Chapter 23: Void Corruption Advances
The transmutation circle flickered.
Justin stared at it through sweat-stung eyes, his hands pressed against cold concrete, void energy flowing through him like liquid darkness. He was creating a new Prometheus alloy—something that could withstand plasma heat without degrading—but the process felt wrong.
The geometric patterns weren't glowing their usual bright white. They pulsed with shadow, edges bleeding into darkness that shouldn't exist in physical space.
"Sir," AEGIS's voice cut through his concentration. "Biometric readings are critically abnormal. Recommend immediate cessation—"
The circle exploded.
Not with light, but with absence—a void opening beneath Justin's palms that tried to swallow him whole. He felt himself falling inward, into nothingness, into the space between dimensions where he'd spent subjective eternities before waking in Justin Hammer's body.
Then it snapped shut.
Justin collapsed, gasping. The lab spun around him. His arms burned with pain that transcended physical sensation—agony written directly into his soul.
When his vision cleared enough to look, he saw the void marks had spread.
Past his elbows. Halfway to his shoulders. Geometric patterns that glowed with sickly luminescence, pulsing in rhythm with his hammering heart. They looked almost alive, like something parasitic consuming him from the inside.
"AEGIS," Justin croaked. "Status."
"Void corruption has increased 4% in the last six hours. Current total: 20%. This acceleration is unprecedented and highly concerning. Sir, you are dying."
Justin dragged himself to sitting position, his regeneration factor working overtime to repair damage the void had inflicted. But the marks didn't fade. If anything, they seemed darker now. More permanent.
"How long?" he asked.
"At current acceleration rate: twelve to fifteen months until critical levels. Possibly less if you continue high-intensity transmutation. Sir, you must reduce power usage immediately."
"Can't." Justin pulled himself to his feet, using the workbench for support. "Thanos is coming. Loki. The invasion. I need every advantage, even if it costs me."
"It is costing you your life."
"I know." Justin looked at his arms, at the corruption consuming him piece by piece. "But what's one life against millions?"
AEGIS was silent. Then: "You are developing a martyr complex, sir. This is psychologically concerning."
"Add it to the list."
The hospital was small, civilian, nowhere his corporate or SHIELD contacts would think to look.
Justin registered under a false identity—John Smith, because he had no imagination at 2 AM—and waited in the emergency room until a doctor could see him. The cover story was food poisoning. The reality was that he needed someone to tell him exactly how badly the void corruption was damaging his body.
His attending physician was a woman in her early thirties with sharp eyes and tired determination.
"Mr. Smith," she said, reading his chart. "I'm Dr. Christine Palmer. You're experiencing nausea, fatigue, and what you described as 'unusual skin discoloration'?"
"That's correct."
"Let me see your arms."
Justin hesitated, then rolled up his sleeves. The void marks glowed faintly in the fluorescent lighting, geometric patterns that no medical professional should recognize.
Christine's eyes widened. She grabbed his wrist—gently but firmly—and examined the patterns closely. "What is this?"
"Complication from experimental treatment."
"What kind of treatment leaves marks like this?" She pulled out a penlight, shining it on his skin. The marks seemed to absorb the light. "And why are they glowing?"
"Classified corporate research."
"I'm a doctor, not a spy. I need to know what I'm treating." Christine grabbed a tablet. "I'm running bloodwork. If you've been exposed to radiation or toxic chemicals—"
"It's not radiation."
"Then what is it?"
Justin met her eyes. Saw genuine concern there, not just professional curiosity. She cared about her patients, wanted to help, and wouldn't accept deflection when someone's life was at stake.
He liked her immediately.
"Something I probably shouldn't have volunteered for," Justin said. "But the damage is done. I just need to know how bad it is."
The bloodwork came back thirty minutes later.
Christine stared at the results like they'd personally insulted her. "These don't make sense. Your cellular regeneration is off the charts—you're healing tissue damage faster than should be possible. But you also have unknown energy signatures affecting your cells at the molecular level. And your telomeres are both lengthening and shortening simultaneously, which is impossible."
"Define impossible."
"The laws of biology kind of impossible." Christine pulled up comparative charts. "Mr. Smith, what exactly was this 'experimental treatment'?"
"Classified."
"You keep saying that. It's not helpful."
"I'm aware." Justin stood, rolling his sleeves back down. "Can you tell me how long I have?"
Christine's expression shifted from irritation to concern. "You're dying?"
"Yes."
"From the energy affecting your cells?"
"Yes."
She was quiet for a moment, studying him. "At current progression rates? Twelve to eighteen months. Maybe less if the acceleration continues. Maybe more if you find a way to slow it. But Mr. Smith—whoever did this to you, whatever 'classified research' you agreed to—it's killing you."
"I know. Thank you for confirming it."
Justin headed for the door.
"Wait." Christine's voice stopped him. "There has to be treatment options. Experimental protocols, radiation therapy, something—"
"There isn't. But I appreciate the concern." Justin glanced back. "You're a good doctor, Dr. Palmer. Don't let cases like mine burn you out."
He left before she could ask more questions he couldn't answer.
The mitigation research consumed the next week.
Justin used his Scientific Intuition to analyze the void corruption at a level no medical scanner could achieve. The results were disturbing: the marks weren't just physical—they were dimensional. The void had permanently altered his soul's structure, and that alteration was slowly leaking into his physical form.
Every power use accelerated it. Every transmutation darkened the marks. And the process appeared completely irreversible.
But it could be slowed.
Justin created void-touched materials through careful transmutation—metals and ceramics that had been exposed to void energy without being consumed by it. When worn against his skin, they seemed to ground the corruption, stabilizing it temporarily.
He developed meditation techniques, sinking into the mental space where his vault existed, learning to control the void's influence instead of being controlled by it.
And he pushed his body physically, maintaining strength through brutal exercise that his regeneration factor made sustainable. The corruption consumed weakness first—staying strong gave him more time.
Maya found him meditating in his lab at 3 AM, surrounded by void-touched materials arranged in geometric patterns.
"You're dying," she said. Not a question.
Justin opened his eyes. "How long have you known?"
"Weeks. The meditation. The materials. The way you look at the calendar like you're counting down to something." Maya sat down across from him. "Want to tell me what's killing you?"
"The same power that lets me create impossible materials. It's corruption. Spreading through my body. I can slow it, but I can't stop it."
"How long?"
"Year. Maybe less."
Maya's hands clenched. "And you're still working eighteen-hour days. Still transmuting materials. Still burning yourself out."
"I have work to do first."
"What work is worth dying for?"
Justin looked at her—truly looked at her, seeing the worry and frustration and caring in her expression. Maya had become more than an employee. She was a friend. Someone who deserved honesty.
"Saving the world," he said quietly. "I know things are coming. Threats that will kill millions if we're not ready. And I'm one of the few people who can prepare us. So yes, I'm going to keep working. Keep using my powers. Keep burning myself out. Because the alternative is letting everyone else die instead."
"That's not your responsibility."
"Isn't it? I have these powers. This knowledge. If I don't use them, if I choose my life over everyone else's—what does that make me?"
"Human," Maya said. "It makes you human. With normal human instincts for self-preservation."
"I stopped being normal human when I died in that car crash and came back changed."
Maya blinked. "What?"
"Shit." Justin hadn't meant to say that. The exhaustion was making him careless.
"Nothing. Forget I said anything."
"You died?"
"Maya—"
"You died and came back and now you're dying again, and you think the solution is to work yourself to death faster?" Her voice rose. "Justin, that's insane!"
"Welcome to my life." Justin stood, his legs shaky. "I can't explain it all. I can barely understand it myself. But I have work to do, and not much time to do it, so I'm going to keep going until either I finish or I can't anymore."
"And then what?"
"Then hopefully I've done enough. Built enough. Prepared enough. And someone else can take over."
Maya stared at him. Then, unexpectedly, she hugged him—fierce and brief. "You're an idiot. But you're our idiot. So try not to die before we figure out how to save you."
"I'll do my best."
After she left, Justin slumped in his chair, examining his arms. The void marks glowed softly, geometric patterns that had become part of his identity. Evidence of power. Evidence of cost.
"Sir," AEGIS said quietly. "If corruption becomes terminal, what are your contingency plans?"
Justin thought about it. "Upload my knowledge to you. Everything I know about coming threats. Make sure Maya, Natasha, Frank—everyone—can continue the work. And hope I live long enough to see Thanos defeated before the void claims its payment."
"That is a pragmatic if somewhat morbid plan."
"Got a better one?"
"No, sir. But I do wish you would prioritize your survival alongside global survival."
"The two are linked, AEGIS. If the world burns, my survival doesn't matter. And if I survive but the world burns, that's worse than dying."
"I disagree. But I am biased—you are my creator, and I would prefer you continue existing."
Despite everything, Justin smiled. "Thanks, AEGIS. That means more than you know."
Outside, New York slept. The void marks pulsed. And Justin had twelve months—maybe less—to prepare for the end of everything.
Better make them count.
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