Chapter Text
A Limp through Time
Thomas Calvert
Thomas Calvert, born Tomás Calvert, codename Coil, had not always been a bad man. There had been a time, before the paranoia, before the PRT and superpowers, before the corpses and capes and corrupt politicians, before HIM, when he had been just another boy playing soccer with his friends.
Tomás Calvert, Tommi to friends and family, bolted across the makeshift soccer field, small feet tossing up dirt as he tried to wave his hand wildly at Raul, the boy currently kicking the ball down the field.
“I’m open! Open! Pass it to me!” he shouted between panting breaths, evading the opposing player meant to guard him. The sun beat down hot on his back, the sky a bright summer blue without a cloud in sight to grant them paltry relief from the fiery star. Sweat dripped unnoticed down his neck as the dry heat stung his throat, turning any glimmer of water into a promising oasis.
Raul passed it to another boy, Manny, a younger chubbier boy who was pretty new to the game but had no one guarding him. Tommi watched, heart in throat as he added a burst of speed towards the goal, maybe he could get a rebound? Arms pumping in mirrored harmony with his spindly legs as he rushed for the goal. His hopes rose as Manny dodged the goalie. He grinned widely as he watched as the boy took his shot, only for the idiot to miss, dashing his dreams of victory.
“Oh, come on! It was right there, how could you miss!” Tommi bemoaned as he stuttered to a stop, long legs awkward under him as he slowed. He groaned up at the pale sky as he caught his breath.
“Like you could’ve done better, twig,” grunted Oscar, he was one of the older brothers of Manny. He was taller and broad, where his younger brother was chubby he was muscled from helping his father unload and stock shelves at their family’s bakery. Tommi scowled fiercely, wishing he hit a growth spurt soon and got taller so he didn’t have to look up at him anymore.
“Could too, the goal was right in front of him!” He defended maturely. Sure, he wasn't another Rafael, who’d actually won a soccer scholarship in the city for his skills but he was way better than Manny!
“Nuh-uh! You haven’t scored a single goal this game!” Oscar reminded him meanly. Tommi snarled fiercely, glad his dark skin hid the ashamed blush on his face. He opened his mouth, no doubt ready to unleash a clever and striking response when his little brother stumbled onto the field.
“Hey! Hey! Can I play with you?” Mateus asked brightly, speech slurring slightly because of his missing teeth. Tom scowls, he didn’t want his lame little brother to play with them. If his brother joined then everyone would see how bad Mateus was at soccer and that would make him seem uncool. He just started being one of the better players.
“Of course you can’t, you pipsqueak!” Oscar harshly rejected his brother's simple request.
“Hey! You don’t get to talk to my brother that way! He can play with us if he wants!” Tomas snapped back despite his own thoughts having run a similar path just moments before. Only he got to think of his family that way!
“I can say whatever I want, you can’t stop me,” boasted the older kid.
“I can do this!” Tommi replied before kicking Oscar in the shin with all of his might, which given his age wasn’t all that much. With a roar the older boy tackled him to the ground and the whole field soon fell to violent rough housing.
-
re
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They lost of course, Tommi had expected that, both Oscar and Manny were bigger than them and stronger too, he and his brother were thin and lanky, easy pickings in comparison. But that didn’t really matter, Mateus was family and according to his Mama family came first, even in the face of the impossible. Hours later when the two brothers trudged home covered in bruises and leaning on one another they both sported matching grins, a few teeth short compared to before the fight.
Mama lectured them the moment they walked in the door, yelling and scolding them for their violence and dumb recklessness. She was tall and lean, rich black skin stark against the pale yellow of their kitchen, and the bright reds and greens of her skirt. His sisters watched through the doorways, making funny faces at him whenever Mama couldn’t see them. He was grounded for a whole week, while Mateus just got sent to his room for the night to think about his actions. He blew a rasberry back at his dumb sisters. It wasn’t fair! Mateus had fought too!
Despite her harsh words, their Mama still cooled their bruises with wet cloths and gentle touches. Later that night she made them hot chocolate and even with his busted lip it tasted sweeter than victory ever could.
-
eA
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He blinked sluggishly, careful not to move and dislodge his sleeping siblings piled on top of him. His younger sister asleep on his lap and his brother using his bony shoulder as a pillow. The soft stomping of heavy boots had woken Thomas from his rest. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a giant. The giant was dressed in camo walking further down the aisle, handing out papers and checking off things on a clipboard with an efficiency that made Tom queasy.
The bus rumbled onward, the steady swaying soothing in its consistency as a new greyer world passed by outside. That was his first impression of the United States, gray. They had gray sidewalks instead of grass, gray buildings in place of walls covered in art and homes of warm clay, gray parking lots and cars in place of bright buses and neon motorcycles.
The soft whisper of his mothers prayers and the click, click, click of her rosary assured him his Mama was still there, still with them unlike his older brother and father who’d chosen to stay behind.
Gabe had taken him aside after he’d packed everything he could of his and his siblings' clothes into two suitcases. He looked far more serious than Tom had ever seen him before, like he’d aged years overnight, maybe even old enough even to go out for a drink. The weight of his brother's hands on his shoulders lent significance to his words. That Tom had to be the man of the household now, take responsibility and watch out for Mama and his siblings. He promised he'd write him letters when they got settled with the family. At the time it had only confused him more, as yet unaware his father and brother wouldn’t be coming with them on their long journey to somewhere.
Obviously Tom knew how to be a man, more or less. He’d listened to his Mama and Papa and watched his older brother and cousins carefully when they did ‘manly’ things. He always checked to see if his mother’s face was pinched in disapproval or eased with pride. She’d warned him early on that many men were bad and used their Machismo to do mean things. The first time he’d seen his cousin pull his little sister's braid and not be punished he understood what she meant.
Being a man meant protecting family, opening doors for old people and ensuring they all ate well. Mama said it was also about protecting women and especially girls from the mean men, but he didn’t think they actually needed the help. He’d seen how hard Andi next door could kick and pitied the next idiot that made her mad. He agreed with Mama anyways.
He watched the rhythmic mutterings of his mother as she prayed, her red shawl wrapped around her and his other sister, a bright spot against the gray of the somewhere they were passing through. He still didn’t know where they were going, or why some of his family had stayed behind.
There had been whispers about rebellions and violence in the cities on the TV, but that was so far away from the tall grass and skinny trees of his home that it made no sense for them to leave now. Couldn’t they just wait for it to calm down again? But Grandma had insisted, talking about the before times when she’d lived across the ocean and Papa had agreed. So they packed up their stuff and left. The bus swayed and the big man sat down, the familiar click of beads lulling him back to sleep.
It would be a month before the news of civil war reached them.
The promised letters never came.
-
AC
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“Mama, why did we leave?” Tom asked after they transferred to the third bus in just as many days. Pulling her attention away from the window, she focused on Tom for the first time in what felt like hours. She nodded sadly, gazing at her children with a far away look in her eyes. He eyed his sleeping siblings, only Constance, the youngest, was even close to being awake and he could see her eyes drooping as she leaned further and further into their mother’s side.
“Do you remember where your Abuela came from?” Mama asked him softly. He knew she was speaking of his Papa’s mother and father as both of his Mama’s were long buried, they visited them several times a year at the old church in town.
“Uh, Europe, Spain or France, I think,” he replied, he knew it was one of those he just couldn’t remember which one but that was ok, his Mama knew.
“Yes, good job. Grandma Antonia came from Spain and Grandpa Joseph was from France-”
“And they met when Abuela let him stay in her home! Then they fell in love and came to Mexico!” He grinned, proud to remember the story.
“And why did they leave?” she asked, a small smile on her lips.
“Because the filthy Nationalist pigs were winning,” he beamed at his mother, who hid an unladylike snort behind her shawl.
“My god, spending far too much time with Ann,” she murmured, giggling out the last of her silliness. Her eyes twinkled when she let the shawl settle once more, her posture lighter as if he’d somehow managed to relieve her of some great weight. “Yes, but more specifically there was a very violent civil war going on and Abuela convinced Abuelo to leave because she was pregnant. If he hadn’t known he would have likely stayed and died there, children are a great motivator for survival.”
Tomas nodded, he’d listened to some of the older men tell stories of their time in the civil war, many showing their scars or stumps where there once were limbs as proof of their tales. Not that anyone doubted them when their eyes were proof enough, a piercing yet hollow stare, as if they could see right through you to your very soul and beyond.
“So we’re doing the same thing?” he asked, trying to remember if there had been obvious things he’d missed back home that pointed towards war. He should have watched the news more carefully, darn it, but it was never as fun as soccer and his mom always encouraged him to go and play. So maybe it was ok.
“Yes, and no, we’re taking a precaution and leaving before the fighting starts, unlike Abuela who left during the war,” she nodded at his look of understanding.
“But, why is there going to be a war at all?” he wondered, “We have superheros now! Can’t they just, I don’t know, go beat up the bad guys?”
“Oh, my little boy, I wish it were that simple,” she lamented before going quiet, lips pursed as she thought hard about their conversation. She let out a breath, patting down her hair and tucking a small coil of oily blackness back into her headwrap.
“What do you think power is?” she questioned him.
“Well, it's like when you have lots of money and are really strong, right? Like the politicians that grow fat on our labor?” he hedged, remembering long talks with his Abuela, listening to her talk about the wide world far beyond their small neighborhood.
“Oof, definitely too much time with Abuela,” she snorted, “You’re partially right, those are a kind of power. But that’s not what power is,” her hands mindlessly twisted through her rosary, “power is the ability to mold the world, to, ah, to change it or keep it the same. So, in a sense, it's an ability to change or control the things around you. The more power you have the further your changes can reach and the longer they stick around. It can come in many different forms: money, influence, charm but ultimately must always be backed by violence.”
His eyes blinked wide as his mother painted a far darker world than he’d previously believed in. There wasn’t an ounce of doubt about what his mother said.
“So power is always bad?” he wrinkled his nose at the idea.
“No, no, no, no, power is just a tool. It is the ability to change, not the change itself. Power in and of itself is neither good nor bad, what you choose to use it for is. Absolute power corrupts absolutely,” she repeated one of Papa’s favorite phrases. She huffed at his still scrunched face.
“If power isn’t bad then why is it corrupting people?” He speculated easily.
“Well, we’re only human, we aren’t divine like the Lord, our savior, or his son, we are sinners one and all,” she smiled softly. “I mean that no one is perfect. We’re bound to make mistakes. With a large amount of power, those mistakes are bound to be very big indeed. And if no one can stand up to you, or get you to stop, then how will you even know you made a mistake?”
“Oh! Like what Spiderman said! With great power comes great responsibility! So you have to be really careful with it!” he recalled, he’d read it when he was over at Andi’s place, her brother sent them to her from the city.
His mother looked somewhere stuck between pride at his understanding and dumbfounded at his method of getting there. Overall it made her seem kind of constipated. He snorted at the thought.
“But then why are they fighting?” he whined, he still didn’t understand it!
“Well, you know after the golden idiot first appeared?” She quizzed him. He nodded, a look of determination in his eyes. “Right, then people started gaining superpowers and pretty much all of them are one way or another trying to change things. Either for themselves, or for others as God commands us. A lot of people are fed up with the government and the world, and that means a lot of people are going to try to change it while others already in power will try to keep it the same. Right now those two sides are on a collision course to war, how big that war is and how long it lasts depends entirely on how much power each side is willing to put forth to win.”
“And with superpowers that’s a lot, right? Like in Spain with Abuela?” he guessed.
“Yes, like with Abuela,” Mama confirmed gravely.
He wrapped his arms more firmly around his little sister and hoped his Abuela’s and mother’s predictions were wrong. He hoped his big brother wrote to him soon.
-
CHH
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He sat on his bunk playing cards with Emily, a full house in hand just waiting for his turn. Brother buffing both his shoes on the floor next to him, reckless in his haste to be done. Thomas would have to go over them later that day to get the spots he missed.
“Attention!” The squad commander called from the entrance of the tent, each soldier springing to their feet, shoulders back and eyes forward. “At ease,” The man commanded, stepping aside to let in two costumed people into the tent behind him. “These will be your new teammates for the upcoming missions here. This is Engine,” he gestured to the metallic and gear-covered woman who, at least, had the sense to have padded armor. “And this is Jettison,” he indicated the sleek blue spandex man wearing minimal silver padding and a tear shaped helmet.
Thomas suppressed a groan, superheroes, just perfect. He could feel the excitement pouring off his brother in waves, eager to meet their own personal ‘hero’s’. He met Emily’s gaze over the top of his brother's head. At least he wasn’t the only one unimpressed.
-
His brother bounced on his toes, excited as they waited to get a local hero’s signature. Thomas glanced to the side, frowning as he spotted Connie flirting with the teen running the ice cream stand, a cone dripping down her fingers in the noonday heat. He wished he could walk over there and warn the boy off, but he couldn’t leave his brother alone in the line. Settling for a glare he made a mental note to talk to her later.
[Destination]
The courtyard around him shivered and Tom flinched, a shiver of his own running through him. He glanced around, trying to spot any abnormality. But the crowd blurred together. He twisted around, still gripping his brother's hand. Another spike of pain tore through his head, making him flinch. He blinked rapidly, eyes watering as he squinted. But the people were densely packed and the sun was setting. Wait, no, that couldn’t be right, hadn’t the sun just be-
“Left or right, Tommy?”
Tom whipped around to look at his little brother, but his gap tooth grin beamed up at him earnestly, exactly like he remembered. Wha- It wasn’t his voice, wouldn’t be for at least a decade. Wait a deca- Another bolt of pain ripped into his head but he refused to look away. He had to make sure he was safe, Mama had said he was his responsibility.
“Left or right, Tommy boy?” Mattheus's lips moved, jaw opening and closing, but the words rang far too deep for the small boy. The voice reverberated in his chest, somehow coming from far away and too close simultaneously.
He tried to ask, but nothing came out. He couldn’t breathe. His brother looked up at him, head tilted in confusion, smile slipping. He gasped as he tried to breath, holding tight to his brother's hand. Where was Constance? He searched frantically, trying to find his family in the field of stars, the ice cream stand was gone. The crowd, gone. The line, gone. Everything, gone.
He squeezed his brother's hand but there was nothi- Where was his family? It was all gone, replaced with distant stars and the soft orange curve of a nearby planet. He looked up and saw. Saw them. Saw w-
[Agreement]
Two Great Beings, larger than planets, dwarfed the nearby sun, dancing around each other, space itself parting before their vast shining multitudes. He had seen this befo-. He blinked, fighting the dark spots entering his vision. Now there was only one of them and the universe felt lesser for the others' absence. From the remaining Being, an infinitesimally small piece broke off, hurtling through space, growing and growing and growing in size.
Towards HIM
[Outbound Inquiry:: Request: Host_Data]
The view flickered, the clear sound of a small bell ringing impossibly through the stars, rippling space like the tides of a great ocean. The Being was still there but it was smaller, he didn’t know how he knew it was the same one, but it was, another, much smaller one was before it.
< Ag rE e m ent>
<Opening Communication Band>
Pain splintered his mind, but he kept his eyes open, looking, searching. He had to find his brother, he was all alone, lost and scared. He didn’t deserve that. The great being moved and reality flickered and jerked, static creeping through the stars.
[Query: Designat i o n]
His view split into two, cracks spreading around him. Through one eye he was looking up at [Warrior?] its manipulators pulling at him, readying them for the [Cycle] but [Wrong]. In the other he watched, a growing weight bearing down on him from far away and growing nearer every moment.
<AgR ee m e n t : R equ e S t e d Ho st _D a ta ; Request {Host Survival} required for full Data>
His feet wouldn’t move, he couldn’t run. His lungs wouldn’t breathe, he couldn’t sc—
[Que ry ! : Design ati o n ? ]
reeeeeaaaam-
[Ag r e ement: Re que s t]
In one eye his [Father?] tore through him, them, it, changing it, the static growing deeper and closer, a streak flashed across the world tearing away a stripe of colors that didn’t exist. The other side, his mind stretched at the seams, a giant bearing down to crush hi-
<Data>
Where was his brother? The soundless buzzing grew louder.
[T ra je ct o ry ]
His family? He floated through space, feeling the [Heat] of a star for the first time.
[ A -]
Constance? He remembered the funeral, lowering her small body into the ground. The [Cold] of space surrounded them, spar-
[Agr-]
The impossible sound bloomed, shaking free crumbling pieces of reality, static bursting through the cracks. Wetness dripped down the edges of his mind. [Restart] creeped closer.
[Agre e-]
NO! They tried to shout without sound. Tried to pull his own mind together. His actions echoed through both his eyes. He didn’t want t-
[Agr e e M e n t]
And everything shattered.