It's been five years since the death of Kaitlyn Summers. After Thanos snapped his fingers and wiped out half the universe, things haven't been the same for 26-year-old Will Jones. Still grieving the loss of his best friend, Will joins the remaining...
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"Wow. Under different circumstances, this would be totally awesome." Clint says as we arrive in Vormir. I looked up at the beautiful purple sky in awe as we walked along the sandy dunes. As we started walking toward the mountain and climbing it, snow began to fall. I shivered and let out a few groans as we got closer to the top. Despite being athletic and in good shape, the voyage up the mountain is kicking my butt.
"I bet the raccoon didn't have to climb a mountain." Natasha groaned once we made it to the top of the mountain.
"Technically, he's not a raccoon, you know?" Clint says.
"Oh, whatever, he eats garbage," Natasha says, making me laugh.
"Welcome." An ominous voice says.
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Natasha and Clint immediately drew out their weapons while my eyes and hands began to glow blue as we turned around. We see a hooded figure floating in front of us. "Natasha. Daughter of Ivan. Kaitlyn. Daughter of Ego. Clint. Son of Edith." I looked at Clint and Natasha when the hooded figure said my father's name, and a shocked expression crossed Natasha's face when the creature said her father's name, for she never knew who her father was.
Natasha and Clint kept their weapons out while my hands and eyes continued to glow blue as we walked closer to the hooded figure. "Who are you?" I ask.
"Consider me a guide...to you...and to all who seek the Soul Stone." The hooded figure known as the Red Skull says.
"Oh, good. You tell us where it is. Then we'll be on our way." Natasha says.
"Ah, liebchen." Red Skull speaks in German. "If only it were that easy." He leads the three of us to the cliff of the mountain. "What you seek lies in front of you, as does what you fear."
"The stone's down there," Natasha says as she looks over the cliff. I stand in between Natasha and Clint as we approach the edge.
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