[center][h1][color=GhostWhite][b]N O M A D[/b][/color][/h1][/center]
[hr]

[i]"I can teleport us to him."[/i]

A weight formed in Steve Roger's gut. Knowing it needed to be done to help Allen didn't stop a shiver from running up his spine. That dead boy's powers came from a source all too familiar to him: his preacher had beat the fear of the devil into Steve since before he could walk. It wasn't like the Mojoworld tech- that wastoo fantastical, too 'out there' to be real. That was stepping through a doorway into dark room devoid of all sound or noise. This, though?

Six's cape swallowed the light. Darkness rushed in around him in the same way a torpedo might punch a hole into the side of a submarine and send the ocean cascading inside. It enveloped Steve Rogers. His throat tightened as smoke scratched at it. His nostrils flared at the bite of brimstone and sulfur.  All he could do was repeat a silent prayer to his maker for protection from whatever entity lurked behind the black. The Seconds passed by in agonizing slow motion, teasing Rogers with the possibility that this was his new reality.

And then he stumbled onto the bare concrete floor of the complex, letting out the breath he'd been holding. It took him a moment to shove his anxiety back down into his chest. 

Once he had his bearings he turned to glare at Six over his shoulder. "I am [i]not[/i] doing that again," he snapped. Maybe it was harsh of him to blame the child for what had been done to him, but he couldn't ignore what he'd just been subjected to. It was anathema to everything he'd ever believed. This blasted trip was bringing all his base assumptions into question, each confrontation threatening to tear away one of the anchors to his past. He could only hope this ordeal would be over soon.

Rogers straightened himself out and turned to address the Flash: "Good to see you’re in one piece. We've got a situation. Something’s run roughshod through this place’s occupants and we’re pretty sure it’s still here. You seen the Martian?”