Marvel/DC: Shards of Destiny #18

Written by WarlorTVor and Anomaly, Edited by Marvelite
Published by the Cosmic Powers Fan Fiction Group in

Characters are the properties of Marvel Comics
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Shards of Destiny
The Gathering

***This chapter continues from this week's Shards of Destiny #17***
***For previous chapters, go to the Marvel/DC Cosmic Crossovers Archive***

 “What troubles you so, Adam? You seem so detached?” 

Adam Warlock had been lost in deep thought. And he was unaware of Access entering into the small pocket of space that he had erected for him to ponder things and to brood on the soon to dawn events that’ll have consequences for centuries if not eons from now.

When there was no answer, Access knew that a change in topic was in order, and since he doubted that the one who is beyond chaos and order would supply one he decided to change the matter of conversation completely.

“Greetings, Adam Warlock,” said Axel Asher. All around the golden man were pockets of star clusters and swirls of nebula and ion storms, plasma clouds, super novas, black holes, stars, it was breath taking, awe inspiring sight. Access surmised that it just about all the celestial phenomena known to science – and possibly even then some – which was being localized in this small pocket of space. “Marvelous!” commented Axel Asher under his breath, as he was adjusting to being in the presence of man, a man that was the herald for gods and things that were more then gods.

“It is the last time you will see the universe in that way, change comes as sure as today follows yesterday,” Adam Warlock pondered aloud, he was siting in an Indiana position, his eyes closed and he concentrated on the task before him. "I gaze upon my universe for the last time, perhaps.”

“I’m not sure, Adam.” Access found himself wry on using Warlock’s first name, however when no reprisal was forthcoming he considered himself in the clear as it were. “Everything is going according as the Living Tribunal for-saw,” declared Axel his intonation shaky, with a small smirk that danced on the artificial man’s visage, a smirk that Access could not see since his back was turned to the young cosmic defender, Warlock changed the questioning.

“If you don’t mind me asking what does the traveler of two universes ponders about?”


“Doesn't seem that way from where I'm standing. You're worried,” Warlock stated out of the proverbial blue. “Your worried that by merging the Brothers as they once were your going to bring about this terrible amalgam universe that was your sole task to prevent. Aren't you? You wish to stand here and ponder this in much greater detail, but as you do this both realms are tearing apart at the seems. All around you, and yet you are hesitant to do the one thing that you know to be the right thing to do! Because you are afraid, isn't that correct?”

“I know that you are a vary powerful being, Adam Warlock.” He had been kneeling beside Warlock and decided it was time to stand once again. He arose and turned toward the barer of the soul gem – and all the others for that matter. “But I did not know that among your powers mind reading is your forte,” he grinned in mocking humor.

“Not your mind. But rather your soul, I have peered into your depths, and found an ocean of turmoil, a raging storm at the center of your soul.”

“Damn!” Access cursed in spite of himself.

Warlock did nothing, merely sat there as he was, the slightest of questioning glances danced across his face.

“I wish we could have found the Father, that the Spectre spoke of so reverently. Perhaps he . . .”

“He could not have been found, even with the combined might of both the Living Tribunal and the Spectre he could not have been found. I wish I could quell your fears on the matter however the Gather must proceed even without the last Shard of Destiny.”

A pause.

“Will it work?” Access found himself asking to no one in particular.

“I cannot say,” was all Warlock said, before he rose. “Come,” he urged on, creating a small hole within the pocket of space, the area was dark, starless, in utter and total contrast to the majestic telltale beauty in the pocket. “The Gathering must commence as planned . . .”

And with that small exchange they stepped through the portal into the darkness that is the Void.

They were all assembled. The shards were there, and waiting.

The two Brothers stared over each other, they were kneeling, clutching their chest, in much the same manner, they stared at each, there was obviously no love lost between the two rivals that had threaten both their creations just for a chance to destroy one another. Beside them in circular formation stood, Baron Zemo, who had no true grasp of what was going on around him – Did anyone? Access mused grimly. Superman, the man of steel, who had become a willing, temporary vessel for the shard that had manifest itself into the worlds of Apokolips and New Genesis, it was on the Spectre’s advice to use him for a host, so he took the liberty to merge him with the shard. And towering over them all stood the Silver Surfer's former master Galactus, the devourer of worlds, whose armor was removed to reveal a being that looked more like a miniature sun its flames flickering outwardly causing unusual shadow to fall upon the Superman’s muscular form.  And Access could not help to ponder, Where is the Father? He must know that The Gathering is taking place and that it can not go as planned without his intervention.

Adam Warlock took his place beside the red clad Brother and the man of steel. Both the Living Tribunal and Spectre had bestowed all six Infinity Gems –space, time, mind, power, soul and reality – ‘pon his brow. He was once again the Supreme Being, whose every thought could be turned into reality, nothing could hide from his cosmic senses, and nothing could possibly defy his sovereign omnipotence. Truly the sensory input was intoxicating, but having been god before he would adjust quicker, during an escapade he had the seventh gem – which was nothing more than an overall combination of all six. He and the Mad Titan, Thanos, had been forced to search for it in a treasure hunt of cosmic proportions, combining the elements of both his universe and the other, which they were now attempting to merge.

Before Access stood Spectre and the Living Tribunal, their mantles of light nearly blinding, their presence terrible to behold.

“We must depart,” Spectre announced.

“Where would you go?” pondered the one who is Access.

“We fear that the merger of the overall universes will destroy the bonds formed between these universes and their respectful parallel realms. We depart for the Rift, to make sure that these bonds are firm and are withstanding, until the end of this ordeal,” The Living Tribunal declared.

“Farewell,” said Access, who could already feel his bodily functions returning to their former state. He nodded, and with that they vanished in golden shimmering lights. Now whom do I relay upon for advice? he mused shacking his head from side to side, and wiping vomit and spittle from the side of his mouth grimly, taking his place in the center of the circle.

He felt a sudden urge to extend his arms toward the two Brothers, who were on opposite ends of Access, so he did so without resistance. Closed his eyes and hushed to himself, “Well, here goes nothing . . .”

The Rift isn't actually a place or time. In fact it is every place and every time. It is not collinear, for it exist everywhere and yet at the same time nowhere.

Every time and yet no time. A paradox.

No, The Rift is no simply a paradox, it is the paradox.

The first and last time they were here in this place was in order to ensure that one universe or her twin was not destroyed in the aftermath of the Great War between the universes respected champions. And by doing so they had accidentally triggered what Access calls the Amalgam universe. A universe that was the successful merger of both universes, spawning beings that should never existed such as Dark Claw, Super Solider, Spider-Boy and many more. But now they sought to ensure that the bonds between each of these realms were not destroyed, as Access tried to overlap the universes and safe the lives of their respectful creators.

And it was being torn apart at the seams.

The Living Tribunal and the Spectre stood there, their arms were out stretched toward each other, their hands were interlaced, and indescribable power surged between them. All around them the darkness started to shatter, the mighty golden rift of sheer energy that surged and pulsated throughout the darkness of the Rift, and was what holds all the universes and their neighboring parallel realms together, started to show cracks in it, as if it were a mere pain of glass and was starting to shatter. Informing them that the bonds were collapsing . . . if the universes did merge together successfully then whatever god(s) that were out there may they have mercy on them all.

“The bonds are . . .”

“Tearing themselves apart . . .”

And the place outside of time exploded around them in shards of glass.


It was all around him. He was power. He was the Access!

He allowed a scream to tear from his mouth. It wasn't working! Without the Father present it could never work. And the question became, And who dare seeks out the father of gods?

Power crackled throughout the Void, lightening up the eternal darkness. 

Galactus felt faint, weak. He thought at first that Eternity had lied to him, that his hunger had indeed returned, but then he say something emerging from his chest plate. He could feel the power surging away from him, escaping even his grasp. He collapsed to on knee. And the Devour of Worlds allowed a roar of pain escape him. As the world went dark around him.

Baron Zemo thought that this was all fascinating at first, but then he felt strange. His body started to crackle with energy and watched in sheer horror as a glass shard of some kind was released from his chest, and levitated there in mid-air before him. Zemo’s already taxed body could not handle the events that he was beholding and partaking in. His eyes curled up into the back of his head, and he collapsed on his own weight.

Beams of golden light shot out the Superman’s maw and finger tips, and there before him materialized a shard, it was of the same configuration of the parts that he had become a willing host to care from the worlds of New Genesis and Apokolips. He felt a wave of dizziness fall upon him, his first reaction to this was to collapse, but he did not, he merely stood there, weakened, but no less unscathed he wanted to see what would happen next.

Warlock did not feel as the others did – for he had not been one with the shard, no he was merely their temporary keeper. He watched as the gems that he had encrusted on a small golden band that he wore as a crown over his head, and the gems took life. They depart from his crown and levitated there for a brief moment. They started to spin around on another in a fast pace until they became nothing more than six different color blurs in the Void. Curios, Warlock mused watching the events take place before him in awe.

And soon where there was once six there was now one. It had the same look and feel to it that the one that he and Thanos had battled for on that alien world, years ago. Soon the gem started to take exploded! And from its remains a shard appeared much as the same one that was now before all of them who had been assembled.

Warlock watched as shards from both the two Brothers and Access himself exploded from their chest.

Soon seven of the eight shards appeared in the Void, in circular formation. They stared to “dance” around in each for a moment or two, then started to form as one.

But the smallest piece was missing, that of the Father’s. Soon everything around them started to crumble.


The cry roared from Access, who could feel new life breathed upon him. Someone or something had entered his physical body, and know was giving him the strength to finish what he had started. Light exploded around everyone, everywhere, at every time.

Doctor Stephen Strange screamed aloud in utter pain, in his Sanctum.

His body was wreaked with pain that clutched onto him and would not let go. At the time of the sudden attack in pain, Strange had been levitating both himself and a small cup of coffee that his man-servant, Wong, had supplied him, while he mentally turned the pages of an old tomb that he was reviewing, the tomb also hung there in mid-air.

Now Strange felt an assault of energy that not even he could comprehend. Something was wrong! An unbalance of sorts was occurring all around him. He could not focus! Could not breath! Could not comprehend what was happening!

He screamed once more.

His cup of coffee spiraled earthward and shattered into a million scattered pieces that sprayed outward, drenching the oriental throw rug in a thick dark liquid. The stone-covered tomb quickly followed, and its cover, weakened by the centuries of neglected prior to Strange’s acquiring of it, shattered as well.

Wong dashed in the room in a blur, quickly inquiring what was the matter, and froze in his place when he watched the happenings taking place before his disbelieve eyes.

“Something is . . . wrong!” Strange managed through spasms of pain that surged through his spine. “The mystical realm is . . .”

And he screamed, his body plummeting earthward, weakened, drained.

Green Lantern alongside the Silver Surfer raced the cosmic spaceways, toward earth, at breath taking speeds.

In no time at all the blue sphere of earth stood out, boldly, amongst the black back drop that is the universe.

Green Lantern had slightly pulled in front of the Silver Surfer, in their miniature race across the cosmos to reach earth. And it was nothing sort of a miracle that the ex-herald to the devourer of worlds did not collide headlong into the protector of earth when he suddenly stopped, transfixed upon the blue sphere of earth.

Green Lantern stood there; eyes wide, mouth a gasp.

Norrin Radd was puzzled to say the least. He turned his full attention to the one who was named Kyle Rayner. “What s it?” Norrin asked. However no answer was forthcoming from his comrade in arms. With a more forceful tonality in his voice the Silver Surfer asked once more what was the matter. And this time there was an answer.

The Green Lantern, in something of a trance type state, slowly raise his arm toward where he was looking at and said but a sole word. “Look.”

The Silver Surfer turned, slowly on his board that glistened suggestively under the light that is Sol’s only sun.

And there before him, stood earth.

Or rather earths. For where there was once only one sphere, now there was two, and they were on a collision course with one another.

“My God . . .” was all that Norrin Radd could manage to hush.

And with that the two world-spheres collided and an outpouring of light and energy exploded all around the two cosmic entities.

Uatu the Watcher and the mutant known as En Sabah Nur did the only thing they could do, they, simply watched the events unfold before them, neither one of them willing to utter even the faintest of whispers for fear of reprisal. For these events were greater than a Watcher or even the one who calls himself Apocalypse to comprehend in its entirety.

And The Gathering continued, unhindered with their watchful gaze.

Ming dashed across the snow-covered streets of New York City. Pain coursed through her long legs. With each breath sent a cold stabbing sensation into her lungs, as she ran with all her might from Queens toward Greenwich, heading toward the small oriental restaurant that her family had owned for generations. She had received word from her mother that her father had suffered a stroke or heart attack of some kind and now she was pressed for time. Granted – it would have been a lot faster and efficient to go by car, problem is traffic was dead lock all over New York City. And so she decided to go on foot.

Bad decision . . .

An explosion sounded causing her to stop dead in her tracks. She swirled around to see the metal framework for an uncompleted sky-scrapper explode in flames. She watched in horror as burning hot pieces of metal cascaded on the poor souls that had the misfortune to be standing there when the metal monstrosity exploded. “My . . . God . . .”

Another explosion sounded, and Ming looked heavenward merely to see the instrument of her destruction bellowing down upon her. Pieces of the war torn building started to make their unholy way earthward. The others that had already been shaken by the first blast managed to clear for safety. All but Ming.

She was traumatized. She stood there, unable to move, to think, sheer horror had clutched onto her and she didn’t know what to do. Ming was frozen in place. She shielded her eyes, arose her hands to shroud her face.

That’s when all of New York City went by in a crimson red blur. Buildings flew past her in seconds’ time that it would have taken her hours even to get on foot. She thought that she had dead and that this was her after life, but no it felt to really. She cried out, screamed out, in fact. Only to find that nothing – not a signal sound – escaped from her terrified trembling lips.

Then the nightmare passed and she found herself in a dark alley way some where only a few yards away from her family restaurant. Before her stood a towering muscularly well-endowed man. A crimson red cowl shrouded his face. On his chest a lightning bolt slashed right through a pure white circle. He was a commanding presence that much was for sure.

She was trembling. Ming knew that in her heart of hearts that this man had saved her from certain death but she was still frightened, for some unknown reason. She wanted to thank him but before she could manage to even get a word out he was gone, with a gust of wind as if he had not even been there before.

Tears cascaded from her eyes and she curled up into a fetal position, she turned her gaze skyward to see silent, dark lightening flash before her. And in-between bouts of tears she managed to get out, “Axel! Where are you when I need you the most?”

Alone, Mary-Jan Parker weeps openly on her bed. For she knows not of the events of The Gathering. And does not give a damn in the slightest. For all she knows is that her husband, Peter Parker, the Avenger known as Spider-Man, was out there, somewhere, risking his life for those of others. “Damn his noble spirit,” she utter helplessly, warm tears burned her eyes. She reached out toward the nightstand and retrieved a lone picture frame and brought it closer to her. On the picture was both her and Peter on their wedding day. Mary-Jan stared down at the portrait for a few more moments, and ‘pon seeing her own reflection brought it closer toward her bosom, where she firmly rested it there. And she said the only thing that she could say at the time.

“Come back to me, Peter . . . please, come back . . .”

Eternity and Infinity, the living embodiments of the universe and time, stood there, and screamed.

The crashing of the waves did not soothe his turbulent soul, nor the pain that he still felt for his late, beloved wife. The sea air filled his lungs, yet was only a painful remind of all that he has lost in recent months.

Bruce Banner stared up into the heavens and watched as the end was upon them all. And all he could do was laugh.

“Soon,” he said aloud, to no one in particular.

Soon, and he and his lost wife, Betty, would share their fates together, in whatever afterlife they may be serving.

However not all beings within the universe have a vested interested in the universal occurrence, for age old conflicts are continued, as Orion, scion of Darkseid, find himself in the battle of his life . . . once more, the forces of his father bearing down to him on all sides.

Yet, in the wake of all this confusion and devastation, Orion has forged an alliance of Brotherhood with a god not of his universe, a god that controls the very thunder that continues to rumble in the back ground of the conflict. Together, Orion and Thor continue their war against Darkseid’s forces.

The prize, none other than the fate of New Genesis.

And even though both their universes are being forever changed around them, they continue to fight the good fight, for they have kept the faith. And if today is the day that the end shall come, these two gods from different universes shall face that end, together! As one!

And much like the stock forms of the Watcher and the seemingly ageless conqueror, Darkseid watched and a dark and sinister smile touched his rocky visage, his eyes flaring crimson red with flame.

All it was was a matter of time, and all would come to bare fruit.

Time was a commodity that Axel Asher did not have in over abidance in that moment.

Access knew that the universes were tearing themselves apart. “No,” Access hushed in defiance. He stood there in the darkness of the Void, power lancing forth from his fingertips.

Baron Zemo regained consciences to see what was happening around him and he was humbled by it.

The last son of Krypton looked upon the events and is stunned.

Galactus sees for the first time in all of his creation experiences wonder.

Warlock looks upon this . . . and is unchanged.

The Brothers merely stare upon one another, hatred burning brightly in their eyes, and they are angry.

And Access looks upon this and experiences new understanding. For he and the Father are one!

Access’ eyes widened, energy seethed from his vary being and in a voice that is of his own and of the Father he speaks into existence a new age. And he could only find the words that seemed appropriate to him at the moment.

“Let there be light!”

Heaven was rocked to its foundation, while entire plans of existence were shattered in a wink of an eye.

And it was all Asmodel, the first prisoner of heaven, could do to laugh, as Heaven was plunged to hell.


“I have you, my son,” Reed Richards wrapped his arms around his son, Franklin Richards, lovingly.

“I’m scarred, daddy,” Franklin stammered burying his head deeply into his father’s chest tears of fear rolling down either side of his face. “P-p-please tell me all things will be all right?” he asked. “Promise me we’ll always be together.”

Silence was his only answer.

Reed turned his attention toward Susan Richards, his wife, the love of his life. Her eyes focused intently on him. Reed reached out an arm toward his wife and wrapped around her waist. She gave into his embrace without a word of protest and found herself shedding tears as well.

From either side of him, the Thing, Benjamin J. Grimm, and the Human Torch, Johnny Storm, along with Alicia Masters, who Ben had just braved the riots to retrieve to the Four Pier, came up around him. Reed smiled at this and raise his head high. He could feel Franklin moving in his arms so he gently released him, and they all turned their gazes toward the heavens above.

The Fantastic Four . . . Reed Richard’s family was now complete. And together they stand, united.

“I promise, Franklin . . .” he managed, his arms tightly wrapping around his wife and son. “I promise.”

And then the end was upon them.

Oracle watched, her hands resting upon the cold metal that is her wheelchair. A tear was running down her eye as Gotham City was turned aflame, from looting and riots that tore away at the heart of the city that she had protected for years simply destroy itself out of fear of the unknown.

Thor was a gasped as reality shattered around him.

He turned toward Orion, who was equally in a state of disbelieve.

“This cannot be!” Thor stammered.

“I fear the worse has come to dawn upon us, mighty Thunder God,” Orion replied as the world that had been New Genesis was engulfed in flame and destroyed.

Darkseid smile merely enlarged, and said the only thing that came to mind.

“Glorious . . .”

Desaad turned to his master, and shuttered within the folds of his robes.

Just then Apoklopis shattered in the same way a pain of glass would shatter upon impact.

Doctor Strange managed to collect himself, with the help of Wong, his manservant.

“Master!” Wong blurted out, his hand pointing out toward the nearby window. “Look!”

Strange, swiftly, and on not so sure footing made his way toward the window and eased forward in order to see the happenings taking place outside.

“My god . . .” was the only words Wong managed to gasp.

“God willing, Wong . . . God willing . . .” Strange muttered, his wry blue eyes watching as the world around them shattered into a million different places.

Lex Luther leaned back in his leather chair and waited for the end, a Cuban cigar placed firmly between his fingers, the smell was refreshing and rejuvenated him.

His phone rang and he reached for it.

He picked up the receiver and placed it upon the granite surface of his desk, nothing would ruin the mood of satisfaction that he felt in that moment of time.

Luther only had one problem with this being the end of all things. And that was not being able to destroy the Man of Steel himself.

“Ahh, well,” he hushed to himself, exhaling a lung full of smoke. “Perhaps in another life time . . . After all, one cannot have the world . . .”

Professor Charles Xavier slowly moved out of the shadows of his mansion and into the crisp morning air, a gentle, yet soothing hiss of air emerged from his golden chair’s propulsion system. He took a deep breath of air within his mouth and slowly eased it out through his nostrils. He morning air rejuvenated him to the core; a complete contrast to the latest Mutant proceedings that he had been involved in for the last several weeks, almost close to a month.

He moved slowly through the thick woods and condenses forest that stood bodily outside the majestic mansion. He moved through the woods slowly, his golden chair humming slightly. His mind raced back and forth going over his latest notes from the proceedings. Finally he arrived at a cliff that sloped downward, leading to a sparkling crystal clear sea that stretched out as far as the eye could see. The sun lazily arose off in the distance, creating shimmering golden yellow lights to gently dance across the surface of the water. The scene was quite majestic and awe-inspiring and was a much need difference from all

Anti-Mutant sentiment was once again on the rise and in full swing. He even heard rumors that a few were contemplating entertaining the idea of reopening the Operation: Zero Tolerance Project. Xavier had hoped that he and his students, the X-Men, had heard the last of that organization. But it seems the fates of destiny were not kind upon his wishes.

He sighed.

Xavier so longed for peace, so longed for the day that would end this …

He never had time to finish his last thoughts!

Images flooded his mind all at once! He let out a scream that pierced through the morning air.

Voices! His mind screamed. Controlling my mind!

He toppled to one side, his crippled body escaping the confines of his chair that enabled him to travel anywhere with the power of his mind. He screamed once more, his body convulsing on the ground as if in great pain. Sweat and perspiration glistened off his bold head and finite features. His right hand reached out in a claw like fashion and dug deeply into the most and lush green grass that was covered in the morning dew that only moments earlier were breathing life anew into the form of Charles Xavier.

He tried to pull his body upward, but the pain…. Oh God the pain! It was overcoming him, overwhelming him!

It was only through sheer force of will that Xavier was able to shut his own mind to voices screaming at him, overwhelming him. The images were not so easily swayed however.

Images of a dark beast filled his mind. Of mutilated bodies staked upon one another in a manner that would freeze most men’s blood. Of heroes and villains from another universe uniting with those from this one in a unholy alliance to combat the ultimate evil. A conversation between two respectful lords of death, a conversation that will lead to the fall of mankind if their plans can come to bare.

And through it all only two words continued to appear over and over again, with no end in sight. All this and more slam into his mind’s eye and more all in the time span of only a few moments.

Then the images subsided, and slowly but surely Professor X composed himself.

Out of breath he hushes the only two words that continued to repeat themselves, “He comes.”

That is two minutes before the world around him is destroyed.

And so it was. A new age was created from the dying ambers of new old ones, whose time had come to pass.

The Sphere of Destiny was now whole; a harbinger of pure white light summoned it forth.

The Brothers rebelled, as their physical manifestation started to turn into pure golden blue energy – they’d rather met Death’s cold embrace rather than the future that seemed to be inevitable. Their forms of pure energy entered the sphere together and started to merge, and intertwine with one another.  Until there was only one being within the sphere.

Soon the being of pure energy started to take shape, it started to form. Where there was once two beings there was now one! The Son looked upon the universe with new understanding. Understanding of the other Brother’s position and views upon the universe. And for the first time there was peace.

The Son raised his hands in triumph. Power crackled within their grasp, and it exploded outward in all directions.

The Infinity Gems soared passed Warlock and the others. He reached out for the emerald green gem of soul only to have it pass right through his gloved hand, like a specter. “What?” he mused, but his words were drowned out by the explosion of energy. He watched helplessly as his Soul Gem continued onward till it was out of sight. Forever lost, once again.

Soon all assembled started to feel a gust of wind wash upon them and before they knew what was taking place they were no more.

Access stared up into what was now known as the Son. He towered over him. And when he spoke it echoed with the voices of both Brothers. “Our eternal thanks, Axel Asher, and deepest sorrows are bestowed upon you.” And with those few words the Son was gone.

Access was confused. What did they mean by that? He pondered. And soon the dark revelation was upon him.

His body was destroying itself.

“No,” he hushed.

The power of the Father had been to great, no normal vessel was meant to hold it for even the shortest period of time. Rivets of golden light started to shot from every part of his being, in all direction. He screamed in horror and pain and the last words to ever be uttered from his mouth was, “Ming . . . I . . .”

He felt cold . . . he could no longer feel his body . . . only the icy coldness . . . of . . .

Then Death was embraced.

The story concludes in Shards of Destiny #19!

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