The Sun Came Crashing In || Richard (rchardriders) & Peter (shootingstarlord)

“Ugh, where the hell am I?” Richard groaned as he regained consciousness. The throbbing headache that was assaulting his mind was doing nothing to ease his confusion. He blinked his eyes open, taking in his surroundings. He was adrift in space. How did he get here? Wherever here was. It certainly didn’t look like anywhere he knew of. He hoped it wasn’t the Cancerverse, it didn’t look like the Cancerverse in any case. The last thing he remembered was running towards Thanos with Peter, and screaming in his face, before the world went white. Did they manage to do it? Did they manage to defeat Thanos? Did they manage to save the universe? He really hoped that they did. What had happened? Was he dead? Probably not, knowing the amount of pain he was feeling right about now. If so, where was Pete?

          “Worldmind?”

No reply. Richard tried again.

                    “Worldmind? You there?”

Still no reply… Blue Blazes, it was like déjà vu all over again. No “Attention Richard, it is critical that you pay attention at this time.” No mention of how reckless his actions had been. He kinda miss the old guy — girl now, even though it had been a while now, it still took some getting used to. He was a cosmic defender who had a supercomputer in his head, seen aliens from more planets than he could count, abominations from an alternate universe, and yet, somehow, it still felt weird sometimes. So many questions ran through his still fragile head, and without her, he wasn’t going to get any answers.

His suit’s User Support System seemed to be offline as well. Meaning no scans, lesser control over his powers, (he still had it, he could feel it in his bones, but the full power of the Nova Force? He needed Worldmind to tell him that,) and no way of detecting potential enemies or the environment. At least life support was working, by miracle or design he wasn’t sure. If not he would have been dead. Again. It would have been the third time now, not counting the close shaves of course, that would have innumerable. Funny how his life seemed to be so consistent: barely keeping it together, screwed but alive.