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SuperSoldier (SI-OC/MCU) 46: Contract
🕑 Added 2025-03-29 23:05:18 +0000 UTC46: Contract
How much time had passed?
A day? A month? Maybe ten years?
Alright, that last one might have been an exaggeration, but still, if someone were to ask John, he would undoubtedly say it felt like at least ten years.
Though that feeling might be biased, given the strange way time tends to move when at the mercy of the whims of a nearly demented girl’s subconscious mind with total control over her mind.
The "nearly" was a recent addition—honestly, John had always thought Cassandra had more than a few screws loose. After all, no girl in her right mind could navigate the battlefield, massacring men in the most creatively bloodthirsty ways possible, without being at least somewhat unhinged.
That was the reason why, since that first battle in Warsaw, he had always made sure to keep an eye on her, ensuring that the violence within her was used in the right way.
John didn’t care if Cassandra enjoyed killing—no, the only thing that mattered to him was that the people she killed were not 'his' people.
In that sense, John knew he wasn’t the most mentally sound person either. The number of kills he had racked up recently had undoubtedly surpassed four figures, maybe even creeping toward five, depending on whether or not one counted the indirect deaths his crusade had caused so far.
A sane person simply doesn’t thrive in war, no matter the kind. Perhaps that was why he always felt a greater affinity with people like Raven and Cassandra—because they could look upon the mountains of corpses and rivers of blood left in his wake without flinching. Without horrified stares. Without questioning too much what was right or wrong.
It was easier to stop pretending around them—there was no need to invent or search for too many excuses. Because even if John loved acting, even the best actor grew tired of it from time to time.
Of course, John still had a true conscience within him, or at least he liked to think so—a voice that told him where the limits were, however thin they might be. A strange, almost mute kindness that, from time to time, surfaced to remind him that even if he wasn’t a saint, he wasn’t a complete monster either.
That everything he did, as selfish as it was, also served a greater good.
He hadn’t expected Cassandra to have one too... in a sense.
It was truly impressive how much one could learn about a person when they had no reservations about showing their true self.
Spending so much time with what was essentially the real Cassandra had changed his previous perspective of the girl. Of course, he still thought she was a little crazy—he doubted that would ever change—but not in the same way as before. Because now he knew that, hidden behind all the darkness that seemed to flood her, there was still a part of her that remained human, with everything that entailed.
“So, this is it?” John asked, staring at the lonely memory fragment before him—the last one they'd visited.
"Yes... there's nothing left you want to do," little Cassie replied, with a lightness in her voice that hadn't been there before.
Knowing the end had arrived brought some strange feelings to John. Maybe this little adventure through Cassandra’s mind hadn’t been in his plans, but to say he hated it or found it unpleasant wouldn’t be right.
In fact, he had quite enjoyed some moments of it. Not having to worry about the war and the conflicts waiting for him in reality while helping the girl fulfill some of her deepest wishes and desires had been therapeutic in a way. But, as people liked to say, all good things must come to an end.
“I suppose it was a pleasure meeting you, then,” he said, turning toward the young girl. Though technically she and Cassandra were the same, the subconscious was the subconscious for a reason.
"Don't make it sound like you won't see me again. You know I'll always be there, watching everything through her eyes." As she said this, Cassie smiled and turned to meet the sharp gaze of a young adult Cassandra, who had appeared not far from them.
“Did you really have to make him tell us bedtime stories so many times?” she asked with discontent, her frown barely concealing the slight blush of embarrassment glowing on her cheeks.
Cassie snorted in amusement.
“You know you always wanted Dad to do it. Well, he never did… and never will. So I found someone better to take that place”
Cassandra clicked her tongue in irritation. It was embarrassing to face that part of herself that had no qualms about exposing what she would never dare admit to anyone. But she knew contradicting her would be as useless as trying to wet water, so instead, she turned, shooting a death glare at John.
"Not a word of this to anyone. Ever," she hissed through clenched teeth—and to her torment, John didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by the sharp tone of her threat. If anything, he gave her a calm smile, amusement gleaming in his green eyes—almost identical to the glimmer in little Cassie’s.
Cassandra could only sigh. Her entire image… ruined by her very own self.
"Come on, let’s get this over with." Resigned, she simply crossed her arms and looked away. But despite her efforts, she still couldn’t stop a small smile from curling at the corner of her lips.
"Very well," Cassie nodded to her. Then she raised her hand and pointed into the void. With a brief flash, a door opened just meters away from them - its interior blindingly white, contrasting sharply with the dark landscape surrounding them.
"It’s time to wake up."
With those words, Cassandra stepped forward, ready to leave and end this. John moved to follow, but as he took his first step, he felt a tug on his shirt that stopped him. When he turned, he saw Cassie looking up at him with a slight pout on her face. The girl hesitated for a second before letting go.
Having spent so much time with her, John understood perfectly what she wanted. Without overthinking it, he reached out, resting his palm on her head and gently ruffling her dark hair. Then he crouched down and opened his arms.
Cassie smiled and ran into him, wrapping him in a tight farewell hug.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Before John could respond, he felt her grip loosen, and in his arms, her figure began to fade. Her small body dissolved into glowing specks of light that scattered into the wind.
in front of him, nothing remained but emptiness.
Straightening up, John stared into the void for a few moments, lost in unknown thoughts. Then he shook his head and walked toward Cassandra, who watched him with an unreadable expression.
"You know, you don’t have to be so dramatic. It’s not like she died or anything," she said in a dry tone.
John snorted at her words.
"That sounds like jealousy. If you want a hug too, all you have to do is ask."
In response, she shot him another murderous glare.
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As he crossed through the door, everything in his vision suddenly faded into a kaleidoscope of colors that lasted only a second before his consciousness abruptly snapped back into his body.
Slowly, John opened his eyes, finding himself face-to-face with the light emitted by the hanging bulb on the tent’s military ceiling.
His body felt heavy, uncomfortable, almost clumsy. But a simple flex of his inner cosmic energy was enough to dispel any lingering discomfort.
“How long was I out?” he asked immediately as he began to sit up.
“Almost ten minutes,” replied Raven’s voice, so close to his ear that it made John flinch slightly and quickly turn toward her, noticing the blonde girl sitting silently beside his stretcher.
It was quite surprising how much Raven had improved at staying stealthy—even for someone with senses as sharp as his.
Shaking his head to clear those thoughts for now, John stood up, cracked his back, and walked toward Cassandra’s stretcher, watching as the girl’s long lashes trembled softly.
With a faint groan, she slowly opened her eyes only to immediately squeeze them shut again, a grimace twisting her face as her retinas burned under the harsh light of the bulb hanging above her.
“W-wher—” she tried to speak, but her voice came out broken, hoarse, and dry. Though she had taken part in many battles before, this was the first time Cassandra had ever felt so battered.
She was almost tempted to fall back asleep, but she had already spent too much time trapped inside her own head. Besides, hunger was beginning to creep in—how long had it been since she last ate?
With that question in mind, she tried to sit up, but as she pressed her hands down to push herself up, a hiss escaped her lips halfway through: a sharp, piercing pain shot through her arms, shaking her to the bone.
“Shit!” she groaned, losing strength and beginning to collapse, but then a swift hand caught her back, stopping her from falling and carefully helping her sit up.
“Don’t push yourself too hard. You’ve got multiple microfractures in the bones of your hands. It’ll be a while before you can use them like before.” At John’s reminder, Cassandra looked down at her hands with a frown, noticing the thick layers of bandages covering them.
“This sucks,” she said, already thinking about how uncomfortable it was going to be to live like this for several weeks—or even months.
“At least you’re alive, so don’t sulk too much.”
Taking his canteen, still half full, John uncapped it and brought it to her lips. Ignoring her initial protest, he made her take several sips.
At the same time, he looked around and noticed that everything in the tent remained just as he had left it. Erik was still sitting on his stretcher, playing with the metal in his hand. Janet had already finished eating and was now watching Clea with curiosity; it seemed the two had been having a small conversation.
Sensing his gaze, the sorceress gave him a nod and approached with a smile.
“Looks like everything went well. When I lost my connection to you, I feared things had gotten complicated.” Clea, of course, was referring to the moment Cassandra’s power had tried to expel John. At that moment, the sorceress had felt it and assumed he had failed, but when he didn’t wake up and instead seemed to dive even deeper into the girl’s mind—to the point where her magic could no longer reach him—she knew something serious had happened.
Panic and worry overwhelmed her, but with no way to help,, she could only step back and wait. The longer the minutes dragged on, the stronger the urge to run to Kamar-Taj and bring her master became. Fortunately, before she acted on it, John woke up.
“Sorry for worrying you. But yes, everything turned out fine in the end.”
Although the process hadn’t gone exactly as John expected, at least they had Cassandra back now. And with her new ability to manipulate minds, even if they didn’t manage to wake Charles, they would still maintain a significant advantage over their enemies, and their search would become easier.
Of course, the fact that the girl was injured was an inconvenience—but nothing truly important. Cassandra wasn’t a hand-to-hand fighter.
All she needed was to look at her enemies and they’d either explode or twist like pretzels.
Still, perhaps it would be better if she could be in the best shape possible for the inevitable battle ahead.
“By any chance, doesn’t your magic have some incredibly convenient spell for healing wounds?” he asked tentatively, making Clea roll her eyes.
“Sorcery isn’t omnipotent. All spells rely on the channeling of external energy sources—some from other dimensions, some from higher beings—but if there’s one thing they all have in common, it’s their lack of capacity to provide healing.”
Clea explained like a teacher giving a lecture, and her words made everyone in the room pay attention. After all, it’s not every day that one witnesses a true “sorcerer” sharing their knowledge.
In fact, sorcery was highly versatile, often capable of accomplishing things that seemed impossible—but if there was one issue that had plagued sorcerers throughout history, it was their lack of useful methods for healing others or themselves.
Not that such methods were entirely nonexistent, of course, but their effectiveness was definitely much lower compared to everything else sorcery could do. So much so that, these days, even mortal medicine was starting to surpass them.
“I’ve already done all I could for her. When I found her, I realigned her broken bones, closed her wounds to prevent infection, and stabilized her condition. More than that... is impossible for me right now.”
Clea lowered her voice slightly toward the end, suddenly looking at John in a strange way.
Having the attention of a beautiful woman had always been welcome in his book, but John immediately understood that Clea wasn’t looking at him that way. No, her gaze was something more analytical—almost surgical.
Like that of a scientist examining a rare specimen.
John was tempted to grab Raven and put her in front of him, but he resisted the impulse—No matter how creepy the look a woman gave you was, as a man, you had to either endure it or failing that ignore it. Running away only gave them more incentive.
“Maybe if… No, that’s too risky,” she muttered to herself before shaking her head, to the confusion of those who heard her.
“You thought of something, didn’t you? If you have an idea, then say it. I don’t care what kind of risk you think there is—I’d rather that than not even be able to wipe my own damn ass,” Cassandra growled with exasperation, pushing John aside and standing in front of Clea with an intense look, making the sorceress visibly uncomfortable.
John almost pointed out that she could use her telekinesis to help with that particular issue, but wisely chose to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he turned to Clea, curious to know what kind of idea had just come to the sorceress’s mind.
Seeing how both of them were staring at her so closely, Clea bit her lip, then sighed and rubbed her hands together with a nervous gesture.
“Well, while I was going over everything I know about the mystical studies of healing, it occurred to me that maybe… if you let me draw some of the cosmic energy inside you, I could use it to help heal her wounds.”
“My energy?”
Clea nodded and began to explain a bit more, trying to provide some context for her idea.
“Normally, energies from other planes or higher beings are inherently incompatible with the human body. That’s why sorcerers only channel them to affect our surroundings, but we don’t absorb or use them directly on ourselves. Many believe that incompatibility is precisely why it's so difficult to use them for things like healing.”
Of course, she wasn’t entirely sure about that last part, since she had never truly focused on studying such subjects in depth.
Even so, she had heard of numerous examples throughout the history of sorcery that seemed to confirm this information—sorcerers who, ignoring the dangers and potential side effects that the appropriation of higher energies could bring to their bodies and souls, attempted to integrate them into themselves, only to face the consequences almost immediately.
Those who achieved some degree of success did so at the cost of abandoning part of their humanity, turning into something else. If luck was on their side, they’d end up with only a minor deformity, something easy to hide. But in the worst cases… they became monstrous, deformed creatures.
Almost no one spoke of those who failed.
“That’s why I thought I had already done everything I could…” she continued, pausing briefly before looking at him again with that light in her eyes that sent a chill down John’s spine.
“Until I remembered you’re here… Without a doubt, you're an exceptional case. I don’t know how you became what you are now, but possessing your own cosmic energy while still being human makes the energy you produce probably the most compatible with humans that I know of. If it’s with your help,, maybe it’ll finally be possible to develop a spell that can actually heal others properly!” she concluded, with a flicker of enthusiasm and expectation that soon faded, replaced by doubt.
"Of course, I'm only theorizing. I can't be truly sure without testing it… but trying comes with its own risks. If I'm wrong and the cosmic energy inside you turns out to be incompatible with others, then I could end up hurting her even more than she already is."
At Clea’s words, several confused eyes turned toward John, not quite understanding what the sorceress meant by him being an ‘exceptional’ case. Of course, this was because—aside from Raven and Howard—the others didn’t know that John had transformed into something far beyond a mere super-soldier.
Cassandra had some notion of it, having felt his power when she had nearly expelled him from her mind. Janet could infer that this so-called "cosmic energy" was likely related to what she had seen before losing consciousness and waking up here.
But beyond those impressions, none of them knew the full truth behind his transformation.
John rubbed his chin, processing the information he had just been given. There was a lot to consider, but in the end, it all came down to whether he was willing to let Clea attempt it or not. If she was right and his cosmic energy could help heal others through sorcery, then he would gain something extremely valuable—something that had eluded him until now.
A healer.
"Alright, then let's do it," Cassandra suddenly said, pulling John from his thoughts and making him frown.
"Do you really want to try this? If you wait, you'll recover fully in a few months, but if we test this and you end up even more injured, you might never move your hands again," Clea warned in an extremely serious tone. But Cassandra just scoffed.
"I can control anything with my mind. Even if I lose mobility in them like you say, I could still make them move as if nothing had happened."
Cassandra was confident in this. Even if her damn legs became useless right now, she was certain she could still walk.
Hearing the certainty and stubbornness in her voice, Clea fell silent, sensing that arguing with her would be pointless. Instead, she turned to John, as if expecting him to step in and make her see reason.
But he didn’t.
Mainly because he suddenly felt Cassandra’s telekinesis pinching his thigh in the exact same way little Cassie used to do when he refused to grant one of her more ridiculous requests.
'If I refuse… will she throw a tantrum?' The thought was both amusing and exasperating.
Of course, John wasn’t that easy to manipulate. No matter how many sharp, glaring looks Cassandra gave him, if he thought this wasn’t worth it, he would be firm in saying no.
The thing was, this was definitely worth it.
"No one’s ever won anything without at least taking a bit of a risk, If she's willing to endure the consequences, then let's do it," he finally said firmly, making it clear that the matter was settled.
Raven, of course, had no objections, just like Erik, who simply watched everything unfold like a spectator. Perhaps Janet was the only one who initially considered saying something, but in the end, she didn’t. Her thoughts were more focused on contemplating John's words.
Clea, for her part, had some concerns, but she didn’t argue any further because, deep down, she wanted to try. She wanted to see if it was possible, even if that made her feel a little guilty. In that sense, scientists and sorcerers might have something in common—sometimes, their curiosity outweighed their logic and morals.
"In that case, we need to form a contract," she said, beginning to think about how to go about it. Traditionally, to "borrow" the power of an entity or a powerful being from other planes, a connection first had to be established—either by summoning the entity or traveling directly to its home dimension to negotiate a deal.
After all, no superior being granted its power without receiving something in return, and in most cases, the price demanded from the sorcerer was far from reasonable, making most think three or five times before attempting it.
Clea herself had little experience with such things due to the risks involved.
But this was different. First of all, John was not an extradimensional being living in some higher plane—he was here. So there was no need to summon him or make any kind of journey. Moreover, John actively wanted to lend his power to heal Cassandra, making the proposed agreement simple and straightforward, with no tricks or hidden intentions.
This was probably the simplest pact Clea would ever make in her life as a sorceress, which, without a doubt, made her a little excited.
"Alright! It'll be simple: you'll lend me a portion of your energy, say, 10%, and in return, I promise to use it to heal her hands," Clea proposed, with an almost honest smile. It sounded simple, direct—but John was no fool.
He had dealt with enough dishonest people in his past life to easily recognize the signs of someone trying to take advantage, and Clea certainly wasn’t very good at hiding it.
"No time limit? Are you planning to drain me forever? I didn't think you were that cunning," he retorted, amusement evident in his voice.
Clea almost stammered, a slight blush coloring her cheeks.
Well, no one could really blame her, right? Even if her experience in negotiations was almost nonexistent, she still understood that a sorcerer had to try to gain as many advantages as possible when making a contract. Having access to a "constant supply" of cosmic energy—even if it was just 10% of what John could produce—was far too tempting to pass up.
"Honestly, I don’t mind if you want access to a portion of my power whenever you need it. But in exchange, I’d like to be able to ask for your help whenever I need it too—an 'equivalent exchange,' so to speak."
There were many ways to keep a person by your side, but the most effective was always to offer them something they truly wanted. Using this deal to ensure that a sorceress like Clea stayed by his side indefinitely was simply too good an opportunity to let slip away.
Especially if she succeeded in healing Cassandra, effectively becoming the healer John had been searching for all this time.
This way, he would always have a way to guarantee the well-being of the people close to him, in addition to all the other benefits that a sorcerer willing to help could provide.
Clea didn’t agree immediately—not because John's offer was bad; in fact, she thought it was quite good. The problem was that she wasn’t sure if she would be able to fulfill it. The young sorceress was still aware that she wasn’t supposed to be away from Kamar-Taj for too long. If her master suddenly came to take her back, there would be very little she could do to refuse.
Once that happened, it would be difficult for her to leave and help John "whenever he needed."
'No, things have changed. If Master wanted me back, she would have come for me by now or sent someone. Maybe… maybe she finally thinks I’m ready?'
Yes, that had to be the reason why she sent her to assist in Warsaw and, after that, didn’t rush her return to Kamar-Taj, Clea thought, quickly convincing herself that her master was finally giving her approval to go out and explore the world on her own.
Of course, Clea had no way of knowing that the Ancient One couldn’t approach John at this moment. So, even if she wanted to come for her personally, she wouldn’t be able to.
And given the losses Kamar-Taj had suffered due to Hydra’s attacks on its sanctuaries, there wasn’t much manpower left to deploy for tasks that weren’t of vital importance. So, sending someone to check on her wasn’t an option either.
Unaware of these reasons, which she had no way of knowing for now, Clea finally nodded with determination and reached out her hand toward John.
"Alright."
Seeing that she had made her decision, John said nothing more. He simply took her hand and squeezed it firmly. Suddenly, a mystical connection began to form between them.
As they looked at each other, feeling the magic flow between them, Clea's smile froze, and a shiver ran down her spine. Only now did she realize a crucial detail she had unintentionally overlooked.
John never explicitly specified how much of his cosmic energy he would lend her. He had merely left the 10% she had initially suggested, implicitly establishing it as the ‘portion’ of his power she would receive ‘whenever she needed it.’
In contrast, she had accepted—far too vaguely and ambiguously—to help him 'whenever he needed it...' without setting any limits or restrictions whatsoever.
'Equivalent exchange, my ass!' she roared internally, gripping his hand even tighter. She had let herself be swept up too quickly and ended up being blatantly tricked right under her own nose.
He had even had the audacity to make her feel embarrassed for trying to do the same thing first!
Only now did she understand why her teacher had always warned her about making unwritten contracts.
As for John, he hadn’t expected his little attempt at cheating to work out so well.
Since he was not a sorcerer, he was completely unaware of exactly how magical contracts were "formalized," but thanks to his intuition and to Clea's reaction earlier—when he pointed out her audacity in trying to take advantage of him—he realized that perhaps all it took was a vaguely worded verbal agreement between them for it to work.
With nothing to lose, he had decided to take a gamble and see if he could subtly manipulate the terms of the agreement to his advantage.
Unexpectedly—and much to Clea’s misfortune, as she now looked like she was about to cry—he had succeeded with barely any effort.
'Well, I’m not that cruel. I’ll make it up to her somehow later,' he thought as his grin grew wider.
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Note:
Alright, I'll admit it—I once again underestimated the number of words it would take to explain and address certain topics.
The way sorcery works in Marvel is, in a sense, so confusing that I had to choose between being too vague or trying to establish some personal rules based on the little we've seen of it on screen. In the end, I went with the latter. I'm not sure how well it will turn out, but for now, I think it's not too bad.
If you're an expert on the subject and have more information on sorcery than I managed to find after several hours of research, I'd be happy to hear your thoughts on improving this small, confusing system.
Now, regarding the NSFW content I promised—originally, it was going to be in this chapter, but since I spent so much time on sorcery, I’ve decided to postpone it to the next one. Otherwise, the chapter would have become too long, and the last thing I want is for it to feel heavy to read.
Anyway, I’ll soon be done with all the groundwork I need to start the final part of the war arc. After that, although I have some ideas on how to handle future events, things aren’t completely set in stone yet, so I’m open to any possible suggestions.
That being said, I’d be happy to hear your thoughts so far. Do you think I should speed up the pace, get straight to the point, or give things time to develop naturally?
I’d really appreciate knowing what you think.
Comments
Oceanus Thetitan
She talk like that aint a steal , normally anyone in john position wouldnt even give her a single drop beyond what is required
Sin Vergil
I think the actual contect is great but, maybe speed up the pace a bit as it has been a while since it has been almost a year since this arc started. And no matter how great the content may be I can feel the exhaustion creeping in. Plus, you've talked about wanting to a few times. Either way looking forward to next chapter.
