Pain gripped Cyrus not long after he awoke. The pain was within his head and soul. He cried out. Duncan and Amanda must have heard him, because they rushed in.
"What's happening to me?" Cyrus asked.
Duncan understood. Cyrus had collected so many evil emotions from Immortals all at once, one nearly 3,000 years old and the other well over 6,000 years old, and he hadn't processed them the way he needed to. He was in danger of a Dark Quickening.
"Cyrus," Duncan said, "listen to me. You need to meditate. You need to find peace and center your mind. The evil Immortals within you are trying to take over, trying to push you out or bury you. But you can overcome this. I've been through this before. Just listen to me."
Cyrus heard Duncan speaking to him and tried to do as he said, but it was hard. He struggled. There was so much heaviness weighing on his mind and soul.
"I don't think I can do it," Cyrus said. "It's too much."
Amanda came to his side and took his hand. "You can do it, Cyrus. I know you can. Listen to Duncan, he's been through this."
"Why is this happening?" Cyrus asked.
"In a very short period of time, you've taken too many souls," Duncan said. "Just focus. Listen to me. Calm down. Don't you have a Jedi meditation for this?"
"Meditation… Jedi," Cyrus said through gritted teeth.
He took a deep breath. At first, he could only lie there as he tried to center himself, but little by little, he was able to steady himself. The breathing technique helped. Slowly, he sat up into a proper meditative position. Breathing in and out, in and out, he found a rhythm.
"That's it, Cyrus. Keep doing that," Duncan said.
Duncan nodded to Amanda, who gently stroked Cyrus's back. "Very good, Cyrus. You can do it. Just breathe. Come on."
Cyrus found his rhythm, steadied his breathing, but what to do next?
"You must expel the evil," Duncan said.
"How do I do that?" Cyrus asked. He was calmer now, though still sweating.
"Let go of what you don't need and don't want. Don't retain it."
Cyrus could feel the memories, six thousand years of them. He could remember all the cruelty Gath had committed over the years. Horrible things he didn't want to see, didn't want to remember.
"Get out. Get out. Get out of me," he said.
He began to panic at the flood of memories. His breathing became erratic, and he started to lose control once more.
"Calm down, Cyrus. You have to calm down," Amanda said, soothingly rubbing his back.
But suddenly, they all felt pressure in the room. Furniture began to break. Metallic objects twisted. The windows shattered. His Force control was gone.
"Listen, son," Duncan said urgently. "You have to regain control. You're going to hurt your mother if you don't."
Cyrus opened his eyes and looked toward Amanda. She was visibly struggling, having trouble breathing. If she hadn't been an Immortal, he would have strangled her to death.
A great surge of willpower rose within him. He forcefully suppressed his powers, regained control of his breathing, and brought the Force back under control.
After some time, he was able to stabilize himself. The attack from the evil souls subsided. He was in control once more, but he knew it wasn't over.
He exhaled deeply. "Duncan… what's happening to me?"
"You've been taking heads for weeks," Duncan said. "You suffered through intense Quickenings one after another and let them pile up. Then you fought Gath and killed him. Most Immortals have time after a beheading to process what happened, to integrate memories. When you kill too many evil Immortals in a short span, especially someone like Gath, someone like you or me, risk a Dark Quickening."
"What can I do?" Cyrus asked.
"You have to be patient and calm. You have to work through this. I can help you. I can guide you, but what you need is time."
"Time… okay," Cyrus said quietly.
He had planned to go to the MCU today, but it was too soon. He couldn't go like this; he'd be out of control and without a mentor. If he could at least master a certain level of meditation, perhaps he could continue the process there.
So Duncan guided him through meditation, helping him work through the Dark Quickening. Months passed. Cyrus spent more time here than he had in the Star Wars universe. But it was good for him. As he meditated, it felt like he was releasing the evil dwelling inside him, like a dark cloud dissipating from his soul.
Eventually, the Dark Quickening subsided. He was able to integrate the memories and skills of the Immortals. It wasn't just sword fighting. One had been a gifted auto mechanic, another a plumber, one a carpenter, and another had worked in fast food. He didn't need those memories. His own experience running a fast-food shop lingered in his mind, the smell of grease still there, but he worked through them.
He started with the Immortals, who had less power and had fewer memories, then moved on to the older ones. Finally, he came to Gath.
Gath's memories were vast, his skills nearly uncountable. He had done a little bit of everything, ruled a city-state in Sumeria, worked as a hunter, warrior-for-hire, and wandered as a nomad. In his early years, Gath wasn't very different from a regular person. Mostly good, not especially evil. But after centuries of losing loved ones, outliving friends, betrayal by Immortals he trusted, Gath withdrew. He formed temporary alliances and betrayed others as he had been betrayed. A dark cruelty developed. He hated the world.
He became a hermit for over a thousand years. In his three-thousandth year, he emerged and began exploring again. He took students out of boredom, trained them, then hunted them and took their heads. He called it the Harvest, raising Immortals and harvesting them.
Training so many at once was new, but the results were what he hoped for. His group grew strong quickly. Nearly eighty Immortals. Not all had been present during Cyrus's attack; some were out training or hunting. They had no idea who took their leader's head. They were scared and scattered, according to Joe.
To them, it was as if alien Immortals had invaded for one night and vanished. The Watchers were completely confused.
Cyrus completed his initial recovery, but Duncan warned him that it couldn't be rushed. A Dark Quickening could never be underestimated. He needed more meditation.
Cyrus, feeling the pressure of his real game, ignored Duncan's advice. It was time to go. When he arrived in the MCU, that's when he would continue his meditation.
The next morning, he stepped outside and took a deep breath of crisp air. Snow had fallen. He felt the Quickening flow through him, entwined with the Force. He felt everything around him. For the first time since taking Gath's head, it felt easy.
All preparations were complete.
He closed his eyes and disappeared.
He felt groggy, disoriented, like he was drugged. Someone was shaking him awake. His eyes were unfocused at first, but then he saw a man in a star-spangled suit.
"Steve?" he asked as memories poured into his mind.
He had chosen to appear as Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier.
"Buck, we've got to get out of here."
"Give me a second," Bucky said. "I just woke up."
He slid off the table and looked at Steve. "Weren't you shorter?"
"A little."
"What happened?"
"I joined the Army. Come on, let's go."
They ran through the building as explosions erupted. Their escape route was cut off. They ascended higher, searching for a way out. On the metal walkway, they saw the Red Skull and Arnim Zola.
Captain America charged the Red Skull. Zola pulled a lever. Before the bridge separated, Cyrus leapt over both of them. He kicked the Red Skull, sending him into the flames below. He grabbed the case and used the Force to levitate Zola, tossing him over the side.
Better to end this early, he thought.
Steve stared. "What just happened?"
"Zola injected me with something," Bucky said. "I think he was trying to make another super soldier."
Steve exhaled. "You're more than a super soldier, pal. Let's get out of here."
They fled.
Cyrus stored the Space Stone in his inventory. The system offered points, but he declined, for now.
Colonel Chester Phillips and ATS Peggy Carter reviewed the latest flyover reports. No sign of Captain America.
"Go get a cup of coffee corporal," Colonel Phillips tossed aerial surveillance photos on the desk.
"Yes, sir." The Corporal replied as he speedily exited the tent.
"I can't touch Stark; he's rich, and he's the army's number one weapons contractor. You are neither one!"
"With respect, sir, I don't regret my actions. And I don't think Captain Rogers did either." Peggy, confident as always, defended her actions.
"What makes you think I give a damn about your opinions? I took a chance with you, Agent Carter, and now America's golden boy and a lot of other good men are dead cuz you had a crush."
"It wasn't that, I had faith."
"Well, I hope that's a comfort to you when they shut this division down."
The two locked eyes with one another until they noticed men were running somewhere, excited.
"What the hell's goin on out there?" Colonel Philipps ignored Carter and left the tent. Agent Carter took in a breath and turned to follow the colonel.
The colonel and Carter followed the soldiers. Others were already at the camp gate where Captain America led a group of rescued soldiers, including Bucky Barnes, and the future Howling Commandos.
Not only had the soldiers survived, but they brought back prizes from the battle. Many weapons, including a Hydra tank, were shown off as the soldiers walked into the camp.
The soldiers clapped for their fellow soldiers and for Captain America. These brave men were thought doomed to death, but they returned victorious!
Rogers saluted the Colonel before beginning his report, "Some of these men need medical attention. I would like to surrender myself for disciplinary action."
That won't be necessary," Phillips looked at the men, and around briefly, avoiding Steve. Finally, he looked back at Steve, who smiled slightly.
"Yes, sir," Steve acknowledged and understood Phillips' decision. Phillips turned decisively and walked away. He stopped momentarily in front of Agent Carter, "Faith, huh?" The colonel kept walking, but Peggy's eyes were already drawn toward Steve.
She walked forward and looked him over, "You're late." Steve pulled a radio out of his pocket. It had a bullet hole in the middle of it, showing it to Peggy. "Couldn't call my ride."
Cyrus took a breath and called out, "Hey. Let's hear it for Captain America!" The soldiers started clapping while Steve looked at all of them, but Peggy's eyes never left Steve. Finally, their eyes met once more as the soldiers continued to celebrate.
Cyrus smiled, "A legend is born."