebbles to rain down from the ceiling. They ding and bounce off of machines, but none of this is noticed by Baron Zemo. He’s focused totally on his work – rebuilding and mix-matching the innards. The exact reason for doing this eludes Davis. But he gets the gist.

Whatever Zemo is building, he intends to use it on Davis.

Gotta get up, he thinks, rolling his head towards Zemo’s location. Gotta…gotta get up. Gonna kill me. Use me maybe. Take over… everything. Literally. Everything. I am Slipstream. I have… the power now… the responsibility… Tears come to his eyes.

Can’t. God, I am so tired. An’ it hurts…so bad. I’m gonna die here. Cameron’s dead an’ now I’m gonna die and then Legacy’s gonna die and –

“I won’t let that woman die here. It was my job to protect her.” Cameron’s voice rings through Davis’ shaken mind. “Now it’s yours.”

“Can’t…” Davis mutters, shaking his head.

“It’s a promise I made,” the memories say. “I can’t do that anymore Davis. I need you to.”

“I CAN’T!” Davis says more loudly now.

“You need to! Irene is your only hope for getting home, Davis – you need her just as much as she’s going to need you! You have the power now, you have the responsibility. YOU are Slipstream, Davis Cameron.”

“I know. But-”

“YOU are Slipstream, Davis Cameron.”

“I don’t know what that means… I can’t-”

“YOU are Slipstream, Davis Cameron.”

Davis closes his eyes and breaths. “I am Slipstream.” He works his broken and bloodied lip and nods. “I am Slipstream.” Craning his head forward, Davis looks at his arms, studying the shackles. Then he looks at his feet, as best he can, doing the same. Finally he lays back, closes his eyes, and concentrates.

Four small slipstreams open around the shackles, teleporting them all off Davis. The metal rings as they hit the floor. Davis shifts his weight, rolling off of the table and almost keeps falling. He doesn’t though. Running on pure anger, Davis manages to stay up. As he takes his first step he summons his board to his hands, gleaming sliver in the bright overhead lights.

Hearing the noise, Zemo turns, but it’s too late. Davis is already upon him and SLAMS his board across Zemo’s face!

“You wanted…” Davis breathes, panting with exertion, “…to know what I am? I am SLIPSTREAM you motherless cock. I can bend TIME and fucking SPACE. I am a mutant!”

Another blow.

With a certainty that is one-part sadness and another madness, Davis pulls back his board. “I am a FREAK.”

The third blow knocks Zemo out. A red stain blooms on his hood.

“But I am the MOST POWERFUL. FUCKING. FREAK…”

Another blow.

“…you will EVER! SEE!”

The final blow takes all the last of Davis’ anger. He pants for a minute, the spits on Zemo. Turning away from him, he gives him the finger. “Dick.” Davis quietly wipes at his eyes as another explosion rocks the castle. “Jesus Christ… what did I just do?”

Gunfire echoes through the corridors leading to the room and Davis can hear the screams of the guards outside. Too weak now to move, Davis lowers himself to the floor, propping himself up with his board. Quietly he waits as the sounds get louder. Then suddenly one of the doors flies inward and Rogers enter the room.

Rogers scans the room, his body quivering and tensing. Finally his gaze comes to rest on Davis. “Sunovabitch,” he says, jumping the railing of the elevated floor. When his metal boots hit the ground he jogs over to Zemo. Looking at the body, Rogers’ skull eyes somehow manage to grow larger. He looks at Davis. “YOU did this?”

Weakly Davis nods. Ordinarily he would be scared enough to piss himself at a moment like now, but he doesn’t have anything left. He just sits there.

Despite not having lips, the demon whistles. “Well, God damn.”

Next issue: In which a ghost joins their party. In which Davis talks to Legacy. In which our cast meets their Doom.