webAppInput

SceneIdQuery

myProfile

scene

query SceneIdQuery(
  $id: ID!
  $webAppInput: WebAppInput
) {
  myProfile(webAppInput: $webAppInput) {
    ...MyProfile_myProfile
    id
  }
  scene(id: $id) {
    ...Scene_scene
    ...SceneMedias_scene_16LRdq
    id
    order
    rating
    title
    seoTitle
    seoDescription
    isPublished
    isScheduled
    publishedAt
    content
    story {
      ...Story_story
      id
      isMine
      commentsAccess
    }
    prevScene {
      id
    }
    nextScene {
      id
    }
  }
}

fragment JobInfo_job on AiGenerationJob {
  id
  type
  status
  currentStage
  attemptCount
  maxAttempts
  lastErrorCode
  scheduledAt
}

fragment MediaStatusFields_media on Media {
  id
  status
  generationError
  activeGenerationJob {
    ...JobInfo_job
    currentStage
    id
  }
}

fragment MyProfile_myProfile on User {
  id
  name
  email
  isAdmin
  hasEverPaid
  isEmailConfirmed
  isEmailNotificationEnabled
  isTelegramNotificationEnabled
  isTempPassword
  avatar
  cover
  about
  contacts
  support
  telegramId
  vkId
  availableLimits
  frozenLimits
  urlSlug
  topUpPackages {
    id
    price
    currency
    toBalanceLimits
    bonusLimits
    totalCreditedLimits
    USD
  }
  availablePaymentProviders
  aiGenerationCosts {
    plan {
      size
      cost
    }
    characterSuggest
    ideaExpand
    sceneWrite {
      length
      cost
    }
    mediaGenerate
    videoGenerate
  }
  activeGenerationJobs {
    id
    type
    status
    story {
      id
      authorTitle
    }
  }
}

fragment SceneMedias_scene_16LRdq on Scene {
  id
  story {
    id
  }
  mediaAttachments(viewMode: READ) {
    id
    media {
      ...MediaStatusFields_media
      id
      type
      origin
      previewSrc
      mediaSrc512: mediaSrc(size: 512)
      mediaSrc1024: mediaSrc(size: 1024)
      videoPosterSrc(size: 1024)
      userPrompt
      finalPrompt
      rawPrompt
      mediaAttachments {
        id
        story {
          id
        }
        scene {
          id
        }
        character {
          id
        }
      }
      embeddedInScenes {
        id
      }
    }
  }
  sceneCharacterStates {
    id
    character {
      id
      name
    }
  }
}

fragment Scene_scene on Scene {
  id
  order
  displayOrder
  title
  rating
  isPublished
  isScheduled
  publishedAt
  minWaitersToPublish
  waitersCount
  readCount
  content
  story {
    id
    isMine
  }
}

fragment Story_story on Story {
  id
  title
  publicDescription
  type
  size
  narrativeType
  rating
  hasCharacters
  status
  isPublished
  isMine
  publishedAt
  likesCount
  favoritesCount
  displayDirection
  plotGenres
  settingGenres
  moods
  tropes
  displayContentWarnings
  sceneAtmospheres
  publishedStats {
    scenesCount
    wordsCount
  }
  author {
    id
    name
    urlSlug
    avatar
  }
  characters {
    id
    name
  }
  fandoms {
    id
    urlSlug
    translation {
      canonicalName
      id
    }
  }
  myState {
    isLiked
    isFavorited
    isWaiting
    id
  }
  lastPublishedScene {
    id
  }
}


The air inside the vault felt sterile, recycled, and dangerously cold. I adjusted the collar of my red leather jacket, feeling the slight tension against my neck. Before me, the primary data core emitted a soft, pulsing blue light that seemed to breathe in sync with the high-tech terminal I was currently dismantling. My fingers moved across the recessed holographic interface with a rhythmic, practiced ease. It was the kind of work that made me feel alive, balancing on the razor edge between a massive payout and a long stay in a deep-space prison.

Behind me, the rest of the crew was a static portrait of tension. Drax stood like a slab of mountain, his grey skin catching the flickering amber light of the perimeter sensors. His hand was perpetually resting on the hilt of his massive knife, his dark eyes scanning the shadows of the vault walls. He did not blink. He barely seemed to breathe. Drax was never one for subtlety, and watching him stand guard was like watching a bomb that had forgotten its fuse.

I am Groot, the adolescent voice echoed from the side, a low rumble that vibrated through the metal grid floor beneath my boots. Groot was shifting his weight, his slender, bark-covered limbs twitching with a nervous energy that he clearly hadn't fully grown into yet. He was watching Rocket, who was perched on a stack of storage crates near the bulkhead. Rocket had his goggles pushed up onto his furry forehead, his tail twitching in sharp, erratic bursts as he recalibrated his handheld scanning device.

Keep it quiet, Quill, Rocket barked, his voice laced with his signature abrasive impatience. If you touch the wrong lead on that node, we aren't walking out of here. We are getting reduced to molecular scrap.

I didn't turn to look at him, keeping my eyes fixed on the shifting lines of code that danced before my retinas. Just focus on your end, rodent. I have this completely under control. I felt the lie coat my tongue, smooth and familiar. The truth was, my hands were sweating inside my gloves, and I was counting on a bit of intuition to bridge the gap between the interface and the core's encryption.

Gamora stood near the central pedestal, her posture a masterclass in lethal grace. Her hand hovered near the hilt of her sword, but her eyes were fixed on the containment field surrounding the objective. She was the one who had to slide it into the neural-link case once I broke the seal. For a moment, the silence was absolute, save for the hum of the cooling fans, and I found myself thinking about the last time we were in a situation this precarious. We had almost lost our shirts on Xandar, and here I was, doing it all over again, trusting my life to a bunch of misfits who couldn't agree on what to have for dinner.

Maybe the risk is the point, I thought to myself, pushing aside the flicker of doubt. I had to believe that, because the alternative was admitting that I was just stalling for time before the inevitable crash.

Gamora leaned forward, her voice a calm, measured drop of cold water in the room. Peter, the dampening field is fluctuating. If you don't bypass the primary loop within the next ten seconds, the security protocols will lock us into a hard override.

I felt the pressure mount in my chest, a physical weight that pressed against my lungs. I know, Gamora, stop hovering, I snapped back, trying to keep my voice steady. My focus narrowed until there was nothing left in the universe except for the digital heartbeat of the console. I traced a bypass, felt the resistance in the software, and gave it a sharp, decisive command.

Done, I muttered, exhaling a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. The blue light of the core shifted to a soft, inviting violet. Grab it, Gamora.

She moved with crystalline precision, her hand darting into the containment field. Just as the tips of her fingers brushed the cold surface of the objective, a sharp, piercing trill tore through the room. It wasn't the sound of a system success. It was the sound of a mistake.

Something’s wrong! Rocket yelled, his voice rising into a frantic screech. I moved! The sensor was pressure-sensitive, and I tilted the crate by a fraction of a millimeter!

I spun around, my boot slipping on the slick metal plating. The room was no longer sterile; it was exploding with red light. Massive holographic alarms materialized in mid-air, spinning like blades and casting nauseating pulses of crimson across our faces. The floor didn't just vibrate; it hummed with a deep, subsonic frequency that made my teeth ache and turned my stomach into a knot of cold dread.

Drax drew his blade, the steel reflecting the frantic red flickering. Behind me, I heard the sound of steel clicking into position, the sound of the vault's outer doors slamming shut with a finality that made the walls tremble. We were trapped. The walls began to groan, the rivets popping one by one, like gunshots in a confined space.

What did you do, Rocket? Drax shouted, his voice booming over the rising din. The metal beneath us shifted, a sickening lurch that sent me stumbling toward the center of the room. I felt the floor tiles buckle and twist.

I didn't mean to trigger the trap! But the weight distribution shifted! Rocket was leaping off the crates, his small boots scrabbling for purchase as the ground beneath him began to liquefy. Groot, grab something!

Groot extended a branch, his limbs lengthening as he anchored himself to a support beam, his face etched in genuine, adolescent panic. The center of the room was beginning to dissolve, the physical reality of the vault floor giving way to something else. Through the gaps in the metallic plating, I saw not the bowels of the station, but a churning, swirling vortex of violet and black energy. It was a pocket dimension, a tear in the fabric of space that pulled at my consciousness with a gravity that defied logic.

Gamora dropped to one knee, clutching the objective against her chest with one hand while reaching out with the other to steady herself. The walls started to melt, the heavy durasteel becoming translucent as if it were nothing more than smoke held in place by a failing projection. The air began to rotate, creating a vacuum that sucked the oxygen from my lungs.

Hold the line! I screamed, though my own voice sounded small and distant in the cacophony. I looked toward the entryway, only to see the heavy door dissolving into waves of unstable light. The reality around us was bleeding out.

Every time I tried to plant my feet, the ground became uneven, shifting with a mind of its own. It felt like standing on the deck of a ship being tossed by a cosmic storm. I felt the air pressure drop, the static electricity in the room making the hair on my arms stand straight up. The scent of ozone was suffocating.

Rocket was shouting something, but the words were drowned out by the roar of displaced matter. Drax stood his ground, his muscles bulging as he braced himself against a structural column that was already beginning to erode into flickering pixels. He looked at me, his eyes wide and intense, and for a fleeting second, the chaos seemed to stop. The truth of our situation hit me with the force of a physical blow: we were not just trapped; we were being erased, pulled into a space where the laws of physics held no currency, where truth and deception were just colors in a spectrum I couldn't comprehend.

I looked at Gamora. She was staring into the void, her silhouette sharp against the swirling, unstable energy that now formed the entirety of our horizon. The team was surrounded. There was no way up, no way down, and no way back. The floor fell away completely, leaving us suspended on a jagged island of metal that bobbed in a sea of shifting, unstable energy, and I realized that the vault walls were not just failing—they were fully dissolving into the pocket dimension, sealing us in a tomb of infinite, glowing entropy.

The air inside the vault felt sterile, recycled, and dangerously cold. I adjusted the collar of my red leather jacket, feeling the slight tension against my neck. Before me, the primary data core emitted a soft, pulsing blue light that seemed to breathe in sync with the high-tech terminal I was currently dismantling. My fingers moved across the recessed holographic interface with a rhythmic, practiced ease. It was the kind of work that made me feel alive, balancing on the razor edge between a massive payout and a long stay in a deep-space prison.

Behind me, the rest of the crew was a static portrait of tension. Drax stood like a slab of mountain, his grey skin catching the flickering amber light of the perimeter sensors. His hand was perpetually resting on the hilt of his massive knife, his dark eyes scanning the shadows of the vault walls. He did not blink. He barely seemed to breathe. Drax was never one for subtlety, and watching him stand guard was like watching a bomb that had forgotten its fuse.

I am Groot, the adolescent voice echoed from the side, a low rumble that vibrated through the metal grid floor beneath my boots. Groot was shifting his weight, his slender, bark-covered limbs twitching with a nervous energy that he clearly hadn't fully grown into yet. He was watching Rocket, who was perched on a stack of storage crates near the bulkhead. Rocket had his goggles pushed up onto his furry forehead, his tail twitching in sharp, erratic bursts as he recalibrated his handheld scanning device.

Keep it quiet, Quill, Rocket barked, his voice laced with his signature abrasive impatience. If you touch the wrong lead on that node, we aren't walking out of here. We are getting reduced to molecular scrap.

I didn't turn to look at him, keeping my eyes fixed on the shifting lines of code that danced before my retinas. Just focus on your end, rodent. I have this completely under control. I felt the lie coat my tongue, smooth and familiar. The truth was, my hands were sweating inside my gloves, and I was counting on a bit of intuition to bridge the gap between the interface and the core's encryption.

Gamora stood near the central pedestal, her posture a masterclass in lethal grace. Her hand hovered near the hilt of her sword, but her eyes were fixed on the containment field surrounding the objective. She was the one who had to slide it into the neural-link case once I broke the seal. For a moment, the silence was absolute, save for the hum of the cooling fans, and I found myself thinking about the last time we were in a situation this precarious. We had almost lost our shirts on Xandar, and here I was, doing it all over again, trusting my life to a bunch of misfits who couldn't agree on what to have for dinner.

Maybe the risk is the point, I thought to myself, pushing aside the flicker of doubt. I had to believe that, because the alternative was admitting that I was just stalling for time before the inevitable crash.

Gamora leaned forward, her voice a calm, measured drop of cold water in the room. Peter, the dampening field is fluctuating. If you don't bypass the primary loop within the next ten seconds, the security protocols will lock us into a hard override.

I felt the pressure mount in my chest, a physical weight that pressed against my lungs. I know, Gamora, stop hovering, I snapped back, trying to keep my voice steady. My focus narrowed until there was nothing left in the universe except for the digital heartbeat of the console. I traced a bypass, felt the resistance in the software, and gave it a sharp, decisive command.

Done, I muttered, exhaling a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. The blue light of the core shifted to a soft, inviting violet. Grab it, Gamora.

She moved with crystalline precision, her hand darting into the containment field. Just as the tips of her fingers brushed the cold surface of the objective, a sharp, piercing trill tore through the room. It wasn't the sound of a system success. It was the sound of a mistake.

Something’s wrong! Rocket yelled, his voice rising into a frantic screech. I moved! The sensor was pressure-sensitive, and I tilted the crate by a fraction of a millimeter!

I spun around, my boot slipping on the slick metal plating. The room was no longer sterile; it was exploding with red light. Massive holographic alarms materialized in mid-air, spinning like blades and casting nauseating pulses of crimson across our faces. The floor didn't just vibrate; it hummed with a deep, subsonic frequency that made my teeth ache and turned my stomach into a knot of cold dread.

Drax drew his blade, the steel reflecting the frantic red flickering. Behind me, I heard the sound of steel clicking into position, the sound of the vault's outer doors slamming shut with a finality that made the walls tremble. We were trapped. The walls began to groan, the rivets popping one by one, like gunshots in a confined space.

What did you do, Rocket? Drax shouted, his voice booming over the rising din. The metal beneath us shifted, a sickening lurch that sent me stumbling toward the center of the room. I felt the floor tiles buckle and twist.

I didn't mean to trigger the trap! But the weight distribution shifted! Rocket was leaping off the crates, his small boots scrabbling for purchase as the ground beneath him began to liquefy. Groot, grab something!

Groot extended a branch, his limbs lengthening as he anchored himself to a support beam, his face etched in genuine, adolescent panic. The center of the room was beginning to dissolve, the physical reality of the vault floor giving way to something else. Through the gaps in the metallic plating, I saw not the bowels of the station, but a churning, swirling vortex of violet and black energy. It was a pocket dimension, a tear in the fabric of space that pulled at my consciousness with a gravity that defied logic.

Gamora dropped to one knee, clutching the objective against her chest with one hand while reaching out with the other to steady herself. The walls started to melt, the heavy durasteel becoming translucent as if it were nothing more than smoke held in place by a failing projection. The air began to rotate, creating a vacuum that sucked the oxygen from my lungs.

Hold the line! I screamed, though my own voice sounded small and distant in the cacophony. I looked toward the entryway, only to see the heavy door dissolving into waves of unstable light. The reality around us was bleeding out.

Every time I tried to plant my feet, the ground became uneven, shifting with a mind of its own. It felt like standing on the deck of a ship being tossed by a cosmic storm. I felt the air pressure drop, the static electricity in the room making the hair on my arms stand straight up. The scent of ozone was suffocating.

Rocket was shouting something, but the words were drowned out by the roar of displaced matter. Drax stood his ground, his muscles bulging as he braced himself against a structural column that was already beginning to erode into flickering pixels. He looked at me, his eyes wide and intense, and for a fleeting second, the chaos seemed to stop. The truth of our situation hit me with the force of a physical blow: we were not just trapped; we were being erased, pulled into a space where the laws of physics held no currency, where truth and deception were just colors in a spectrum I couldn't comprehend.

I looked at Gamora. She was staring into the void, her silhouette sharp against the swirling, unstable energy that now formed the entirety of our horizon. The team was surrounded. There was no way up, no way down, and no way back. The floor fell away completely, leaving us suspended on a jagged island of metal that bobbed in a sea of shifting, unstable energy, and I realized that the vault walls were not just failing—they were fully dissolving into the pocket dimension, sealing us in a tomb of infinite, glowing entropy. «The Truth Trap», part 1. Fanfiction — Marvel Cinematic Universe.

The Heist Gone Wrong. The Truth Trap — Marvel Cinematic Universe fanfiction | Fanfica

The Heist Gone Wrong

Whatever It Takes

After a heist goes wrong, the Guardians of the Galaxy are trapped in a pocket dimension where every lie takes physical form. To escape, they must navigate a world built from their own deceptions — but with Drax unable to lie, his brutal honesty may be the only compass. Can they unravel the truth before reality collapses?

The Truth Trap — The Heist Gone Wrong

Part 1: The Heist Gone Wrong