Twinkle in Sweet Repose

[The Vision]

There was a war here. Vision gazed at the carnage in horror, but his face betrayed none. His head was buzzing with reports of a large-scale assault by nearly an army of Primes. At the head of the invasion was a Prime named Illidan Stormrage, it appeared.

Vision had long ago reconciled the irrational guilt he felt whenever he saw a disaster he could not prevent. But this was different. When the first signs of the attack were detected, Vision was still foolishly wasting time combatting Skynet, a rogue program that he unleashed. And when the attack started, he was wasting time on Rando Island, fighting a battle that he did not strictly need to.

As the android bent down onto his knee and gazed into the hollow eyes of a fallen soldier, he thought to himself, “I could have stopped this.”

If Mr. Wright felt the same guilt, he also did not show it. He was still gripping his shotgun, searching for any signs of life.

“The battle’s over,” the Terminator concluded, “It ended a while ago.”

“Affirmative,” the Vision nodded, “We must push forward.”

The two Avengers approached the gates of Darkshire. Any signs of agricultural development were destroyed by the battle. Ashes, still warm and glowing green despite the time that had passed since the battle, were all that remained of the farms. The city walls were scorched, crumbling, and had multiple breaches where bricks were scattered like spilled mints.

Mr. Wright’s motorcycle stuttered as it came to a slow. The Vision likewise slowed his pace, letting his body sink to the ground. The archers at the gate, though they had not pulled the string back, had long been pointing their incendiary arrows at the pair, suspicious of them, especially in their weakened state.

“Halt!” a guard bellowed, “Who are you?”

“We are the Avengers,” the Vision replied, “An independent law enforcement agency.”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘vigilante’,” the guard replied. The bowmen stayed armed, their locations marked by a tiny little blaze in the dark night sky.

“Be that as it may, we have business in Darkshire.” The Vision gestured at the battered wooden gate. “Query: may we come in?”

“No.”

Mr. Wright’s jaw stiffened, but Vision held him back before the Terminator did anything rash.

“Query: under what conditions may we enter this city?”

“You have papers?”

“Negative, but we have an invitation from a man named Lysander.”

“That doesn’t mean anything to me.”

Vision scowled and lifted himself into the air. The flames flickered slightly, notifying the Vision that the archers were now on the verge of firing.

“Allow me to demonstrate,” the android nodded.

The Solar Gem lit up, projecting a large screen into the air. The projection displayed a still shot of Lysander’s face between sentences. The guard nodded.

“We know him,” the guard commented, “But I’m not going to bother an esteemed citizen of Darkshire because some Primes claim to know him.”

“Then tell him we don’t think this is worth it anymore,” Marcus snapped, swiveling the bike around. The Vision fell to the ground and laid one hand on the handlebar, giving Mr. Wright a curious glance.

Marcus shuffled uncomfortably. “I don’t like this place much.”

“Neither do I. Yet our functions require that we be here.”

“Still,” Mr. Wright muttered, “Brings back… bad memories.”

The Vision considered the short descriptions of Mr. Wright’s homeworld. They were short and far between, but a compilation of his comments implied he lived in a post-apocalyptic world, where the computer program Skynet seemed to be an ongoing threat to humanity. It was likely that the scenery had triggered these memories in Mr. Wright.

“Of course,” the Vision nodded, “Records show that inner Darkshire was more or less unharmed by the battle. I’m sure conditions will improve.”

Mr. Wright grunted his approval, but still looked unsure. The guards were looking at them expectantly.

“Well?” the guard shouted, “Scram!”

“They’re with me, Randall, let them in.”

The archers flinched and turned their gazes. The flames flickered lower, and the two Avengers watched curiously. After a few moments of tense silence, the flames extinguished and the gates emitted a loud creak.

“That worked out,” Mr. Wright groaned.

The gates only shifted open a little, just enough for the Vision and Mr. Wright to enter. Vision simply floated through. The whole concept of these gates was trivial to the Vision – he simply did not wish to make enemies of the general populace. Again. Mr. Wright promptly slipped through the ajar opening and met the individual on the other side.

“Greetings,” Lysander said, standing with his arms crossed behind his back, “Welcome to what is left of Darkshire. I assume you are the Avengers?”