Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. fic: Beware the Jabberwock
Story Title: Beware the Jabberwock
Fandom(s): Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Whumptober 2024 Day 6: Regret
Rating: G
Word Count: 2,193
Summary: Created by Dark Dimension magic, the Framework is a world all its own - which means it can be portaled to like any other.
Dr. Elias Morrow dies in an industrial accident, leaving his modest estate to his two nephews, Roberto, twenty-three, and Gabriel, twelve.
At least, that’s what Robbie gleans from snooping. Though, does it really count as snooping if it’s technically your house? It’s jarring, waking up in a bed that’s his own, yet not his own. He doesn’t recognize his bedroom, nor the rest of the house. It’s nice, nicer than his actual home, that’s for sure. There are no engine parts strewn on the kitchen table or car manuals on the bookshelf.
No, that’s not entirely true. There are car manuals - but they clearly haven’t been touched in years. On the table instead are books of concepts and blueprints way beyond his understanding, which Robbie at first assumes belong to Gabe. Then he sees the framed diploma on the wall: It’s his name on there, Caltech conferring upon him a master’s cum laude in mechanical engineering.
It makes his head spin a bit, until he remembers Gabe’s voice from long ago in quite literally another world.
How come you didn’t go back and finish school? We’re doing okay now. If you went back, maybe you could be an engineer, like Tío.
“An engineer …” he mutters to himself, running his fingers down the wooden frame.
He takes in the other photos scattered around the living room. Many are the same: Mom, Dad, Uncle Eli, him at high school football practice, Gabe at a science fair. One in particular catches his eye, however, of what appears to be his graduation. Various colored tassels hang around his neck as he rests his hand on the back of Gabe’s wheelchair. It gives him pause. He’d have thought that if Robbie - this Robbie - did go back and finish school, there’d have been no accident. That his path, and Gabe’s, would’ve been set on too different a course to end up on that same stupid road. No accident, no paralysis, no Ghost Rider.
A regular accident, then? Maybe Gabe was in the car with Mom and Dad when it crashed and survived where they didn’t. Or maybe it was the same as in the real world, except Robbie’s injuries hadn’t been fatal, so he’d had no occasion to beg the universe for help? Or was it none of those things and Gabe had simply been born that way?
Five minutes he’s been in this world and he’s already frustrated. It’s disconcerting to not know even the most basic of facts about his life.
The Rider had warned him about this, that this world could be alluring. Distracting. In fact, this was the exact reason the Rider didn’t want him to go into this dimension in the first place, seeing as how he could not follow. The constructed world was nearly perfect - but it existed in a reality all its own without a hell for a demon to attach itself to. At least, the Rider was not willing to gamble his own existence by jumping into a dimension that might swallow him whole.
Robbie himself, however, mortal and moping, the Rider was reasonably sure could survive if he were careful.
Which had felt so utterly patronizing that Robbie had walked through the portal mid-warning. Besides, it wasn’t like he could just not come. He wasn’t about to let a robot armed with the Darkhold have free rein over the people he’d come to consider … well, not friends, really, but coworkers. Allies.
The crux of it all is that regardless of what the intrepid S.H.I.E.L.D. team is or isn’t, they’re people he’s honor-bound to rescue. Maybe they can do it themselves - but he’s not about to take the chance that they can’t, that they’ll be trapped in this place forever under Aida’s thumb to do with what she will. Robbie knows all too well what it is to be someone’s puppet. If he can spare others that fate, he’ll do it no matter how strange or dangerous the circumstances.
The smell of smoke hitting his nose brings him out of his ruminations. He looks down to see it seeping from beneath his fingers, the wooden picture frame beginning to char. He drops it in alarm, glass shattering upon impact with the floor.
Robbie stares at his hands. Though there’s no active flame, he can feel the power running through his veins. It’s not exactly the same as he’s used to, like drinking off-brand Coke, but it’s close enough.
He doesn’t understand. The Rider had said this world couldn’t accommodate him, and Robbie doesn’t feel him inside his head, so how …?
Robbie jumps at the sound of a phone ringing. He reaches into his pocket for his cell, and finds nothing. The ring is coming from the kitchen wall - an honest-to-god landline. No bells or whistles, not even caller ID. Tabling the power mystery for later, he picks up the handset.
“Hello?”
“Robbie! Glad I caught you. You headed into work yet?”
He doesn’t remotely recognize the voice, nor does he have the slightest clue where “work” is. “Uh, no, not yet. What do you need?”
“One of the guys called out, some family emergency, and half the DMV metro has decided to have car troubles today. Mind filling in for old times’ sake?”
“Fill in as … a mechanic?”
“You said if I ever needed a favor -”
“Yeah, that’s fine, just …”
He has no idea if it’s fine. For all he knows, wherever he works would cap him for missing a day. But that’s a bridge he’ll cross when he gets to it. Fixing up some rides would not only be a welcome return to form but give him ample opportunity to learn some more about this place.
“Can you give me that address again?” he asks.
“You serious?”
“Moved on to bigger and better things, man, what can I say?”
After some indignation, the guy on the other end does give him the address. Robbie manages to find a map of D.C. in his office and charts the route to the shop.
The Charger sitting pretty in his avatar’s garage is a sight for sore eyes. Apart from having apparently been retrofitted with seatbelts, she looks the same. Sounds and feels the same, too, as he starts her up and eases out onto the road. While using a portal for transportation has its novelty and convenience, there’s nothing quite like the rough purr of his baby’s engine.
The only thing that mildly dampens his enjoyment is the realization that if ever there were a time to obey the speed limit, it’d be now. With the Rider, having a lead foot never mattered - the power that imbued the Charger with regenerative capabilities and pyrokinesis also prevented cops from noticing her speed.
Now, he’s got no demon to fend off law enforcement, and although he doesn’t know what the penalty here is for speeding, he assumes it’s more than a fine. Which is heat he definitely doesn’t need. He’s got a mission to carry out.
The farther he drives, the more he decides speed isn’t the issue anyway. It’s the surroundings. Everything is gray and uniform, with HYDRA symbols stamped on every available surface. Electronic highway signs tell people to report their neighbors. Dilapidated neighborhoods are a dime a dozen. Even the few people that actually walk the streets look miserable. The only familiar thing about any of it is that his car gets double-takes of admiration. He wonders if his avatar had gotten special dispensation to keep it. There is very little variety in the other cars he passes.
He walks into the shop with what he hopes exudes confidence, even as he takes in with disgust all the HYDRA propaganda posters littered on the walls. Required reading, no doubt.
“Reyes!” comes a voice across the shop. Its owner Robbie recognizes in person no more than he did over the phone. With a proffered uniform, the man greets, “Appreciate the help. Got a full slate for you as soon as you get dressed.”
Robbie nods, then heads into the back room to change. He hopes he can get the lay of the land quick enough to point him in the direction of how to find the team. If HYDRA’s running the show, he doubts S.H.I.E.L.D. will be up and running out in the open, which means it’ll take precious time to figure out where they are.
“A flat tire?” Robbie blinks in bewilderment as Phone Man - whom Robbie has since learned is named Perry - tells him the reason for pulling him from an accident repair job. “That’s what you’re sending me out on a call for?”
“What, you’re too good for it?” says Perry, frazzled and perturbed. “The call came from a HYDRA number, it’s top priority.”
If Robbie never hears the word HYDRA again after all this is over, it’ll be too damn soon.
“All right, I’m going, I’m going.”
The address leads him to a deserted stretch of highway outside the city, which makes him a little apprehensive. It doesn’t seem like a normal place a HYDRA agent would be. Then again, even after several hours of being in the shop conversing with both ex-work buddies and customers alike, the biggest things he’s gathered are that this world well and truly sucks, and that HYDRA has a habit of popping up when it’s most inconvenient for its citizens.
The vehicle is easy to spot, at least, halfway onto the road’s narrow shoulder and predictably emblazoned with HYDRA’s ostentatious sigil. A young woman leans against the side, looking annoyed rather than concerned or in trouble. Maybe he can delay, ask her some questions. While it’s been a good decade since he’s had reason to charm anyone, he can give it a shot.
“Need some help, ma’am?” he asks cheerily as he approaches with a toolbox. “We got a … call …”
He stares at the woman, stunned. She stares back at him, equally so. Because it’s not just a woman, it’s Daisy. She looks different, hair past her shoulders with a drab wardrobe and distinctly less eyeliner, but it’s unmistakably her. He’d know her anywhere.
“Robbie?”
She recognizes him, too, then. Thank Christ.
Dryly, he replies, “Surprise.”
“Wait … you’re you? Real world you?”
“Yeah, I’m me. Mostly.”
“How? And what do you mean ‘mostly’?”
“Long story. Short version, I’m here to help.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard in months,” Daisy says with a tired yet brilliant smile. “God, I can’t wait to see Aida’s ass get lit up.”
If only.
“About that … Ghost Rider’s not in the building.”
“Excuse me?”
“Part of that long story. I was able to portal to this dimension, but he couldn’t.”
Daisy grimaces. “Not gonna lie, it would’ve been useful to have that firepower.”
“Well,” Robbie says, trying not to be offended, “there is this.”
He focuses on the frenetic energy that sluices through his every cell down to the very marrow of his bones, then watches with satisfaction as a ball of fire forms in his palm.
Daisy’s eyes go wide. “Okay, hold up. You’re an Inhuman?”
“I think so.” Robbie extinguishes the fireball with a sizzle. “It’s probably the closest Aida could get to what I actually am.”
“Nice of her to activate your powers. That makes one of us.”
“You can’t quake anything here?”
“Nope. I still have the gene, but I haven’t gone through terrigenesis. Guess Aida didn’t bother making sure you hadn’t since that showdown with Eli seemed pretty final.”
As shameful as the feeling is, he can’t help but be a little happy that he’s here. It may not be a physical realm, and it may be run by the worst humanity has to offer, but he’s as close to being on Earth and his own person as he’s likely ever to be again. No fire except that which he can make himself. No brimstone or unholy screams or blood, guts, and ichor staining his hands. He tries not to think about the fact that once the team gets out of this place and Aida is dealt with, he’ll be bound once more for hell.
This world, Earth, Daisy, it’s all fleeting.
Focusing on the woman in front of him and not the after, he asks, “did you really call for a flat tire? You don’t know how to change one yourself?”
“Of course I know how to change one. There’s no spare in this thing, and the car called the closest mechanic. It was either try to get somewhere on foot or wait for a tow.”
“And your plan was what? Steal the truck?”
“Maybe. I don’t need powers to commit grand theft auto.” Daisy glances down at the hand that a few moments ago had held a fireball. “How’d you get yours anyway?”
“No idea. I think the accident Gabe and I were in still happened, but it’s not like I could Google it. Aida really went full fascist, didn’t she?”
“Absolute power, blah blah blah. So, are we gonna go or what?”
“Go? Go where?”
Daisy grins. “How’d you like to become an enemy of the state?”
Fandom(s): Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Whumptober 2024 Day 6: Regret
Rating: G
Word Count: 2,193
Summary: Created by Dark Dimension magic, the Framework is a world all its own - which means it can be portaled to like any other.
Dr. Elias Morrow dies in an industrial accident, leaving his modest estate to his two nephews, Roberto, twenty-three, and Gabriel, twelve.
At least, that’s what Robbie gleans from snooping. Though, does it really count as snooping if it’s technically your house? It’s jarring, waking up in a bed that’s his own, yet not his own. He doesn’t recognize his bedroom, nor the rest of the house. It’s nice, nicer than his actual home, that’s for sure. There are no engine parts strewn on the kitchen table or car manuals on the bookshelf.
No, that’s not entirely true. There are car manuals - but they clearly haven’t been touched in years. On the table instead are books of concepts and blueprints way beyond his understanding, which Robbie at first assumes belong to Gabe. Then he sees the framed diploma on the wall: It’s his name on there, Caltech conferring upon him a master’s cum laude in mechanical engineering.
It makes his head spin a bit, until he remembers Gabe’s voice from long ago in quite literally another world.
How come you didn’t go back and finish school? We’re doing okay now. If you went back, maybe you could be an engineer, like Tío.
“An engineer …” he mutters to himself, running his fingers down the wooden frame.
He takes in the other photos scattered around the living room. Many are the same: Mom, Dad, Uncle Eli, him at high school football practice, Gabe at a science fair. One in particular catches his eye, however, of what appears to be his graduation. Various colored tassels hang around his neck as he rests his hand on the back of Gabe’s wheelchair. It gives him pause. He’d have thought that if Robbie - this Robbie - did go back and finish school, there’d have been no accident. That his path, and Gabe’s, would’ve been set on too different a course to end up on that same stupid road. No accident, no paralysis, no Ghost Rider.
A regular accident, then? Maybe Gabe was in the car with Mom and Dad when it crashed and survived where they didn’t. Or maybe it was the same as in the real world, except Robbie’s injuries hadn’t been fatal, so he’d had no occasion to beg the universe for help? Or was it none of those things and Gabe had simply been born that way?
Five minutes he’s been in this world and he’s already frustrated. It’s disconcerting to not know even the most basic of facts about his life.
The Rider had warned him about this, that this world could be alluring. Distracting. In fact, this was the exact reason the Rider didn’t want him to go into this dimension in the first place, seeing as how he could not follow. The constructed world was nearly perfect - but it existed in a reality all its own without a hell for a demon to attach itself to. At least, the Rider was not willing to gamble his own existence by jumping into a dimension that might swallow him whole.
Robbie himself, however, mortal and moping, the Rider was reasonably sure could survive if he were careful.
Which had felt so utterly patronizing that Robbie had walked through the portal mid-warning. Besides, it wasn’t like he could just not come. He wasn’t about to let a robot armed with the Darkhold have free rein over the people he’d come to consider … well, not friends, really, but coworkers. Allies.
The crux of it all is that regardless of what the intrepid S.H.I.E.L.D. team is or isn’t, they’re people he’s honor-bound to rescue. Maybe they can do it themselves - but he’s not about to take the chance that they can’t, that they’ll be trapped in this place forever under Aida’s thumb to do with what she will. Robbie knows all too well what it is to be someone’s puppet. If he can spare others that fate, he’ll do it no matter how strange or dangerous the circumstances.
The smell of smoke hitting his nose brings him out of his ruminations. He looks down to see it seeping from beneath his fingers, the wooden picture frame beginning to char. He drops it in alarm, glass shattering upon impact with the floor.
Robbie stares at his hands. Though there’s no active flame, he can feel the power running through his veins. It’s not exactly the same as he’s used to, like drinking off-brand Coke, but it’s close enough.
He doesn’t understand. The Rider had said this world couldn’t accommodate him, and Robbie doesn’t feel him inside his head, so how …?
Robbie jumps at the sound of a phone ringing. He reaches into his pocket for his cell, and finds nothing. The ring is coming from the kitchen wall - an honest-to-god landline. No bells or whistles, not even caller ID. Tabling the power mystery for later, he picks up the handset.
“Hello?”
“Robbie! Glad I caught you. You headed into work yet?”
He doesn’t remotely recognize the voice, nor does he have the slightest clue where “work” is. “Uh, no, not yet. What do you need?”
“One of the guys called out, some family emergency, and half the DMV metro has decided to have car troubles today. Mind filling in for old times’ sake?”
“Fill in as … a mechanic?”
“You said if I ever needed a favor -”
“Yeah, that’s fine, just …”
He has no idea if it’s fine. For all he knows, wherever he works would cap him for missing a day. But that’s a bridge he’ll cross when he gets to it. Fixing up some rides would not only be a welcome return to form but give him ample opportunity to learn some more about this place.
“Can you give me that address again?” he asks.
“You serious?”
“Moved on to bigger and better things, man, what can I say?”
After some indignation, the guy on the other end does give him the address. Robbie manages to find a map of D.C. in his office and charts the route to the shop.
The Charger sitting pretty in his avatar’s garage is a sight for sore eyes. Apart from having apparently been retrofitted with seatbelts, she looks the same. Sounds and feels the same, too, as he starts her up and eases out onto the road. While using a portal for transportation has its novelty and convenience, there’s nothing quite like the rough purr of his baby’s engine.
The only thing that mildly dampens his enjoyment is the realization that if ever there were a time to obey the speed limit, it’d be now. With the Rider, having a lead foot never mattered - the power that imbued the Charger with regenerative capabilities and pyrokinesis also prevented cops from noticing her speed.
Now, he’s got no demon to fend off law enforcement, and although he doesn’t know what the penalty here is for speeding, he assumes it’s more than a fine. Which is heat he definitely doesn’t need. He’s got a mission to carry out.
The farther he drives, the more he decides speed isn’t the issue anyway. It’s the surroundings. Everything is gray and uniform, with HYDRA symbols stamped on every available surface. Electronic highway signs tell people to report their neighbors. Dilapidated neighborhoods are a dime a dozen. Even the few people that actually walk the streets look miserable. The only familiar thing about any of it is that his car gets double-takes of admiration. He wonders if his avatar had gotten special dispensation to keep it. There is very little variety in the other cars he passes.
He walks into the shop with what he hopes exudes confidence, even as he takes in with disgust all the HYDRA propaganda posters littered on the walls. Required reading, no doubt.
“Reyes!” comes a voice across the shop. Its owner Robbie recognizes in person no more than he did over the phone. With a proffered uniform, the man greets, “Appreciate the help. Got a full slate for you as soon as you get dressed.”
Robbie nods, then heads into the back room to change. He hopes he can get the lay of the land quick enough to point him in the direction of how to find the team. If HYDRA’s running the show, he doubts S.H.I.E.L.D. will be up and running out in the open, which means it’ll take precious time to figure out where they are.
“A flat tire?” Robbie blinks in bewilderment as Phone Man - whom Robbie has since learned is named Perry - tells him the reason for pulling him from an accident repair job. “That’s what you’re sending me out on a call for?”
“What, you’re too good for it?” says Perry, frazzled and perturbed. “The call came from a HYDRA number, it’s top priority.”
If Robbie never hears the word HYDRA again after all this is over, it’ll be too damn soon.
“All right, I’m going, I’m going.”
The address leads him to a deserted stretch of highway outside the city, which makes him a little apprehensive. It doesn’t seem like a normal place a HYDRA agent would be. Then again, even after several hours of being in the shop conversing with both ex-work buddies and customers alike, the biggest things he’s gathered are that this world well and truly sucks, and that HYDRA has a habit of popping up when it’s most inconvenient for its citizens.
The vehicle is easy to spot, at least, halfway onto the road’s narrow shoulder and predictably emblazoned with HYDRA’s ostentatious sigil. A young woman leans against the side, looking annoyed rather than concerned or in trouble. Maybe he can delay, ask her some questions. While it’s been a good decade since he’s had reason to charm anyone, he can give it a shot.
“Need some help, ma’am?” he asks cheerily as he approaches with a toolbox. “We got a … call …”
He stares at the woman, stunned. She stares back at him, equally so. Because it’s not just a woman, it’s Daisy. She looks different, hair past her shoulders with a drab wardrobe and distinctly less eyeliner, but it’s unmistakably her. He’d know her anywhere.
“Robbie?”
She recognizes him, too, then. Thank Christ.
Dryly, he replies, “Surprise.”
“Wait … you’re you? Real world you?”
“Yeah, I’m me. Mostly.”
“How? And what do you mean ‘mostly’?”
“Long story. Short version, I’m here to help.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard in months,” Daisy says with a tired yet brilliant smile. “God, I can’t wait to see Aida’s ass get lit up.”
If only.
“About that … Ghost Rider’s not in the building.”
“Excuse me?”
“Part of that long story. I was able to portal to this dimension, but he couldn’t.”
Daisy grimaces. “Not gonna lie, it would’ve been useful to have that firepower.”
“Well,” Robbie says, trying not to be offended, “there is this.”
He focuses on the frenetic energy that sluices through his every cell down to the very marrow of his bones, then watches with satisfaction as a ball of fire forms in his palm.
Daisy’s eyes go wide. “Okay, hold up. You’re an Inhuman?”
“I think so.” Robbie extinguishes the fireball with a sizzle. “It’s probably the closest Aida could get to what I actually am.”
“Nice of her to activate your powers. That makes one of us.”
“You can’t quake anything here?”
“Nope. I still have the gene, but I haven’t gone through terrigenesis. Guess Aida didn’t bother making sure you hadn’t since that showdown with Eli seemed pretty final.”
As shameful as the feeling is, he can’t help but be a little happy that he’s here. It may not be a physical realm, and it may be run by the worst humanity has to offer, but he’s as close to being on Earth and his own person as he’s likely ever to be again. No fire except that which he can make himself. No brimstone or unholy screams or blood, guts, and ichor staining his hands. He tries not to think about the fact that once the team gets out of this place and Aida is dealt with, he’ll be bound once more for hell.
This world, Earth, Daisy, it’s all fleeting.
Focusing on the woman in front of him and not the after, he asks, “did you really call for a flat tire? You don’t know how to change one yourself?”
“Of course I know how to change one. There’s no spare in this thing, and the car called the closest mechanic. It was either try to get somewhere on foot or wait for a tow.”
“And your plan was what? Steal the truck?”
“Maybe. I don’t need powers to commit grand theft auto.” Daisy glances down at the hand that a few moments ago had held a fireball. “How’d you get yours anyway?”
“No idea. I think the accident Gabe and I were in still happened, but it’s not like I could Google it. Aida really went full fascist, didn’t she?”
“Absolute power, blah blah blah. So, are we gonna go or what?”
“Go? Go where?”
Daisy grins. “How’d you like to become an enemy of the state?”