So, first things first, this is a crossover with Worm, which is… tonally unlike Sentinels of the Multiverse, to say the least. For the most part, I’ll be trying to stay away from that tone here, but you should know that there are deaths here. Also, there are Neo Nazis. Most of them are among the deaths though. Take that as you will.
Secondly: I am a fool and forgot that these forums existed, let alone that I even had an account here, until I heard them mentioned again on The Letters Page. That’s why you’re getting the first three chapters all at once.
Thirdly: This was primarily written for the Worm nerds over on SpaceBattles, so let me know if you’ve got questions about that side of things. I’d link you to the Worm wiki, but it’s terrible. The SpaceBattles folks don’t know how lucky they are, what with being linked to the Sentinels wiki for their questions
Fourthly: This has spoilers for both Worm and Sentinels of the Multiverse, including OblivAeon. Read with that in mind
Fifth and finally: I own nothing here but the order of the words.
ISSUE 1: DAWN BREAKS
“Tell me about him.”
“There’s not much to tell. He walked up to the front desk and asked to speak with you by name.”
Armsmaster turned from the display showing the interview room and it’s lone occupant leaning back in his chair to Miss Militia standing beside him.
“So? I imagine dozens of people ask to speak with any one of us on a given day. What makes him special?”
“Aside from the golden tinkertech arm and the fact that he’s dressed like he fell out of a Zane Grey book?” Miss Militia shook her head. “I told you he asked for you by name. He asked to speak with Colin Wallis, not Armsmaster.”
“And since I’m not on record as working here, it means we’ve got a Thinker on our hands.”
“One who’s willing to risk breaking the unwritten rules, too.”
“Okay, what do we know about him then? Do we think he has anything to do with Vista’s disappearance?”
“Hard to say. He gave his name as Jim Brooks, of which there are eight in Brockton Bay, none of whom match his description. Although, Officer Watkins, who was manning the desk when Mister Brooks came in, did mention unprompted that there was a Sheriff Jim Brooks in a place called Silver Gulch, New Mexico, who our man here is apparently a dead ringer for.”
“And why does this matter?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure it does. Watkins has always had a bit of a cowboy hobby. I had him go home to get the book this historical Brooks is mentioned in.”
“Hmm. Very well. Worst case he gets a long lunch.” Armsmaster sighed. “Nothing for it then. I’m going to talk to him. Keep the confoam ready.”
Miss Militia nodded as Colin left. On the monitor, she watched him enter the interview room.
“Mr. Brooks?” he asked the man slouched in the chair, “I’m Armsmaster, I have some questions for you.”
Brooks slid his feet off the table and sat up. “I’m sure you do, Colin,” he drawled as if he had all the time in the world, “This is the first time you’ve met me, after all, and you’re no doubt wonderin’ how I come to know certain personal details about you and yours.”
“That would be a good place to start, yes.”
“Well the easy way involves me pullin’ proof from inside my arm here, and I’d like to make sure you don’t spray me down with your fancy foam when I do.”
“Go ahead,” said Armsmaster, “But know that I am watching you very closely.”
“I’m sure you are.” Brooks made a complicated gesture with the fingers of his mechanical left arm and suddenly there was something between them. A small plastic card, which he handed to Armsmaster.
“Is this what I think it is?”
“If you check the embedded security hologram, you’ll see it’s genuine.”
“I am well familiar with all the security protocols on Protectorate ID cards, Mr. Brooks. As well as the fact that falsifying one is a federal offense.”
“Well it’s a good thing you gave me this one yourself then, inn’t it? I’m enactin’ the Beckett Protocols, and that there card is my authorization.”
The systems in Armsmaster’s helmet popped a message into his HUD; the security scan on the card had come back. All green, with the exception that the issue date was January 2011. Six months in the future. A further notice indicated there were two video files in the card’s internal data storage. Armsmaster set the first one to play and watched.
Brooks watched Armsmaster.
The video finished. Armsmaster turned to the camera on the ceiling and spoke to Miss Militia on the other side. “Turn off the cameras and delete the recordings. For the next hour this room is dark and under Master/Stranger lockdown.” A heavy bolt slid in place in the door and the red light showing the camera was recording went dark. Armsmaster turned back to Brooks. “So you’re from the future. Why are you here?”
“To put it bluntly, Colin? Something big’s comin’. I can’t tell you the specifics yet, Maria’ll fill you in when she gets here, but it’s big. Real big. Bigger than anything your world’s ever faced before. And there’s something here, in this sheaf of universes, that makes it unbeatable. I aim to help make sure that never happens.”
“So why are you here then, and not in New York, talking to Legend?”
“Short answer is that Alexandria and her group have their own role in all this mess. Explaining that to her is what that second video on the card is for. 'Sides, the part I’m here to stop? The part that makes savin’ all of reality impossible instead of merely incredibly difficult? It starts here in Brockton Bay, and it starts with Dawn.”
[hr]
Kaiser called them “rallies”. It sounded better than “two minutes hate”, not that many of the people in attendance would have gotten the reference. They usually started with a visiting speaker giving a short presentation on some topic or another. Today’s had been from a California billionaire about the studies he had paid for that showed certain races, coincidentally the lighter-skinned ones, were genetically suited to leadership and wealth. Most of the jargon went over the heads of the audience, but they had gotten the general gist of what the man was saying and had loved it.
After the guest speaker there was usually a short intermission to set the stage for Kaiser’s speech. Kaiser was setting that up himself, growing blades over the stage into an impressive façade. Today was the official announcement of their new cape, and things needed to look good for the cameras. The rally was being broadcast live to the internet, showing the world the full power of Kaiser and his Empire.
The new cape, a Blaster Hookwolf had literally found lying in an alley, hadn’t given her name, instead insisting on “Dawn”, even if Kaiser’s suggestion of Aurorae seemed to fit better. Still, if Hookwolf was right about what she could do, and the day Hookwolf spent healing suggested he was, Dawn would more than make up for the recent loss of Purity. Acquiescing on a name was a small sacrifice to make to keep someone so powerful on his side.
A buzzer sounded, indicating that the intermission was over and the main event, Kaiser’s speech, was about to begin. He took his place on the throne he had made at the center of the stage, while the various capes of the E88 arrayed themselves behind him. The lights dimmed, and the stage curtain rose. Kaiser slowly stood and faced his audience.
“This country is sick,” he began, the crowd hanging on his words, “We used to be the the shining city on a hill. The ideal that all other countries could strive to. We were a beacon of prosperity, of industry, of innovation, and of goodness.”
Kaiser waited for the cheering to die down before he started again. “This is what we were. The greatest country on Earth. But we have been brought down, and brought low. Our country has become overrun by degenerates, by criminals, by the cosmopolitan, and the politically correct. The types of people who don’t deserve the kind of prosperity the country used to give to its citizens!
“‘But how,’ I hear you asking, ‘how can we help our country regain its greatness?’ The answer is simple. You start at home. Just as America was once the awe of the world, so too was Brockton Bay one of the centers of industry for her. Before the union strike blocked Lord’s Port and created the blight we call the Boat Graveyard, we were second only to New York City in shipping and industry. Now? Now we struggle to keep our roads smooth and our buildings clear of gang signs. Only the good people at Medhall, and other companies that offer jobs to those willing to work them, have saved our city from the fate that these… these deplorable people would wish for her.”
The crowd was cheering again. Kaiser motioned for silence. “Today is the Fourth of July. A day when we remember and celebrate our country throwing off the shackles of mediocrity! The day we stopped being a group of lesser colonies and became a great nation, set to lead the world! With that in mind, I come to you today with good news for the war to regain our city’s former glory! We in the Empire 88 have a new recruit to our cause!” he gestured behind him and a spotlight clicked on, illuminating his newest cape. “This is Dawn. I’ll leave her to speak for herself, but I will say she is one of the most powerful parahumans I’ve ever met. With her on our side, this city, and this country, of ours can be made great once more!”
Dawn took her cue and stepped up next to Kaiser. He stepped to the side to allow her access to the microphone, but she didn’t take it. Instead she surveyed the crowd for a moment, looking impressive in her red tunic and pants, the clothes she had been found in. After a few moments, she broke her silence, speaking in a high, pleasant voice that Kaiser was sure filled the entire room even without the microphone. No one who was there could avoid hearing what he said next.
“I am new to this world, and your Empire offered me kindness and information, and for that, I thank you. Your philosophy and mine are not dissimilar, except in one key area.”
“And what is that?” asked Kaiser, quietly enough that the microphone almost didn’t pick it up.
“You believe that everyone here today is superior because of an accident of melanin, while I know that those on this stage are superior because of their power.”
Kaiser was about to interrupt, to regain control of the stage, when Dawn spoke again. This time to the crowd. “All of you, bowing at the false altar of ‘racial purity’ make me sick. There is no racial purity. There are the powerful, and the powerless.”
She reached out her hand. There was a bright light and the sound of screams. When Kaiser could see again, he saw not a crowd hanging on his every word, but a sea of burned corpses, the only survivors crawling at the edges of the mass of the dead.
“If they had been among the powerful,” Dawn said to the few people who remained, “they would have been able to defend themselves and they would still be here now.” She turned to the assembled capes on the stage with her, all of whom were on their guard, ready to attack or defend as needed. “I offer you all a place with me, with the powerful. Will you take it?”
For a moment, no one moved. Then Kaiser raised his arm, and the blades attached to the front of the stage stretched out toward Dawn. She turned toward them, raised her hand, and released a blinding glow.
And the cameras went dead.
[hr]
PRT Conference Room B, nicknamed “The Big Room” by those who worked in the building, was almost never used at capacity. Mostly this was because its capacity was theoretically greater than the number of people in the building at any given time.
Today it was standing room only.
Armsmaster had called the meeting, and marked it mandatory for all local PRT and Protectorate personnel, and like it or not, when the head of the Protectorate ENE said jump, most people had little choice but to ask “how high”. There had been a lot of grumbling from officers recalled from vacation or staffers just getting off shift. That stopped once the video finished playing.
“This video was broadcast over the internet 14 hours ago,” began Armsmaster, “What you just saw has been substantially cleaned up and improved from the original, which had developed significant spotting and image degradation due to the intense light emitted by this new Parahuman, Dawn, damaging the light sensor in the camera, as well as the camera itself.
“As you may have guessed, Dawn is the reason for this briefing today. Analysis of this video, as well as the corpses and other remains found at the site suggest a threat rating of at least Blaster 8. Further information from a trustworthy source suggests even more. At present Dawn is considered Blaster 9, firing light-based projectiles similar to Purity. Furthermore, she has low-level Breaker and Shaker abilities, as well as situational Master powers. A more detailed breakdown of these abilities will be issued within the day, but let it be known that Dawn is extremely powerful and, clearly, willing to kill based on her deranged ideology.
“I know we’re all still on a higher patrol schedule due to Vista’s unplanned absence, so keep this in mind: if you encounter Dawn, or any surviving parahumans of the former Empire 88, Do. Not. Engage. Alert Console and withdraw as safely as you can. That is all for now. Dismissed.”
Better informed, but more nervous than they had been before, the assembled staff of the combined PRT/Protectorate ENE slowly filed out of the room. For his part, Armsmaster was on his way to a different, much smaller conference room, where he had a much more difficult meeting.
“Armsmaster.”
“Alexandria, ma’am. Good to see you.”
“I’ll be blunt. How much of a threat is this Dawn?”
“According to my source she’s as powerful as the Butcher, as charismatic as Jack Slash, and capable of gaining a following of parahumans more powerful than the Teeth. It would not be an exaggeration to say she is one of the most dangerous individuals on this planet. It wouldn’t be a stretch to call her a Class A threat on her own.”
“Is gaining this following part of her proposed Master rating?”
“No ma’am. Her power is apparently based around control of any sort of energy with a visible component. Specifically absorption and emission. The Master rating comes from the fact that, when she’s absorbed enough energy of a certain wavelength, she can….” Armsmaster trailed off, uncertain.
“She can what, Armsmaster?”
“According to my source, she can… reanimate the dead.”
“Reanimate the dead.”
“As I understand it, she infuses a corpse with her energy and is able to puppet the body. However, this has only happened once as far as my source knows, and further information is sketchy, at best. For all we know, it could just be a side-effect of her healing capabilities.”
“Healing capabilities?”
“According to my source, yes, ma’am.”
“And is this source of yours available for an interview? I would be very interested in hearing more about Dawn from a source more immediately familiar with her.”
“Unfortunately, ma’am, that’s not possible right now.”
“Armsmaster, I’m one of the most trusted people in the entire Protectorate. I think I can be trusted with a confidential source.”
“It’s not that, ma’am. I’m under orders to not let you see them.”
“Whose orders?”
“Yours, ma’am. The Beckett Protocols are in effect.”
“Do you know how many criminals have tried using the Beckett Protocols as an excuse? Claiming their crimes were necessary to ‘set right what once went wrong’, and that we were dooming the future by arresting them?”
“Approximately 600 cases a year, ma’am. The difference here is that the protocols are actually being followed. This person came to us first, they came with proof of who they were, and they came with authorization from their head of the Protectorate to follow a very specific plan.”
“Which you are not privy to, given the very specific wording you’ve used.” Alexandria sighed. “Can I at least see this proof and authorization?”
“No, ma’am, I’ve been told you can’t, and situations like this call for as much infosec as possible, given the potential ramifications of time-travelling parahumans. But I can tell you that my informant, as well as all the materiel brought with them, have passed Master/Stranger containment. The one part that hasn’t is because I’m not authorized to view it.” Armsmaster pulled a USB stick from a slot on his armor and gave it to Alexandria. “Only you are, and only in ‘the most secure location you can access’.”
“You seem pretty sure all of this is on the level, Armsmaster. Why is that?”
“Two reasons. First, the amount of effort someone would have had to go through to successfully fake everything I’ve seen so far is so much that it would be easier to do almost literally anything else than trick people into thinking time travel is real. Second, a murderous psychopath of a parahuman supremacist has shown up in my city, and this time traveller is the only one who’s been able to tell me anything about her. I don’t actually care if they are from the future, so long as they help me keep this city alive. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go do just that.”
Alexandria watched Armsmaster leave, then looked at the USB stick in her hand. She looked to the ceiling, and spoke to no one anyone could see.
“Get everyone together. We have a situation.”
[hr]
Three people seated around a large wooden table, looking as if it had been carved from a single tree. Behind the table a large window looked into a swirling mass of colors. At the head of the table was a silver-haired Hispanic woman in a gold bodysuit and red overcoat. To her right, sat Alexandria with her helmet off. To her left, opposite Alexandria, was Armsmaster.
“Good evening,” said the unknown woman, a faint and unplaceable accent tinting her words, “I am Captain Maria Helena de Falcón. You already know Rebecca and Colin.
“If everything has gone well, and at this stage there is no reason to think differently, then the first time this message is played will be in a secure meeting room in Cauldron headquarters. To ease some of your more immediate concerns, I have asked Rebecca to embed the necessary security codes and protocols to show that this message is from six months from when you are watching this and that your Beckett Protocols are in effect with regards to the information in this message.”
“Which is to say,” said Alexandria from her seat next to Maria Helena, “That you are at a tipping point, and if you choose wrong, you will reach a position from which the survival of humankind, on any Earth, is impossible. In order to prevent this, it is absolutely vital that Dawn get sent to the Birdcage. I can’t tell you why, just that if she doesn’t go, the last, best hope to defeat Scion, and the one who comes after him, dies in fire and flame.”
“Beyond that one directive,” said Maria Helena, “You must all act naturally and react as normal, in all of your roles. This is why you are being told as little as you are; to minimize potential deviance in the timeline. The fewer variables, the easier this all is to plot. Things will get worse before they get better, but remember, Dawn must be sent to your Birdcage. Without this event, nothing will survive what comes next.”
[hr]
“So what do we think?” asked Alexandria as the video finished playing. “All the necessary security protocols were in the file, all signed with my personal codes. If this is fake, then we need to worry about whoever made it, because they clearly know too much.”
“As opposed to worrying about not only Scion, but also 'the one who comes after him’?” asked Eidolon from across the table. “Because that sounds pretty worrying to me.”
“I’m not saying either option is good, but it is something to keep in mind,” said Doctor Mother. “What do we know about the person who brought the message?”
“Armsmaster is under uptime Beckett orders not to let me see him, but we’ve found out that his name is Jim Brooks, cape name of Chrono-Ranger. Artificial arm, but almost certainly has extensive cyberization throughout his body, given how he moves.”
“How much of a threat is he?” asked Number Man.
“Hard to say. As I said, he is essentially a tinkertech cyborg. And given that he seems to know Armsmaster in the future, there’s no telling what devices or equipment he may have.”
“So we’re just accepting that time travel is real and that Brooks is from the future?”
“Grey Boy,” said Contessa from her end of the table, “Phir Sē, Clockblocker, Minute Hand. All have temporal manipulation abilities, who is to say there are not others?”
“Exactly,” said Alexandria, “that’s why we wrote the Beckett Protocols in the first place, just in case this sort of thing happened. Given everything we’ve seen so far, I suggest we proceed under the Protocols.”
“And that brings us neatly to our second topic,” said Doctor Mother, “What do we know about Dawn?”
“Only what Brooks has told Armsmaster. There’s no record of anyone matching her description or reported powerset. For all intents and purposes, she did not exist before last week.”
“Given her speech at Kaiser’s rally, is it safe to say she’s a dimensional transfer?”
“Probably, although that explanation raises questions of its own. Namely that she not only doesn’t seem to be from Earth Bet, but also she’s not from any universe Clairvoyant can access.”
“That isn’t much of an issue on its own,” said Number Man. “There is no reason to assume the roughly ten to the seventieth universes accessible via the passengers are the only variants that exist. It’s likely that Dawn somehow came from one of these other universes, then Brooks and Captain de Falcón followed.”
“Okay,” said Doctor Mother, “so we have a working theory as to who all these people are. What can we say about their plan? Contessa?”
“Getting Dawn into the Birdcage is simple enough,” Contessa said, “It only adds 267 steps to the plan, and most of them are minor adjustments.”
“And yet you sound apprehensive about doing it,” said Eidolon.
“If Dawn goes to the Birdcage, the timetable for Scion’s turn and destruction of humanity moves to six months from now.”
“That’s… unusually exact for you,” said Doctor Mother.
“I know, usually there is some variance in the possible timelines for Scion’s attack. But now it seems fixed in place, as if nothing we do could affect it.”
"And what happens if we ignore Captain de Falcón’s message and leave Dawn be?”
Contessa didn’t respond for some time. Eidolon was about to ask if she was alright when she jerked back from the table and fell to the floor, screaming.
Doctor Mother got to her first.
“Fortuna! Fortuna, what is it? What do you see?”
Eventually Contessa stopped screaming and started shaking instead. It was only because everyone else in the room was so quiet that they heard what she said next.
“It’s Coming. Darkness. Fire. The death of all that is.”
She took a deep shuddering breath and whispered one more word.
“OblivAeon.”
[hr]
Picture the universe. Imagine, if you can, its breadth, its width, its height, and its duration. Hold in your mind a picture of all creation. That picture is everything that is, everything that was, and everything that will be.
It is not truly everything, though. For there is one axis along which the universe moves that you did not imagine.
Possibility.
For every left turn, there is a right. For every event, there is a different outcome. For every path taken, there is one that is not. Each of these differences on their own are small, but sometimes, and no one is quite sure how to tell when, these differences build up and something new is spawned. There is Disparation. There is another universe.
Take, then, all these possible disparate universes, all the possible worlds that never were yours, but are still just as real, and imagine them together.
This is the multiverse.
An infinite canvas of not only what was, is, and will be, but also of what wasn’t, what should not be, and what may still be to come. As endless and varied gem, populated by uncountable people, each with their own lives, hopes, and dreams.
There are those who wish to play in this infinite realm. There are those who wish to preserve it. Some want to conquer it, or use it for their own glory. Still others want to improve it, to see it grow beyond itself. There is one, however, who wishes only to destroy it.
That one is OblivAeon.
OblivAeon, who cools the hearts of stars. OblivAeon, who causes realities to wind down and sputter out, devoid of energy and life. OblivAeon, who sends his agents to destroy and corrupt what they will, for no other reason than the sake of destruction itself.
OblivAeon looks into the infinite possibilities of the multiverse and sees the need to eliminate a certain potential threat in a keystone reality, and so arranges for this threat to be sent elsewhere, to another universe. A portal is opened, and this threat falls out of her own universe, and into another, setting into motion a chain of events that will cause her to be destroyed and beaten. And just to ensure this outcome, OblivAeon reaches into this second universe and seeks a being of power and destruction. One is found, and OblivAeon sets into motion a series of events to guarantee the ascension of this new agent, this Scion of himself, who will destroy all it surveys.
OblivAeon notices, but does not deem significant, that the portal he opened to dispose of the threat stays open slightly longer than it should have, and that someone from this second universe has fallen through it in the opposite direction of the threat. OblivAeon now looks across all of space, time, and possibility, and sees nothing in his way.
Picture, now, the multiverse. No longer resplendent with the infinite majesty of possibilities, but instead broken, burning, and dead.
This is now the only way things can end.
This is the future.
This is OblivAeon.