MARVEL's Avengers: Infinity War: Thanos

by Barry Lyga

Thanos regarded his friend with the closest thing to tenderness in his emotional repertoire. “What I am about to do may offend your delicate sensibilities.”

  “Hey!” Kebbi complained. “Why aren’t you worried about my delicate sensibilities?”

  “I was not aware you had any,” Thanos said. He opened the first-aid kit and selected a pair of scissors. “I suppose we’ll start with this.” He opened the tiny blades and held them up close to Vathlauss’s left eye. “Unless, of course, you’d simply like to tell us what we need to know?”

  “Take mine eye,” Vathlauss said, holding his head erect. “I will be honored to resemble my liege and lord, Odin.”

  “Fine, then,” Thanos said, and called his bluff.

  Hours later, Vathlauss had told Thanos what he needed to know. Or at least as much as he could. He was missing one eye and several teeth, along with a finger on his left hand. The finger had come off early on, and Vathlauss had laughed. “I suffered far worse during the five hundred and twenty-seventh war with the Frost Giants!” he exclaimed, then guffawed until Thanos shoved the finger into the empty socket where his left eye had been.

  Now Thanos sat on the floor across from Vathlauss, who had passed out from the pain. Thanos’s clothes were stained with the Asgardian’s blood, which ran as red and as heavy as that of any mortal Thanos had ever encountered. His gloved hands in particular were thick with it, and some part of him thought that this was wrong. He was not a doctor, not a sterile seeker of healing. The blood should touch his flesh. He owed that much to Vathlauss, who had endured quite exquisite pain at Thanos’s hands. Pain so exquisite that both Cha and Kebbi had excused themselves under the guise of exploring the outpost for supplies.

  And yet Thanos had remained. Had remained and had tortured this little godling for as long as it took. He’d felt nothing the whole time. No shame. No guilt. No nausea or revulsion. He was simply doing what needed to be done if he was to save the people of Titan.

  He peeled off his bloodstained gloves, stiff and tacky, then dragged a finger through the blood. To feel it on his flesh. It was sticky and only partly dry. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger until it dyed his fingers black.

  Every drop shed saves millions more, he thought. Every drop shed is another life preserved.

  He rose slowly, stiffly. According to Vathlauss, a ship came through this part of the galaxy once a fortnight—an Asgardian ship bound for Asgard itself. Called the Blood Edda, it had permission to cross what he called the Bifrost, which was apparently some sort of special Asgardian wormhole technology that led specifically in and out of the kingdom.

  “Odin’s vault is in the castle,” Vathlauss had said, choking on his own blood, pausing to catch his breath. “You can’t miss it. It’s the tallest damned thing in the kingdom. Once you’re aboard the Blood Edda, you can bypass the Bifrost and go straight to the palace.

  “What you seek must be the Aether,” Vathlauss had continued. “The Infinity Stone.”

  “Infinity Stone.” Thanos rolled the words over in his mind, feeling the heft of them, their psychic gravity. He’d never heard of such a thing before, but something in the way Vathlauss spoke the words, with an almost hesitant, reverent breath, told him volumes. The Infinity Stone. It existed. The artifact His Lordship had sought was not a flicker of madness in a dying man’s diseased head. It was real.

  He said it again, musing: “Infinity Stone.”

  “Yes. Bor, father of Odin, took it from the Dark Elves millennia past.”

  “And you believe Odin still has it.”

  “No one knows where it is. But the vault…”

  And then Vathlauss had passed out.

  Now, though, he stirred and coughed up something too solid to be mere blood, interrupting Thanos’s deep thoughts. He glared at Thanos with his remaining eye. “You’ll die there, Titan. You’ll die in the glory that is Asgard.”

  “Which is more than I can say for you,” Thanos told him, and leaned over, reaching out for the Asgardian’s throat.

  God or not, he died just the same.

  They had six days before the Blood Edda was due to arrive at the outpost. They spent the time exploring the building and planning.

  The outpost boasted a magnificently stocked larder, the likes of which Thanos had never seen before. Entire sides of beef, salted and preserved. Kegs of sweet mead. Hardtack biscuits and honey-dipped cakes. They ate until they were sick, then threw up and ate again simply because it was worth it. Thanos had not eaten so well since Titan.

  “It’s going to get bloody,” Thanos warned them as they lolled in a post-meal torpor.

  “Going to?” Cha asked. “What do you call what you did to poor Vathlauss?”

  “ ‘Poor Vathlauss’ would have killed us in an eye blink, given the opportunity,” Thanos told him. Kebbi nodded in solidarity. “Your pacifism is noted and counterproductive. Especially since we may need to kill more of these Asgardians.”

  “You confidence is charming and perhaps unearned,” Kebbi pointed out.

  Thanos shrugged diffidently. “I told you both you were mad to join me.”

  “I stand by you,” Kebbi said.

  “As do I,” Cha said after a moment.

  Thanos blinked in surprise. “Really? I’d’ve thought the blood of an Asgardian would have changed your mind by now.”

  Cha considered for long moments, pinching the tips of his pointed ears, as he often did when lost in thought. “The Asgardians are a martial people, prone to bloodlust and bloodshed. I will not weep for their losses.”

  “I enjoy your special brand of hypocrisy,” Thanos said with admiration. “Come. Let’s take inventory.”

  In addition to its larder, the outpost also featured an impressive armory, considering it was crewed by a single staffer. Food and weapons—the cornerstones of Asgardian life.

  There were axes and swords alongside more exotic fare: a recoilless pulse stave, a brace of grip-tight plasma knuckles, a lightning bow, and even something that looked like a cross between a rifle and a radar dish. When Thanos pointed it at a target and pulled the trigger, it issued forth a blast of invisible, pulsating sound waves that rattled his teeth and made his eyes bleed.

  “Sonic screamer!” Cha shouted when it was over and they were all temporarily deaf. “Never seen one before!”

  “Effective!” Thanos screamed back.

  “I hate you both!” Kebbi yelled, blotting blood from the shell of her left ear. “Read the instructions next time!”

  They made a tally of their available weapons, checked every entrance to the outpost, barricaded all but the front door. They wanted to give subterfuge a chance, but Thanos had a feeling that they would not get so lucky a second time.

  “We have to be ready to fight our way aboard,” he warned them. “We were fortunate to wound the God of Keeping et cetera early on—”

  “You’re welcome,” Kebbi interjected.

  “—but we can’t assume we’ll be so lucky the second time. It may come down to combat.”

  “Well, that’s good,” Cha remarked. “Because we have a Titan who’s only been in a couple of fights, a medico who’s never seen war, and a woman who grew up on a wheelship and has never been in a direct fight. Going up against a crew renowned across the galaxy for its bloodlust and fighting prowess. So how can it go wrong?”

  “We trick them,” Thanos said. “But we fight if we must, and we board the Blood Edda, commandeering it and making it our own.”

  Kebbi interrupted again. “Are we naming this one Sanctuary, too?”

  Thanos said nothing. He’d been considering it. “Its name is not important. What matters is that we will be able to use it to traverse the Bifrost and enter Asgard.”

  “This is where the plan falls apart,” Cha said.

  “You’re wrong,” Thanos told him. “The plan does not fall apart at this point, because once we’re in Asgard, there is no plan. Ergo, it can’t fall apart.”

  “That doesn’t comfort me,” Keb
bi said, to an agreeing nod from Cha.

  “Without explicit information on Asgard, there’s no point in making a plan,” Thanos told them. It was simple. If need be, he would crash the Blood Edda into the palace and take advantage of the confusion to find Odin’s vault. In the ensuing chaos, he would make his way back out. Not the best plan, he admitted, but the only one at his disposal. Let anarchy and surprise substitute for the weapons and army he did not have. “We cross the Bifrost and figure out the rest later.”

  He sounded more confident than he felt. Fortunately, the others couldn’t tell the difference.

  CHAPTER XXV

  THE BLOOD EDDA CROSSED THROUGH THE WORMHOLE AT Alfheim exactly six days after Thanos and his crew arrived at the outpost. The Asgardians were nothing if not punctual.

  Its arrival set off a series of automatic systems at the outpost. Security codes were transferred, cryptographic keys engaged at the quantum level, and the outpost machinery granted permission for the Blood Edda to land.

  The ship hove into view on the moon’s horizon. It looked like a great metallic bird, its wings frozen in place and frosted with gleaming steel.

  It settled into the moon’s dust a few meters from the outpost. After a moment, a ramp lowered and extended into the environment shield. Three figures strode down the ramp. Each wore skintight, flexible metal carapaces in a variety of colors—royal blue, deep crimson, solar yellow. They carried swords and photonic rifles and walked with the easy confidence of warriors who have seen blood and battle and lived not only to tell the tale but to live it again and again.

  The three Asgardians entered the outpost and stopped in the entry hall. The place was utterly silent.

  They shared a skeptical look between them. Then their leader cupped his hands around his mouth and called out:

  “Ho, Vathlauss! Brother, battle-tested! Come greet your war-friends Snorri, Brusi, and Hromund! Wash our throats with mead and ale!”

  The call echoed down the empty halls. Without so much as a coordinating glance, sensing something direly wrong, all three warriors drew their weapons at the same time.

  Suddenly, the lights in the entry went out. The only light came from the hallway up ahead, and that was partially blotted out by a massive, hulking figure who strode closer into view.

  “I’m afraid we’ve drunk all the mead,” Thanos said.

  “I will give you one chance…” Thanos began, but never finished his sentence.

  “Hwat!” said the leader, Snorri.

  “SEE, BROTHERS, MONSTER LARGE OF

  PURPLE FLESH AND COMBAT DIGHTED!

  I LONG TO FLEX MY MUSCLES, TO HEAR

  THE SONG OF BLOOD AND BATTLE!

  AND AVENGE OUR BROTHER’S SOUL,

  BRAVE-WORN, COURAGE-RIDDLED!”

  With a cry, the three Asgardians launched themselves at Thanos, who stepped back a pace in order to have room to bring his sonic screamer to bear. He was wearing earplugs. The Asgardians weren’t.

  Still, they pressed on through the rippling, vibrating waves of sound that slammed into them. Snorri’s nose spurted blood, which matted in his heavy mustache. Brusi growled and pawed at his left ear, which was gushing blood, but never stopped moving forward.

  And Hromund let loose a bloodcurdling berserker war cry so loud that it momentarily overcame the pulses from the sonic screamer as he charged forward, swinging his sword.

  Thanos’s eyes widened at the sight of the battle-crazed Asgardian bearing down on him. He’d thought no one could resist the brain-scrambling frequencies of the sonic screamer, but here was, apparently, the God of Doing Things You Thought Were Impossible, just a meter or two away from cutting off the hands that held the weapon.

  From her perch above the doorway, Kebbi dropped down to the floor between Thanos and Hromund, opened her mouth, and blasted out a cloud of venom. Thanos caught just a whiff of it, and it made his eyes water, but so great and all-consuming was Hromund’s rage that he tucked his head down and rushed through the cloud. By the time he got to Thanos, he was bleeding from both eyes and both ears, with snot and blood gushing from his nose as well, but he didn’t care. He swung his sword in a wide, blind arc, narrowly missing Kebbi but landing a solid blow on the sonic screamer.

  Vibrations ran up Thanos’s arms, jittering his shoulders, shaking the screamer right out of his hands. It landed, dented and spitting sparks, at his feet, no longer functional.

  “For Vathlauss!” Hromund screamed.

  “For Asgard!” Snorri cried.

  “For Odin!” Brusi bellowed.

  Thanos lashed out with a fist, catching Hromund under his jaw. It wasn’t the most powerful punch Thanos had ever thrown, but it connected. That was all that mattered—he was wearing the plasma knuckles, which sent a burst of explosive energy coursing through Hromund’s face. As Thanos watched, the Asgardian’s chin split in two clear up to his mouth.

  “Ooo assurd!” Hromund exclaimed, and—to Thanos’s shock and great respect—kept fighting. His sword glanced off Thanos’s armored gauntlet but left a long, deep scar there.

  “We can’t beat them!” Kebbi cried as she ducked a sword swing from Brusi. Even rattled by the sonic screamer and weakened by her toxin, the Asgardians were fierce warriors.

  “We don’t have to beat them,” Thanos reminded her. “Cha! Change of plans! Do it now!”

  In his earbud, Cha’s voice came to him. “Now? But you and Kebbi are within the—”

  “Now, damnit! Now!”

  Thanos sidestepped Snorri’s sword, then shoved the bloody Asgardian back a few paces. With a swift movement, he grabbed Kebbi by the elbow and dragged her through the door with him. As he watched, the Asgardians—again without so much as a coordinating glance at one another—dropped their swords and unslung their rifles. Thanos and Kebbi were dead in their sights at point-blank range.

  “Damn!” Kebbi exclaimed.

  Two things happened simultaneously.

  First, Thanos slammed his fist into the control for the inner door. It slid shut just as the first energy blasts from the Asgardian rifles struck it.

  Second, the outer doors swung open… and the Asgardians opened their mouths in silent screams as the vacuum of space sucked the air and heat from the entryway. They never got to fire a second volley of shots from their rifles as they were plucked from their spots and sucked out the door by the sudden outrush of air. Tossed by inertia high above the lunar surface, they shot hundreds of meters away before the moon’s weak gravity dragged them back down to the ground. By then they were already long dead.

  Inside, Cha screamed over the communicator. “Did it work? Are you alive? Did it work?”

  Thanos tapped his earbud. “You should have more faith in me, Cha.”

  Kebbi sighed in relief and slumped against the wall. “I told you we should have just shut off the environment field before they arrived.”

  “Their sensors would have detected the lack of atmosphere, and they wouldn’t have left the ship. We had to do it this way.” He looked down at his left arm. Hromund’s sword had done more than leave a cut in his gauntlet; he saw now that it had cut through the gauntlet and sliced open his forearm to the bone. The whiteness of the bone shocked him.

  “Cha, we need medical attention.” He used his good hand to bring up a hologram of the Blood Edda. “And then we’re going out there.”

  Less than half an hour later, they re-established the environment field and went out to the ship. To Thanos’s great surprise, Cha slung a rifle over his shoulder when he joined them.

  “Bringing the fist in pacifist, I see,” he commented. “I thought it would take longer for you to see the utility of violence.”

  Cha curled his upper lip. “I told you—I don’t mourn for the Asgardians.”

  The ramp to the ship was still down and within range of the field, so they simply ambled from the entryway to the ramp, then up the ramp and into the tight confines of the Blood Edda.

  Where they beheld a woman in a space suit, wielding a
battle-ax, who cried out, “Vengeance! By Odin’s empty socket!” and swung the ax in a broad arc.

  It cut Thanos, in the lead, across his chest, and he watched his own blood jet out of him. He had just enough time to take a breath before the ax swung back again. Barely evading its deadly, blood-smeared gleam, he leaped to one side, colliding with Cha, who slammed into the bulkhead of the ship.

  The Asgardian—surely the Goddess of Surprise Attacks, he thought in a moment of vertiginous, mordant sarcasm—seemed no more tired for her swinging of the massive ax. She lashed out again, this time striking Thanos squarely in the meat of his right shoulder. Blood and fire exploded in him. The ax was buried in his flesh and muscle; he could feel it, cold and slimy and burning all at once.

  Beneath him, Cha struggled to unsling the rifle he’d brought with him, but Thanos’s bulk made it difficult. Kebbi spat out a stream of intense, concentrated venom, but the Asgardian’s space suit made her impervious to the poison.

  “Blood-destiny!” she cried. “Vengeance-work!” The ax was stuck in Thanos, caught on a bone perhaps, and as she tugged and pulled at it, his entire body flared with impossible pain. It felt as though someone were trying to pull out his innards through his armpit.

  Cha managed to wriggle one arm out from under Thanos. At the same time, Kebbi fell back a few steps and drew a pistol she’d purloined from the outpost’s armory. When she pulled the trigger, nothing happened…

  At first.

  An instant later, the Asgardian threw back her head and howled, caught in the throes of a burst of electricity that set her neurons on fire. She danced like a marionette under the control of a toddler, her limbs jangling and flailing.

  Most important of all, she let go of the damned ax.

  Thanos groaned and rolled onto his back, giving Cha the freedom to aim his rifle. He took a shot at the Asgardian and missed, the plasma bolt erupting instead on a bank of equipment nearby. The equipment exploded into a gout of fire.