Empress in the Sky (MCU/MTG/Etc. Multi/Overlord-esque SI)

Empress in the Sky

Prologue

“I feel like a cheap bodyguard,” Agent Clint Barton grumbled as the air transport pierced the clouds. The sun shone through the windows noticeably brighter at this level; he was close to squinting at the rest of the team. The transport shook slightly at the end of his words, but it was par to course and nothing abnormal seemed to appear.

The skies were calm, yet the mission set off goosebumps. It hasn't even been a year since billionaire playboy genius philanthropist Tony Stark had his public melt down, yet each day the world grew stranger. He shuffled his trusted, high-tech bow from one shoulder to the other, its weight comfortably resting against his back and turned to his arrows. He was none of those things; he didn't have much money, he certainly was faithful to his significant other, while he wanted to brag, the piece meat between his ears wasn't that above average, and again, he didn't have much money to throw around. All a mortal man like him could do was check and recheck his equipment and be as prepared as possible.

“Hm,” Another agent replied with a grunt, behind Clint. This agent was mild mannered with a disarmingly charming smile, though the creases above his brow showed the difference in their ages. “You'll be fine.”

“... Are you sure this isn't a joke?” Clint sighed. He wasn't usually one for many words, but something didn't seem right.

“We're ETA ten minutes, now's not the time to get cold feet. But you'll be fine, Agent Barton. I'll be sure to keep you safe,” Agent Phil Coulson replied. Unlike Barton, who checked his arrows as a form of mantra to keep calm and to hone his focus for the task ahead, Phil Coulson was well versed in the strange and even the nagging feeling at the back of his mind screaming for him to hijack the vehicle and turn it around did little to convince him to carry such an action out. He simply smiled and winked.

Clint fought down a groan.

“Cut out the chatter back there, ladies, you'll see the target up ahead in a moment,” Their superior officer radioed in with a tone of agitation. Well, that was nothing out of the usual; he always sounded annoyed. Or irritated. Or angry. The cabin immediately silenced. The only sounds passing through Clint's ears was the howling of the wind outside and the familiar growling of the transport's engines. They were close, he knew.

As the estimated arrival time approached two minutes, the world outside the windows changed.

Where there once was only a field of clouds, a float mass of land grew. There was no end to it and no beginning, it was simply air one moment, and suddenly there the next. Clint couldn't see where the land ended and the clouds began, but as reports and every long-range scans have confirmed, nothing was there until you were actually there.

The concept of aliens wasn't completely foreign to Clint.

The Hulk—a giant, green mountain of indestructible muscle and rage—seemed like an alien at the best of times.

Tony Stark might as well be an alien with all the trinkets he pulls out of his bag of tricks.

Not even a few months have passed since the desert incident involving an alien prince, who claimed to be a god.

But Clint never truly believed in the supernatural or the spiritual.

He did doubt himself at that moment.

When a man was confronted by a seemingly endless stretch of land in the sky, at the center of which was a castle fit enough to house all of New York City and then some, the man usually began to question his beliefs. It was beautiful and breathtaking and quite a shame that one of their side objectives would be to keep this outside of the global consciousness. Giant mountainous slabs of stone, translucent like crystal yet flashing white like ivory grew like great growths from the clouds into towering, monolithic skyscrapers of translucent ivory. Each capped with similarly styled artistic, teal rooftops and half hidden in rolling waves of mist and cloud. It was a land out of a fairy tale, and much too large for any human to live in.

“You think we're Jack climbing up the beanstalk?” His tongue slipped, to no scorn. He blinked and cleared his throat. “I mean, are you seeing this, sir?”

Coulson had the good humor to reply, “Let's hope we don't wake the giant. It seems like our equipment still can't make heads or tails of the place. It's almost as if it's not even there. Let's see if we can make peaceful contact this time.”

The last time an alien being visited earth, a town ended up being flattened. It can't get worse than that, in Clint's mind; that was a nightmare to cover up. He held his breath as the plane landed in what seemed to be the courtyard of the largest and tallest of the structures—a castle overseeing a thousand empty castles below. It was quite the sight and Clint would have liked to admire it, if he knew how. Then he let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding in, as the plane seemed to come in contact with the ground. It was solid then, and whatever was blocking their equipment clearly had limitations.

He was the first to jump out, but before he did, he wondered, “How do you know to land here?”

“This sort of structure is styled like Song Dynasty cities, if you ignore the towers. This is where the ruler of the city would live, if they did live here. We circled them three times, so if they wanted to welcome us, they would be inside,” The pilot replied. “We want to be cordial with the giant, don't we, Barton?”

Clint rolled his eyes and climbed out without replying. Despite the team's gentle teasing, the place did seem like it was built for a giant. You could fit one, two, three... ten or more football stadiums in the court yard alone.

The rest of the team filed out of the quinjet after Clint and Coulson.

The front door was equally impressive, while being messily left ajar. It stood tall enough that he had some doubts regular arrows could even reach that high and remain accurate. At this range, the material was not really crystal, as much as some kind of white, crystallized wood. Whoever lived here would be large enough to stomp through New York so utterly, the Hulk would be green with envy...

After carefully procuring samples and images, he peered through the crack in the door.

“Hmph! Huff! Hmmmmph!” The sound of exertion echoed through the dim hall inside to his ears. Out of the direct shine of sunlight, the inner halls were not dark, but it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to normal light. Further into the building, hundreds—if not thousands—of feet away and up multiple levels, he heard more sounds of what sounded like a very frustrated person being mad at something. “Work, damn you! Argh!”

Clint turned around and looked into Agent Coulson's eyes questioningly. His eyebrows rose in surprise, it sounded like a little girl.

Phil shrugged.

It was Clint's decision at this point, he didn't see any reason to take the lead. It would have filled Clint with all sorts of warm feelings if he didn't feel utterly out of his depth.

Perhaps that's why Phil was smirking.

Clint signed and charged forward, idly noting that the steps of the stairs were, in fact, not to the size of giants, but comfortably to the dimensions of regular humans. Whoever inside might not be a giant...

After walking through the entrance hall and the ballroom hall and three other flights of stairs without finding anything more than more echoes of “Hmph! Damn it! HMPH!” Clint was getting slightly agitated. It couldn't be helped, after all, since each flight of stairs had close to a thousand steps. He felt triumphant, when he finally reached what was probably the throne room, because the sounds of exertion were exceptionally loud there... almost as if the target was finally in sight.

To be honest, Agent Clint Barton didn't know what he was expecting. This entire mission was something straight out of the twilight zone. Whatever he did expect, was not what he found.

There certainly was a throne room with a throne made of some sort of blackened steel-like material. There were diamonds and gemstones encrusted on it as large as his fist. The throne itself was large enough to be a couch twice over. And it did look luxurious, with soft, silken velvet draped over the seating.

But on that seat was not a giant or an alien, or...

Had he imagined a giant Thor inside? Well, maybe.

On the seat was instead a twelve year old girl small enough that he could carry her over his should, dressed in a sort of black dress with red ribbons and white frills, wearing an over-sized crown that slipped from her head every couple seconds and waving around a giant staff of the same material as the throne so hard Clint thought her arm would fly off.

“Work, damn it!” She squeaked angrily, and Clint suddenly felt stupid for feeling any apprehension for the mission. The scepter slipped from her grip and bounced on the marble steps below her throne with a resounding clang, before rolling to a stop directly against Clint's foot. The pale girl blinked, her eyes widening in surprise. Her complexion left him wondering if she ever caught any sun, though it seemed to be well framed by her black hair. Hm, maybe he could leave May with this mess? “Oh, um... hi. Welcome to, ah, my castle. What... how did you get here?”

And that was Coulson's cue. “Hi, I'm Agent Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division and I flew up here.”

“Wow, that's a... oh, that's... neat? I'm... ah... Victoria, yeah,” Her eyes darted between Coulson and Clint, and for a moment, he thought he saw a hint of recognition in her expression. She was despairingly easy to read, but all he saw was confusion then. “Flew up here, huh? Where are your wings?”

“They are parked outside, ma'am,” Coulson replied smoothly.

She nodded slowly, falling silent and not minding the half-dozen agents behind him who were clearly starting to poke around on their best behavior. “Right... right... er, can I help you?”

Coulson smiled ruefully, “Well, I'd like to see if you can park your residence somewhere else than directly above Washington D.C. We were rather alarmed when we found your... house.”

“Oh. That's bad.”

“Indeed.”

“Uh... I'd love to help you, Phil, but... ah, I don't know how.” She hopped off of the throne and trotted over. With the “Can I have that scepter back, by the way, please?”

It looked more like a quarterstaff, but Clint nodded and tried to pick it up.

'Tried' was the keyword here, as it clearly didn't budge. It didn't even move when Clint tried to roll it towards 'Victoria'. After a few tries, he stood, slightly out of breath, and looked warily at the girl. “It feels heavier than anything I've ever tried to lift.”

She blinked again, as if not expecting this, so easily transparent that she was either a very blunt actress or simply very naive. “Ah. So it's sort of like that Thor's Hammer thing, huh?” She skipped over and picked up the black metal scepter. “Well, I couldn't get it to work, so I guess it'll work as a blunt weapon, if nothing else... uh...” She swerved around, as if just remembering that we were there.

“Can I invite you to our headquarters, Victoria? We can sit down and talk, if you'd like,” Coulson asked. He was tense, though the girl didn't seem to notice that. Maybe she really was just naive. “It is actually really close. Just below us, in fact.”

“That'd be... nice.” She agreed. “Yeah, let's do that... what could possibly go wrong?”

 

Empress in the Sky

Coulson – 1

The ride back was supposed to be short and pass quickly. Agent Coulson knew that he had backup waiting to jump in at any moment's notice, but what mattered was that they could also offer a much more leisurely ride to the... young woman. It was a conscious decision not to call them in and quietly signal for them to stay out of notice as to not cause her any alarm. He worked better with a smaller team, but if he was honest with himself, he was rather disturbed, because he was not very good with children.

… Especially children like her. “What does this button do?” She asked and without pause, she added, “I'm gonna touch this button.”

“Please don't touch that, Miss,” Coulson replied mellowly, playing along.

“I'ma touch it.” She smirked, obviously bored with the ride five minutes in. Still, Coulson had to acknowledge that this was better than her asking if they were there yet every few seconds.

“Please don't touch the button,” He repeated congenially, though it was hard to keep calm after five minutes of this for most people.

“I'm gonna touch it, I'm touching it, I'm touching it! I'm gonna push the button!” She cheered, her eyes dancing and all of her previous nervousness forgotten. But this was all a part of the plan; she would cooperate more readily and offer anything they want from her if she was comfortable with her environment. After all, only the worst interrogators inflicted pain on their victims.

“Miss Victoria, please don't push the button.” Coulson played along and closed his eyes for a moment too long, as if he were truly agitated by the childish behavior.

She shook her head giddily, “I'm pushing it, I'm pushing it!” Then she pressed the button again and again, then a few more times in rapid succession. A frown slowly found its way to her face and she pouted, “Nothing's happening.”

“... I know,” Coulson replied in his usual tone, with a smirk.

“... Oh.” She drooped, returning to her original state of shrinking into herself. It was almost too sad to see—the very picture of a lonely girl resting her chin in her palms and swinging her legs on a chair too tall for her toes to reach the floor.

Coulson was not sure which of the appearances was the real girl; perhaps they both were.

Not even a minute into the silence that was filled with only the droning of the quinjet engine, she peered back up at him and spoke again. But now Victoria was more reserved, her legs tucked and curled before her like a wall, she meekly asked, “What did the button do?”

“It ejects the person in your seat,” Coulson answered truthfully.

Her eyes widened and she very nearly jumped out of her seat, if not for the seat belts that held her in place. Instead, she made a choking noise that came off more humorous than worrying and whimpered as she realized she was struggling futilely.

“Don't worry, I turned it off,” Coulson added, ignoring how his fellow agents were struggling not to giggle at the sight. “Why are you worried? If you're in a castle in the sky, shouldn't you know how to fly?”

She look away from his eyes uneasily, towards the ceiling of the quinjet and shrugged. “I can... I just don't remember how. I must have been sleeping an awfully long time... I'm having trouble summoning my servants too. Well, you saw that,” Her face flushed red in embarrassment.

“That was what you were doing earlier, right?” Coulson clarified nonchalantly.

She nodded, “Yes. The throne of my empire is supposed to summon my citizenry, but...” She shrunk into herself again.

“Did you make the throne?” It was easy to see that the girl was proud and scared at the same time now, the way she would boast but stop the moment he reached her inabilities. She is definitely intelligent and powerful, but if Coulson had to put her actions into a single word, it would be 'starstruck'. She was acting like she had just met some celebrity and while Coulson didn't know why, he knew enough to desire to take advantage of it. He followed up his question quickly, as she mused to herself, “Where did it, and you, come from?”

She seemed pensive. Yet the desire to answer, to show that she was of worth, triumphed in the end. Coulson saw that in Victoria's eyes, even if she kept averting her gaze. “I made the throne, yes. It was... well, it was a lifetime ago. Though, I suppose you should know that I was always on Earth. Just... not around.”

“We've only discovered your castle above Washington D.C. a week ago,” Coulson frowned in disbelief.

“I wasn't awake a week ago,” She retorted snappily; somehow, she is also so insecure that she felt insulted at every single, simple doubt. “Oboro is a castle of illusions, and while its master sleeps, it seeks to protect itself and its maker. I'd thought the strange and unfamiliar was what you specialized in, Agent Coulson.”

He smiled placatingly, though this was another mark against the young lady. “Yes, but... illusions? Are you telling me that you use magic?”

“... Close enough, I guess. Why, have you never see magic before?” She asked curiously.

“A few times, at Las Vegas,” He replied smoothly. “Though their illusions may not match yours, they do have a tiger.”

“... ah. You're joking. You think I'm lying? Well...” She waved her hand. Then she looked down at her hand, and frowned yet again. “... Damn it. F-Fine. I'm a bit out of practice, okay?”

And if his boss was watching all of this—and he most definitely was keeping his eye on this situation—then Coulson had no doubts Director Fury would know that the young lady was clearly out of her depths. No doubt a part of it was an act and a part of it was to cover up her own weakness, but she seemed to either have a clear understanding of what SHIELD could do or she was severely overestimating them. If she really created that... Oboro... then Coulson felt inclined to believe the latter scenario.

“If you are out of practice, does this mean you can't move your castle?” Coulson asked, more curious than serious. Even though that was the objective of the entire mission—to remove the giant, misty castle in the sky—the entire day had taken a turn that would probably skew all future decisions.

She pouted and started to sniffle, “... Yes.” She bit out.

“That could be a problem, but perhaps you can tell my boss about it. I'm sure you know him well enough, Victoria.” Coulson smiled not unkindly, but knowing that the girl was not going to be getting a break any time soon.

“W-What do you mean?”

“I never introduced myself as Phil to you, remember?”

“Oh.” It was an indication to her character that rather than try to hide it or to brush it off and deny it, she simply sank into her seat and reddened her cheeks like a tomato. “I... right. Oops. I guess I'm off to see the one-eyed wizard now, aren't I? I'll... I'll cooperate, I promise.” She sighed knowing that little slip had been too much... though how much that was exactly, Coulson will have to find out soon enough.

Coulson sighed too, inaudible to the girl and in relief rather than resignation. Even with the bursts of childishness, she's still better to deal with than Tony Stark.

 

Empress in the Sky

Coulson – 2

Agent Coulson, Agent Barton, their fellow agents, and Victoria landed discretely not far from the Washington D.C. Headquarters just east of the Potomac, isolated from interference and prying eyes as were several other government institutions in the area. From the air, campus sprawled over a pasture of wild greenery like concrete veins seeping into the earth. But once they landed, it had a natural yet man-made atmosphere. Coulson welcomed this breath of air, so much more vibrant than the quinjet and so much more human than Oboro, the Castle in the Sky.

Victoria didn't share this sentiment, because the first thing she said as her feet touched the ground was, “Ah, Washington D.C., a wretched hive of scum and villainy if I ever saw one.”

Coulson blinked at the reference to Star Wars. Wasn't she supposed to have been asleep for a long time?

“I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about my bosses like that,” The voice of the director boomed from behind them, causing the little lady to squeak and jump a few inches off the ground. “However true your words may be.”

“Ah, you, er,” For a moment, Victoria's eyes crossed in an otherwise bemusing expression that was even beyond her starstruckened daze she had moments prior. Then she recomposed herself albeit shakily and curtsied with the fanged smirk, “I am Victoria Planeswalker, Lunar Imperator and Master of Arcane. How do you do?” She peered up, directly into the director's eye.

Director Fury stared mutely, as if unamused by a childish antic.

Victoria's gaze broke within a second, her eyes falling to her lap and her cheeks reddening to a degree Coulson didn't think was humanly possible. Was she even human? What was she embarrassed about? Coulson wondered about this, since she was not the first modified human he's witnessed.

“It's too early in the morning for this,” Director Fury sighed under his breath, too silent for anyone present to hear except for Agent Coulson. He nodded once, as if satisfied that his glare could chastise a seemingly twelve-year-old girl into blushing with shame, and replied in a tone of seriousness and indifference that ignored Victoria's previous actions, “I am Director Nick Fury. Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D., we have a room prepared for discussion. There is much to talk about, I'm sure, and the 'scum and villains' wish to know more about you.”

If anything, she shrunk even more into herself, reddening even more in shame. “Ah, right, shouldn't do this in the open...” Victoria mumbled in agreement. She ran to keep up with Director Fury's long strides. “Oh, why did I sound so chuuni...”

It would have been adorable, Coulson mused, if the fate of the world wasn't on the line.

They entered a welcoming conference room, one that Coulson recognized as one that few but the top brass used. It had a glorious view of the forestry outside with clear, wide windows and was more than generous with space. Director Fury was the first to address her.

“So,” He said bluntly. “What are you?”

She blinked, “Uh. I'm a vampire empress.”

“A what now?”

“A vampire empress. That's what I am,” She poked herself just below the collar bone.

Director Fury's brow raised in disbelief, “So, what is that? You're an empress of vampires?”

For some peculiar reason, she harrumphed, “No, I'm not an empress of vampires! I'm a vampire empress!”

“So you're a vampire and an empress?” Director Fury leaned back, as if he was too old for this sort of shit, and weaved his fingers together. “What does that even mean?”

“No, not a... argh!” She pouted, “Fine! I'm a vampire and an empress.”

He shrugged. “So... what, you turn into a bat, a wolf, or mist, and go 'Aye vant to suck your blood!'?”

Victoria wrung her skirt before taking a deep breath. Then she shook her head violently, “No, I'm not that type of vampire. I'm more of the, eh, true ancestor type. Like... like the Volturi, or Alucard, or something.”

Director Fury remained unamused. “I find that I have to repeat myself. The what now?”

“The Volturi are vampire royalty in Twilight, an fictional book series published in 2005,” Agent Coulson volunteered.

Both the Director and Victoria blinked, as if just remembering he was there, before looking at him curiously. The Director just shook it off after a moment, but Victoria's gaze lingered. What was so curious about him knowing about the Volturi and Twilight?

“That sounds like an empress of vampires,” Director Fury muttered under his breath before nodding as if that explained absolutely everything. “Right. And what the hell does that mean?”

“Well, I'm immortal, probably,” She muttered hesitantly.

“Probably?”

“... Maybe?”

Fury sighed. “Let's start with something easier. Do you drink blood?”

She frowned and reached up with her forefinger, poking her canines. “Ow.” She mumbled when her teeth were sharp enough to cause her finger to bleed. She sucked on it and blinked away large droplets of tears. “Maybe. I mean, yes. Can I have a band-aide? Pwease?” She asked with her finger in her mouth.

Fury sighed again. “Agent Coulson, can you get Miss Planeswalker a band-aide, pwease?”

“... On it, sir.”

 

Empress of the Sky

Coulson – 3

When Agent Coulson had closed the door, the conversation was headed towards a strange direction that he was not all comfortable with. The girl had just asked what they fought for and was it “truth, justice, and the American global hegemony?”

To which the Director's immediate retort was “most people just call it the American way”.

Coulson left in a hurry and found he was in no hurry to return.

When he did return with a band-aide (it was flower-patterned with ponies from a famous Hasbro brand), he found the atmosphere of the conference room had changed to what might well be the opposite side of the spectrum. The cheerful, joking childishness had left, and what was left was a tone that Agent Coulson felt more comfortable in. His boss felt similarly ready to get down to business, though Agent Coulson only knew this because he worked under Director Fury for so long.

Yet as he walked into the conversation, he realized that nothing was so simple as black and white—or in this case, seriousness and the utter lack of.

“—and that doesn't explain how you know what you know. You claim to have slept for decades, fine. I can have my agents follow you, listening to your every word, but you want to... make a deal? Then I need something in return,” Director Fury was heard saying as Agent Coulson entered.

Victoria immediately swerved around, her eyes sparkling. “Yay!” She plucked the band-aide out of his fingers with an audible yoink.

Director Fury radiated irritation and for a moment, his eye fell on Coulson. Then he cleared his through.

“Oh, alright!” Victoria grumbled after expertly applying her band-aide (how did someone expertly apply a simple band-aide?), and reached into her Victorian dress for some hidden pocket. It was a testament to her ability that Coulson did not react immediately with caution, though he did a moment later when she pulled out a pulsing, swerving human eye.

“... I'm going to ask the obvious question here. Is that a human eye?” Director Fury asked in his own way of politeness, which was a nice way of saying 'explain now or else'.

Victoria showed her fangs in a smirk and waved a finger at the Director chastisingly, “Ah, ah, ah! Don't you know the saying 'the price of prophecy is a vacant eye socket'? Well, you... you know what, I probably shouldn't say anything. Ahem, right! This is the [Witches' Eye] of myths...you know it? In each hand, it bestows a different kind of sight. Though, it's pretty much the weakest of my trinkets that I... well, that I have. Anyway, that's how I saw your trilogy... Han shot first...”

“Miss Planeswalker, I will ask you once again to stop rambling off. My time is precious.” The Director bit out before calming down a notch. He looked down at his notes and stroked his chin in thought. “You claim to be willing to cooperate and this is the least powerful of your... trinkets?”

“I... can't really find my other toys,” Her eyes fell to her lap. “... It's the best I've got at the moment. It just scrys... giving me sight where I am not.”

“And how's it used?”

“Everyday, I can use it once as my third eye... and I've been using it to catching up, yeah.” She nodded as if reaffirming her own belief in her words. It was strange and almost too transparent to Coulson, but neither he nor the Director voiced such thoughts. They could always follow up anyway; the Director has not agreed to any such terms that gave the girl immunity to their prying. “Like I said, I can give you access to my abilities, but you should pay a consultation fee.”

Director Fury glared.

“... nothing too exuberant, but a girl's got to feed herself, you know?” And under her breath, Victoria whispered, “Capitalism, ho!”

Director Fury tossed his notes into a file and handed them to Agent Coulson. This was the man who led the largest espionage organization in the world, and Coulson saw the Director's ability then in how he made his decision in an instant. “Fine. Agent Coulson, treat this case like Stark's. The Council will attach a liaison to her retinue, and she has agreed to having an agent help her in her transition into modern society—”

“I still don't think I need a babysitter,” Her grumbling went ignored.

“—which should be prepared ASAP, along with an identity and residency. That will be deducted from your consultation fees. Will that be all, Miss Planeswalker?”

“I haven't even insisted on being called 'your majesty' or something...” She nodded slowly, “We can discuss and negotiate everything else later, when I've actually summoned my retinue, yes. I'm thinking a nice little embassy, but... well, I'll keep my head down for now if you think that will help. I think that's about it, Mister Fury.”

They performed the most awkward serious handshake in the world and then she stomped out.

All in all, it left Agent Coulson rather curious as to what exactly was discussed while he was away. It was a good thing SHIELD was recording the meeting from multiple angles and had a think tank analyzing the strange aberration that was Victoria Planeswalker.

After she seemed to have left, Coulson turned the Director. “Sir...”

“Yeah, keep an eye on her. If even half of the things she says is true, then we'll want her cooperation. In the mean time, she has given us no reason to require her extermination.” He stood and stretched, watching the view of the Potomac from the windowed wall. “Keep it that way, Agent Coulson.”

“Will do—”

The door slammed open, and Victoria barged back into the room. “Erm, I don't seem to have a ride, could... could I hitch one from one of you guys? I'll give you a trinket if you do!”

Agent Coulson found himself wondering if this was the correct time for planting his face into his palm. Such social cues were never as clear as they were in the scripted comedic moments in video media. But compounding today's events with the recent discovery in the arctic, he knew old legends were waking up around the world. It left him rather giddy inside to be a part of something as dramatic as what he knew was happening. He grew up being a devoted fan of such things.

And while this stuffed animal—a strange ball that seemed to have the vague shape of a cat that was albino with red triangles all over its body—was nothing compared to his vintage collectible trading cards, it was the first gift from what might well be a mythical, alien empire to humanity in who-knows-how-long. “So what's it called?” He asked as he strapped himself into the pilot's seat.

“Squee's Toy.”

“Huh.” He didn't look forward to it being taken in for testing after he returned, but did the worn toy have some sort of power or history like the eyeball in the vampire girl's pocket? “Interesting.”

 

Empress of the Sky

Interlude 1 – Fury

He had top men working on this. Top. Men. This was not even close to the first time Colonel Nicholas Joseph Fury encountered beings that claimed to be supernatural or extraterrestrial. He had them all memorized and had top men watching over all of them. Many turned out to be artificially changed human beings, some others were less so. Nevertheless, all that S.H.I.E.L.D. had encountered thus far in its decades of activity were localized.

He could deal with this cases. He could cover them up, hide them, or pretend they didn't even exist. They had silly 'powers' like growing longer nails, being a little faster, or a little stronger than the average man. If the worst came the worst, a sniper round or ten could solve any of those problems before they even started.

But this was not a small-time individual. Nick wouldn't believe that someone who could have a small country floating above Washington D.C. and keep it hidden for since the dawn of time—if what Victoria Planeswalker implied was true—was someone without an earth shattering objective. She wasn't someone who could or would fade into the mists of history.

Nick knew, as well as he knew his name sounded like one of those caricatures out of the Blaxploitation era to both his agents and his superiors, that she was up to something.

Even without analysis, he saw that in her. Just passed her childishness and insecurity was something hideous.

Nick hated unknowns.

And the point of this briefing was to remove this problem. S.H.I.E.L.D. had done every test on everything, and it has been three days since. The room they introduced her to was secure and comfortable, but there were many ways to an interrogation. Nick Fury did not have to give an eye to have the experience and wisdom to know them all, from the crude torture tactics employed by the interns at the CIA to the nuanced tactics of seduction and persuasion used by his own agents.

So he walked into the small conference room. It was spartan,gray and clean. He did not sit, opting to tower over the agents, who didn't dare turn to him as he circled them like a bird of prey. He liked to keep these intimate meetings exclusive to a few, as it allowed him more easily project power and influence others. Even in a secure environment and to those who must be most loyal to him, he was ruthless. At first, he turned to Agent Romanov and nodded, “Good day, agents. Let's talk about your assignments.”

It was a polite way of demanding a briefing. And it was a reminder to his agents that unlike them, he had the luxury of being at ease.

“Of course, sir. The preliminary psychological evaluation came back,” She pulled up the folder she carried into the room earlier. With a flick of her wrist, the documents were projected onto the screen that was one of the walls of the room. It came to life smoothly, years ahead of what was available on the open market. “Subject Planeswalker, Victoria... The subject is selfish, indulges in a degree of narcissism, has a low self-esteem for her own appearance and both admires and fears S.H.I.E.L.D. at glance. The detailed analysis is before you and forwarded to each of you. She uses humor for assuaging her fears, but is ultimately a pragmatist. The single anomaly is her gift, but even then she has no altruistic intentions. Outside of what can be understood as 'personal freedoms', her motives are unknown, but extrapolating from her activities, they are to 'indulge' and to 'entertain'. Thus far, her consultation fund has been expertly optioned and used through varying methods of market manipulation—that we can know as proof of her precognitive ability. She then proceeded to buy... approximately 2.18 tons of chocolate. Details of personal tastes are also in the report—”

“... Huh, she likes the Kinder Surprise...” Coulson muttered to Fury's right.

“—Yes. As I said, she seeks to indulge in base pleasures, restricted only to food, and toys. Without further information, it is difficult to find out what her motives are, but given that she appears to give easily to pressure, the most that can be suggested is her current consultation role, with assigned agents actively watching over her.” Agent Romanov gave no outward appearance of annoyance, but it was not too difficult to see. She had similar dislikes as Fury did, and an untouchable unknown was nothing she enjoyed. “She seems to be receptive more to female agents than males, with exception of you, sir, and of Agent Coulson.”

“I'll take that under consideration and be offended for Agent Coulson's masculinity on his behalf.” Fury rolled his eye. “What did we find out about that... toy.”

Agent Coulson reorganized his stack of papers and perked up. “Sir, very little is known about the object designated 'Squee'z Toy'. However, it seems to have a recalling ability that ignores limitations such as space and has imprinted on me. That is to say, while I was away from base, whenever I am in even minuet personal danger, the Squeeze Toy appears in my hand. We've tested from every form of isolation and distance available, and there seems to be no differences noticeable.”

This alarmed Fury, but he waved for Coulson to continue. It would be rude to interrupt him before he was done.

Then Agent Coulson pulled out his firearm and squeezed the Squeeze Toy. Then he pulled the trigger, on himself. The bullet clattered onto the gray, metallic surface of the polished table to the silence of the room. Coulson smiled to himself, “Sir, it seems to also bestow a force field on me.”

“... And she gives this out like candy?”

“Actually, sir, she vehemently refuses to share her candy.”

Fury closed his eye. “Yes, alright. Does the object have any other properties that we are not aware of?”

“Other than being nigh-indestructible?” Agent Coulson shrugged. “There's not much else we know, sir. We've been unable to scratch it without using equipment that could clear an entire room in one way or another. All we can tell is that it is a warm, cloth-like material that under any other circumstance would be regular plush toy.”

“Is there an upper limit on it?” Agent Romanov asked curiously.

“Well, we stopped short of a grenade. It would be cumbersome to try explaining to Miss Planeswalker that her first and only gift to S.H.I.E.L.D. had... gone missing.” Coulson paused, before adding, “And with the object's teleportation capabilities, who knows if she knows what we did to it? However, it does seem to protect only once an hour.”

Agent Romanov nodded, curiosity sated.

“Sir, we have also tested residue from her stay. This isn't a comic book where we can clone her, but... well, suffice to say, the report will tell you that she isn't human.” Coulson pulled up a different slide on the presentation. “From her stray hair and other scraps, we found that she doesn't exactly have cells like humans do, instead, she seems to be a being of pure energy, existing on multiple dimensions that humans cannot perceive or understand without the most powerful equipment. The specifics...” He pulled it up and Fury turned his gaze down to the offending sheet of paper that held the details of a single speck of Planeswalker's 'cell'.

Nick Fury really wished Victoria did not exist right now. In fact, he envied the Nick Furies out there in alternate universes where everything was exactly the same, except this little girl didn't appear. With mild difficulty, he succeeded in not planting his forehead in his palms. “You mean to tell me a couple strands of Planeswalker's hair is enough to power this entire building?”

“... No sir.” Fury almost sighed a sigh of relief. “It wouldn't take one hair.”

It was then that Fury realized he would have rather had a second Stark than a Planeswalker. It would be a nightmare trying to explain this to the Council, a job he was suddenly not looking forward to at all. Yet he wouldn't have trusted anyone else with dealing with her. Someone like Planeswalker, someone who could see anything, be anywhere, and probably do anything... what could you do against that? What did people even call those?

In his heart of hearts, Fury admitted to himself, that once he faced the dawning dread that pooled within him, it wasn't so bad. Now was the time to plan for and against this... Planeswalker.