MarvelsNCU proudly presents...

STREETS RUN RED

Issue Three: Unexpected Allies

Story by u/VoidKiller826, u/Predaplant, & u/FrostFireFive

Written by u/Predaplant

Edited by u/VoidKiller826

Luke Cage scrolled through the emails that Tony Stark had sent him upon his release from prison. If he was meant to be part of a new Avengers squad, then surely there must be other members, other people that he could call on for help.

He surveyed attachment after attachment. If he was being honest, he hadn’t checked most of these at all. A lot of them were just legal paperwork that Stark’s lawyers had handled for him. He certainly didn’t have the legal knowledge himself to make heads or tails of it all beyond what they had summarized to him.

Here it was: the email going over the proposed plan for the New Avengers. It set out mission and vision statements, useless corporate junk. Outlined how they were going to interface with world governments and the nature of their connection with Stark Industries. Luke was sure that stuff was actually important but wasn’t of much help to him now.

As far as Luke could tell, there wasn’t a list of potential members anywhere, though. Maybe he was the first, or maybe they just didn’t want to say until everybody got signed on, to avoid leaks and the like. He didn’t know.

Hold on, there was something here about the Hero Initiative?

Luke had heard Tony mention the name when he got him out of prison. Gave him some sort of pager or something, Luke probably still had it in some bag somewhere.

So this was it, then. He opened another attachment, with a list of people who had been assigned pagers.

If he was going to call on a partner, he’d want somebody local to Manhattan (obviously). Somebody who wasn’t too much of a loose cannon, who he could trust to have his back if things went off the rails.

Luke narrowed his eyes as he scrolled through the list. That last requirement crossed a surprising number of people off his list. He supposed you had to be some sort of unhealthy if you ended up playing the hero too often.

Maybe that was why so many superheroes were White. If they weren’t, they would’ve been arrested long ago, and never built up the name recognition or staying power.

Luke didn’t want to waste time thinking about stuff like that right now, though. Not when there were so many people in danger. He had done his thinking in jail, now was the time for action.

He paused, mulling over a particular name on the list. That might be just who he needed.

He got up and crossed the room, pulling open his bag and rummaging through it for his pager. He pulled it out and set the dial to call the Iron Fist.

He didn’t answer right away. Luke figured that this might have happened, that anybody he called would be involved already in trying to help people, trying to protect the city. Luckily enough, though, Iron Fist did eventually pick up.

“Hello, who is this?”

“My name’s Luke,” Luke started. He paused for a moment. Weren’t superheroes supposed to use their fake names? Stark had given him one. “Power Man.”

“Power Man, huh?” came the voice from the other end of the line. “Haven’t heard of you. You new?”

“In a way,” Luke explained. “Listen, things are messed up right now out there, and I was thinking maybe some of us could band together and help each other out? Figure out some ways to really deal with these gangs in a way that matters, know what I mean? Because the police definitely ain’t got this handled.”

“Yeah, sure, I was actually thinking I could use some help myself. You wanna come over to my place and we can work something out?”

“Sure, where’s that?”

Bobbi Morse knew something was off.

She had been a SHIELD agent for years. She had served on the Avengers, even, a regular woman amidst all the superheroes. She’d fought her way through it all, and was still here standing today when so many of the other Avengers had given up the fight or gone off the grid.

Suffice it to say, she had only survived by gaining a keen sense of when there was something wrong.

She hadn’t seen Clint Barton in a couple of hours. Didn’t seem to be anywhere around the SHIELD base, as far as she could tell.

Right after they had that conversation about whether or not he could go help his friend Kate.

She had sent him a few texts. Given him the benefit of the doubt. But now, she couldn’t let this go on any longer. She had to call him, and give him what for.

The phone rang.

It kept on ringing.

It went to voicemail.

Well. That made it much more likely that something was up, and Clint had gotten himself in the middle of something.

Bobbi held back a sigh. She didn’t want to have to get Clint fired. He was a good agent, and he was cute. Well, sort of.

But she had to get to the bottom of this. It was her job, after all.

The next step was obvious: if she couldn’t call Clint, she’d call Kate.

It took a few rings, but she thankfully picked up. If Bobbi was being honest, she was surprised. It was so hard to get people to pick up for anything these days.

“Hey, what’s up?” Kate asked.

“Hi. It’s Bobbi Morse, from SHIELD.”

“Yeah, I know,” Kate said with a long drawn-out sigh. “Clint gave me your number in case I ever needed anything. Something wrong?”

“It’s Clint. Haven’t seen him in hours,” Bobbi explained. “You wouldn’t happen to know where he’s gone, do you?”

“He came out to FEAST to get me some arrows, but then he left. Haven’t seen him since.”

“Wait,” Bobbi said, making a realization. “Isn’t FEAST one of the main targets of the Goblin attacks?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s why I’m here?” Kate said with a small laugh.

“Maybe Clint got captured by the Goblins?” Bobbi suggested.

“I mean, it’d surprise me, but Clint’s surprised me before,” Kate replied. “Maybe he’s just avoiding your calls, since you’re from work and all? I’ll see if he picks up for me, and if he doesn’t, maybe we should do something about it.”

“Sure,” Bobbi said, but before she could get the word out of her mouth, Kate had hung up on her.

Bobbi tapped her foot, waiting for Kate to get back to her. It didn’t take much longer than a minute before Bobbi’s phone rang again.

“Yeah,” Kate told her. “Let’s go save Clint.”

Danny set his pager down on the table. He had been surprised to hear it go off, at first, but he supposed this was the sort of emergency that it was for, if nothing else. The kind where you want a whole bunch of different people to pitch in.

If nothing else, it had gotten this “Power Man” to step up.

Danny liked to think that he was pretty knowledgeable about New York’s various vigilantes, but he had never heard of this one. Clearly if he had been given one of these pagers, he had to have done something of note, though.

He considered whether Luke had just taken this pager off of another hero, fallen or captured in the battle over New York’s streets. It was a tad too late to worry about that, though, since he had already given Luke his address.

Power Man even sounded like a name made up by some guy who had two seconds to think of a name that sounded believable.

Yeah, Danny would have to be careful. He didn’t want any superpowered gang members busting down his door. When this Power Man came, Danny would be ready.

And to be prepared, Danny would have to be able to focus his chi better than he had been doing before Power Man called.

For what it was worth, he did do better this time. He was able to keep it steady for a few minutes at a time... but he felt like it would all collapse once he threw a punch. He kept trying, though. Just a little more...

Danny’s buzzer went off. There was no time.

He peeked through the peephole. Looked like there was just one man there.

Alright, if that was true, he probably stood a shot.

But then again, he hadn’t stood a shot against Frenzy, so who knew at this point.

He couldn’t just leave the door locked, though. Not if this really was somebody who could help him out.

He had been a hero for years. He could handle this.

Hesitantly, Danny unlocked the door and pulled it open, bracing for the man to lunge at him.

But he didn’t, so Danny put on a smile. Maybe the worst had passed. “Hey, you’re Luke, right?”

“Yeah,” Luke said with a small nod.

“I’m Danny.” If Luke was really acting in bad faith, he could’ve just asked Danny’s neighbours for his name. No real point in hiding it. “Come in!”

Luke scanned across Danny’s base. He looked almost amused?

“So!” Danny said. “Let’s start this off with me asking who you are. What did you do to earn one of these, and what’re your powers like, if you have any?”

“Stark wanted me to be a part of a new Avengers squad he’s forming. He got me out of jail for it, even,” Luke explained, matter-of-fact.

Danny looked taken aback. Luke narrowed his eyes.

“What? Is it the jail, or that Stark would put a Black guy on the Avengers?”

“I think I might remember your trial, actually, now that you mention it. A bit surprised that Stark would want you on the Avengers already, since I don’t recall you having any real crime-fighting experience at that point,” Danny said with a light chuckle. “But if you’re good enough for that, I’ll be happy to have you fight by my side today.”

“The other thing was powers, right?” Luke asked.

Danny nodded.

“My skin’s super tough, and I hit hard. Can’t really do the last one much lately, but you know.”

Chuckling, Danny gestured to a chair for Luke to sit down. “That makes two of us.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “You on parole, too?”

“No,” Danny shook his head. “It’s silly.”

“Not very silly if it stops us from helping out,” Luke observed. “Spill.”

Danny sighed. “Got in a fight with a mutant. She mopped the floor with me, and my confidence has been shot ever since. My powers need focus, self-control, too. I feel like I’ve lost those.”

Luke nodded. “I know what you mean. When I first ended up behind bars, I felt like I always had to be watching over my shoulder, in case someone tried to take advantage of me. Took me a while to feel comfortable in my own skin again.” He took a deep breath. “Anyways, sounds like we aren’t raiding any gang bases anytime soon.”

Danny smiled wryly. “Guess not. You got any more hero friends we can call?”

“Not unless you want to take your chances with Moon Knight.”

Danny grimaced.

“Yeah,” Luke said, taking a deep breath. “So. What can we actually do together?”

“Do we know some targets the gangs might want access to? I mean, without thousands of cops standing around all the time on their phones, a bunch of places gotta be more vulnerable now, right?”

“Right!” Luke said. “You might be onto something. What could they want?”

“Well, firepower’s the obvious one,” Danny reasoned. “Anything they can convert into weapons. Just power in a greater sense, too. Anything that can give them a foothold whenever this all dies down.”

“You know…” Luke said slowly. “Stark did give me access to his tower. Definitely stuff there that would qualify as being that powerful.”

“Yeah, Stark Industries does have some pretty powerful stuff. I’ve seen some stuff online from them that’d definitely qualify. The Maggia or Goblins get their hands on those, and I feel like we’re all toast.” Danny agreed.

“Let’s get over there, then,” Luke said. “I dunno about you, but I’ve felt useless for far too long.”

Clint Barton opened his eyes. He could barely tell that he had done so, however. Wherever he was, it was incredibly dark, pitch black.

He was sitting on some sort of chair. Felt like a wooden one. His hands were bound behind his back. He tried to struggle, to test the ropes, but whoever had tied him up had done a decent job. He opted not to strain his sore wrists even more. He could try and work the knots a bit later, but he doubted it.

He should’ve known better than this, but he remembered one of the cardinal rules that they taught new agents at SHIELD: anybody can get the better of anybody else in a fight. That worked in your favour, especially when you had to face down superhuman threats... but it also worked against you. Case in point, what had happened to him.

At this point, he just had to accept that this was the situation he had found himself in. The question was simply what he could do now... and what they were going to do with him now that they had him captured.

Clint hoped that he would find a way out before things got to that point, but he knew the chances of that were slim.

So he stared into the darkness. If he couldn’t see, at least he could listen. He could hear noise, a general bustle of people moving around. Guess he had been taken to some sort of Goblin base, even if they had stowed him out of the way for now. Maybe it was for the best, maybe he could find some hidden weakness of theirs if he listened closely enough.

So that was what he did: he listened.

It was hard to tell time in the dark, but it felt like maybe fifteen minutes had passed before Clint heard footsteps approaching.

He started getting nervous. The fact that it was still dark likely meant one of two things.

They intended to blind him with light as soon as they got close... or they were going to cut his throat without him even being able to see it coming.

He closed his eyes to shield against the first, but there wasn’t much he could do about the second. He just had to hope... and pray.

He heard a knife slide out of its sheath.

This was the end, then.

What a lousy way to go. At least if they had killed him before he woke up, he wouldn’t have had to go through this feeling of helplessness.

He braced for the end.

The tension around his wrist suddenly disappeared.

“Get up,” he heard a voice say. It was deep, probably a man’s. “I’m getting you out of here.”

“How...” Clint started to say, but the question died on his lips as he finished putting the pieces together.

If somebody had managed to cut the ropes without light, that meant they couldn’t see. New York only had one blind vigilante.

Clint was in the presence of the one and only Daredevil.

Wolverine
Issue #3: Loyalty
Gaijin, Part 3

Written by: u/PresidentWerewolf
Edited by: u/FrostFireFive

Previous Issue

From the files of Professor Charles Xavier
Audio//Digital//Logan12X14C.WAV

XAVIER: Your students miss you, you know.

LOGAN: It ain’t been but a couple a’ days since I talked to ‘em. If they can’t get along without me for that long, and then I wasn’t much of a teacher, Chuck.

X: I mean, if you are gone, then they are alone with Wade.

L: You trying to make me feel guilty?

X: Am I telling you something you didn’t already know?

L: Look…right now, those kids are better off with Wade Wilson than with Wolverine.

X: So it’s Wade Wilson versus Wolverine, and not Deadpool versus Logan? I fear you may be selling yourself short.

L: I ain’t here for affirmations, Chuck. Wade does just fine with ‘em. It ain’t my place to be their teacher any more.

X: No?

L: No.

X: Why not?

L: I...

X: Well, Logan, I run a school. Let’s go down the list. Did you do something illegal?

L: Guess not.

X: Did you attack a student?

L: No...

X: Not even Quentin Quire. Admirable. Are you attracted to a student?

L: No! I get it, Chuck.

X: Maybe. Tell me this, Logan. Have your students expressed a desire to see you gone?

L: They’re just kids.

X: Hm. Just kids. Logan, when people go through a sudden change in their lives, their own self image can be affected. When that happens, a very common, very persuasive thought is that everybody else’s image of them has changed as well. They may be expecting praise or scorn where none is coming.

L: So, the rest of ya just need some time to hate me as much as I hate myself?

X: Do you truly hate yourself, my friend? No, I am talking about loyalty, in this case. The people who know us the best don’t forget so easily, Logan. You can’t erase all the good you have done.

L: Don’t be too sure.

X: Oh, please. Do you know where your students are right now?

L: I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me either way.

X: They are leaving. They are setting out on their own, as a team. You’re a better teacher than you think.

Now

One thing a healing factor doesn’t do is fill you in on lost time. Believe me on that. You can have your memory poked full of holes by some Canadian mad scientist, drink yourself under the table with a blue, German elf, or get shot in the head by an angry Japanese heiress, and when you wake up, you’re gonna be just as confused each and every time.

I don’t wake up tied to a bed very often, though. The beeping sounds, the venting air, the scent of disinfectants, they all tell me I’m in a hospital. The rattle of the chain tells me that I’m handcuffed to the bed frame. Forget coming to Japan as some roamin’ gaijin. They know I’ve got a metal skeleton. They know I can take a bullet to the head. Might as well have brought Wade and shot our way to the old guy’s mansion. Woulda been a lot less trouble.

Still...maybe I can do something for old Haru yet, or at least his granddaughter. Still a lot of ground left for my nose to follow. I listen and smell...no guard outside the door. I yank on the chain to test it. Thing is, this is gonna break at its weakest point. Between the steel cuffs, the aluminum bed, and my adamantium bones, guess which one gives up first? I’m out of the room, walking away in my own clothes in under a minute, and I got something I can follow: the scent of the fuel that cyborg used, and the scent of the man inside it.

He was a smoker and a drinker. Every bar I ever heard of has its own unique mix of the two; I could find my own favorite dive from a hundred miles away. I can find his in this city. His filterless, nasty cigs and expensive sake are still clinging to me, and to the men who carted his body off. My nose first leads me down to the morgue, where they must’ve put him away.

There is a single, bored man at a desk. Easy to sneak past, and then I’ve got the body on the table. I took him apart pretty good. Looks like the EMTs picked up every little piece they could find. None of it’s working now, but I poke through anyway, just in case...

There. Got a manufacturer and lot ID that I can look up later. I turn the piece over, and it’s stamped on the silicon: Hayashi Unlimited. Unless Mariko’s bending over backwards to get herself killed, this guy was sent by her uncle. Not that I had any doubts, but this is evidence that rules out any other business rival, period.

I snap a couple pictures with my phone, and I pocket the fragment. Shingen’s cleaners are coming for this thing, but I ain’t waiting around for them. I’m gonna find this guy’s friends, and then I’m working up the ladder.

It takes me all night, following the smell of my guy across the city and back. He had a fast food addiction, and I stopped countin’ brothels pretty quick. I end up in San'ya, a neighborhood stuffed to the gills with everything but money, and down an alleyway I find the bar. It’s a storefront, and that’s about it. A sullen old man is cooking prawns on a little grill facing the alley, and next to him is the bar, a short, shiny table with six seats lined up.

Four of the seats are taken. My guy’s favorite set, the second one from the alley, is empty. I take it.

The old man turns my way, his voice crackin’ like a whip. “Ugoke, gaijin hito.”

“Gimme a beer,” I say, and I slap a twenty on the bar.

The old man shuffles over and he peers down at the bill. “Anatahadaredesu ka?”

“He’s an American,” says the guy next to me. He’s got a split lip, a nicked ear, and neck tattoos crawling up over his jawline. Guy’s a fighter, and he don’t like me bein’ in this seat.

“Canadian,” I correct him. “Canadians like beer.”

“And Juro likes his favorite seat,” the man sneers.

Well that was easy.

“Juro ain’t comin’ by tonight,” I growl, and I get the reaction I wanted.

The man jumps back and pulls a switchblade. I’m on him before he realizes he’s made the biggest mistake of his life. I barrel into him, slamming him against the wall, and the claws come out. Knife arm is pinned, and I’m a wild animal right in his face.

“Your pal Juro came after a pal of mine. I gotta complaint to file with his boss.”

He’s smart enough to get scared, at least. “I don’t know anything about Juro!”

“You’re saving his seat for him.”

“Just...just protecting the bar, man. Right? Canadians are nice, right?”

“You tell me,” I say, and I twist my wrist. The claws cut gouges in the wall, and his forearm starts to bleed where he’s pinned.

“Okay! Okay! Juro is a friend.”

“Coworker?”

He snaps his mouth shut, fights his fear. He’s gonna lose.

“Just tell me who your boss is, and you get to keep the hand,” I say.

Cold steel cuts through me, and I drop Juro’s buddy. I look down, and the end of a sword, a whole damn sword, is coming outta my stomach.

“Shingen’s men work together,” a voice whispers in my ear. The guy I dropped stands up, a cruel little smile on his face, and he gets his knife ready. I almost feel sorry for them.

About five minutes later, the bartender’s decided to take my money after all. The beer is pretty good. I’m about the furthest thing from a beer snob you can get, but I like them a little heavier. Juro’s seat is comfortable. He knew how to pick ‘em. The bartender hands me a damp rag, and I start to wipe the blood off my knuckles.

He dumps a pile of rags on the counter, and waves around at the room. He wants me to clean the counter. And the seats that are left. And the whole damn floor? Nah.

“Make him do it.” I point to Juro’s buddy, who is sitting up against the wall, cradling what used to be his left hand. The old man yells something in Japanese and tries to take the beer out of my hand. This guy isn’t afraid of anything.

“Fine.” I get up and I walk over to Juro’s friend. “You want to talk?”

He spits at my feet.

I crouch down next to him. He leans away in fear. “You smell like it, too,” I say, sniffing around him. Underneath the sour booze and old smoke, it’s that fuel again. Juro must have been running on something custom made. I picked this up earlier, on my way here. A new, clean warehouse near the water. Security roaming around. Enough lights and sensors to spot a couple of mosquitos flyin’ by.

I’m outside the place as the afternoon sun is starting to slip away. It reeks so bad anyone could’ve found it. I don’t wait around, as I don’t plan on making an appointment.

The first few guards surprise me by firing tranquilizers instead of bullets. The sudden burst of cold as they hit me slows me down, but they don’t have enough to keep me there. I can feel my body metabolizing the drug, feel its effects rise and fall every time I get stung with a new volley. I’m in check as I attack, claws out. I’m not killing anyone. I don’t want to see the blood fly. I’m not here to put them down.

The weapons, though, end up diced and cubed on the asphalt, and I got no problem sending a security guard to dreamland. Sirens are already going as I cut through the side door and get inside. More security, and they’re lined up with real guns. Behind them...good god, enough gas to blow us to Asteroid M, refining equipment, cracklin’ ozone, and drugs. Stimulants, opiates, and some new stuff I can’t pick out.

And I just noticed, this place goes down. Way down. There are echoes under my feet.

“Well, boys?” I ask. At this point, they’ve all got a pretty good idea of who I am, even if they haven’t heard of me. “Let’s get started. We ain’t doin’ this the easy way.”

They part right in the middle, like good soldiers. This is because they are good soldiers. This is the level of the organization I’m at, the true believers, the ones who are doing this for either lots of money or more than just money. Standing there between them is the guy on top, at least at the moment. He’s wearing silk robes, hair in a top knot, belt with a long sword. Beneath it all, the way he carries himself, he’s a killer.

“Mr. Logan,” he says in a deep, measured tone. He’s going for unconcerned, restrained, superior, but I can hear his heart pounding. He’s furious.

I sniff the air. Yep. “You’re a Harada.” It catches him by surprise, but he hides it well. “Shingen’s son, is my guess.”

“Close enough. Harada Kenuichio. Proper men from Japan know to fear the name.”

“I ain’t never been accused of bein’ proper, bub.”

“I have no doubt. You have been acting like a true gaijin, Mr. Logan, putting your nose where it does not belong.”

“Where Haru Hayashi is concerned, I got more right to be here than you do.”

He flashes me a smug little smile. “As I said, a true gaijin. You should know, regardless of what you do now, the contract has been sealed. Your mission is a failure.”

Mission? Mariko mentioned a contract before she shot me. “Look, bub, I don’t speak the local language, and your English ain’t makin’ sense either.”

Now he looks concerned. “Wait. You are not here for...but you are a mutant?”

“Last I checked.”

That smug smile again. “It is too bad you will not speak with Mariko again. I would enjoy seeing the look on your face.” Harada holds out one hand, and then he lowers it. His men lower their weapons at the same time, same speed. “You have a mutant ability to heal. I have no desire to throw my men’s lives away if they cannot inflict lasting damage.”

He draws his blade, a steel katana that glints emerald in the factory lights. Suddenly, it flashes with energy, taking on a bright glow of its own. He slashes down, and the tip of the sword goes clean through the concrete floor, leaving a crescent at his feet.

“That honor now falls to me.”

Next: The oldest friends

Marvel’s NCU proudly presents:

Utopia

Issue Two

Written by UpInThatBuckethead and Dwright5252

Edited by Predaplant

“I don’t know any ‘Nova’,” the young woman said adamantly. She looked between the uneasy faces of her rescuers. Her head still ached, and her body was still sore. With every passing second, her situation felt less like a rescue and more like an interrogation. “My name is Lyta. I’m from the planet below.”

“But that helmet,” Beta Ray Bill mused. His fingers stroked his chin, deep in thought.

“I’d never even seen it before yesterday,” Lyta admitted. “And I wish I never did. Am I in trouble?”

“No, of course not,” Mar-Vell assured her. He glared at Medusa, whose accusatory gaze hadn’t left the girl since she’d regained consciousness. “We’re just worried, that’s all. Nova’s been missing for…”

“Four years,” Bill grunted when Captain Marvel didn’t recall. He let out a sullen sigh. “Four years.”

Medusa glowered, “You claim to have no knowledge of the Nova Corps, yet you wear their uniform. Do you take us for fools?”

“No, I -” Lyta tried to respond, but Medusa cut her off.

“William, confiscate the helmet,” the Queen of the Inhumans ordered. “We can dispose of the girl on the nearest space rock and utilize that program you mentioned to decipher the location of Nova Prime in the meantime. Or, better yet, we can comb its database to find my lost people.”

Lyta was horrified. The silent, stoic Black Bolt shot his queen a look and made a slashing motion across his chest. Lyta gulped. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and held it.

A warm hand was laid on her shoulder. “Please don’t take Medusa’s words to heart,” Captain Marvel said. He squeezed tenderly. “She’s deeply concerned about the Inhumans. You’re safe with us.”

At the mention of safety, Lyta’s mind flashed to the night before. Her battle with the silver metal being. “What was that thing?”

Mar-Vell grimaced and withdrew his hand. “That was Ultron.”

“Ultron?” Another name Lyta didn’t recognize, but felt like she was expected to know.

“It’s… complicated,” Mar-Vell admitted. “Ultron is Kree technology mixed with Terran artificial intelligence, combined into a force that wants to do nothing but subjugate all it sees as inferior.”

“Which is everyone,” added the grim Beta Ray Bill.

“But why does he want me?”

Medusa scoffed, “Your helmet, girl.” The dismissive title dripped with venom. “Why else?”

“Medusa!” Bill exclaimed.

“What?” the Inhuman queen wondered. “It’s true.”

Black Bolt knocked on the arm of his deck chair, causing the sound to echo through the hold. Everyone’s heads turned towards the mute King of the Inhumans. He and his wife locked eyes before he performed a series of intricate hand signs, some too fast for Lyta to even register. She looked to Captain Marvel, searching for some understanding. Her rescuer seemed focused on keeping up with the motions as they came. It seemed Black Bolt’s speech was nearly incomprehensible to almost everyone except Medusa, but one thing was for sure: when Black Bolt had something to convey, all paid attention.

“What our king is trying to say is,” Maximus said, breaking the uncomfortable silence following Medusa’s lack of translation, “We need to set aside any personal squabbles, and get to the bottom of what is going on.”

“Personal squabble?!” Medusa gasped. “Our people -”

She was cut off by another set of gestures from Black Bolt, as well as his brother’s voice. “If Mar-Vell and Beta Ray Bill believe this ‘Ultron’ to be a threat, then it is a threat to our people as well.”

“As you wish, my king,” the queen reluctantly crossed her arms.

“We need to find that scrapbucket,” Bill huffed, referring to Ultron. “What’s our plan of attack?”

“Is Worldmind active?” Captain Marvel asked Lyta, who returned the question with a blank stare. “Is there a voice in your head?”

“Only mine,” she replied with confusion.

Queen Medusa rolled her eyes. “Mar-Vell, help the girl.”

“Alright,” he said before looking to the fledgling Nova. “May I see it?”

Lyta obliged. Mar-Vell rapped on the side of the golden helmet. “Anybody home?” He chuckled, and to Lyta’s surprise, she couldn’t hold back one of her own.

“Anybody home?” Spider-Man asked, knocking Nova on the side of his helmet. “Earth to Nova, do you read?”

Richard had been sitting alone on the ledge of the narrow triangular Flatiron Building, and Spider-Man crouched down beside him. “C’mon, buddy. We both know you’re not the stoic silent type. What’s got you so broody?”

He gave Nova the space to respond.

The gilded hero flexed his fists. “I’ve been thinking,” he told his friend, “about the past few days.”

“Oh.” Spidey responded. “Again?”

“People died. I haven’t stopped.”

“Just get back out in the field,” Spider-Man suggested. “There’s always someone else to save.”

Nova winced. “That’s not how we’re supposed to think.”

“It’s how we have to,” Spider-Man shrugged.

“Maybe.” He flexed his fists again. His memory flashed back to the explosion two days before. The smell of burning oil. The blood that stained his gloves. Rich closed his eyes and focused hard. “Did you notice anything… off about Nitro’s attack? The aftermath?”

Nova couldn’t see it outright, but he could tell that Spider-Man was frowning beneath his mask. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I’m not sure, either,” Richard admitted. He looked at his hands. Remembered the blood. “The blood was white, for starters.”

Spider-Man was holding back a chuckle. “Must be color blind, buddy.”

“Really?” Nova raised an eyebrow.

“Really.”

Rich sighed in exasperation. His head was beginning to ache. “Seriously, Pete. I feel like I’m losing my mind here.”

“I feel like you are, too,” Spidey replied. “White blood? Come on. Next you’re gonna tell me the Enforcers are on the loose again.”

“The Enforcers? Who are they?” Nova asked, confused.

“The gang of bank robbers we put away yesterday? What’s with you!”

Nova shook his head. The headache was getting worse. “No, that was the Wrecking Crew. And Diamondhead, I think?”

Spider-Man laughed. “You think? Dude, maybe you need to take a load off.”

Nova took a deep breath. “Yeah. Maybe.” The pain subsided.

“Take a breather,” Spider-Man reiterated before he leapt from the side of the building and thwipped out a web. “It’ll do you good, chrome-dome!”

“Yeah,” Richard repeated. “Maybe.”

“Maybe,” Mar-Vell said as he slammed his new protege to the ground, “this will help you focus on the battle.”

Lyta leapt to her feet, ready for the next attack to come. Mar-Vell nodded in approval; this one was resilient. It hadn’t taken him long to get Worldmind connected and running in the young warrior’s helmet. It was slightly tougher to get her to tune out the Worldmind’s constant stream of information, and he’d found that most of the openings he’d found during their training sessions happened when she was mid-argument with the artificial intelligence.

She’d already graduated to fighting two combatants at once.

Margoyle unleashed a barrage of swipes from her razor-sharp talons, earning a yelp of surprise from their protege. Lyta parried each blow with her gauntlets, the points of the Inhuman’s fingertips inches away from scarring her.

“Keep your guard up!” Firing off a blast from his Nega Bands, Mar-Vell quickly flew behind her, creating a pincer attack alongside Margoyle that would show him how the new Nova reacted to attacks from all sides. As if on instinct, she flew up as she held her hands out defensively. A blast of her own dissipated his, and he found himself grabbing at air. Margoyle lifted off the ground herself to follow, only to find Lyta’s boot slamming her away.

“Your response time is improving,” Mar-Vell remarked, pivoting to grab at her retreating leg. With a swift pull, the new Nova found herself slammed into the ground, the air leaving her lungs as her back struck the padded floor of the makeshift training room they’d set up in the cargo bay. As she struggled to catch her breath, Mar-Vell felt his own lungs stressed to the limit. There was a time not long ago when this kind of fight would be a breeze for him, barely catching a sweat as he took down any opponent that stood before him.

But there was something wrong. Something inside him, eating away at him with every breath he took. He’d begun to feel it before his interactions with the new Nova, something that progressively impaired him as he struggled to train this new warrior. Though their mission was of the utmost importance, Maximus had insisted he check out what was wrong with him, hiding it from the rest of the crew as a replenishment of their resources. A quick stop at a discreet medical outpost a week ago confirmed it: a cancerous growth was quickly overtaking his left lung.

“That should be enough for today,” Mar-Vell panted, holding his hand up to stop Lyta’s advance. “You truly have come a long way since we first began your mentorship. Take the time to cool down and rest.”

“I can keep going,” Lyta insisted, pumping her arms in anticipation. “I’ve almost mastered that quick blast maneuver you taught me.”

Margoyle, picking up on Mar-Vell’s reluctance, stepped in front of her. “That you have, young warrior. Your skills have indeed grown these past few sessions, but you still have a great deal to learn about peace of mind in the battlefield.”

Mar-Vell grabbed a towel draped over a crate of what Bill insisted were “totally legal food stuffs” and wiped his face. “I agree with our Inhuman friend. I think you should work on your state of mind for the rest of the day. Try and focus on using the Worldmind to your advantage without it overtaking your instincts.”

Lyta nodded and gave a respectful bow before she left the room. After a reassuring nod from Mar-Vell that he was fine, Margoyle followed her, commenting that she might place a word in with Medusa to allow Lyta to be on royal guard duty for Lockjaw should her skills continue.

Mar-Vell collapsed to the ground, clutching his chest as he waited for the pangs of agony to pass. Taking shallow breaths and trying to will himself into another place often helped, but a rigorous session like the one he’d just participated in made things difficult.

“You are deteriorating faster, my friend.” Maximus stood over him, arms crossed and his expression dour. “We should stop at the next station and allow you to receive treatment.”

Mar-Vell gave a great huff and lifted himself to his feet, trying to twist his face into something reassuring. “That’s not what’s important now. We need to stop Ultron before he creates another catastrophe.”

It didn’t take a mind reader to see Maximus disagreed, but Mar-Vell knew his friend wouldn’t fight a losing battle. “Fine. Let us turn our attention to the more imminent threat in your view. How is the young helmeted warrior taking to your tutelage?”

This was a subject Mar-Vell could genuinely smile about. “She’s a natural. One of the quickest students I’ve had under my wing. Once she gets used to Worldmind, I can see her being able to really hold her own.”

Mar-Vell thought about all the others he’d worked with: his children, stubborn but determined. Several other Kree pupils, awed by him but eager to learn. And Carol…

Mar-Vell’s brief smile faded from his face. He’d ended up failing all of them, in one way or another. “Have we heard back from any of the people I asked you to reach out to?”

Maximus shook his head. “Either we are completely out of their range, or they refuse to respond. Difficult to discern the differences, but the result is the same, as you know.”

Nodding, Mar-Vell began to clean up the room, the results of the battle having shifted several pieces of cargo out of place. Before he could place a hand on an overturned plant that Bill had added for ambiance, the pilot of the Skuttlebutt appeared on the ship’s communicator.

“All hands to the bridge. We have a problem.”

Captain Marvel was quick to drop the cleanup and report with Maximus and the others. Beta Ray Bill wasted no time informing them of their predicament.

“We’ve lost power to the engines.”

Maximus snapped into action, speeding to the control terminals beside Bill. “Do you know why?” He muttered to the ship’s captain. “All of our energy readings are nominal. What could be siphoning the power?”

“I’m not sure, but until we get things reconnected we’re sitting ducks,” Bill said. He pointed to Mar-Vell. “Take Margoyle and the girl with you to check things out while Maxie, your majesties and I work this end.”

Captain Marvel nodded. “Lockjaw.”

The super-brawn Inhuman bulldog responded by barking deep enough to resonate through the bridge. On his forehead, a tuning fork protrusion to match Black Bolt’s began to glow with energy. Mar-Vell placed a hand on the dog’s back, chest-height. Margoyle followed suit, and he nodded for Lyta to do the same.

When her hand touched Lockjaw’s fur, she felt herself being folded into him. In an instant, she was condensed infinitesimally; in another, she was made whole again.

And they were somewhere else.

“Lockjaw, you’re on watch duty. Margoyle, check the connections between the ion exchanger and the prime engine,” ordered Mar-Vell. “I’m going to take a look at the fuses.”

Before Lyta could ask, he turned to her. “You, just stick with me.”

Margoyle disappeared into the dense mechanics of the engine room, and Lyta was mesmerized by the twisting forest of pipes, meters, and wiring. Cables hung like vines draped across metal branches of uniform diameters in a disorganized mess that reminded Lyta of classroom videos she’d seen of Exilora’s small vegetation pockets. Mar-Vell stepped over a drooping vine, into the maze. Lyta yelped when he left her sight and hurried after him, not keen on losing herself in the strange new environment.

When he stopped, Mar-Vell stood before a series of transparent tubes set into the wall. Some ran vertically, others horizontally; but each had a heavy-gage, almost pipe-like cable running from either end. All of the tubes flashed with bright blue sparks of electricity that illuminated swirling clouds of mist inside.

“Are these the fuses?” Lyta asked. “What are they?”

“They’re glass cylinders filled with ionized gas,” Mar-Vell replied, confirming the array to be the fuses. “If one of the Skuttlebutt’s circuits were to overload with energy, the gas in the fuse’s chamber would become too volatile to contain, and it would burst. These fuses could mean the difference between needing to replace this one component and having to refit a large part of the ship’s systems.”

“But they’re all working?”

Captain Marvel frowned. “Indeed. Margoyle, any luck on your end?” He called out to the third member of their trio.

“Nothing over here, Captain!” Margoyle’s gruff voice called back through the thick electric jungle.

“Strange,” Mar-Vell mumbled. “What could…”

The Kree captain was startled out of his postulation by Lockjaw unfolding from the space beside them. The dog’s body barely fit inside of the lattice of wire work. Wires were pulled and stretched taut around him as though he’d been caught in a spider’s web. Lockjaw barked in warning, and Mar-Vell’s heart sank. His mind reeled as it pieced together the only possible scenario that could be unfolding.

Something else had gone wrong.

Traveling in space, the only thing worse than being stranded was being sabotaged.

They were under attack!

By the time Lockjaw had returned Mar-Vell and Lyta to the bridge, the communication relay had been disconnected. Only just as well. Static still buzzed across the viewport, slowly clearing to reveal the stars beyond. Mar-Vell glanced around the room. Medusa held a hand to her strong, stoic king’s shoulder. Maximus arduously worked one of the control panels, and Beta Ray Bill was red with fury.

“We’re being boarded,” he growled.

“Arff!” barked Lockjaw, as if to announce his intentions before disappearing to recover Margoyle.

Lyta gulped, shrinking behind Mar-Vell. “Boarded?” he repeated. “By who?”

Medusa answered, “It called itself a ‘freelance peacekeeping agent’.”

“Death’s Head,” Beta Ray Bill clarified. “He’s been siphoning energy from the momentum from the Skuttlebutt.”

“I know of him. Very financially motivated,” Captain Marvel said. Lockjaw and Margoyle popped into the bridge, and he turned to the Inhuman bulldog. “It might be best for us to meet him head on and bring him aboard. Minimize the chance for potential funny business.”

Lyta couldn’t hold back a gasp. “You want to bring it… him… here?!”

“Death’s Head will reach us regardless,” he explained. “It’s just a matter of whether we want to make him blast his way through or not. And maybe this way, he’ll come unarmed.”

“Doubt it,” grunted Beta Ray Bill.

“Even so, it’ll save you the damage,” Mar-Vell told the ship captain. “It’s worth a try either way.”

After several moments’ hesitation, Bill grumbled, “Fine,” and Captain Marvel sunk his hand into the dog’s fur. In a blink, they were gone.

Lyta’s heart pounded. Her mouth ran dry. What was a freelance peacekeeping agent? It sounded an awful lot like a mercenary. And were they just going to ignore his *name *? It was Death’s Head!

“You do both yourself and your mentor a disservice by not trusting him so,” noted Margoyle. “A little goes a long way. Perhaps this ‘Death’s Head’ is not as violent as his name would imply. It could possibly be nothing more than a moniker to deter combatants.”

“Still, be ready for anything,” Beta Ray Bill warned.

“Yes,” Medusa agreed. “Ready for anything.”

Lyta nodded, helmet sparkling, and put up her fists in the way Captain Marvel taught her. Medusa chuckled wryly. “Cute,” she said before her flowing red hair lifted her up off of the floor, over her husband, and placed her near the center of the room. She folded her hands behind her back and her hair rose into a defensive posture. Black Bolt stood from his chair, silent at her side.

There was a flash of light, accompanied by a low growl. It was quickly clear why - Death’s Head held Captain Mar-Vell at gunpoint!

No, they realized - cannon point.

MarvelsNCU proudly presents...

STREETS RUN RED

Issue Two: Gathering The Pieces

Story by u/VoidKiller826, u/Predaplant, & u/FrostFireFive

Written by u/Predaplant

Edited by u/VoidKiller826 & u/AdamantAce

Danny Rand groaned, slowly opening his eyes. He was on a small cot, with a man standing over him, looking nervous. Noticing Danny was awake, the man gave a small chuckle.

“Great! Glad to see you’re doing well.”

“Where am I?” Danny asked, holding his head, looking around the room. It was sparsely decorated, but there were a couple of bookshelves and a cross on one of the walls.

“You’re in St. Catherine of Siena’s. Daredevil brought you here, and said you were in a fight. A bad one. You’re Iron Fist, right?”

“Yeah,” Danny said as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He noticed the other man’s collar: a priest. “Thanks for taking care of me. How long has it been?”

“Only a couple hours. Things are bad all across Manhattan, but you should be safe here.”

Danny shook his head. “If things are bad, I need to do something about it. That’s my job.”

The priest nodded. “I know what it’s like to have a vocation. But do your best to stay safe.”

“I will,” Danny said. “Thank you, Father.”

Danny noted his phone on a table near the bed. It was completely smashed. Reaching for it, he tried to turn it on, but he had no luck.

He shoved it in his pocket anyway. Maybe he could save the SIM card. It was a shame, though; without his phone, he wouldn’t have much of a way of keeping track of the hotspots of activity while he was on the go.

He’d have to get back to his base to swap it out with a backup.

He carefully stood up and, bidding the priest farewell, headed out into the city streets once more.

The whole subway ride back, he couldn’t stop thinking about that mutant and how casually she had dealt with him.

Like he was nothing.

Clint Barton paced back and forth inside his small workshop in the Triskelion. He couldn’t get his mind off of the state of the city, and especially the call he had with Kate. The last time there had been an emergency in the streets of New York, he had jumped straight into action, and even though it had ended with his being transformed into a dinosaur, Clint had still given it his all.

Having to sit this one out made him feel antsy.

Clint’s phone buzzed.

Immediately, he grabbed it out of his pocket. A message from Kate.

 You bringing those arrows?

Clint only had to think it over for a second. He started grabbing arrows for Kate off the rack in front of him. After all, he wasn’t fighting, he was just doing a favour for a friend. A delivery. That wasn’t anything SHIELD could get mad at him about, right?

Of course not.

Bundling up his pack of arrows, he jogged over to the elevator. Finally, he felt like there was something he could do that would actually be useful.

He jotted a quick message to Kate. He was on his way.

Luke Cage walked the streets of Manhattan, head on a swivel. There had to be something more he could do here, some people he could help. The whole time that Luke was in prison, it had chafed at him. The idea that he could just be cut off from his community that easily, with no way to give back or help... it really hurt him.

He didn’t understand why everybody around him should be punished just because of his own mistakes. So now, he wanted to help make up for all that lost time.

But he had to be careful. That was something that he knew very well, too. He had already seen a number of cop cars make their way through the streets, sirens wailing, staring down anybody on the sidewalks as if any of them could be a gang member.

They were more trigger happy, today of all days. Luke couldn’t risk a cop seeing him do as little as punch someone else... even if they were a violent gang member. Even if they were putting other peoples’ lives in danger.

So, fine. He’d have to play this carefully. His powers were defensive anyway.

All those years in prison, he had tried to work on his mental game. Think smarter, not harder.

Today would be his chance to prove just how much he had grown in those respects.

He heard a noise down a nearby alley.

Slowly, carefully, he drew up to the edge of it and peeked the camera of his phone around it.

A few teenage boys had a woman cornered. He couldn’t see whether they had a knife, a gun, or were just intimidating her with their sheer numbers.

“The cops are busy with the gangs,” he could hear one of the kids murmur.

That was the thing that made Luke’s blood boil the most; these were really just kids, and they were taking advantage of an already bad situation to make it even worse.

He couldn’t stand for this... but he also couldn’t just go rushing in. Sure, there was a chance they’d run away, but if their reactions skewed more towards fight than flight, they’d eventually realize that Luke wasn’t going to be able to fight back himself... and things might get hairy for the woman they had cornered, especially if they had a weapon.

As much as Luke wished he could take the easy option, it just wasn’t going to be practical.

What other options even were there for him, though?

An idea popped into his head. It wasn’t great, but he knew he had to act now if he had any chance of stopping the crime that was playing out right in front of him.

He ran full tilt into the alley, stopping before the group of boys and panting as if he had been running hard. The boys turned around to look at Luke quizzically.

Luke blinked, looking up as if he was just surveying the scene for the first time. Looks like one of the kids did have a knife. He raised his hands up in surrender.

“Woah, sorry, didn’t realize you guys were here.”

“Wh-what were you running from?” the kid with a knife asked. He had on a baggy white t-shirt and jeans, and although he was doing his best to project an aura of confidence, Luke could tell he was scared.

Good.

“I saw the Punisher down the street, he was like a block away. I know he’s supposed to have a code and all, but a serial killer like that… I dunno, I thought it was best to get away from wherever he was heading.”

“The Punisher?” another one of the kids asked.

“Yeah,” Luke said, slowly pretending to regain his breath. “Listen, what do you guys want from me? I can just walk away from this if you want, I’m not gonna call the cops or anything. Please. Just let me go, I don’t wanna be here if the Punisher gets here.”

The kid who asked about the Punisher nudged the one holding the knife, who looked backwards at the woman for a second before turning back to face Luke.

“We’re going. You get out of here too.”

As the kids ran off, Luke looked down at the woman and helped her stand. “You got a place to go?”

“Yeah, I was on my way home. It’s close to here. The Punisher isn’t really coming, is he?”

Luke shook his head no.

“Thank you.”

“I can walk you home if you want,” Luke offered, and the woman nodded. “My name’s Luke.”

“Kira.”

As Luke and Kira made their way out of the alley, Luke made a resolution.

He couldn’t keep doing this alone.

If he couldn’t risk getting involved himself in anything the police might take offence to, he’d have to find somebody who could.

Danny Rand looked himself over in his mirror. His injuries were pretty bad; he could probably still fight, but all the cuts and bruises were probably going to take weeks to heal, if not longer. He could ignore the pain, but already being in a weakened state meant that if somebody exploited it, they could take him out of commission sooner than he’d like.

Especially if he ran across somebody like that mutant again… he grimaced.

He traced the bruises. Had to remember where they were, avoid being hit there, if possible.

It was tricky to remember them all because they covered so much of his body.

He gave up, and pulled his clothes back on as he headed towards his training dummy.

He stared it down, and tried to imagine it with Frenzy’s face.

He raised his hands into a fighting stance. Tried to breathe, focus his chi.

It wasn’t coming.

Frustrated, he massaged his forehead. He just needed to focus. To meditate. That was what he had been taught, all those years ago. It was what helped make him the Iron Fist.

He took a deep breath. Tried to draw his mind back from the situation. He was in his apartment. Anything outside those walls didn’t matter. He could do this, he could bring it together. He started to set his worries to the side.

A siren outside his window snapped his mind back to that moment, to that crushing blow from Frenzy that had sent him flying across the street.

He angrily punched the dummy, but it wasn’t with the powers of the Iron Fist that he did so… which just made him all the more enraged.

He had to get this sorted before he could go out there and help more people again. He just hoped that it would come to him sooner rather than later.

Clint jogged towards FEAST, the bundle of spare arrows in his hand. Sure, Manhattan might not have been in a great place right now… but it was actually pretty nice out. Not too cold, and the sky was blue. Plus, it was nice to get out of the Triskelion, for once. Maybe things would simmer down soon and they wouldn’t have anything to worry about.

He turned a corner towards FEAST and stopped mid-step.

The streets in front of the shelter were in tatters, and there was a mass of Goblins banging on the door, trying to get in.

Clint sighed and pulled out his phone.

 Hi Kate, I’m on the corner
 You still in there?

Not long afterwards, he received a response.

 Yes
 Things are getting bad and I’m out of arrows

Clint sucked in a deep breath. Kate needed him. He’d have to find a way in.

The doors of FEAST broke open, and the Goblins surged in. Clint sighed. That may have solved his problem, but things just got much more complicated.

Clint joined the throng of Goblins, screaming and pushing into the building alongside them.

As he pushed his way into the foyer, he got shoved by a Goblin next to him. “Hey, look, this guy’s just some stupid normie!”

Clint swore under his breath. Of course, he was the only one there without a mask. He stuck out like a sore thumb.

He’d just have to get a mask for himself. Difficult, when surrounded by Goblins he wasn’t allowed to fight, but not impossible.

“Yeah, sorry! My mask was in my car, and the Maggia blew it up. You got an extra?”

The Goblin stared Clint down through his mask. They were drawing a crowd at this point. Clint swallowed; this wasn’t good.

The Goblin laughed in Clint’s face. “You know what? I don’t think you’re a Goblin at all. But if you’re just here to watch, that’s fine by us. As long as you don’t play hero and can stay out of our way, you can watch us tear this place apart all you want. And if you wanna join, we can work that out for you, too, once we’re done.”

Clint nodded, trying as hard as he could to keep his expression steady. All he could think about was how Kate was somewhere in the building, maybe being targeted by Goblins already, and without the arrows that she’d need to help keep herself safe. He just had to make it through this to her side.

The Goblin that Clint had been talking to clapped him on the back, hard. He laughed once more. “Perfect! Enjoy the show.”

Clint slipped into the crowd of Goblins. He moved down the halls, ignoring the noise of the Goblins smashing FEAST’s filing cabinets and computers.

Clint peeked his head in room after room. He never really had occasion to visit FEAST himself. Kate would volunteer there sometimes, but Clint always excused himself. Now, he wished that he had gone at least once.

Finally, he found what he was looking for. Kate Bishop, kneeling on the ground in a crowd of volunteers, staring daggers at the Goblins surrounding her. One of the Goblins was giving a speech to the group.

“...all of you have spent too long working for others. You don’t understand the power you’ll claim, the drive you’ll truly unlock, when you put yourselves first and kick all these ungrateful scum to the side.”

The Goblin turned his head to stare at Clint, confused, as he knelt down next to Kate. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, one of the other guys said it was fine if I watched you Goblins invade here.”

“Really?” the Goblin asked skeptically. “Which one? I should talk to him, whoever he is.”

“How am I supposed to know?” Clint asked as he handed over the arrows to Kate behind his back. “You guys all look the same with your masks!”

“Hmm... fair point,” the Goblin responded. “But as of now, your permission to be here has been revoked! Stay down there with the volunteers!”

“Alright, if you say so...” Clint said, just as Kate stood up, drew her bow, and fired at the Goblin.

The arrow bounced off his mask and knocked him to the ground, and the other Goblins nearby surged towards the volunteers. As Kate shot more and more of them, they started to hang back, afraid of being her next target.

“Come on, let’s move!” Kate called out to the volunteers.

She turned to Clint. “A little help here?”

“SHIELD says we can’t engage in combat until we get their go-ahead,” Clint said with a shrug. “Sorry.”

Kate rolled her eyes as she shot another Goblin. “Figures.”

With Kate in the lead, the group of volunteers slowly made their way out of the room, pushing towards the exit, Kate firing arrows at any Goblins who dared to get in their way as they did so. As they reached the foyer, Kate turned to Clint. “I have to go back in. I can’t let this place stay occupied. You sure you can’t help me?”

Clint shook his head. “I.. can’t.”

“It’s fine, actually,” Kate said with a chuckle. “I’ve got this. See you around.”

And with that, Kate charged deeper into FEAST, as Clint helped to escort the volunteers out of the building. As they made their way out onto the street and started to breathe fresh air again, Clint felt himself relax.

That was a poor choice, however, as a Goblin pointed at Clint and stalked towards him. “Hey, you!”

The hostages scattered, running down the street as Clint turned to face him. “Oh, hey! Can’t say I recognize you, sorry.”

“We had that whole conversation earlier!” the Goblin replied. “Remember?”

“Oh, you’re that guy!” Clint said, trying to keep a small smile on his face. “Somebody inside was looking for you.”

“Well, I was looking for you,” the Goblin replied. “Because I lost sight of you, and it looks to me like you just freed all our hostages. So now, I’m not gonna let you go.” He pulled out a taser from his pocket.

Clint had never been so intimidated by a taser in his life. He closed his eyes, wishing that he could bring himself to fight... but no, this wasn’t worth his job. Best chance was just to run.

He turned tail, but ended up bumping into another Goblin emerging from FEAST, who grabbed Clint in a bear hug. He struggled, trying to break free, but he couldn’t do it fast enough, as the first Goblin jabbed him with the taser.

Clint’s last thought as he lost consciousness was that Kate would be able to save him, if nobody else could.

#MarvelNCU proudly presents…

#STREETS RUN RED

Issue One: City on Fire

Story by u/VoidKiller826, u/Predaplant & u/FrostFireFive

Written by u/VoidKiller826

Edited by u/Predaplant & u/AdamantAce

*************************************************************

Recommended Reading:

• Fantomex #13 & #14
• Amazing Spider-Man #21, #22 & #23

*************************************************************

Paulie’s Warehouse, Midtown:

“Hey, you up to hanging out over at Little Russia after this? Heard some of the Cicero boys are making a memorial for their boss,” said a Maggia goon wearing Hammerhead’s colors. He was looking over an assault rifle, checking the weight and handle of the weapon before setting it on the table. “They said it would be nice if the other family soldiers joined in.”

His partner, an older Maggia soldier who had been part of the Hammerhead family since its inception, was placing a grenade on top of a pile inside a box, making a quick count for it before setting it on the same table. “Other family soldiers? Aren’t we all now under Hammerhead after Chaka’s job offed the other bosses in that mess in Purgatory?”

It had been a week since the Golden Tigers attacked the Purgatory nightclub, led by Chaka, now the leader of the Tigers after Billy Hao’s death. He and his followers were able to kill the other Maggia bosses who were meeting in the club, with the enhanced crime lord Hammerhead as the only survivor. In the aftermath, the other four families' leadership was gone. Hammerhead quickly took control of the situation and made a speech promising to avenge his peers’ deaths, declaring war on those who wronged them.

And so, the divided Maggia, became a united organization under Hammerhead, making the already large organization powerful.

“Don’t know, but I heard the capos in the other families aren’t happy about Hammerhead waltzin’ in. Especially the older guys,” noted a young man who joined the family only two years ago. “Some of the Silvermane guys reckon Hammerhead whacked ‘em to take all the families’ power for himself.”

He whispered the last part, making sure his colleagues didn’t hear him say it out loud.

The older mobster scoffed. “Gotta be careful throwing stones like that,” he said. “Hammerhead is the biggest earner, everyone knows that. If those old fossils wanted his place at the top they had plenty of time to make a play for it.”

“So that’s it then? Hammerhead’s the new Kingp—?”

“Get back to work you two,” one Maggia capo yelled from the office upstairs. “We are going to war here, not throwin’ a picnic!”

“Sure, skipper,” the older Maggia nodded then to his junior. “Don’t say what you just said ever again, not in front of the others… We got enough problems as it is.”

The two, alongside the other Maggia soldiers, went back to arming their weapons that were sprawled all over the long table. Weapons ranging from assault rifles, shotguns, submachine guns, grenades, handguns in different sizes, and even a few barbed-wire baseball bats for extra measure.

The newly united Maggia were eager to strike back, hungry for blood. The Golden Tigers’ attack was more than enough reason for the Maggia to start a gang war, and if they won it, no one will be able to stop Hammerhead and the Maggia from getting control over New York City’s criminal underworld.

And so, all over the city, various Maggia-owned warehouses had become an armory for soldiers of different families to come together and arm themselves for the coming fight. Costa, Cicero, Fortunata, Silvermane, Hammerhead, and even some of the smaller families who work under the table were all getting ready to fight Chaka and his Triad, and it would be a bloody affair.

*CRASH*

As they were arming their weapons, the sound of glass shattering rang from the ceiling above, and pieces of it began raining down on the Maggia who looked up in confusion.

*Clank*

Falling from high above and landing on top of the long table in front of the Maggia was a circular object, around the size of a large baseball. It was orange, with green highlights; from afar, you would think it looked like a pumpkin—

*BOOOM*

The Pumpkin Bomb lit up with a fiery blaze, sending everyone who was near the table flying all over the room, their bodies charred and blown to bits. The grenades that were placed on the table also exploded the moment the Pumpkin Bomb activated, further causing a larger detonation.

Screams came from the Maggia as many were either burning or holding on to their missing limbs from the explosion. One of the Maggia looked up and his eyes widened in horror when he saw who was above them, smiling in glee at what had happened.

Hobgoblin howled in laughter as he threw a few more Pumpkin Bombs, and all detonated on impact. More explosions followed as the warehouse’s inferno grew and grew.

Atop his high tech glider, Hobgoblin watched the city around him as more explosions detonated from various Maggia-owned buildings that he had sent his followers, the Goblin Nation, to destroy.

“Sorry to cut this little relationship short, partner,” said Hobgoblin to himself as he watched the burning buildings like a child watching fireworks. “But the scene is set, and you are no longer needed in my play.”

Hobgoblin flew through the air, continuing on his rampage as he threw more Pumpkin Bombs at other Hammerhead businesses, raining hell down on those inside.

The Goblin Nation had declared war on the Maggia.

And the streets would run slick with their blood.

*************************************************************

Genghis Connie, Harlem:

“Food still up to your liking, Mr. Cage?”

Luke Cage looked up from his bowl of noodles to see an older man looking at him with a smile. He responded in kind and answered truthfully. “Just Luke, Mr. Lin. And this food right here, compared to the food I got from prison, is like it was sent from God himself for me to enjoy.”

Luke Cage never thought the day would come when he would call Genghis Connie’s food a gift from God, but after spending time in prison and enduring the cruelty of it, he considered any food as a blessing that he would never misjudge.

“That’s good to hear,” Mr. Lin, an older man who owned this establishment alongside his wife who cooked in the back, welcomed Luke the moment he stepped into their restaurant. “And consider this on the house for coming back home.”

Luke chuckled. “Mrs. Lin told you?”

“Ha!” The older man laughed. “She’ll have my balls if we let anyone eat for free! Not even Tony Stark gets that privilege.”

“He’ll respect that,” Luke noted and brought out a few dollars from his pocket, the same ones he had on him when he went to prison. Finally, he could spend them. “Here, and tell Connie I enjoyed the food.”

Saying his goodbyes, Luke stepped out into the streets and smelled the air. “Harlem… I missed this place…”

It had been a couple of days since he was released from prison after serving… God, he didn’t even remember how long; all of it was a blur in his mind. Being sentenced to life would mean just that, for life, behind bars, all for killing a truly depraved man like Zebediah Killgrave.

The law might have not favored him that day despite his friends’ best efforts, but he knew he would sleep well at night once a man like Killgrave was well and truly gone from the world.

As to how he got out, Tony Stark, the billionaire futurist and famous Iron Man, worked out a deal to get him out early, rubbing shoulders and making promises to a lot of people that Luke could do more good outside of prison. The most important request is not get into any troubles or break any laws, including committing vigilantism.

For now, while Tony was readying things, Luke could walk around New York unsupervised. As long as he kept himself out of trouble, there would be no problem.

And so, Luke walked around Harlem, his home, trying to reclaim that feeling of freedom. To smell the air, taste it, even if it was the usual New York stink… it beat out the cold air of a prison cell.

*BOOOOM*

Luke swiveled his head after hearing a loud explosion. He could see smoke rising in the distance, and the cloud was expanding, fast. Around him, the people of Harlem were in a panic. Some quickly ran in the other direction, others hid in their stores, and some were curious about what had happened, bringing out their phones to film it instead of calling for help.

‘The more things change…’

Despite his brain telling him to let the cops handle this, Luke’s heart told him to go towards the smoke. With his bulletproof skin, he could be of help. Running towards the cloud, he could hear more explosions from a distance.

His eyes widened in shock as he saw the burning building. He couldn’t make out what exactly caused the fire, but the screams were clear signs that there were people inside, and there were clearly a lot of them.

“DIE, YOU FREAKS!”

Luke quickly took cover, hiding himself. Hearing shouting and bullets being fired, He peeked his head out and saw a group of suit-wearing men in front of the burning building firing their weapons at another group wearing what looked to be Halloween costumes. Their clothes consisted of orange and blue tunics, and on their faces were goblin masks.

“Told you this building was Maggia!” called out one of the Goblins, hiding himself behind a car.

“Scream for me!” Another one of the Goblins shouted as they threw out a Pumpkin Bomb that was strapped on their belt. The moment it landed behind the suits, it exploded, sending them flying through the air, before they too got gunned down by the Maggia carrying assault rifles.

One minute, the neighborhood was quiet, lively even, and the next, war had come to its streets. And, from the sounds of the other explosion Luke could hear in the distance, it was happening everywhere, not just in Harlem.

“Sweet Christmas…” Luke Cage exclaimed in shock as he stared at the battle unfolding between the two factions. If he heard right, the suits were Maggia. It shocked him they were able to expand their reach to all the way out here in Harlem. He heard that after Daredevil - revealed to be none other than Luke’s own lawyer, Matt Murdock - dealt with Fisk, a sizable power vacuum opened up for the Maggia to vie for. But he never would have guessed they also had control over some of the gangs in Harlem.

The Goblins were people he had yet to read about: the news in prison wasn’t as up-to-date as people thought it was.

“Mom?”

Luke turned his head when he heard a child cry out nearby. He couldn’t be more than 12 years old, clearly lost and wandering in the chaotic streets of Harlem looking for a parent. And if he came any closer, he would get caught in the crossfire.

“Kid, get out of here—!”

He couldn’t get another word out as the Goblins threw another of their bombs toward the Maggia. The bomb blew up a couple parked cars, sending them flying everywhere and crashing toward the Maggia and the nearby storefronts.

One car was flying toward the child, who was staring in shock at the falling vehicle.

Springing into action, Luke ran toward the child and covered him with his body as the car landed on Luke’s back, almost knocking him over. Slowly and carefully, Luke lifted the car on top of him and tossed it aside, his clothes covered in burn marks and tears. His body itself was untouched.

The benefits of having bulletproof skin.

“You okay?” Luke asked the child, safely carrying him in his arms toward an alley nearby.

The child nodded, too terrified from all the chaos happening around him to respond.

“Alright, how about we find your mom?” Luke asked gently, and the child nodded. “Good, just tell me where you last saw her and you’ll be together in no time.”

Luke Cage buried his feelings deep in his gut. He could hear sirens in the distance. The smell changed from the usual NYC air. Now, Luke could smell burning. Burning, and blood.

*************************************************************

The Triskelion, East River

[...Just minutes ago, a series of bombings began across Manhattan. We have yet to confirm the origins of these explosions, but reports seem to indicate that these attacks have occurred in Midtown, Chinatown, Hell’s Kitchen, the Upper East Side, and Harlem, with numerous casualties.]

“It ain’t New York without another mess happening every other month…”

Fixing his arrows in his workstation at the Triskelion - SHIELD’s headquarters in New York - Clint Barton watched the news and couldn’t help but watch intently. He had just returned from a long mission in the distant nation of Madripoor, and was just about to sit down and enjoy a nice hot coffee in peace, only for it to be interrupted with this news.

[...We’ve just received word from Captain George Stacy of the NYPD of an ongoing battle between the Maggia crime syndicate and the infamous Goblin Nation across the city. Citizens are advised to stay indoors and find shelter from these skirmishes as authorities are deployed to maintain order.]

“Shit… Hobgoblin is on the move too? And here I thought Hammerhead taking over was bad enough…” Clint had to give it to the NYPD. They had a thankless job trying to keep the city under control with all these superpowered villains and heroes running around every day. And now, this bombing possibly turning into a gang war between two crews was just a cherry on top of the shit heap.

Other SHIELD agents nearby seemed to be watching the news as well. Some of them were on their phones, possibly with friends and loved ones in Manhattan, ensuring their safety. What confused Clint was that no one was rushing out to help; wasn’t SHIELD about security? What were they waiting for?

He felt a vibration from a phone nearby, his phone. Picking it up, he saw the name on it and couldn’t help but worry. Answering it, he called her name. “Kate?”

[Clint!] Kate Bishop said on the line in a frantic tone. [What the hell is going on? I’m back in NYC for five minutes and already things have gone to shit?!]

“Where are you now?”

[Over at the FEAST shelter! I managed to save a couple of people and got them to safety inside the building, the folks working here are a big help. But it’s getting bad, really really bad**. A fully-blown gunfight’s broken out right outside!]**

That was what Clint feared. He never expected Hobgoblin to suddenly start a war with Hammerhead, and from the sounds of it, it would only get worse if they didn’t put a stop to it.

“Listen to me,” Clint got up from his seat and began readying himself. “Whatever you do, keep those people safe and inside. The Maggia is bad enough, but if Hobgoblin and his crew are around, that means this is a full-scale war between the two factions,” he noted, grabbing as many trick arrows as he could fit into the quiver. “The cavalry’s on its way.”

[Bring me more arrows while you are at it, lost a couple when I had to stop a few Maggia from shooting at us.]

Putting on his mask, Clint picked up his bow - a customized, collapsible recurve - now fully armed and ready.

“Will do, Hawkeye.”

Clint picked up another spare quiver and placed more arrows inside. He had planned for a while to give Kate a personalized bow, the type that SHIELD money would buy, but a quiver would be the first step. He just wished it was under better circumstances.

“Where are you going?”

Clint turned to see a familiar face looking at him with furrowed brows. Bobbi Morse - codename: Mockingbird - had been Clint’s partner when he first joined up with SHIELD. There was an interesting story behind it, but Clint couldn’t let himself get caught up in reminiscing. Bobbi had been, and still was, his handler on missions. And the two had grown from colleagues, to friends, to - at times - something more.

“Uh, a gang war’s come to Manhattan?” Clint replied, confused by her question. “Or am I the only one seeing all that smoke on the news?”

Bobbi sighed, rubbing her forehead. “No, you’re not blind, Clint. I should have told you this before I asked…” she took a deep breath and continued. “I knew you were planning to head there before any orders came down, and I'm here to tell you that you have to wait until we get the green light.”

“Green light… Bobbi, Kate just called me and she says it’s getting bad,” Clint said. “Hammerhead and Hobgoblin are warring with one another for Godknowswhat and we have to wait for SHIELD to say its okay to go and stop them?”

“I understand, Clint, I truly do, especially with Kate. But SHIELD’s treating this as a local issue, not something that needs our attention,” Bobbi went on. “The NYPD can handle this without any SHIELD intervention.”

Clint scoffed. “The NYPD can barely handle things as it is, and you expect them to handle two crime syndicates at once? Plus whatever other gangs might join in? Come on, Bobbi.”

“I know, Clint,” Bobbi put her hands on Clint’s shoulders, who swiped them away. “But right now we gotta stay put until SHIELD makes a decision. These days, we gotta be careful, with SHIELD’s image not being the best.”

“Gee, I wonder why…” Clint muttered as he went back to his seat. “Whole city could be flooding again and SHIELD would still see it as a non-issue…”

Bobbi said nothing, but smiled in appreciation nonetheless. She was not that happy either, but they couldn't act like Stark or Spider-Man. There were rules and regulations in place that they needed to follow, even if they didn’t like it.

Clint, for his part, hoped that Kate could stay safe and away from trouble. He trusted her abilities. She was a natural when it came to a bow and arrow, and Bobbi personally took her under her wing to train her hand-to-hand with the possible hopes of joining SHIELD one day.

But he feared that she might come across something that even he couldn’t beat.

*************************************************************

Chinatown, Manhattan

Chinatown, like everywhere else, was burning.

Various buildings were damaged, caught in the crossfire. Not just Maggia-controlled businesses, but even those that were Triad-owned. Hobgoblin didn't discriminate; he was starting this war on his own terms, whether the other gangs wanted him to or not.

“Who the fuck are these guys?!”

“I thought they were Golden Tigers!”

“Tigers don’t wear a goddamn elf mask!”

A group of Maggia men fired a wide volley of bullets at a group of Goblin Nation’s followers. Each was more deranged than the last, not stopping even after their fellows were gunned down. Until one Goblin stepped out and threw a Pumpkin Bomb, and it detonated on the Maggia after it landed behind them, sending them and various cars and pieces of scaffolding flying in the process.

“Christ!” one of the Maggia screamed in pain as he grabbed his injured arm, caught under the debris. “These freaks are insane!”

“Just waste them!” Another, wearing Manfredi colors, sprayed bullets at a few Goblins. “And where are the Tigers?! I thought they’d be out here fighting too!”

“They’re probably waiting it out until we are all dead,” noted yet another. “Doesn’t matter either way, I heard Hammerhead sent in the heavy guns to help us out here.”

“I am afraid those guns won’t be coming, gentlemen!”

The Maggia goons all turned and aimed their weapons at a figure who was leaning by the rooftop above.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

The figure jumped out of the way to avoid the hail of gunfire from the Maggia and made such a leap that he landed in the middle of the Maggia group. He swiped the leg, knocking the mobster down to the ground. Before they could stand up, the figure delivered a series of precise punches that knocked all of them out cold.

Danny Rand, also known to the city's people as the Immortal Iron Fist, a steadfast protector who tirelessly worked to keep New York safe, stood tall and looked at the burning neighborhood with sadness. How did this happen so quickly? From the rooftop, he could see smoke and fire happening all across Manhattan, and now he could see gangs just killing each other in the streets like animals.

Either way, he would not stand by and allow this chaos to keep happening, not while he could still put up a fight.

“Iron Fist…” One of the Goblins muttered. “The Spider’s friend…”

The Goblins rushed toward Danny, who calmly waited for them to get closer to dodge one of their knife attacks. With the opening that provided him, he kicked at their sides, sending one of them flying and slamming into a car. Another tried to lunge at him, but that was dodged with the grace and fluidity expected from the master martial artist, who then elbowed them on the jaw, knocking them out.

He continued to beat them all down, one by one. Even when they tried in groups, they were knocked down and out cold after Iron Fist used his skills and martial arts to handle them rather easily.

He heard a clicking noise behind him, and he instinctively dodged and took cover behind a car nearby as the recovered Maggia goons began firing their weapons at the Goblins. They would have caught Danny, too, if he wasn’t as fast as he was.

“DIE YOU FREAKS!”

Danny grimaced as he saw the Goblin’s eyes going dark, their life flickering away into darkness. He took a deep breath. This chaos was overwhelming for him, but he had to keep fighting, for he was the Immortal Iron Fist, the Living Weapon, and this was his duty.

“Come on out!” The Maggia shouted as he and his men were approaching the car Danny was hiding behind. “I’ll make sure it will be quick!”

Taking a deep breath, he brought his right fist to his palm and focused. Silently calling inwardly upon his inner being, his chi. He felt it flowing, melding, converging in one place, into his hand. Soon, it began to glow. Soon, it turned to iron.

The Iron Fist pulled his shimmering fist back, and then thrusted it forth with all his might at the car, launching it through the air and over the Maggia who stared at it in shock. With their attention on the vehicle, Danny rushed toward them, and one by one began to take each of them out with such speed that he looked like a blur.

He grabbed one of the Maggia’s arms, and with one knee he broke it in half. He delivered a swinging leg kick to another, cracking him in the jaw. And he simply kicked the last one’s knee, as the sound of kneecaps breaking echoed in the streets.

Danny was done. Breathing deeply, he looked around him and saw all the knocked-out Maggia and Goblin followers, still alive but out cold for now. He looked down at his glowing fist, and calmly called it to stop. He could feel his chi going back to its place, turning his fists back to normal.

“That should do it here…” Danny surveyed his surroundings. He could hear the sirens coming from all directions. This war was clearly happening all across Manhattan, and if it wasn’t stopped, things would turn dire. “I need to call Peter… maybe he can give me the rundown on these Goblins—”

His trained ears heard movement behind him. He turned as he heard footsteps, loud and heavy, approaching him. Closing his fists, he kept his focus on the burning smoke ahead until a figure emerged from it. A dark woman with a half-shaved head. She was dressed in black leather and covered in blood. Danny made note that she didn’t appear wounded, despite her clothes being riddled with bullet holes.

“Should have known these idiots were going to fuck this up…” said the woman as she looked down at the knocked out Maggia. “But I can’t blame them if they were going up against you… Iron Fist.”

“And you are?” Danny asked, feeling tense. This woman felt very different from the others.

“People call me Frenzy,” the woman introduced herself, looking completely disinterested in the chaos around her. “I was supposed to come here to take care of the Golden Tigers before half the city started blowing up, so now I have to take out any nuisance that might come against Hammerhead,” she said as she looked around her. “That makes you the nuisance.”

“You’re Maggia?” Danny asked. She seemed to focus on them, while she ignored the Goblin Nation’s followers. “You don’t exactly look like one.”

“They decided to diversify,” she said with a shrug. “Can’t exactly say no to orders, or money.”

There it was, that feeling in his gut telling him that this woman was someone he should not be tangoing with right now. But he couldn’t listen; if Hammerhead sent this woman, that meant trouble for everyone, and he couldn’t just step aside here.

Frenzy stretched her neck and arms, readying herself before she hardened her eyes at Danny, smirking. “Wonder if you can make this fun for me.”

She took a step back, then ran forward like a charging bull toward Danny. With every step she took, the ground shook. She stomped even the Goblins on the ground without care, crushing them beneath her feet, which did little to slow her down.

Iron Fist did not stand down or step back in fear. He stood his ground, taking a stance, ready for the charging woman. Just as she approached, she extended her arm out from her side, and swung it, trying to catch him with a clothesline. Danny dodged it, passing under her arm and going behind her.

With her side open, he delivered a series of strikes, which did little to affect Frenzy. It seemed like she barely noticed them. Danny noted, to his shock, that it felt like hitting a wall, a very hard wall. ‘Hardened skin…’ he realized, and if she had hardened skin, that meant she was bulletproof. ‘Explains the lack of wounds beneath those bullet holes.’

He continued his kata, dodging every last one of them, not wanting to get caught by whatever power was behind those punches. She struck a car door nearby, crumpling it. She quickly grabbed the door, and tore it off the car, swinging it around and catching Danny, sending him flying toward another car.

Frenzy was quickly on top of him again, lunging at him, but Danny moved out of the way, and the woman crushed the side of the car with her entire weight.

“Come on!” Frenzy goaded him, removing herself from the destroyed car. “I heard you got a glowing fist that can break through an armored truck! Show it to me!”

Danny shook his head off and took a stance, trying to think of anything that could even make a dent in this woman.

“You’re enhanced…” Danny said to the woman. “No… the rumors said Hammerhead had mutants under his employment… I just never thought they were true…”

“Well, congrats for figuring it out.” She grabbed the destroyed car and flung it at him with all her strength. “Now eat this!”

Danny knew he was too close to be able to move out of the way, so he decided to run toward the flying car and jump over it. Using his hands, he pushed himself off the hood of the car as he passed by it, and twisted his body into a position where he could load his arm.

And his fist began to glow.

Frenzy’s eyes widened when she saw the light, then she smiled, as if happy to be able to see him use the Iron Fist’s fabled weapon. With a mighty roar, Danny Rand brought his fist down, and Frenzy raised her arms up to try and block the attack.

A shockwave followed after the two connected, a powerful one at that. Various cars and debris began flying everywhere in the street after the clash, and all the stores around them had their windows smashed wide open.

The dust settled, and the one who was standing wasn’t the Iron Fist.

“Holy shit…” Frenzy said in awe. She held Danny by the throat. “I definitely felt that one…”

Danny tried to escape from her grip, but her superstrength held him tightly. The young man could do nothing but curse his luck. He should have known that she would be able to tank the attack if she expected it.

And now she had him at her mercy.

The punch that hit his chest felt like a truck hitting him, and it was just as strong as it sent him flying across the street and landing hard on the ground. He tried to stand back up, but pain shot all over his body. Even with the adrenaline from the battle, his body was screaming at him that he could not take another hit like that without being killed.

Frenzy smelled blood, and rushed towards him. The dazed Danny could do nothing but half-heartedly dodge and punch the powerful woman, who playfully allowed him to get a few hits in before pushing him with an open palm, once again sending him crashing into a car.

“Gotta say, that fist of yours does live up to the legend,” Frenzy complimented him as she caught an errant strike from Rand. “Shame that you couldn’t keep it up, it would have been fun to knock me out.”

Danny gritted his bloody teeth before Frenzy punched him in the chest one last time, nearly knocking him out and dropping him to the ground. He heaved, heavily, feeling like he skipped a breath as pain in his chest sent shockwaves all over his body.

Frenzy stood over him and sighed, disappointed. “If I wasn’t under orders, I might have kept you breathing, but now, I have to finish you—”

“That’s enough!”

The woman heard a crash behind her, and she turned to see what the commotion was about. Her eyes widened when saw someone land on top of a destroyed car.

“You…”

Twirling one of his billy clubs and wearing a worn-out red suit was Hell's Kitchen's Daredevil, the blind lawyer that had been doing this vigilante thing for decades now. Even from where she was standing, she could sense that, compared to Iron Fist, this man was decidedly less human. He truly looked like a devil standing in the inferno around him.

“Should have known you’d come out of your rathole in the middle of this warzone… Hammerhead put a bounty on your head for killing some of his guys,” noted Frenzy. “He said he might send one of us after you.”

Murdock said nothing, instead focusing on the heavily injured Danny. His jaw tightened beneath his scraggly copper beard. Giving his billy club another flourish, he circled around Frenzy, sensing, hearing her, waiting for her to act first.

“Come on, demon, you are here for me?” Frenzy goaded him. “I am waiting for someone to put me out of my misery.”

“You're not yourself,” Matt noted. “Doesn't seem to drugs. More like something's inside you, twisting you into doing all this.”

“So? Not like I feel a thing about it.”

“You’re lying,” his voice boomed in return, angering Frenzy. “And I don’t have time for this; I'm not here for you.”

Grabbing something from the ground, Daredevil lifted the object to reveal it to Frenzy, whose eyes widened when she saw what it was.

It was an unexploded Pumpkin Bomb left behind by the Goblins.

“You wouldn’t dare…” Frenzy said with a dangerous tone.

“Dare is in my name,” Matt Murdock played with the Pumpkin Bomb. “And you can take it.”

He flung the Pumpkin Bomb like pitching a baseball. It rocketed through the air, and Frenzy could do nothing but raise her arms to block it. But unlike Iron Fist’s attack, which she was ready for, the Pumpkin Bomb came at her as a surprise, and it detonated the moment it hit her.

“Come on, Danny,” Daredevil helped Iron Fist up, who groaned in pain, mumbling complaints that were ignored. “Let’s get you out of here before she wakes up…”

By the time Frenzy shook out of her daze, she was standing in the middle of an empty street, with the only sounds being a burning building, the pained groans of the Maggia, and the sirens in the distance.

*************************************************************

To be continued...

Fantomex

Issue Fourteen

Written by u/VoidKiller826

Edited by u/Predaplant

Arc: Purgatory

*************************************************************

Purgatory - Dance Floor:

“What will it be?” The bartender of Purgatory, a hefty man with a clean-shaven head, asked the customer who was leaning on the bar. The man leaning was six feet tall, wearing a black tiger-patterned button-up shirt and slacks. Turning his head slowly, the bartender came face to face with a scarred man, glaring at him as if he interrupted something.

After a few seconds of silence and glaring, the bartender nodded in understanding and stepped back, leaving the scarred man in peace. But that was interrupted when his phone rang in his back pocket. Grunting, he brought it out and answered the call.

[It’s me,] answered a man, speaking in Mandarin. [We got all the boys set up as ordered, from the kitchen to the dance floor. But we got a problem. There’s a meeting with the other Maggia bosses, even Silvermane is here so security has gotten tighter-]

“This changes nothing,” Chaka of the Golden Tigers answered coldly, interrupting one of his many subordinates that he sent to infiltrate Purgatory’s staff. “If we have to kill all of those rats, then so be it. As long as Hammerhead pays for killing my brother, then it’s enough.”

Deep down, it made the Bloody Tiger happy that all of the Maggia’s Table was in place. Killing them all here would finally put an end to their fossil of a group, and would start a new reign of the Golden Tigers in New York. They would be the top dogs of this city as his brother had wanted them to be.

But his brother was gone, taken away from this world brutally. The Maggia took his head off and threw it out like he was some trash. For that dishonor, Chaka would never forgive them. The Maggia would pay for it.

[I- I understand, Chaka. We will be ready.]

Chaka closed his phone and he walked through the crowd. Continuing to survey the floor, he noted the number of security guards that roamed around, carrying some light handguns underneath their jackets. He suspected the Maggia who were guarding the top floor carried heavier weapons, able to tear through anyone.

“Hey, watch it!” A Maggia goon bumped into Chaka. “You stupid punk! You can’t just bump into people-”

*SNIKT*

Before he could finish his sentence, a pair of tiger claws sprouted out from Chaka’s hands, a pair of four-bladed claws. Chaka plunged them into the man’s jaw, killing him instantly.

“What the fuck?!” Another Maggia nearby who saw what happened brandished his handgun, but before he could fire, someone grabbed him from behind and sliced his throat with a small, sharp knife.

Chaka nodded at his subordinate, a woman dressed in casual clothes pretending to be a clubgoer. Around him, more Golden Tigers began to appear, killing more Maggia grunts one by one, each more brutal than the last. Other clubbers, staff, and even the fat bartender all came out after seeing their leader kill the guard.

Pandemonium had erupted on the dance floor; what was once a lively occasion had turned into a bloody one. The people ran for the exit, stampeding over one another as they tried to squeeze through the door that wasn’t supposed to fit the hundreds of people in the club at once.

Raising his sleeves to reveal a heavy metallic gauntlet underneath attached to the tiger claws, he turned to the woman who wore a tiger mask on her face. She walked up to Chaka and handed him a mask, but unlike the others’ golden ones, his was dark red.

A fitting one for the Bloody Tiger.

“<Thank you, Schimar.>” He nodded at the woman and then turned to his people, his personal attack squad known and feared across the city for their viciousness and for cutting a bloody path against rivals like the Kingpin. “<Tigers! Find me Hammerhead, and kill whoever even looks like a Maggia!>”

“<Yes sir!>” The Tigers all shouted in unison.

They all turned as they heard footsteps coming down from the stairs, and right on cue, more Maggia came flooding into the dance floor. Hammerhead, Silvermane, and what was left of the Costa and Ciceros, carrying various weapons and rifles. The Maggia’s might came into the fray against the Golden Tigers.

“<Slaughter them!>” Chaka ordered, charging ahead of his people. He leaped at the nearest Maggia and began his attack. Hacking and slashing, he could see blood began to pour out in every direction as the other Tigers joined in the killing.

His lieutenant, Schimar, a deadly woman who earned his respect for her skills with the sword, used a pair of kitchen knives to cut through a swath of Maggia. The fat bartender swung a hammer, cracking the skull of a large Maggia goon wearing Hammerhead’s colors.

The Maggia, for their part, responded in kind to the Tiger’s viciousness, firing their rifles and dropping a few who weren’t fast enough to dodge or smart enough to take cover, turning the dance floor into a brutal bullet-and-claw battle.

Just as Chaka killed the latest Maggia who was standing in his way, his eyes noticed something leaping at him from the shadows. Acting fast, he dodged the attack and noticed a small creature coming out and nearly catching him with a sharp claw. The small creature continued its assault, slashing and swinging wildly like a child until Chaka shoved his claws at his chest, and then kicked him a few feet back.

But the small creature didn’t seem to register the attack. Chaka noticed the wound on his chest began to heal, rapidly. And all the claw attack the Tiger gave him seemed to do was amuse him.

“<Get down!>”

Schimar pushed Chaka out of the way as a torrent of bullets began flying through the air, striking many Tigers and even some Maggia caught in the crossfire, dropping many into the ground. Looking up, Chaka saw a grey-skinned man entering the room, and his eyes widened when he noticed that his arm ended in a machine gun instead of a hand.

“Keep them away from the meeting room!” a voice called out from above.

Its owner jumped from the balcony and landed on the ground, which caused a small shake that rocked Purgatory. Standing up, they all saw it to be a woman in leather clothes with a half-shaved head. She turned to the fat bartender who swung his hammer, but instead of dodging it, the woman took the full force of it. The hammer bent on impact, with no effect on the woman.

The woman then grabbed the fat bartender by the head before slamming him to the ground hard, making his head explode.

“<So the rumors were true…>” Chaka muttered as Schimar helped him up. “<Hammerhead has Mutants under him…>”

Standing side by side were Hammerhead’s personal Mutant Enforcers: Frenzy, Random, and Wild Child, all staring down at Chaka and the Golden Tigers.

“Kill them!” Frenzy ordered, and the other mutants were more than happy to oblige.

“<Get me their head!>” Chaka shouted, and his people all shouted in unison at the command.

Purgatory had become a battleground between the Maggia and the Golden Tigers.

*************************************************************

[Holy shit…]

“What is it?” Fantomex asked as he heard Sage swear on the radio. “Did something happen?”

[Chaka and his crew are here,] Sage revealed, her usual calm voice masking a hint of fear. [And they are fighting the Maggia all over the club.]

“The Bloody Tiger did not waste any time to retaliate…” Fantomex muttered. It wasn’t a good sign if Chaka was in Purgatory.

Among the famous criminal figures in New York, none had a bloodier reputation one than the man who had the title of the Bloody Tiger: Chaka of the Golden Tigers, real name Will Hao, Billy Hao’s younger brother. He had made a reputation for being a ruthless enforcer for the Tigers by carving a brutal path against all their enemies. Fantomex knew that the Jade Dragons had all ran away to Madripoor after Chaka killed all of their leaders save for one. Chaka and his Tigers were not to be trifled with.

And if his reputation was to be believed, Fantomex could not engage Chaka in his current condition, let alone if he was in full health. At least, not without preparations.

[Wait, stop.]

Fantomex stopped just outside a large door, leaning aside. He could hear shouting and gunfire behind the door. “Sounds like the Tigers are even on this floor.”

[They were disguised as the club staff.]

Fantomex chuckled. “Guess the Tigers and I had the same idea. Minus the needless slaughter.”

[It’s getting intense, Chaka is engaging the mutants on the dance floor.]

“Mutants, Maggia, and Triads, fighting on a dance floor in a bloody battle, now that’s a story for people to talk about,” Fantomex said. “And Hammerhead?”

[Still in the meeting room,] said Sage. [It’s a couple of rooms ahead, but you have to go through a lot of the fighting.]

“You still can’t see what is going on in there?”

[Nope, Hammerhead probably didn’t install any cameras in there, or any kind of tech.]

Fantomex hummed, thinking over his approach. The gear provided by Jumbo Carnation wasn’t enough. With a nightstick and a combat knife, he could tango with a few Tigers, but that would leave him open to be gunned down by the Maggia’s heavy weapons. He could use his guns, a pair of 9mm, but he didn’t have enough ammo, nor did he want to be part of a shootout while the Triads were swinging around their metallic claws.

He couldn’t even see any air duct for him to sneak through. Turning to the metal cart he was pushing around earlier, he saw the bottles that were stacked on top and below, ten bottles, five on each level.

Then an idea hit him.

“How far is the meeting room?”

[At the end of that hallway where they are killing each other. But why? This whole plan went to shit the moment those Tigers showed up.]

The original plan was to gather information, get into the heart of the Hammerhead Family's operation and see what they were doing. Most importantly, Fantomex had wanted to confirm the connection between the Maggia and Serpent Society.

Now that the Golden Tigers showed up, those plans had gone up in flames.

“If I can get to Hammerhead, maybe I can get him to confirm the Serpent connection. I’ll take anything at this point.”

[Wow… plan really went to the shitter if you think that big head will tell you anything.] Sage note, clearly not a fan of this idea.

Fantomex jimmied the lock and opened the door a little, happy he only needed to push, not pull. “Perfect…” Grabbing the cart, he braced it against the door and gripped its handle tightly. “How many can you see in the next room?”

[Can’t say, too many to count.]

“Thought you were good with numbers, Wise Sage, or so Bedlam tells me.”

[I do, just not in the mood to count a couple of gangsters killing each other.]

He smiled. “Guess I’ll be doing that now!”

Pushing the cart forward, he slammed through the door, catching the attention of the Maggia and the Tigers fighting one another. Taking advantage of their shock, Fantomex pushed the cart, slamming it into a nearby group of Maggia, five of them by his count, who were too slow to fire at him.

Grabbing two bottles of alcohol, Fantomex turned to the Tigers, who jumped at him, brandishing their signature claws, hungry for his blood. But tonight, they would not spill a single drop of it.

He threw one bottle at the furthest Tiger, hitting them square on the face, and knocking them to the ground. He twirled the other bottle, using it to block the closest Tiger’s claw. The bottle exploded, and the alcohol showered all over the Tiger’s face. With the opening it provided him, Fantomex elbowed them square on the face, breaking their mask on impact.

Keeping close to the cart, he dodged and punched a few more Tigers who came charging toward him. He quickly grabbed two more bottles and broke them at the two who were attacking him. But just as he was about to grab the last one, a Tiger came out of nowhere and stabbed him in the forearm with their claw.

“Oh!” Fantomex could see the claw piercing through his arm, but didn’t feel any pain. “So this is what the nurse meant!”

The Tiger was shocked at how calm Fantomex was, and before he could respond, the injured mercenary headbutted him in the face, knocking him down.

“Who is this guy?!” One Maggia asked as he turned his attention to Fantomex. “I thought only the Tigers were hitting us!”

“Who cares!” His friend raised his rifle. “Waste the fucker!”

Fantomex smirked and grabbed the handle of the cart, then pushed it as hard as he could toward the Maggia grunts who were firing at him. With the velocity behind the throw, they weren’t able to stop it from hitting them, and upon impact, the remaining bottles exploded, sending shattered pieces of glass and alcohol all over the air.

Fantomex brought out his nightstick, which had belonged to an NYPD officer that Jumbo nicked it off of a few months back. He dodged the first Tiger, the claw nearly catching him by the throat, and he swung the nightstick on their face, cracking their Tiger mask. The next came from the side and managed to scratch him with their bladed claw, but Fantomex didn’t feel a thing and quickly responded by grabbing the Tiger by their collar and headbutting them, hard.

He continued to fight off the Golden Tigers, who were truly living up to their reputation as brutal killers. Unlike the Maggia, they didn’t attack randomly. Each strike had a purpose, to inflict pain on others with precision. If the Maggia were like hammers, then the Tigers were like a surgical knife that enjoyed the feeling of blood.

Fantomex grunted in pain. One of the Tiger’s attacks caught a working nerve, and it hurt, a lot. Shaking off the pain, he grabbed the Tiger by the wrist, and pushed their claw into their fellow Triad close by, then kneaded them on the face, breaking their mask.

“Dodge this, you mummified freak!” A Hammerhead grunt shouted in anger. He raised his rifle and began to fire at Fantomex. A few of the Tigers who were engaged with him in combat got caught in the crossfire, shielding the man in white from the bullets.

Using the Tiger he was tackling as a shield, Fantomex brandished his combat knife, a reliable blade used by American Marines, and threw it at the Maggia grunt firing at him. He screamed, the knife digging into his arm and forcing him to drop the rifle.

With the opening, Fantomex ran towards him, swung his nightstick, and smashed it straight on his head. The sound of his jaw breaking could be heard around the room, knocking the grunt down and out.

[That's the last one.] Sage announced as Fantomex breathed tiredly, getting down on one knee and feeling a bit weak. Even with his lack of pain in certain parts of his body, he was still bleeding out, and he had lost a lot of blood. [I gotta say, I expected you'd get shot in the head by this point.]

“Not tonight…”

He stood up, and around him were the unconscious and dead bodies of the Maggia and Golden Tigers, down and out, with Fantomex standing tall.

Lowering the bandage on his mouth, he spat blood and grimaced. He was going to bleed out soon if he didn't get taken care of, but he had a job to do, and he'd rather do it while the club was still engulfed in chaos.

“AHH!”

Fantomex swiveled his head toward the large door, the meeting room containing the Maggia’s bosses.

“That was someone screaming…” he noted. “Did the Tigers manage to get through?” he asked. They must have started killing the Five Bosses while he was busy tangling with the grunts here.

[I've been looking through all the cameras, but no one got in or out, at least not where my eyes can see them.]

He leaned by the door and brought out the 9mm’s. It felt foreign to hold a gun. He was terrified of holding a firearm after his battle against the Man in Black, and using a gun after so long would be like relearning to walk for a man like himself.

Shaking off that uncomfortable feeling, he twirled his guns, returning to the rhythm he once lost.

He was getting back to being Fantomex.

“Time to find out…”

He kicked the door down with all his force, nearly taking it off its hinges. Entering the room, he aimed his weapon forward, surveying the room and scanning for any hostiles that might attack.

But there were no hostiles. At least, not the Tiger kind.

In front of him, instead of a group of Triads cutting down a Maggia boss, he was staring at a Maggia boss doing the deed on another fellow boss. Stabbing Paulie Pavano with an iron claw similar to the ones used by the Golden Tigers was Vinny Jr Fortunata, violently plunging the bladed weapon into his chest. Fantomex looked at the others at the table and saw that Don Dante Cicero was already dead, chest open, and blood splattered everywhere. Then next was Silvio ‘Silvermane’ Manfredi, who was staring in horror from his seat, unmoving, unblinking, as if he was forced to watch what was happening in front of him.

[Hey, mummy, you got quiet,] Sage said, bringing him back from his confusion. [Are the Maggia bosses dead? I can’t see what is going on there.]

He didn’t know what to say. Was he supposed to say that one of them started killing the others, using a weapon made famous by the Tigers? So many questions were running to his mind, and none had any answers.

“Got here a little early, Tiger,” a voice said from the side. “Should have guessed none of my boys would be able to stop you all.”

Fantomex turned his weapons at the giant mobster, who was taking a sip from a bottle of Latverian wine, enjoying the taste of it as he watched the show before him. Hammerhead took a step, coming out of the shadows, and faced down Fantomex. The injured mercenary kept his guns trained and surveyed the room for any other Maggia grunts. He noted a blond-haired man was standing nearby, staring at Fantomex with a curious look.

‘He doesn’t look like a Maggia…’ Fantomex noted. The air around him felt different than the other Maggia goons he went up against, far too unique.

He turned to Hammerhead and realized he looked familiar. “You… I know you…”

[Wait, you know Hammerhead?] Sage commented over the earpiece.

“Manchester, England,” Fantomex recalled, remembering that rainy day like it was yesterday. “Doctor Malus… you were the big boy who tried to stop me from taking him…”

Fantomex never saw a photo of Hammerhead; all he got was a description of a giant man with a scarred head. But he never thought that he would be the same Maggia giant he fought in Manchester, a part of Caprice’s first mission after she came to him and told him what he wanted to hear. He never expected the man who had been ruling half of New York to be the same one who planted a bomb on his face.

“You’re…” Hammerhead's expression turned from confusion to anger. “Fantomex.”

“Looks like you know me.”

“Know you?” Hammerhead said in anger. “What you did to me… you’re the reason why I can’t sleep at night…”

“Careful now, that almost sounded romantic,” Fantomex noted in sarcasm, and Hammerhead glared. “But this isn’t exactly a romantic setting.”

The two stared at each other, waiting for one to act first, waiting for who would strike.

“So what? You decided to kill one another in a bid for control in the middle of all this chaos?” Fantomex asked, trying to assess the situation. “For a group that believes in honor and tradition, you are very quick to throw it away for the sake of a little bit of power.”

“Is that what you see? A little bit of power?” Hammerhead scoffed. He kept his cool despite being face to face from the man who scarred him. “You’re an outsider with no clue what is going on, just stumbling into someone’s else home like you usually do. Yeah, I know it was you who ruined us in Rome, in Europe. Because of you, the Maggia is royally fucked in the old country.”

“What can I say, I tend to be a nuisance. My old commanding officer used to say that all the time. You should meet her, she’s very cranky,” Fantomex said as he shifted his weapon between the giant mobster and the blonde-haired man whose expression was growing more frustrated as the seconds passed. “Now, be a dear and give yourself up. You and I have a very important discussion to have, and I am your only hope to get out of the Bloody Tiger’s hands.”

“Got that handled,” Hammerhead said in confidence. “The mutants, my mutants, will take care of Chaka and his fodder in no time.”

“So it’s true…” Fantomex muttered. “The Serpent Society, were they the ones who helped you get the mutants? To fund your bid to control New York’s underworld.”

“Them?” Hammerhead scoffed, finding what he just said insulting. “I am not doing this for anyone, only for the good of the Maggia, and to get us to the top of this city. If I need to use freaks like the muties, then I won’t even blink.”

“Even kill your own people?” Fantomex accused.

Hammerhead grunted. He was not willing to admit what he was doing, even if it was happening at this very moment.

“You… how are you resisting?”

Fantomex and Hammerhead turned to the blond-haired man staring at the injured mercenary.

“I’ve been using every command I can think of to make you feel every emotion a person would go through, and yet… Nothing,” said the man with a distinct accent. Fantomex noted it to be Spanish. “This isn’t just willpower… you are not even reacting to my powers.”

“Powers?” Fantomex slowly aimed his weapon at the blond-haired man. “You’re a mutant?”

It made sense he had more than the three he saw in the surveillance footage Sage showed him, and unlike the others, this one had a very different aura around him, an uncomfortable one. It looked like he was enjoying the carnage happening around him, staring at Vinny Jr’s bloody and shocked expression with amusement.

“You’re the one making them do this…” Fantomex realized, and aimed his weapons at him. “You can control them…”

“I can simply guide their emotions,” said the mutant, raising his hand in defense. “It seems to not work on you… and that feels… wrong.”

The tone of the man’s voice felt like a mixture of confusion and frustration.

“Well, I’ve been told I have a very- GAH!”

Before Fantomex could throw another witty comment, Hammerhead charged at him like a raging bull and slammed his oversized head on his chest, sending him to the ground and making him drop his two guns. The impact sent shockwaves all over his body. Pain he never thought he’d feel again was screaming at him, waking up from its long slumber.

“Fuck it, should have done this the very second you showed up!” Hammerhead said in cold rage, grabbing the downed Fantomex who was trying to regain his breath and lifting him by the throat. His size hid that he was also fast, added that he had the strength of a freight train.

Fantomex raised his knees, hitting Hammerhead under his chin, sending him into a daze and setting the man in white free.

“Shouldn’t have done that!” Shaking his daze off, Hammerhead grabbed Fantomex’s nightstick and pulled him close to deliver another headbutt. The sound of heads colliding echoed around the room, knocking Fantomex senseless. He was too weak to fight out of Hammerhead’s clutches as he lifted him by the throat.

“You ruined me, but what you did gave me the kick in the ass I needed to take control of this dying family and take over this city!” said Hammerhead. “And for that, I thank you, Fantomex.”

Fantomex’s mind was in a daze. The headbutt rocked him completely, making him feel as if he was back during his recovery days. But he was aware of what Hammerhead meant: all of this was due to Fantomex sticking his nose in. From bombing Hammerhead’s face to ruining the Maggia in Europe and pushing them to work further with the Serpent Society, and now using mutants, the very people Fantomex had helped free, as weapons to gain control over New York.

“Empath,” Hammerhead turned to the blond-haired man. “Finish it.”

Empath smiled and bowed his head. “Tu deseo es mi comando,” he said in glee, turning to the horrified Vinny Jr. “Now, be a dear and have angry thoughts,” he commanded, putting his hands on his shoulders like he was a father giving his son a pep talk. “That old man? He makes you angry, no? He makes you so very angry that you just want to get rid of him.”

Vinny Jr shakingly raised the iron claw.

Empath smiled and nodded as he commanded the horrified Vinny Jr to continue the killing. Grabbing the bloody claws, Vinny turned to the remaining mob boss, Silvermane, who could only defiantly glare at Hammerhead.

“I’ll see you in hell, Joseph-”

Vinny Jr unwillingly stabbed Silvermane through the throat, distaste covering his expression as he cut the older mob boss’s life short. He lunged the iron claws forward as he stabbed and stabbed, the disgusting noise of Vinny Jr’s butchering echoing around the room as Silvermane’s blood covered the table and the floor.

“Damn you…” Fantomex swore. The longer Hammerhead choked him out, the closer he was to meeting the reaper. His eyes closed, and darkness greeted him-

“Is this how you will go away, Charlie? After everything you went through?”

‘That voice…’

“Stop holding back, Charlie. So many still need your help, and you and I need to talk like we always do.”

“EVA…”

Fantomex’s eyes shot open, and his eyes shifted, starting to glow green. He turned to Hammerhead, who was taken aback by the change. Quickly, Fantomex grabbed the giant mobster by the face and pushed his finger down into his right eye, forcing him to let Fantomex go as he grabbed his bleeding eye in pain.

Calmly and coldly, Fantomex grabbed the 9mm guns and began firing at the dazed Hammerhead, but they bounced off thanks to his suit being laced in armor. He then aimed at Empath, who quickly ordered Vinny Jr to stand in front of him as a shield. Fantomex fired, and the bullets managed to kill Vinny Jr and catch Empath on the shoulders.

The gun let out a click after he emptied the rounds. He tossed them aside; it was no use to reload.

[Hey, you’re alive?] Sage’s voice caught his attention, and he turned to the large window that gave a view of the dance floor below.

“Sage,” Fantomex said her name aloud, speaking in two voices, with the other being that of a woman. “Listen to me.”

[Who the-]

“I am heading to you now, and when Charlie wakes up, tell him to not look for me, for the Serpents will know where he is.”

Without another word, Fantomex sprinted toward the window, crashing through it and landing on the dance floor in front of the battling Maggia, Mutants, and Tigers, who all turned their attention to the arrival of the Man in White. Chaka gave a confused look, unsure what to think of him, while Frenzy’s eyes widened as she recognized him.

“You… you’re the guy from Rome,” Frenzy said. “The one who freed us…”

Random and Wild Child turned their attention to Fantomex as well, finally realizing they were looking at the man who freed them. The very man who had stood up against the Serpents and their attack dogs and managed to get them out, at least, as many as he could.

Fantomex was silent, ignoring all the attention and simply staring ahead before rushing forward, passing by all the Maggia and the Triad who were fighting. One Maggia tried to take a swing at him, and Fantomex retaliated with a punch so strong it broke his jaw. Jumping over a few dead bodies, Fantomex saw the large door that led outside and kicked it open.

Onlookers and club-goers who escaped from the battle all turned and gawked at the heavily injured man. Some even took their phones out to take pictures and videos.

Fantomex ran toward the nearest alley and climbed up a fire escape to the rooftop, disappearing into the darkness and away from the battle.

Back at Purgatory and the meeting room, Hammerhead walked toward the table, holding his injured eye. He stared at the dead bodies of the other Maggia bosses and snorted. “Plan worked perfectly…”

With the other bosses at the table dead, that left him as the sole surviving boss at the table, giving him the opening to be the Big Man of the Maggia.

He turned toward the open window to see the Maggia and the Tigers had temporarily stopped fighting, still confused by Fantomex’s appearance. Chaka turned to look up, and glared at the giant mobster with hate in his eyes. Hammerhead, for his part simply stared, grabbing his one bleeding eye before shouting out his orders.

“Kill them, all of them!”

…

…

An hour passed by the time the NYPD arrived after someone finally called for them. By that point, Purgatory was a bloody mess filled with bodies, broken furniture, bullets on the ground, claws stabbed in the walls, and torn-out pieces of Maggia and Triad flesh from their battle. Hammerhead, his number two, Chaka, his lieutenant, and the mutants were nowhere in sight.

If the rumors of a possible gang war were true, this battle was proof that it had already arrived.

And New York City was ground zero.

*************************************************************

Volume 2

Previous Issue <> Next Issue

Streets Run Red Issue 1

Salutation True Believers!

It's April! You know what that means!

We are coming to you with the latest issues from our amazing writers, with the continuation of Utopia, the finale of Alias: The Devil, and the coming of a new exciting exciting for the street side of MNCU!

We are proud to announce the release of this new event... Streets Run Red!

What to expect from this month's release:

• Alias: The Devil #4 - Finale!
• Amazing Spider-Man #22 & #23
• American Kaiju #3 & #4
• Fantomex #14
• Guardians of the Galaxy #6
• Iron Man #8, #9 & #10
• Streets Run Red #1 & #2
• USAgent #20
• Utopia #2

Last Month <> Next Month

Wolverine
Issue #2: The Yashida Clan
Gaijin, part 2

Written by: u/PresidentWerewolf
Edited by: u/dwright5252

Previous Issue

From the files of Professor Charles Xavier
Audio//Digital//Logan11XD.WAV

XAVIER: So you are afraid of killing someone.

LOGAN: I ain’t afraid of killin’ anyone, Chuck.

X: You’re not? You are not worried about hurting a student? You are not worried about hurting an innocent person? You would feel no remorse if you were to kill an enemy in battle, Logan?

L: Hurtin’ and killin’ are different!

X: Not when you have a…bestial savagery like yours, my friend. Not when you have unbreakable adamantium claws. Not when you have such rage. Isn’t that what you have been telling me?

L: Stop, Chuck. You’re twisting my words, making out to be some kinda–

X: Monster? A monster, Logan? An animal? A wild beast?

L: [heavy breathing] [growling]

X: What is stopping you from killing me right now, Logan?

L: It’s not…I ain’t gonna just kill ya, Chuck.

X: So you do have some control.

L: It’s not–

X: It’s everything, Logan. It is everything. I have rarely seen you so emotional as you have been the last few days, and I have never seen you more in control of your lethality. You are afraid, but you must see your fear for what it really is.

L: Yeah? And what is it I’m supposed to be afraid of?

X: Logan, we both know exactly what you are afraid of.

Mariko Yashida.

I read somewhere, probably in some book Chuck tossed at me to get me to calm down back in the day, that our sense of smell is the one most connected to our memories. I’m guessing that goes double for a sense of smell like mine.

I was standing there in that office, the scent of gun oil and sweat coming off Nishimura in waves, about ready to pop the claws, when she walked in. The sight of her was something else, and her smile as she saw what the men were getting up to in the conference room…but that was nothing compared to the scent of her. Flowers, tea, salt, and a sense of confidence that a person just can’t hide. It hit me like a whip across the face. She wasn’t afraid of Mr. Nishimura, and she wasn’t afraid of me.

“So, are you going to kill him, or not?” She asked it without a hint of worry. Stopped me in my tracks.

‘Course, it was an act. She was worried about her conference room becoming a meat locker, and she had the police on the line before she walked in. So I guess she’s smart on top of everything else.

And now I’m in jail. And I don’t speak enough Japanese to bum a cigarette. They brought in an interpreter to try and explain things to me, but I think he knew more French than English. Maybe something about me being Canadian got ‘em confused. He sounded like Remy Lebeau readin’ Shakespeare, but I think he said they got someone from home coming to get me.

That could be some suit from State, or it could be the scary kind of suit from Department H. Either way, I need to finish my business here in the next nineteen hours.

Getting out of the cell is no problem, and I think I can get out without hurting anyone too bad. The question is, what do I do next? I still got unfinished business with Haru. I may not know how all the Nishumuras and Yashidas fit into it all, but in the end it don’t matter. Ain’t no way a buncha punks with short swords or a girl with a pretty smile is gonna–

The door opens, and a uniformed officer walks in. Behind him is Mariko. She walks up to the bars of my cell, a smug little smirk on her face. Tea and orange blossom threaten to knock me off my feet. She crosses her arms and looks me over, and I want to hide. This is almost worse than facing Jean after the…after…

“You didn’t kill Nishimura,” she says with a sigh. “But…you also didn’t kill anyone else in the conference room. I just might be able to use you.”

“And if I don’t wanna be used?” I ask. I look her right in the eyes, even if it hurts.

She looks impressed. “Ah, a negotiator. Well, don’t worry. I will have no problem matching whatever old Naru was paying you. I can even buy out your contract, if it comes to that.”

“What are ya talkin’ about, lady?” I growl.

She looks at the officer, who shrugs. “You don’t know Yakku Naru?”

“I barely know who you are.”

“Well then…who’s paying you?”

I’m not exactly a fan of mind games, for obvious reasons. “Who’s payin’ me what? I ain’t here for money!”

Mariko and the officer share a startled look, and his hand goes for his weapon. The fact that I don’t flinch seems to worry them even more. She takes a step back, and she whispers, “Are you with the Hand?”

“I’m here on my own, and I ain’t some hired goon. I’m not after your business.”

“You walked into our headquarters and attacked our CFO!”

“First off, he attacked me. Second, I wasn’t lookin’ for him. I was looking for Haru Hayashi.”

If I thought she looked shocked before, that was nothing. Her knees bend, and the officer reaches out to support her, but his face is going white, too.

“H–Haru?” she says weakly. “Hayashi Haru? What do you want with my grandfather?”

“My grandfather built Hayashi Unlimited from the ground up,” Mariko says. We’re walking along the river between rows of Japanese maple and hackberry trees, the morning wind warm and gentle at our backs. We could be just a couple of old friends out for a walk. She could wind her arm around mine, and we wouldn’t look out of place.

She glances over at me. “I am very protective of him. He has lived many years, and not only that...”

“I get it. Corporate espionage ain’t exactly sportsmanlike around here, huh?”

She laughs quietly. “Nor is it anywhere. Gordon Gekko is an archetype.”

That one goes a little over my head. “You’re not talkin’ about regular business though, are you?”

She shakes her head. “Sabotage occurs, of course. In these times, it is easy enough to hire a super-powered agent. That is nothing I cannot handle, you may have noticed. No, the threat to my grandfather is more...ancestral.”

In my line of work, that could mean a lot of things. I ask her, “Ancestral as in family matters, or as in...ah...”

“Ghosts?” She laughs again, a little more than a whisper of a giggle.

“Somethin’ like that, yeah.”

Mariko sighs. “There are no shortages of ghosts in Japan, Mr. Logan, and my grandfather has his share of them. No, you see, Haru’s daughter, my mother, married a member of the Yashida Clan, hence my surname.”

“Sounds like you’re saying the Yashida are the problem.”

“Very much so. While courting my mother, Harada Shingen hid well the fact that he had taken control of the storied Yashida Clan and married it to the Yakuza. Now, he has replaced much of the Hayashi Unlimited leadership with his own men, like Nishimura, and he has a near-majority control of the company.”

“Let me guess, he needs your grandpa’s shares to get control.”

Mariko shrugs nervously. “Well, that is what he thinks. In reality, Grandfather sold them to me to keep them out of Father’s hands.”

I almost laugh. To think that I wandered blind into something like this. “Lady, you are in a heap of trouble if he finds out.”

“When,” she corrects me, “and he will find out soon. My father has never been a gentle man. The only reason my grandfather still lives is that...” she swallows hard, her throat working to push out the words.

“He’s waitin’ the old man out,” I finish for her.

Mariko nods sadly, and I can feel her body temperature rise, hear her heart pick up. Sour grief is leaking from her pores, tearing her part one little artery at a time. She loves the old man.

She composes herself in an instant, a blank smile falling over her beautiful sadness like a shutter. “And now you have come to Japan, seeking my Haru. What do you want with him, Mr. Logan?”

“Mariko, I don’t think you told me all o’ that for no good reason. If you want me to protect him–”

“I don’t know what I want from you yet. What do you want with him?”

“I just came to visit. He’s an old friend of mine.”

“I don’t believe you.” Why should she? Any old friend of Haru’s would be a friend of hers as well. Or dead.

“You know, Hayashi could sort this out, if you’d just let me see him.”

Mariko stops in her tracks, and I think for a second she’s winding up to chew me out. Instead, she looks thoughtful. “Yes. That is exactly what we need to do. Nishimura has no doubt told and retold the story of how you defeated his personal enforcers. If it is known that you were meeting with Haru-sama himself, that would give my father pause.”

She pulls out her phone and taps the screen, and a few seconds later a sleek, black limousine pulls up beside us. A uniformed driver hops out and just about falls over himself to get the door open on our side.

“Come with me,” she says, like I was gonna do anything else.

“What’s he like? Uh, these days.”

“Grandfather is quite healthy for his age,” Mariko says. We’re sitting facing each other in the back of her limo, as the driver winds his way through a knot of streets I don’t even try to remember. In these close quarters, I can tell she takes her morning coffee black. More of that orange blossom, and something more–-clean skin, neutral soap, bamboo-–washes over me. She still doesn’t believe me, but that’s the least of my worries.

“What was he like the last time you saw him?” she asks me. ‘Course, I barely know the answer to that.

I guess I can tell her what I know. “He was up and on his feet. He was into airplanes, if I remember right.”

“Hm. Then it has been some time, hasn’t it?”

I nod back to her, thinking. “I remember...he wasn’t afraid of anything, Mariko. He wasn’t afraid of heights, or an angry police officer. And he damn sure wasn’t afraid of me.”

She considers me, and I can feel her taking me in, studying the details of my face. “Perhaps you know him better than I thought. Tell me, did he–”

“Hold on.” I smell something else, now, something that don’t belong in this car or on this street. Ozone, which means charged up electronics, volatiles, which means high efficiency fuel, and I can hear it outside, the tiny pat-pat-pat of someone, something…

“Get down!” I dive across the seat just as the roof of the limo is sheared away. Mariko screams as I cover her and press her into the seat. There’s a heat, blazing like a red iron, right behind me, right as I hear a final screech as the roof peels away in one piece and takes off into the wind.

I didn’t expect this, but as I turn around, I’m thinking I want this. Nishimura, Harada, whoever is responsible, they went all out. Ebony gunmetal plating, regenerative cybernetics, more sensory gear than I got, most likely. And he’s got a sword, over half a meter long and crackling with energy. They sent a damn cyber-ninja to take care of her. And if I’m standing in its way, what does that make me?

“Logan-san!” Mariko cries from behind me.

That’ll do. That’ll do just fine.

SNIKT

He comes in close before he realizes what I’ve got, and I take a chunk with the first swing. A whole piece of plating goes missing as my claws cut through, and circuitry, sparks, and oil splay in the wind behind us. The ninja grabs at his side with one hand and swings with the other, never missing a beat, never losing his eye on me. I block with the claws, but that energy is no joke. I feel the jolt down in the base of my spine, and the skin on my arms begins to sizzle.

“Gaijin dog!” he spits. Both hands on the sword now. His side is stitching up all on its own. I ain’t got a single word in Japanese or English for him, but we’re still speaking the same language. I’m growling, ready to rip and tear. I’d bite him if I could get close enough.

But I’m still me. I still know I’m guarding this woman behind me.

He shears off a chunk of my shoulder, and while I’m off balance he takes his shot. Chop-chop-chop up my arm, cutting flesh to ribbons. He only does three because the first one didn’t cut it off; for an instant, he doesn’t understand. It’s enough to take a bigger piece, this one near his neck.

He leaps back, leaking now pretty good, and he skitters to the front of the car. I try and follow, dammit, but there’s nowhere to stand. He slices the roof off above the driver, and I know where this is going almost too late. I reach down for Mariko as the ninja stabs down.

The driver was doing an A+ job keeping the car on the road, just like he was trained, but now he’s dead, and we’re still going highway speed. Mariko grabs my hand, and I pull her up. The car is tilting under our feet.

“You trust me?”

“Do I have a choice?” she asks.

Nope. I throw my weight back, taking us out as the limo flies off the road and goes flipping into the woods. I let her land on me, and I fight to stay under her. Adamantium vertebrae grind the asphalt as we skid to a stop, but it worked. She’s alive.

I stand up just as the ninja joins us. He comes at me, grinning. He still doesn’t know, but he figures it out as the skin on my arm tightens up, knits back into place before his eyes. Asphalt grit pops out from my skin and bounces on the street.

He comes at me in a flash, going exactly where I think he’s going. I hook his sword as I deflect the slice at my neck, and I grab it. The blade cuts deep, and that energy lights me up. My eyes are fried. I smell like a barbecue. I don’t let go. He swerves around, yanking at his blade, but I pull and bring him right to me.

There’s a flash of fear as the claws go into his gut. Quick as I can, I take his sword hand off, I make another swipe for his legs, and then I can’t hold on any longer. We both collapse. Me, waiting for my sight to come back, waiting to heal. Him, crawling away in fits of clinks and clanks. Whatever doohickey was putting his body back together, I must’ve nicked it.

BLAM!

Still can’t see yet, but it sounds like Mariko finished things on her own. A few seconds later, I feel a ring of cold steel against my temple. It’s shaking.

“You are not who you say you are,” she says in a cold voice.

“I do...know your grandpa.” My own voice is a rasp. “It’s just...been longer...longer than I...”

She spits on the road. “I’ve been a fool. The contract will be honored after all.”

“Mariko. I’m a mu–”

BLAM!

Next: The Contract

##ALIAS: THE DEVIL

Issue #3: Devil’s Playground

Written by: dwright5252

Story by: dwright5252 & AdamantAce

Edited by: VoidKiller826 & AdamantAce

<Last Issue Next Issue > Coming Next Month

Midtown Manhattan

It wasn’t hard to find the brooding blind man perched above his hunting grounds. The climb up was a little more difficult without causing property damage; the fire escape leading up to his surveillance ledge had long since rusted off and fell to the ground. Any other time, I’d have asked Matt how he always managed to parkour his way into impossible spots without teleportation powers. I’d thought Midtown was a bit more structurally sound than the other districts of NYC, but leave it to me to make sweeping assumptions.

I pulled myself up to him by the bricks and held my hands out in a gesture of peace. “Matt, do you have a second to talk this over?”

The perpetual scowl on his face deepend. “You have until the guard changeover’s done.” I looked out to the headquarters below and saw a few black sedans pulling up to the bay doors of the receiving dock of a pretty modest commercial building. Sure enough, a dozen goons spilled out, chatting jovially about their latest betting losses and how shitty their picks were for their fantasy football league. Not too much time, then.

“Look, I think we need to take a breath and check this out from all sides,” I began, sitting down on the ledge next to him. “So you have an informant who gives you all these spots to pick people off?”

“The information’s been good so far,” Matt explained, his head tilted as he counted the men on the move. “And I’ve made sure to get in and out without anyone following me. Tough to pin me in a trap when I’m always expecting it. I don’t care where I’m getting this intel from, so long as I’m dealing with the scum the city’s become infested with. Besides, I feel more in control than I have in years..”

Control. That was something I was all too familiar with, especially lack thereof. “But you’re not the one in the driver’s seat on this. The GPS chess player’s been guiding your ‘righteous fists’. Thousands of criminals in the city, did you ever stop to think why you’re being sent after these ones? You think this is some good samaritan trying to help out his favorite vigilante?”

I saw the slightest bit of hesitation in his body language as he shifted pressure onto his opposite leg. Pressing the issue, I took out my notes and handed them to him. As he ran his hand along the text, I continued my full-court press. “Listen, someone hired me to find you. Just like me, I think someone’s using you as a bloodhound to take out their competition. You don’t think it's a coincidence that you got some intel right when I showed up?”

I was wearing him down, doing better than I thought I would. Before I could consider asking Matt to sponsor me for the bar association, I grabbed my notebook back from him and held out my other hand. “Why don’t the two of us go back to your base and see if we can’t connect the dots on what’s going on here? These thugs’ll keep, and if we find out that you have a guardian angel looking down on you, I won’t stop you. Deal?”

There was a brief moment where I thought I’d lost him as he took one last sweeping gaze at the goons below. Then he took my hand. “Okay then, private eye. Let’s go.”

Our Sister of Mercy, Hell’s Kitchen

“Well, the good news is that it seems like you have pretty thorough documentation.”

Matt’s murder board painted a grisly scene, showing many dead capos and crooks from across the criminal landscape of New York City. From my extensive (though somewhat outdated thanks to that pesky amnesia) knowledge of gang activity flow charts, it seemed that the bad guys Daredevil had been aimed at were from most families and organizations still active. All but one.

“I’m not seeing any of Fisk’s crew on the board. That seems like a big oversight, Matty.”

Matt chuckled darkly. “You really have been out of it, haven’t you? Fisk’s dead. His organization is in the wind, absorbed by the others and his territory’s been carved up.”

I shook my head. “Not that I doubt your words, but the pattern here is showing me otherwise. If Fisk’s men had been snatched up by the other gangs, wouldn’t they also be on your board? Not to be that pain in the ass, but do we have a body for proof?”

“You weren’t there, Jessica. I was,” Matt explained as he pulled off his mask and placed it on the table. I could see how worn out he looked without the scary helmet covering his face, how much this decades-long one-man war on crime had taken from him. “I beat him, I killed Ikari and beat him to a pulp. There’s no way he walked away from that, and it doesn’t make any sense. Why would he fake his death at the height of his power?”

He had me there. The king of the hill usually stayed on top of the mountain and shot down any climbers coming for the crown. Something itched at the back of my mind and gave me another thought. How would the king react when a devil without restraint came knocking? “I mean, if some guy with nothing to lose came at me with everything and beat me half to death, I think I’d hightail it out of there and live to fight another day. I wouldn’t stick my head out for anything until I knew for sure the coast was clear.”

Again, Matt shook his head. That was starting to annoy me, but I decided to entertain his objection. “Fisk isn’t scared of anything, let alone me.”

I exhaled sharply. “Fine. Maybe the field got too crowded, and he knew someone with a mean streak would take out the competition. Wait long enough, and everything’s ripe for the picking.”

I could see Matt turning this over in his head. Was I finally convincing him this was a possibility? “That does sound more likely. Wait for the fighting to stop and loot the spoils.”

Looking back at the chart, I double-checked that I was seeing things correctly. None of the figures I associated with Fisk appeared on the board. As I began to work through my theory in more detail, I saw Matt startle. He grabbed his helmet and took out his twin billy clubs. “We’ve got company.”

I whirled towards the church doors in time to see a dozen armed thugs burst through like they were some elite covert ops team, complete with one of them scanning the perimeter for hostiles. I heard another door slam open above us and saw even more goons on the balcony.

But Matt was looking behind us at the stained glass windows, and sure enough they shattered and allowed even more assholes entrance to the church. We were surrounded.

A loud clap sounded from the balcony, one that echoed with astounding acoustics that demanded attention. His ears must’ve been burning, because the hulking form of Wilson Fisk looked down at us, his face twisted into a look of satisfaction.

“Bravo, Ms. Jones,” Fisk boomed, holding his cane in front of him as the goons came closer to box us in. “It seems the dots you’ve been given have been properly connected. Your skills as a private investigator were not overstated.”

I felt Matt tense beside me but didn’t dare to turn and look at him. Whether he was angry or surprised by Fisk’s entrance, I couldn’t tell. All I knew was if we were getting out of here alive, I needed to talk fast. “You always knew how to make an entrance, Fisk.”

He smiled down at me, the kind of smile an adult gives a toddler for doing something they thought was cute. “As you elucidated, my timing is rather expert. Yes, you have discovered a good portion of my workings, but still haven’t seen the whole picture. Mr. Murdock, though our last in person meeting was less than cordial, you have more than repaid any debt you may have owed me. Your work as my lieutenant, albeit unwittingly, has truly done more for my business than even the likes of poor Ikari… or your old rival Bullseye.”

“You’re fucking dead, Fisk!” Matt roared, and I was barely able to grab his arm in time and hold him back as he tried to charge at the crime boss. The guards around us raised their rifles, but Fisk gave a click of his tongue that returned their aim to the ground.

“I understand your trepidation, Mr. Murdock,” Fisk said, his voice annoyingly calm and level. “It is difficult to learn the truths behind gifts freely given. I, too, would balk at the idea of working alongside a former enemy had I not seen how lucrative such a partnership could be.

“You see, these constant battles for supremacy between warring factions aren’t healthy. Especially for our city. Tensions are mounting between the gangs. Something big is coming and we need stability to prevent it. Were I to cull the troublemakers and reclaim my leadership role, we can prevent power plays like we’ve had for decades. I just needed the force required to show any brave up-and-coming mobsters that a shot at the king is not worth trying. By my side, you would be a precision scalpel. With a few strikes to key targets, we can rule in peace, with nothing bloodier than fear to secure my position at the top.”

Boy, I forgot how much guys like this loved the sound of their own voice. “That’s all fine and good that you want to be a civil servant, but what does this have to do with me? Why did you hire me?”

It hadn’t taken me too many leaps to figure out I’d been used by Fisk just as much as Matt had, but I was still unsure as to why. It was the voice that informed Matt where he could find his next victim. That was the same guy who gave me the job.

Fisk tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Yes, I required your services to find our elusive friend so I could extend my invitation in person. Our hot-blooded counselor has a useful yet frustrating ability to evade any tails placed on him to track his whereabouts. I needed someone with your set of skills and experience with him in order to discover his location.

“But, I fear we’ve come to the point in our partnership that requires us to formalize our dealings. I have operated in the dark for too long, and wish to conduct my business face to face. You, like Matthew here, have also been useful in removing many pieces from the board that have been roadblocking my efforts.”

My blood ran cold. He was talking about my missing time. How did he know about that? “What do you know about that? Was that you?”

Fisk raised his hand to stop me. “Please, Ms. Jones. Though I acquired your services through a third party to find Mr. Murdock, rest assured I was not responsible for your lapse in memory nor the actions taken during that time.”

“Bullshit. That sounds like exactly something you’d pull. After all, you seem to enjoy keeping people in the dark about what’s going on.”

This time, it was Matt who stopped me. “He’s telling the truth. This whole time the bastard’s heartbeat’s been as steady as a rock. He doesn’t know anything about your amnesia.”

Giving a slow nod, Fisk waited for me to calm myself before continuing. “As our human lie detector says, I was not the culprit in that crime. But with the resources at my disposal, should you choose to work alongside me, we can discover the truth together. I like my partnerships to be equally beneficial for both parties, Ms. Jones.”

Before I could truly process this deal with the devil, Matt spoke up. “What exactly are you proposing, Fisk? We become your hired goons, taking out the competition so you can have a safe route to the top of the ash heap?”

Chuckling, Fisk shook his head. “Nothing so pedestrian, Mr. Murdock. We want the same result: a city without the violence and anarchy that’s currently ruling it. We both know the steps that need to be taken in order to achieve that goal, and we both gain everything by making that dream a reality. Here is my proposal: you work alongside me as my second and Ms. Jones uses her services as a private investigator to identify trouble spots, helping me bring order to our fair city. Together, we will make New York City a safe place to live and thrive.”

I was speechless for the first time. Fisk was offering order to a man who was working through some truly horrible trauma and loss of faith. If I were in Matt’s shoes, I might have accepted his offer. Better the devil you know, right? Hell, I was sorely tempted to accept myself if it got me closer to figuring out what happened to my missing years.

“Go to Hell, Fisk.” Matt gripped his weapons tighter, his breath picking up as he prepared to fight his way out of there. Well, there went that plan.

But instead of attacking, Fisk gave a grunt of disappointment. “I did prepare for the eventuality of your refusal.” He motioned behind him, and one of his henchmen brought him a phone. Tossing it down to Matt, he continued. “It seems you have grown ungrateful of the many carrots I tossed you from the shadows. A stubborn mule such as yourself may respond better to the stick. Though I wished to share the riches with you as a willing partner, I will have your cooperation.”

The sound of Matt’s wife and kid resonated through the phone’s speaker. Fisk was watching his family. The threat became immediately clear.

Join Fisk in his crusade to claim the city for his own, or the Murdocks’ lives were forfeit.

Black Panther
Volume IV: Across the Sky
Issue #44: The Needle

Written by: u/PresidentWerewolf
Edited by: u/Predaplant

Previous Issue

“It started out as a regular conversation.” Agent Ross faced the window, watching the Pirate Lord’s planet slowly fall away as the shuttle took them into orbit. “I was talking about the engines–-”

“Who were you talking with?” T’Challa asked, surprised.

“The AI on the Garland,” Ross said. “Relax, T’Challa.”

T’Challa shuffled uncomfortably. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I sequestered the AI program once I realized where this was going, by the way.”

T’Challa waved a hand between them. “I trust you, Ross.”

“Anyway, I was talking shop, I guess, with the program, about what we could do with the Vibranium that we do have. On the Anvil, we could box the reactor and reach theoretical limits, which...” he trailed off. Ross was trying to speak carefully. The last time they had done that, they had almost been able to take on an entire pirate fleet. Almost, and Ross always spoke carefully around the loss of Okoye.

“...which would turn a little ship like the Garland into a powerhouse. I mean, if you wired it right. Most of the capacitors would just melt the instant you hit the gas or fired the lasers, at that output.”

“You mentioned catching up with Dangar.”

“Right. This is what we were talking about, how to give our own fleet here a boost. I mentioned the box. The AI mentioned the capacity of the integral systems, but short range movement would mostly be fine, for reasons. And then I asked it about long range travel, and it basically said the ship would shake itself apart.”

“And then,” Ross continued, his voice rising with excitement, “eight hours later, while I was in bed, I had a thought. What if the ship didn't shake itself apart?”

T’Challa was already doing the math in his head. “Ross, you are talking about...”

“Oh, that was just the beginning,” Ross said. “This was where I cloned the AI into a private partition, by the way. Only I have access. It turns out that, theoretically, well, I’m calling it a Hyperspace Foil.”

“I see,” said T’Challa. “You do not just coat the entire ship.”

“It’s weirder than that. Hyperspace doesn’t exactly interact with matter in three dimensions. You just have to enhance the 4-D profile with Vibranium support, and if you do it right, you can cut into the hyperspace slipstream.”

Through the window behind Ross, the Garland steadily grew in size. It was a small ship compared to the average pirate’s complement, but it was still the size of a city. The shuttle was aimed at a bay near the spine of the vessel, directly behind the bridge.

T’Challa leaned back against the wall, thinking. “You could cut into Hyperspace without a jump reactor.”

“Well, we use the reactor a little, but you’ve got the idea.”

“No relativistic interactions,” T’Challa said.

“Exactly. You just...zoom. Orders of magnitude faster than anything we’ve seen out here.”

There was a slight jolt as the larger ship hit the shuttle with a tractor beam. It picked up speed, and within a few seconds, they were landing in the bay.

“I don’t really like trusting them to do that,” Ross said.

A single man, a green-skinned alien with a finned skull, monitored the control board that brought in the shuttle and closed the bay doors. He was a former pirate, spared from the crew of the Garland and pledged to T’Challa’s service. He gave T’Challa and Ross a curt nod as they passed.

T’Challa spoke to him sharply. “Report?”

The former pirate’s spine was a straight rod as he replied. “Complete victory in low orbit, Captain. Picking off stragglers from the polar regions. Ground based infrastructure is at less than five percent. Lord Tes–I mean, Tesren’s forces have been demolished.”

“And Lord Tesren himself is no longer a problem,” T’Challa said. He waited a moment. The former pirate showed no reaction. “At ease,” he said, and then he and Ross were off to the bridge.

As soon as they were on the bridge, T’Challa began barking orders. The crew members, each one a pirate spared from one of the Black Panther's raids, snapped to attention and worked quickly. The Garland led the rest of the fleet into hyperspace.

“Hold up. Where are we going?” Ross asked. “I didn’t even catch the coordinates.”

“We are traveling to the shipyards in the Rhu Spiral,” T’Challa said.

“Why would we go back there–-oh. You want to do the thing.”

T’Challa nodded solemnly.

“Like, right now.”

“Right now.”

Ross went to a nearby control panel and started tapping. “I mean, it’s been a few weeks since we hit it. We left it intact, mostly, but it’s got to be repopulated by now.”

“It will be easy enough to de-populate again.”

Ross stood up. “If it’s staffed by pirates again, you mean.”

There was a long pause, during which the entire bridge was loaded with electric silence.

“Of course,” T’Challa said.

“Because if it’s not,” Ross began. “If it’s staffed by civilians, or Xandarians or something...”

“Do we have enough Vibranium?” T’Challa asked, cutting him off. The bridge crew shuffled audibly when he spoke the word, but a sharp glance quieted them.

“Yeah. We have enough.”

“Then we only need one empty bay for the ship. I will secure it.”

The shipyards at Rhu Spiral were bustling with activity, which did not slow as the fleet approached. Several huge battleships were docked, all of them sporting visible outer damage.

“Report,” T’Challa said.

Ross answered him. “It’s a little complicated. I’m seeing merchant ships and some law enforcement vessels. Those big ships all along the top row, those are all peacekeeping battlecruisers. But it looks like pirates have moved in.”

“There are fused bulkheads,” another crew member said. Seqen had wrinkled, purple skin, and his shoulders bulged with muscle. T’Challa had personally thrown this man against a power conduit to kill him. Once the pirate realized that he had survived, he pledged his service. “Pirate forces have taken the lower third.”

“I see,” T’Challa said, sighing. “It looks to me as though every ship below...deck twelve is a pirate vessel.”

“Yes,” Seqen said.

“Very well. Operations, assemble the fleet. We will drag each pirate ship from its bay with tractor beams and destroy them in space.”

“They are going to resist, Sir,” Seqen said. “Several ships are powering weapons.”

“They don’t think we’ll risk firing on the shipyards,” Ross said.

“We won’t,” T’Challa said. “Position the fleet to protect the Garland and stand by.” He moved to leave the bridge, but Ross stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Where are you going?”

“To soften their resistance.’

T’Challa left the bridge, which left Ross in command. The ship’s AI was third in line. There was no fourth. If T’Challa and Ross were lost, the AI’s only job was to lock out all ship’s functions and self-destruct the fleet. This was why Ross felt perfectly safe alone, surrounded by former blood enemies. This was why T’Challa did not fear that the Turmoil would suddenly fire on the Garland to be rid of him.

Ross watched from the bridge as a single shuttle, piloted by T’Challa, shot from the ship towards the shipyards. Laser and plasma fire began to lance from the docks, but the shuttle drifted and zipped with such agility that nothing could touch it.

“That one singed him!” Seqen called out, and several other members of the crew chuckled. They sounded oddly respectful. Then again, many of these men had been passed from crew to crew via raiding parties before. Maybe T’Challa was just another Captain to them.

But to Ross, he was a friend. T’Challa was certainly brave, and he wasn’t one to shrink from a fight, but this...this was something else.

A blazing beam of plasma came close enough to the shuttle to warp the hull, and the bridge crew exploded in cheers and applause. Seqen leaned back to see Ross. “I hope our Captain knows what he is doing!”

That’s the problem, Ross thought, T’Challa always knows exactly what he’s doing.

In the shuttle, alarms blared from the controls as the heat of the plasma beam damaged the hull and sensors. One of the shuttle’s laser cannons was gone. T’Challa routed energy to the thrusters, and he twisted away from the beam. He was almost to the docks now, and the fire from the enemy was having a hard time reaching him.

There wasn’t a good place to land, and T’Challa didn’t have the time anyway. He blew the hatch, and all the atmosphere in the shuttle with it, and when the initial burst of air was done, he threw himself out of the ship towards the shipyards. The shuttle was hit with laser fire at once, and it spun away smoking beneath the docks. T’Challa hit the rockets on the boots of his space suit, and he picked up speed, zooming for an access port.

A single shot from his impact pistol (lifted from the cowardly captain of a raided pirate vessel), blew the port to metal shreds, and oxygen blew outwards into the vacuum. T’Challa was able to fight through the stream with his rockets, and he landed inside, where he darted for the nearest bulkhead. It was already closing to seal off the breach, and he slipped underneath it. Behind him, screaming pirates were being sucked towards the breach from the other direction.

Alarms were sounding, and a voice over the intercom was warning that intruders had landed. The fused bulkheads meant that T’Challa didn’t have to worry about the peaceful residents in the structure, and it probably meant they hadn’t even been alerted he was here. He was free to confront the enemy as he saw fit.

T’Challa shed his space suit, and he flexed his claw-tipped fingers eagerly. These days, there was only one way to keep focus, to keep from thinking about her. He would lose himself in the hunt.

A door ahead opened, and a group of pirates began firing at him. T’Challa picked up speed and shrugged off the laser fire, and he came at them low, with such speed that they couldn’t track him with their weapons. He flew by the group, and several limbs fell flopping to the floor. He rounded on them before most of them even realized he had passed. The screaming didn’t even begin until he was in their midst, slashing at them with unchained power.

He left them on the floor, and he found the control room for the first dock. The impact pistol blew the door off its moorings, and he leapt after it, becoming a shadow himself behind the clanging of the door and spinning shrapnel. The pirates shrieked in fear, and those who remembered they had weapons fired wild. Only one man managed to draw a beam sword. T’Challa stepped back to avoid the swing, and then he ducked under it, eviscerating the pirate with a single swipe.

From the control room, he unlocked the ship in the dock; the pirates working on it down there started to scramble as it began to drift and scrape against the walls. Their orderly movement turned to scattered panic as T’Challa deactivated the force field. Most of them were blown out into space the very first instant.

T’Challa watched the chaos for a moment, breathing heavily of the sterile, filtered air. Blood of a dozen colors dripped from his claws to the floor.

Like a shadow, he fled to the corridor in a blur, and he headed for the second control room.

One week later

“It needs a new name.“

Ross and T’Challa stood at the edge of the space dock, looking up at the refitted Garland. Vibranium upgrades were visible, shining with ghostly silver from the ship’s seams, bow, and manifolds.

“I mean, look at it,” Ross said with a whistle. “First off, it looks like a different ship. I’ve never seen so much Vibranium at once. It’s just beautiful.”

“Agreed,” T’Challa said in a flat tone.

“Also, this refit would be insanity in any other circumstance.” Ross laughed nervously. “Wearing Vibranium on the outside? We’d have suicide bombers trying to knock chunks off.”

T’Challa didn’t laugh with him, partially because what he said was the truth. These visible enhancements only made sense on the fastest ship in the universe.

“When can we launch?” he asked Ross.

“Now, I guess. As soon as you confirm this insane crew order, that is.”

T’Challa glanced over at the data pad in Ross’s hand. “The order is accurate.”

“You sent three quarters of our guys to the other ships. You emptied out our battleship!”

“They aren’t coming with us,” T’Challa said. “We are taking a skeleton crew, and the rest of the pirates–”

“Former pirates,” Ross interrupted.

“Former only as long as they are under my command. I won’t set them free. The rest of the ships have been programmed to take them to governmental authorities and present full disclosure of their crimes. The Turmoil will plot a course into the nearest star. Once we leave, they will have no control over what happens next.”

“Geez, T’Challa,” Ross said. “I get it, I guess. Some of these guys don’t seem that bad.”

“Hence the skeleton crew.”

Ross sighed and scratched his head. “T’Challa...I trust you, you know that.”

“I do.”

“It’s just...let’s be honest about this suicidal streak you’re on.”

T’Challa cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I am responsible for my crewmen, for as long as they are my crew, and you are my friend. You need not worry that I will put them or you in danger.”

“Sure...sure. But you’re my friend, T’Challa. It’s not me that I’m worried about.”

On the bridge of the Garland, T’Challa ordered off the crew that he wasn’t going to keep. That left Seqen, two other bridge officers, and about a dozen other crewmen for the entire ship. It was just enough, and the tight sleep cycles would probably catch up with them.

T’Challa himself took the Nav, and Ross took tactical, including control of all the ship’s weapons.

“So, T’Challa, we haven’t talked about exactly how to catch Dangar’s ship, but–-”

“You have a copy of the Vibranium Atlas on the storage chip embedded in the back of your hand,” T’Challa said.

Ross sighed. “Uh, right. Should have known I wouldn’t be able to pull off a big reveal in front of you.” He let the ship’s computer scan the chip, and the Atlas appeared on the main viewscreen. In the same direction as that distant lode, the Vibranium source, a single point stood out, far off in space.

“That’s him,” Ross said. “Dangar’s ship. He made it really far. I wonder if he can rangefind the source yet. We were never able to.” Indeed, the distance to the source still stood at +100,000 light years.

“Let’s find out,” T’Challa said, and for the first time in a long time, there was some emotion in his voice besides grit and sadness. “It is time to avenge Okoye.”

“Undocking the Garland,” Ross said.

“No,” T’Challa said. “That was its pirate name. We now pilot the Needle.”

Next: Dangar vs. the Black Panther

#Fantomex

Issue Thirteen

Arc: Purgatory

Written by u/VoidKiller826

Edited by u/Predaplant

*************************************************************

Glossary:

"Hello." Normal speech.

'Hello.' Internal speech.

[Hello.] Radio/Phone speaking.

{Hello.} TV Speaking.

*************************************************************

Outside of Purgatory - Midtown - Manhattan Island - TIME: 08:00 P.M

“Purgatory… the waiting room before judgment is passed down to whether you belong in Heaven or Hell…” Seated by the edge of a building and dressed in a dull white tracksuit and black pants was Fantomex, using a pair of binoculars to scoop out the popular nightclub across the seat. “Or so I am told, I never did confirm if that is the real meaning of Purgatory or not.”

After all the news about the Maggia, specifically on the Hammerhead Family using mutants as their main enforcers and sending out against rival gangs to destroy and take over their turf, along with the possible connection between the Maggia and Serpent Society still working together, it worried the injured mercenary. He had to do something before the Maggia became too powerful to handle.

[Doesn’t matter what the name is, but it brings in all kinds of customers, doesn’t matter who they are,] a woman’s voice said through the earpiece, and Fantomex winced in discomfort. It had been a while since he heard someone speak to him who wasn’t EVA, and even longer since had an earpiece on because he never needed it. [Place ranks in a lot of cash because of its open-door policy. Even other gangs come in as long as they don’t make any trouble.]

Looking through the binoculars, he could see the line to the Purgatory was long, reaching across the long walkway until the street. He saw businessmen and their escort going in, after giving the security a bribe to skip the line. A group of construction workers who finished their shift and were looking to drink away their pain entered. He even saw a couple of students, hopefully, college students of the legal age, looking for a fun time before they join with the rest of the adults after graduation.

“Huh… the one place where you can forget your work and enjoy the vices without shame…” Fantomex noted, seeing the students being all too excited. “You said gangs also come in?”

[Mostly small time, none they see as threats,] said the voice of Sage, who provided him with the equipment he had right now. He was glad the reclusive woman was willing to help him out with this job, for a fee of course, one she expected to be paid. That was something he had to contend with later. [I know the Kitchen Irish and Dogs of Hell occasionally come in, sometimes invited too for the Irish.]

“Hm… building a relationship with the others? The Maggia aren’t known for working with other gangs.” Fantomex said. ‘Unless it’s the Serpent Society…’

[Not with Hammerhead,] Sage noted. [From their record, he has dealings with the Irish with transporting weapons, and with the bikers they provide with drugs they make from their labs outside the city. Heard some talks that he is having a meeting with the Zeta Cartels on expanding.] Sage explained, using her skills in gathering information in going through the Hammerhead Family’s dealings in the city. [Whatever the guy is planning, it’s big, bigger than that big head of his, and he is using mutants to do it.]

“And he is using mutants to have everyone under his control.”

Fantomex praised this Hammerhead fellow for not upholding to the Maggia’s usual business practices in not working with other gangs. It wasn’t rare, but it was also usually not at this scale. Hammerhead was clearly planning for something much bigger than making his family powerful; he had an end goal, a vision. That was clear from these business dealings, from taking control of various turfs from their rivals and even from the other Maggia families, and now from this conflict with the Golden Tigers.

Hammerhead was aiming big. He was aiming for the throne left by the Kingpin, and he was getting close.

[Hey, I picked up some chatter on their radio,] Sage announced. [Hammerhead just made an order to his men to be ready and welcome some visitors.]

“Visitors?”

Turning to the club, he saw five cars come out of the corner and drove up next to the club, parking right in front of it. Looking closer, he saw a number of men exit each car, each of them wearing different styles of clothes and colors.

One group were dressed casually, in jeans and tracksuits, all surrounding a middle aged man with two white haired wings who also wore a rather ugly blue tracksuit. He yelled at Hammerhead’s security before being guided inside.

‘At least it’s much uglier than mine…’ Fantomex touched his suit in appreciation of the quick work Jumbo Carnation gave to his clothes.

The next were men who wore gray suits, led by an even older man, who ignored Hammerhead’s people and walked into the club. After that was a group who wore gold, which hurt his eyes just by looking at it, led by a younger man who nodded at a group of girls and told them he wouldl be seeing them soon.

[Woah… Paulie Pavano, Acting Boss of the Costa Family, Don Dante Cicero, Vinny Jr Fortunata? These are all Maggia bosses.] Sage noted.

“Not just any bosses… they are from the table…” Fantomex noted, then turned to the last car. “Which means….”

The back doors to the last SUV opened, and out came an older man, walking slowly out and with a cane to help support him, surrounded by men who wore silver and black suits. Despite his feeble look, he carried an air of authority that stood out of the hundreds of the waiting customers and the other Maggia bosses.

[Holy shit…] Sage swore, shocked at what she was seeing. [That’s Old Man Silvermane!]

“Silvio Manfredi in the flesh…”

If there was a legend in the New York underworld, and even around the country, who was revered and respected among the criminals, it was Silvio Manfredi, aka Silvermane, also known as ‘Old Man Silvermane’ due to his long tenure as the Don of the Manfredi Family and the high level of respect he commanded within the Maggia. Even the Kingpin had certain respect for the Old Man. After all, he was the reason why the Maggia survived, and he allowed them to exist as partners in the city.

“I can assume they are all here on Hammerhead’s invitation,” he noted, paying attention to how quickly Hammerhead’s people guided the other bosses inside. “It’s a sit down between the Maggia Five Families.”

[Must be an important meeting to get all of them in one room,] Sage said. [It’s hard enough to get them to agree on anything, and coming here means this sit down got them interested.]

“Or worried about what happened with the Golden Tigers,” Fantomex noted, not forgetting the possible gang war that will soon happen between the two. “Do you have eyes on them?”

[They just went into Hammerhead’s office. Theroom is dark and there are no cameras or other access I can get my eyes on.]

“Hmm… then we do this the old way…” muttered Charlie, thinking of other ways to get into the club and get the information he needed on Hammerhead having dealings with the Serpent Head. This sit down just complicated things as it bolstered the already heavy security. The other Maggia bosses’ men were more than willing to shoot first at any sign of trouble after the news of Billy Hao’s death.

He caught a few staff members from the alley nearby having a smoke break, and noticed they had a white, faceless mask on their heads. Fantomex smiled as an idea came to him.

“Sage, do you have the map of this nightclub?”

*************************************************************

Inside Purgatory…

In Purgatory, there were three rules: Don’t Start A Fight. Don’t Do Business without Approval. And finally, Don’t Touch the Merchandise.

Simple rules, and one the Hammerhead family followed to the letter. But sadly, the last rule seemed to be ignored by the customers if they got drunk enough and got handsy, and it angered Joanna Cargill, aka Frenzy, more than anything.

Leaning on a pillar away from the dance floor, the tall woman kept watch as security for anything that resembles a threat, as she was ordered to by Hammerhead. She was even expecting a possible attack from the Golden Tigers after what she did to their leader.

“Wild Child is getting restless.”

Joanna turned to see a tall, gray skinned man, wearing a red bandanna, black biker vest and pants. He towered over everyone on the floor, with only Hammerhead being close to his size.

“Random,” Frenzy greeted her fellow mutant, Marshall Stone. “Did he make any trouble?”

Random shook his head. “That thing we did back at AC got his blood up,” he said, his New York accent was heavy, being back to his home city was a blessing for the mutant. “So I ordered him some snacks from Tony’s Pizza.”

“You think that’ll calm him down?”

“A full belly will calm anyone down, even that animal,” said the gray man. “But it won’t be long before he acts up again and claws someone’s face off… again.”

“If he does it to one of Hammerhead’s little grunts, that’ll make me happy,” she noted. Frenzy ran her hand across the back of her neck, touching the healed large scar, a reminder of what was forced upon them by the Serpents.

“All is good here?”

The two mutants turned their attention to one of the Maggia goons who approached them. The blond-haired number two of Hammerhead, Leopold ‘Leo’ Stryker, aka the Eel.

“Had to break a fat guy’s arm for touching my ass,” complained Frenzy, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. Random moved to her side, eyeing Eel and his two men who were staring at him. “But other than that, no, the usual sea of noise and drugs in this place.”

The Eel nodded. “Sure is, but next time, don’t break their limbs. The guy is from Wall Street and has the money that we can clean out.”

“Oh sure, thank you for the info,” Frenzy glared at the Maggia goon. “Next time when a fat fuck touches my ass, I’ll be more polite about it.”

“Don’t get overdramatic with me, freak.” Leo warned, then nodded at his men nearby who were waiting for him to go ahead. “Listen, the boss is having a big meeting, and we don’t want anyone to get in here and disturb it. With the Tigers out for blood, we expect them to hit us soon. Whether it’s tonight or not, we need you and your other freaks ready.”

“Call us freaks again,” Frenzy warned, taking a step toward the man. “And I’ll make sure a broken arm isn’t the only thing you’ll be worried about…”

The air grew tense; even some of the customers nearby walked away when they saw the two come face to face. From behind the Eel, two of his men grabbed their weapons close by, despite knowing how useless they were against a woman with super strength who was bulletproof.

“Knock it off, you two,” a booming voice came from nearby as Hammerhead, standing tall and imposing, glared at them. “Tonight is important, and I ain’t got the time to referee you two from killing each other.”

Frenzy scoffed, like hell the Maggia could stop her-

“I said, stand down,” he ordered the mutant. And like a lightning strike, Frenzy could feel her mind and body compelling to the orders, and despite her best efforts to ignore it, her body moved on its own and made her take a step back, much to her anger. “Good, now play nice while I am busy with the sit down.”

Frenzy gritted her teeth, crushing a steel railing in frustration before walking away, with Random following her in toe.

“How are you able to get that mutant to listen to you, boss?” Leo asked. He had been sweating bullets when he thought Frenzy was willing to crush his head.

“Call it insurance from a business partner,” Hammerhead noted, looking at Frenzy with amusement. “They put up some kind of chip that gets them in line, made it where only certain people can give out orders, and I happen to be one of them.”

Leo was in awe at this information. “That’s… pretty amazing, boss.”

Hammerhead ignored the praise and walked across the floor, with his men following in tow. “Are they all here?” he asked Leo.

“All accounted for. Even the Old Man got out of his mansion for this sit down.” Leo said, catching up to his boss. “If we do this, boss, it will be a line we will never be able to get back from.”

“If we do this right,” Hammerhead said, walking up the stairs and heading for his office, where all the bosses were waiting. “We won’t need to ever go back, only to the top.”

Hammerhead opened the doors, and saw the four Maggia bosses turning their heads to the larger man.

“Gentlemen, welcome to Purgatory.”

*************************************************************

“Where the hell are those drinks?! Those little shits in the VIP section are annoying us with their orders!”

The Maggia goon, also known as Vito, shouted at the Purgatory staff who were pushing out carts and food for the VIP section. Vito was a very fat man, and wearing an expensive suit that looked rather tight on him, even if nobody could say it to his face.

“Sorry about that, boss man!” said a rather over enthusiastic staff member, saluting the fat Maggia before pushing the cart out of the kitchen and into the busy hallway. None of the Maggia seemed to notice the enthusiastic staff wearing heavy bandages under his mask and his uniform being rather large for his size.

The Purgatory staff, all non-Maggia members, were just employees for the club working to keep the place running while Hammerhead’s people went about it as they pleased. Yelling at them was just part of the job description. They all wore black suits and white shirts, men and women, as per the rules set by the boss, wanting them to appear presentable to the customers they serve.

One thing Hammerhead wanted to spice things up was to have the staff wear masks depending on the theme he had in mind. Sometimes they were for a special occasion, like Halloween or Christmas. Sometimes they didn’t have a meaning, just a mask with no face, keeping up with the expectations they set for the club.

Of course, that gave Fantomex an opening to blend in quickly after taking a staff member's uniform and faceless mask. After all, who would guess that a poor Purgatory staff member would do anything foolish like sneaking into a heavily armed club?

[I can't believe that actually worked.] Sage noted through his earpiece, flabbergasted that a simple plan worked without anybody noticing him. [I thought this disguise crap is just for spy movies…]

“It depends on the situation, but it always works. Once I was able to sneak into Crossmoor Prison in England disguised as a guard, and it worked wonders.” Fantomex whispered, greeting a Maggia security guard who ignored him. “And nothing makes you more invisible than being part of the kitchen staff to these people.”

[Always thought the stories were exaggerated, but seeing this now gives me a new reason to read all your jobs again…] Sage said, sounding impressed. [Alright, caught you on the camera. Your bandages are pretty hard to not notice, so just keep going to the elevator, it should lead you to the VIP section and get you to the more secured location where the meeting is happening. Place is crawling with heavy security.]

“Noted, my dear,” Fantomex nodded, pushing the cart full of drinks toward the elevator ahead, which opened just as he got closer. He saw a staff member, wearing the same suit and mask, exiting. “Busy night, huh?”

The staff member nodded. “Yep, got some rich college kids upstairs buying up everything, and it doesn’t look like they’ll be stopping anytime soon.”

Fantomex chuckled. “Ah youth, living the moment before life sucks them dry.” He pressed the button for the second floor and saluted. “Good luck on your work!”

The door closed, and the elevator went up to the VIP section.

Silence came to the hallway where the masked staff member stood staring at the elevator door. A few more seconds passed, then the staff member brought out a phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

“<It’s me,>” the staff member said to the phone, speaking Mandarin. “<We got all the boys set up as ordered, from the kitchen to the dance floor. But we got a problem, there is a meeting with the other Maggia bosses, even Silvermane is here so security has gotten tighter->”

[This changes nothing,] The voice from the line cut him off. A voice that made the staff member, a Golden Tiger soldier, nervous. [If we have to kill every last one of those rats, so be it. As long as Hammerhead pays for killing my brother, then it’s enough. So tell your boys to be ready for my signal, and kill any Maggia rat you see.]

“<I… I understand, Chaka,>” The Tiger said in a hush tone, speaking to the Bloody Tiger in fear. “<We will be ready.>”

*************************************************************

Hammerhead’s Office:

“Is your head so big it made you fucking stupid?”

Seated in a circular table, surrounded by the other Maggia Dons, Hammerhead ignored the insult that was thrown to him by Paulie Pavano, the older Maggia known for being loud, impulsive, vulgar. He was the kind who talked about how proud he was of being Italian, how his roots came from Naples, which was supposed to mean he had the right to a lot of things, even if he didn’t deserve them.

How he ended up as the acting boss was less about his skills and more to do with the fact that the previous boss and his capo were slaughtered by the Punisher during one of his hunts a couple of years ago, massacring them during a birthday party of all places, tearing them apart with a large gatling gun.

“I don’t have any love for those Chinese over in their town, god knows those folks over there stole more of our turfs when it should be for good honest Italians,” said Paulie, his tracksuit looking as tacky as people expect to see from an Italian mobster. “But you go ahead and clip Billy fucking Hao?! Without permission?!”

“Well… he wasn’t clipped, more like his head got torn off,” Hammerhead corrected calmly.

“You are becoming cute with me, you half-breed?!”

Hammerhead turned his gaze to the older man, who quickly sat down when he saw how intense his glare was.

“No, I am being honest here.”

“Then let’s be real honest here, Joseph.” Don Dante Cicero said on his right, another older man but wore more respectfully, addressing him by Hammerhead’s real name, annoying the larger man. “You decided that, like a free agent, you’d sanction a hit on a Golden Tigers boss. Not even any punk from the street, but their boss.”

Like Paulie, Hammerhead didn’t acknowledge Cicero’s comments. He saw the Costas and the Ciceros to be weak, dying families living off the glory days. Hammerhead had been quietly taking over some of their businesses since coming back, and he had the right to do so because he had the money, while they didn’t. From then on, the two bosses held great resentment that a new boss was able to hold so much control and sway over the Maggia in such a short time.

“I am just paying it back in full after they killed the men I sent for business,” he explained, head still facing forward and arms resting on the table. “Even wanted to settle things, do business, and have them as partners. And again, they killed more of my men and started this problem.”

“You see, that’s where you are wrong,” Paulie stated. “You should be working with your own kind, even if you are just a half-breed. Instead of those Irish, Bikers, and the Chinese.”

Hammerhead ignored him; he never respected that kind of thinking. Believing that trusting your ‘kind’ was enough to make good business, despite how history had shown that they had more rats and traitors than any other gang. Maybe if he was full-blooded Italian he might have believed in the whole ‘Our Kind Help One Another’ nonsense, but his mother was Russian, and if he learned one thing, it was that you don’t trust anyone until they earned it.

And so far, no one had earned it yet.

“So you responded by killing Hao? Ripping his head off for all the world to see?” Dante asked, and Hammerhead simply shrugged. “Did you forget who his brother is? The shit that guy has done to us? Like how he carved up the Cavella Family? This guy will be on a warpath on all our fucking business! And we don’t have enough guns to handle all of Chinatown.”

“You don’t,” Hammerhead responded. “Neither you nor this old fucker,” he pointed at Paulie. “Have the firepower to hold off even Girl Scouts, let alone the Tigers.”

“What are you saying?” Dante asked in a warning tone.

“If the Tigers will get rid of you two, nothing will change in our business.”

“You piece of shit!” Paulie stood up, bringing out his gun, and aimed it at Hammerhead-

“Paulie.”

The table became quiet, and all turned to the man seated on the opposite end of Hammerhead. An older man, but unlike Paulie and Dante, he had an air about him the two lacked. He was seated hunched over, with both hands interlocked together in front of him. He was staring at Hammerhead with focus and judgment, and it made the bigger man wary.

Silvio Manfredi, Silvermane, was able to get Paulie and Dante to quiet down. Vinny Jr. had already been silent since the beginning of the meeting, seemingly terrified of Hammerhead the moment he spoke, and it was impressive to keep such a young man quiet.

“Gun,” Silvermane ordered, and Paulie obliged, setting his weapon aside and going back to his seat. Turning his attention to the large man, he continued. “What these two are saying here, Hammerhead, is that you going independent on a very dangerous rival without talking about it first makes things difficult for all of us, marking us as targets. Especially with Chaka becoming the leader of the Tigers by process of elimination, and unlike his brother, that man lacks any patience to sit down and talk it out.”

“As I said, they started this-”

Silvermane raised his hand, interrupting Hammerhead. “I am not saying you didn’t have the right to answer back, your boys were clipped, and no one will blame you for responding back,” Silvermane noted. “What the problem here is, is you making the executive decision to kill someone like Billy Hao, someone we could have talked things out with. But instead, you killed him, had the Tigers send in Chaka, who will not talk things out, and started a war that will benefit no one.”

The Old Man leaned against his chair, bringing out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

“You mind, or is it forbidden in your club?” Silvermane asked, and Hammerhead nodded, letting him light up a cigar and start smoking. He didn’t care that he was too old to smoke; he just wanted to do something that relaxed his mind. “That’s better… smoking always helps ease the mind…”

He breathed out a large plume of smoke, sending it all over the table. Hammerhead’s brows furrowed at this. Silvermane had always been one to present himself with the air of professionalism, but tonight, he looked like he didn’t care about any of that. This was just any other meeting he had been a part of, and he had been in many.

“Now, that’s out of the way… how about we start the real meeting…”

Everyone at the table turned their attention to the old man. Paulie and Dante were confused; weren’t they already in a meeting? Vinny Jr finally looked up, going back and forth between Silvermane and Hammerhead.

“I am not blind, Joseph. I am old, but not blind,” he began, eyeing Hammerhead as he used his real name. “Ever since I took you in after your father passed away, I knew you had ambitions, wanting to help out the family when you were with me. And when you wanted to branch out, start your crew, even go to Europe to see the Old Country, I didn’t stop you. You needed to know the world, and now you can come back and help us.” He waved at the club around him. “And now, look at you! In two years, you have half of the city, part of the table, and earn more scratch than the rest of us.”

The other bosses, sans Hammerhead and Vinny Jr, were confused by that statement. What does that have to do with the meeting? Praising what the large mob boss had done?

“High praise coming from you, Silvermane,” Hammerhead said with respect. “You know all this I am doing is for the good of the Maggia, to bring in cash, revenue, and reach all across the country.”

Silvermane nodded. “Been a while since we had this kind of reach, not since before Kingpin took over,” he noted. “But… what I don’t agree with, at all, more than this war you started, is what you brought back from the old country,” Silvermane said, his voice becoming low, his eyes turning into scorn judgmentally. “Mutants? Really? That’s what we became? Using freaks to do our jobs?”

The other bosses turned to shock at this revelation; it had been rumored that Hammerhead had some special talent under his family that helped him take out other rival gangs. But to think he used mutants to do so? With the stories of how destructive they can be, this was troubling on all fronts.

Hammerhead didn’t seem to react to this news, opting to keep quiet and let Silvermane continue his speech.

“You gotta be… you got freaks now?!” Paulie yelled. “I knew you were not right, boy, working with those Irish and bikers? And now you got mutie freaks?!”

Paulie was ignored.

“That doesn’t offend me,” Silvermane assured. “We all do what we have to in this day and age. But what I find offending, is you using this meeting, this war you started, to get us to agree to let you lead us into it.”

Dante turned to Silvermane in confusion. “What are you saying, Sil?”

“Let him say it.” Silvermane nodded at Hammerhead.

Silence came to the table as the bosses waited for a response. The only form of sound was the music blaring outside.

“This meeting is brought together for two reasons,” Hammerhead raised two fingers, wanting to be more transparent with his explanation. “One, to deal with the Golden Tigers. They are a problem and would have hit us first if I didn’t do it to them. And two,” He looked around the table before settling on Silvermane, who guessed what exactly this meeting was for in the first place. “Is for me to be named the Big Man of the Maggia.”

Paulie and Dante both were shocked at the last one, offended even, as Paulie stood from his seat and yelled “Fat fucking chance!”, but he was ignored. Vinny Jr nodded along. His fear of Hammerhead overtook his sense of self-importance. He was willing to follow through with whatever Hammerhead had planned or be dealt with like what happened the last time he was in Purgatory.

Silvermane, for his part, was glaring at Hammerhead.

“Always knew you were sharper than most, old man,” Hammerhead complimented Silvermane. “What gave my goal away?” he asked, turning to Vinny Jr.

“I didn’t need to ask him a thing to know what you have planned,” Silvermane said, putting out his smoke. “Forget the money you are getting, forget the territories you are taking over, forget the fact that you have mutants under your family and are starting a war with the Triad. What you have, like any other person I’ve seen in my long life, is hunger for the crown. I’ve seen men who tried to wear the crown and wore it, all ended up either in jail or in the cemetery.”

“You’re right,” Hammerhead stood up from his seat, his large form shadowing over the table. “I did do what you think I did, and I will do so again if it means we will take over this city.”

“In exchange, we name you as the Big Man… the Boss of Bosses, the next Kingpin.”

“Yes,” Hammerhead answered bluntly. “For too long we were sidelined, mocked for being weak, for being lackeys to Fisk and the rest. But no more, this is our era, my era.” he proclaimed confidently. “You said you’ve seen people wear the crown, to be the King of New York, well… it’s my turn to wear it.”

Hammerhead took a step back and watched the window where he could see the dance floor below. Hundreds of paying customers had come to enjoy what Purgatory has to offer, what he has to offer. And they all came begging for him to give them more, provide for them more.

“You’re willing to destroy tradition for the very thing that killed Fisk?”

“Tradition is why we are where we are, old man,” Hammerhead explained. “And in this age of people like Tony Stark flying around in a suit of armor, a bug that swings around, and a Thunder God with a hammer, tradition has been dead for a long time now.”

He walked back to the table, staring down at Silvermane.

“The Tigers and the Goblin are the only people left before we, the Maggia, are on top,” Hammerhead noted. “And I need your full support for us to get there, united as one, not as five families, but one Maggia, against the world.”

Silence came to the table again, with the bosses all contemplating his words. Vinny Jr was the only one who clearly decided to side with Hammerhead, out of fear and survival.

“No, Joseph,” Silvermane quickly answered, and Paulie and Dante followed suit. “We will destroy the Maggia if we let you lead it.”

“You think I can’t do it, old man?” He waved at the nightclub around them. “I already own this city; all that’s left are Chaka and the Goblin.”

“We refuse this,” Silvermane repeated. “And if you keep this up, you’ll be having two wars instead of one.”

Paulie and Dante had already taken Silvermane’s side, which made Hammerhead scoff.

“Stupid old men…” he muttered, then brought out a pair of leather gloves that he put on his large hands. “Then you leave me no choice.”

“You fuck?!” Paulie brandished his gun at the larger man. “You think you can kill us like a couple of punks!”

“Me?” Hammerhead turned to the side, staring at the dark corner of the room. “No, I’ll let the Tigers do that.”

“Tigers?” Dante had his hands on his own gun, feeling tense.

“Chaka wasted no time getting his people inside Purgatory. Probably had them disguise as part of the staff just to kill little old me,” Hammerhead said, tightening the leather gloves that were made specifically for his size. “So it won’t be long before he attacks.”

“Chaka- You knew he was here the whole time?!” Silvermane shouted.

“I hoped for it,” Hammerhead walked toward his desk to bring out a small black box and opened it. Inside, he saw a pair of iron claws; the blades looked sharp. “After all, it will be easier to tell your Capos you were killed by the Tigers.”

“You fuck-!”

“Stay…”

From the shadow, a soft voice came out,somehow was able to prevent the bosses from moving, forcing them to stay in place, frozen in their spot. Emerging from the shadows was a young blond-haired man, giving a small smile of amusement as he walked up to Hammerhead’s side.

Empath, real name, Manuel de la Rocha, tilted his head as he studied the three bosses and said with a Spanish accent. “Tch tch, did you not learn to not bring a gun to a fight with us?”

The bosses all realized they were, all this time, in a room with a mutant under Hammerhead’s command, one with a voice that could command them to do whatever he deemed.

“Now,” Hammerhead planted the iron claw on the table, then sat back in his seat. “What I want all of you to do, is use that claw right there, the same one Chaka and his people use, and kill each other.”

“Like… hell we are gonna do that…” Silvermane spat out in anger.

“You’re not,” Hammerhead leaned against his chair and turned to Empath. “But he will in a few minutes.”

Empath still had his smile, standing by the mob boss's side as he eyed each of them with amusement as if they were toys for him to play with.

The room all had come to the same realization: Hammerhead not only wanted to be the Big Man of the Maggia, but he would kill the other bosses to ensure no one would challenge him on it.

And he was close to succeeding.

Previous Issue <> Next Issue

##GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY

In The Spartaxian Dilemma

Volume Two, Issue Five: I Don’t Like My Mind

Written by ClaraEclair

Edited by VoidKiller826

First Volume

First | Previous | Next Coming Next Month!

The moment Danielle Moonstar fired the last round loaded into her lever-action rifle, and she felt the click of the trigger telling her it was empty, the gun began to glow. Infusing her weapon with boundless newfound power, she pulled the trigger once more, firing a shot that wasn’t there a moment earlier. She pulled the trigger again and again, and her gun obeyed, loosing a barrage of gunfire into the strange creatures that landed on her family’s ranch.

Part of her wondered if these alien beings were another flare up of her mutant abilities to use psionic power to bring fears and desires to life. She thought of her parents, and how her powers had conjured a bear that managed to capture them and strand them in the forest for days. Since then, they seemed fearful of more, and perhaps this was it.

News coming out of New York over the years had shown them dinosaurs ravaging the land, oceans rising and threatening to drown the world, supervillains rising and thousands dying. Aliens were not so far out of the picture as to be unreasonable. But New York had heroes to jump in and save the day, curing the dinosaurs, repelling the sea, and imprisoning the villains.

Colorado didn’t have superheroes.

When her parents moved out of Boulder with Dani, bringing her to live on her maternal grandfather’s ranch, they had hoped that the country living would be a nice, peaceful place to live. Soon after, however, Dani’s powers manifested and the Demon Bear struck.

Dani didn’t know the full scale of the aliens’ assault, and despite her lingering fear that they were a construct created from her powers stealing the fears of those around her, she kept moving, rushing toward her home.

“Dani!” She heard her mother shout in fear as a creature burst through her bedroom door, chasing both of Dani’s parents through the house, landing at a dead end in what was once a room of comfort. “Dani, help!” Her mother shouted.

Dani feared she was too far. Rushing into the house, she stormed through, weapon ready, and rushed to confront the creature chasing her family. As if out of a horror movie, the lights in Dani’s home flickered and sparked as she walked through. The loud thud of heavy feet slammed down on the floors, shaking the house to its very foundation. A scream of rage as something was thrown to a wall. Dani couldn’t help but swallow hard, nervous for what was to come as her heart began to soar out of her chest. Her palms began to sweat.

Bursting through the open door, it took her only a split second to catch her target and orient her aim, taking fire without an ounce of hesitation. The psionic bullets travelled through the beast’s armour, ravaging its mind without so much as damaging its skin. An otherworldly roar escaped its jagged, horrid mouth as another shot found its way into its head, knocking it unconscious, trapped in its own mind.

“Mom!” Dani called. “Dad! We need to go, now!” It took a few moments too long for her parents to reply, but the relief she felt as they poked their heads out of the closet, stricken by fear yet alive, was unlike anything she had ever experienced. “Let’s go,” she said quickly, gesturing a hand to follow her outside.

Trails of unconscious bodies littered the ranch house and the fields surrounding it. Dani had been busy, her mother thought. Was it her who raised such a capable daughter? Or was it Black Eagle who had given the young girl the guidance she had needed?

“Grandpa is still in town,” said Dani, ushering her parents toward the family’s beaten-down old Ford pickup. “You need to get out of here, I’ll meet you in Florence.”

“We can’t leave you–”

“Mom!” Dani shouted. “Trust me.” Her words were solemn, while her face remained straight. Her mother nodded. “I’m going to get Grandpa back from Westcliffe, and then we’ll meet you in Florence.”

“How are you going to get there?” asked her mother. Black Eagle, Dani’s grandfather, had taken the only other vehicle the family-owned in order to travel to Westcliffe for the day. Dani looked over at the barn, somehow untouched by all the chaos that had erupted around it. There was sorrow in her eyes.

“I’ll take Meena,” Dani said. Meena was a faithful, strong, and reliable horse. Dani had trained her as best as she could, bringing the beast to be able to effortlessly perform any reasonable command Dani could think of. She would trust no other creature with her life more than Meena, who was second only to her immediate family. It gutted her to put her beloved companion in danger, but she had no other way of reaching her grandfather without transportation as reliable and quick as Meena.

Her mother clearly wanted to say more, the words were boiling over, burning the tip of her tongue, but she let the blisters form and felt her will melt away. Dani was an adult, and a stubborn one, at that. There was no stopping the young woman from doing what she set her mind to, no matter the cost.

With few other words, Dani slung her weapon over her shoulder and began to run toward the barn, untouched only by virtue of a miracle. Opening the doors wide and seeing the three horses within, she ran toward Meena, her beloved steed, and prepared the saddle. With a quick apple into Meena’s mouth, she tightened straps, clipped the buckles, attached the reins, and jumped onto the beast with ease.

As she galloped out of the barn, the old pickup truck was gone, and she could only hope that her parents would reach safety with ease.

As she rose, she was careful to manage Meena’s speed between a sprinting gallop and a quick jaunt, hoping to cover the distance between her ranch and the nearby town as fast as possible. Every minute felt like time wasted, but she couldn’t push her beloved horse beyond her limit.

It was an excruciating thirty minute ride as Dani couldn’t rid her mind of all the horrifying ideas that began to linger, of what these alien creatures were doing to the innocent people in the nearby towns. She hadn’t seen them touch down or appear, but as they stormed out of the woods surrounding her ranch, she was quick to draw her weapon.

As she rode closer to Westcliffe, however, she could hear the whirring and buzzing of some sort of foreign machine, an almost visceral feeling of energy flowing in the air the closer she got. Pockets of people from the nearby town were walking along the sides of highways, trying to get away. Dani arched her brow, relieved to see so many able to get away, but her mind raced as she quickly realised that Black Eagle was not among the crowds.

Urging Meena forward with the flick of the reins and a tight squeeze of her heels to the horse’s sides, she shot forward, galloping the final stretch toward Westcliffe, seeing numerous massive vehicles hover above the ground, straight out of science fiction shows she used to watch.

They were gargantuan, barely comprehensible as moving vehicles to her mind, larger than every building in Westcliffe. From them, more of the creatures descended, chasing down remaining innocent lives. Looking at the creatures, she couldn’t quite tell if the plating they wore was armour or their bare skin. It made her ballistic ammunition almost useless at first, until she managed to strike a small weakness in their chests. Her switch to the energy-based projectiles made shooting trivial.

Raising her rifle as she rode, she fired upon a group of aliens approaching a cowering man who had attempted to hide beneath a vehicle, barely able to fit himself under the rear bumper. The creatures fell quickly, and at Dani’s command, the man began to run. She hoped he would make it far enough to find safety.

Turning back to continue her ride along the main road, Dani maintained Meena’s jaunt, firing on any who would attack her, sometimes barely managing to subdue the bug-like aliens before they reached her. What confused her as she rode through, however, was that there did not seem to be any sort of intelligence among the attacking creatures. What she saw were mindless drones, carrying out violent tasks, subduing innocent people at all costs. What she came to realise as she entered the town was that these aliens weren’t killing the residents of Westcliffe, the modest town that it was. They were abducting its citizens.

Every pull of Dani’s trigger sent a creature to the ground, freeing someone from their heinous grasp. As she rode down the street, she left a trail of freed humans and incapacitated aliens in her wake. Every flip of the lever on her weapon signalled the fall of an alien invader, but the feeling of dread never left her. Black Eagle was nowhere to be seen, and every moment that she could not find him in this small town of less than six hundred people was a moment that she worried if she had lost him forever.

The only place left to search was directly below the alien ships that hovered over the town. Before arriving, she could hear the congregation of these alien creatures and the cries of the terrified people they shepherded. It was tempting to rush in and form a full frontal assault on the invading force, but Dani knew that she had no chance.

Stopping Meena just before turning the corner, she jumped off of the horse and peered her head around, taking in the sight of dozens of alien creatures surrounding twice as many of Westcliffe’s residents. Dani swore under breath as she turned back toward Meena, putting a hand up to stroke her steed’s snout.

Staring into her horse’s eyes, she couldn’t help but sigh.

“I love you, Meena,” Dani thought, utilising her telepathic connection to animals to speak to Meena, even if the horse could not understand her words. Grabbing Meena’s reins, she turned the beast around and telepathically nudged her to begin running. She hoped that Meena would return to the ranch, to what was familiar. Watching her horse gallop down the street, Dani took a deep breath and turned around.

The explosion that erupted behind her was a shot through the heart. Meena’s whine was that of nails on a chalkboard as Dani quickly returned her gaze to her fleeing steed, seeing a crater in the street and her horse galloping away at full speed. She wanted to shout, she wanted to urge Meena forward with her telepathic abilities, but there wasn’t much Dani could truly do to ensure the horse could get to safety with any certainty.

The smoke from the crater dissipated, and within there seemed to be a man. He was much different from the odd, bug-like, chitinous creatures that had invaded. This man had blood-red skin and a thick, metallic armour that shone in the sunlight. He was twice the size of the largest of the bug creatures, with intense musculature that totally engulfed his body.

He stood slowly, and as he raised his head, his piercing visage burned its way into Dani’s mind.

Instinctively, she raised her gun toward him, but before she could fire a single shot, he bound toward her, wrapping his gargantuan hand around the entirety of her rifle, crushing it with no effort.

“So you’re the one carving through our underlings,” he said, his booming voice felt deep within her chest as he spoke. “Impressive, for a puny woman like you.” Throwing his hand at her, he wrapped it easily around her shoulder, lifting her up with no effort as he pushed her against a wall. Dani said nothing as she struggled against his heavy grip. “Maybe they’ll even let you be a warrior for our master.”

With a closed fist, she slammed her hand down upon his, receiving only an amused chuckle in response. To him, her best was simply a light poke. In a display of strength that he did not need to show, he effortlessly threw her across the street. She slammed into the side of a car, falling down onto the ground with the air knocked from her lungs. Coughing harder than she ever had before, she could barely focus as his thunderous footsteps approached, accompanied by another of similar weight.

She figured she was seeing double when she looked up to see an identical man walk up beside her attacker, but as time went on and the world stabilised, the red men did not merge in her vision. There were two of these behemoths, and for the first time since she had begun fighting the aliens, she felt truly hopeless.

Bumping each other's fist as they approached, Dani tried to move out of the way, to run away as fast as she could to regain her bearings, but they were too fast, catching her before she could stand up, her grogginess making it impossible to move. Picking her up once more, the first of the red men slammed her down against the car, the pain shooting up through her body more intense than she had ever felt in her life. Jagged metal pressed against her skin, pushing and threatening to break her skin.

She felt the wound on her head from the initial throw and the blood that was dripping from it. Her scowl told them she wasn’t done, even as weak as she felt in comparison to the two men who were attacking her.

Unable to move under the first blood-red man’s crushing grip, she had only one recourse remaining. In any other situation, she would never take this course of action, but under this dire situation, she had no choice. She began to reach into the man’s mind, searching and digging for anything she could use.

His fear was easy to find, he did not hide it. He did not make any attempt at masking his terror. Dani pulled the thread within his mind and brought it into the world.

An unnatural sound of groaning, wind-like energy arose from behind the crimson-skinned men, a blue energy erupting as purple smoke billowed from within the fold. Heavy footsteps emerged, and the sight of the figure that walked through stunned the red men, enough for the grip holding Dani down to loosen just enough for her to escape.

“Gh’Ree and R’Hos. The Blood Brothers,” said the figure, a booming voice drilling its way into the very souls of those who heard, its menacing tone sending chills down the spines of all. “Yet you know nothing of spilt blood.”

From the billowing portal came a massive man, taller than the Blood Brothers, purple of skin with immense, menacing features. His prominent chin led up his face in harsh lines, leading up to rugged cheeks, culminating in piercing eyes, black scleras and red glowing irises. Gold and purple armour portrayed a royal figure, but his demeanour and the fear he instilled betrayed that notion. This man was horror incarnate.

“Thanos!” Shouted Gh’Ree, the half of the Blood Brothers that had first attacked Dani. “Master, I–!” The large hand of the purple behemoth launched out and struck Gh’Ree with such strength to send him flying over R’Hos, Dani, and the car she was splayed out upon.

R’Hos immediately fell to his knees, head bowed low in both fear and reverence. Dani didn’t need to reach into his mind to bring to life his worst fears — they were already present. Thanos’ hand slowly descended upon R’Hos’ head, wrapping around it entirely.

“Please, Master,” R’Hos begged, feeling the increasing pressure against his skull.

“Pathetic,” the Titan said, pushing R’Hos’ head deep into the ground below, allowing Dani a quick moment to stand, gritting her teeth as she bore the pain, and running from the fight. She wasn’t sure how long the illusion would last, she could only hope it would be long enough for her to escape.

Her mind raced, thinking of the Titan she had pulled from the minds of the Blood Brothers. She did not have any idea what she had conjured, but the menacing nature of the beastly man shook even her, who knew that it was not real. She could dispel the illusion at any moment, she could end the terror that she had imposed upon herself, fear for what existed in the universe beyond her now-limited knowledge.

But she knew that she could not. She needed the upper hand, even if she could no longer physically fight. Running toward the congregation of abductees, unsure even of her own goals, she was led by only one idea; she needed to find her grandfather. She limped forward, painfully straddling the line between running and sprinting, pushing herself as hard as she could. Piercing pain engulfed her torso, her back shredded from the metal and glass she had collided with, but she pushed forward.

The explosion behind her threw her to the ground, the shockwave sending dust and debris flying, even knocking some of the streetlights over. Looking behind her, there was nothing but a plume of smoke where the Blood Brothers and her illusion used to be, and fear of the worst began to wash over her. The illusion had been dissipated by the explosion, and the Blood Brothers were quickly rising to their feet.

Oddly, she felt another sensation enter her mind. Her telepathic connection that she shared with all animals began to tug at her mind. She had guessed that most animals had run from the danger, saving themselves, but there was one animal mind that seemed to approach.

More than anything else, she sensed something different about this mind, and as she watched the Blood Brothers collect themselves, unsure if their fear was real or not after it had disappeared, she reached out to it. She did not know if it would produce any tangible results, she did not know of what animal the mind belonged to or why it was so different, but she reached out.

“I don’t know who or what you are,” Dani began. “But I need help. It’s dangerous here. Please get some help.”

There was no feedback from the mind, and she began to worry that she had misjudged its differences. Perhaps it was simply another woodland animal who had wandered too close to Westcliffe during the attack.

The stomp of the Blood Brothers’ boots approached. She did not have long. She forced herself to stand, the physical strain on all of her muscles and the adrenaline coursing through her clashed, making it hard to focus. She didn’t have anything left in her to run.

She sent out one last, desperate connection to the animal mind she had felt, hoping to see through its eyes, to learn what it knew.

“Get out of my damn head, Heather!” Shouted Rocket Raccoon, pointing a frustrated finger at the telepathic monk who sat in the seats behind him. “You don’t need no damn help, we’re right here!”

“I’ve told you, Rocket, it’s not me!” Heather replied, frustrated with his accusations. Even despite her self-imposed rule to not invade the minds of those who did not consent — and her recent bending of said rule — she had not connected with Rocket since before their arrest on Spartax. She had no reason to communicate with Rocket in any way but verbally.

“Then why do I got voices in my head?!” He demanded.

“That’s not my problem!” Heather lashed out, regretting her words immediately. She did not enjoy conflict with her teammates, and more often than not, it seemed to have become a common occurrence. She felt the structure she had become comfortable with disintegrating in front of her eyes. She sighed deeply. “Look, Rocket, I’m sorry. But I promise you that I am not in your mind. It has to be someone else.”

“And you expect me to believe that a Terran can just zap into my head?” He shouted back.

“Rocket, I’m from Earth!” Heather replied.

“That’s exactly my point!”

“What point?!”

“I am Groot!” shouted the Flora Colossus who was now solely piloting the borrowed vessel. Groot was good at flying. He was good at controlling the weapons on board any ship, including makeshift guns Rocket had installed. He was not, however, good at operating both at the same time.

Gamora, in her hidey-hole, able to hear the commotion happening within the cockpit rolled her eyes. Phyla sat in her seat, stewing, frustrated with the pointless bickering. Noh-Varr, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying the change of pace from hiding out on Titan.

“Guys!” Phyla shouted above both Rocket and Heather. “Let’s just focus on stopping these abductions.”

“I don’t know,” said Noh-Varr, a wry smile on his face. “I think I’m quite enjoying the melodrama.”

“Aren’t you the one who–” Phyla started.

“Phyla,” Heather interrupted. The half-kree woman took a deep breath.

“Groot, set us down,” Phyla said, gritting her teeth.

Taking the command easily, Groot nodded and piloted the ship to the ground, landing harshly on the hard asphalt, debris littered all around but clear of the humans that the small Chitauri force were abducting.

The most that Dani felt as she saw through the eyes of the small animal on the spaceship was confusion. She was in the middle of an invasion force, and a small band of arguing space people, a talking tree, and a talking animal were supposedly coming to her rescue. She could only hope they were more competent than they seemed.

Gh’Ree, leaving his brother to deal with Dani, turned toward the landed ship, curious and ready to engage with whomever had touched down. He barely recognised the design as Spartaxian, but he truly did not care. He approached nonetheless, stretching his arms, ready for a fight.

The airlock door opened slowly, the pressurisation equalising with Earth’s atmosphere. Steam and smoke billowed out of the door, a small ramp extending from the bottom and descending to the ground. Gh’Ree smirked, balling his fist in his other palm.

Getting his face smashed into the concrete and dragged for hundreds of feet by something he couldn’t even see, Gh’Ree was thrown a few hundred more feet as Phyla stood tall at an intersection, in full view of R’Hos, who stood tall above Dani, looking back at Phyla.

“Extract!” shouted R’Hos. Within moments, every remaining Chitauri that surrounded the gathered abductees began corralling them even tighter, forcing them into a small circle before each of them began typing on small devices strapped to their arms, devices that were beyond foreign, totally interfaced with their biology, holographic in nature.

“No!” Dani shouted, raising her arms up, using what energy she could muster to shape the form of a psionic bow and arrow, drawing back the pulsating blast as far as she could. R’Hos looked back at her and chuckled, entertained by her attempt at fighting back.

As she loosed the bolt, however, it shot through his mind, disrupting every neuron, every receptor, frying his mind. He stumbled back, unable to retain his balance. Dani crawled back a few feet, watching as R’Hos swayed and shook, unable to think for himself.

Slowly, barely noticed as Dani rose to her feet once more, small branches started to wrap around R’Hos’ limbs. Forcing through the cracked asphalt street, flora rose up and pulled R’Hos to the ground, binding him to the street as his disoriented mind prevented him from fighting back.

Looking forward, Dani saw the same figures she had seen when looking through the animal’s eyes. Standing tall, Rocket, Groot, Noh-Varr, Gamora, Heather, and Phyla approached Dani. Phyla dropped Gh’Ree beside his brother, unmoving, before moving on with the rest of the group.

They ignored her as they moved past, trying to catch the Chitauri before they disappeared into their massive ships with the captive humans. It was only seconds before the abductees were gone, leaving only a small force of the chitinous creatures behind.

“Wait!” Dani shouted as she watched the rounded up humans disappear, pulled up into the ship. She hadn’t been able to find Black Eagle, she had barely been able to save herself, much less any significant number of Westcliffe citizens. She reached her hand up, unsure what to hope for as she watched the alien ship rise, hovering as its energy ramped up, the squeal of its engines permeating the grounds below. Within the blink of an eye, it was gone.

In those few moments of wishing, she tried everything she could think of, but nothing seemed to work. There were no fears to pull from, no animals of whom she could communicate, nothing to save those who had been stolen from their home. As the ship disappeared from view, Dani’s hand fell.

“Danielle,” a voice said, approaching with familiar, light footsteps from behind. The voice shook her to her core, nothing like what she had truly wanted. She turned to face the man, his kind smile reminding her of cherished memories, only now it felt cruel.

“This isn’t what I wanted,” she said to herself as Black Eagle took another step toward her. “This isn’t–” Like he had done many times before, Black Eagle wrapped his hands around his granddaughter, offering the tightness of the love and care he had so generously given her. But it was wrong.

“It will be alright, Danielle,” he said, his voice kind and soft. He used the same encouraging tone that he always used whenever she had gone to him for counsel under hardship. When the Demon Bear struck and abducted her parents, he was the man who talked her through finding them, returning them home, and how to deal with the spectre that had taken them.

He had never judged her for her abilities to bring out the worst fears in anyone around. He never harboured resentment, he had never ostracised her in the way that all of her peers had. Black Eagle dedicated his golden years to understanding and teaching his beloved Granddaughter.

And now, despite how hard she had fought for him, he was gone.

“You fought hard,” he said. “And I know you will fight harder.”

“Anything to get you back,” she said softly, feeling his tight embrace begin to loosen. “I’m going to get you back.”

As tears welled in her eyes, the vision of her grandfather disappeared, a manifestation of her abilities to bring both greatest fears and greatest desires to life. Black Eagle was gone, she knew he was. She didn’t want to conjure an image of him, it did not comfort her. She knew it wasn’t real.

The fighting had ended before she realised it, and as the dust settled, she stood in a ghost town. Destroyed buildings littered the streets, an eerie emptiness altering the small town. Not a single voice could be heard, nearly all life had been taken away.

The Guardians of the Galaxy walked past Dani once more, discussing, loudly, amongst themselves about how they had failed, about how they were late. Shouting erupted, blame was thrown every which way. A white-haired man in green and white, who saw himself as suave, deflected blame, saying the rest of the group had arrived on Titan too late to stop the attack before it happened.

A white-haired, pink-skinned woman in white armour argued back at him, trying to instil an understanding that the group had no choice. The odd raccoon creature swore a few times, lamenting the entire situation. All they all spoke, the distance between them and Dani grew farther and farther.

Under pure impulse, not even knowing if she could trust this mix of odd people and strange creatures, she followed.

“I’m coming with you!” she shouted as the group reached the foot of their spaceship. Each of them paused, giving the young woman odd looks. The green woman with yellow eyes and a very sharp sword rolled said eyes and turned to enter the spaceship.

“No, no, no,” said the raccoon creature. “We don’t need no more humies on this ship, we ain’t got the space for ya.”

“But I can help!” Dani called out. “My family was just taken away by those… those things! I need to get them back.”

“Well, boohoo, kid,” said Rocket. “We don’t gotta accommodate–”

“You’re the one I spoke to,” Dani’s voice shot into Rocket’s mind. “I saw through your eyes when you landed here.”

Rocket paused, his jaw dropped as he quickly glanced between Dani and Heather. Letting out a frustrated groan.

“I don’t need any more damn telepaths!”

“Rocket,” said Heather, her tone attempting to calm him. “Do you remember thinking you killed Thanos?”

“Yeah, but he disappeared,” said Rocket. “This doesn’t have scut to do with–”

“I think it does,” said Heather.

“Thanos?” asked Dani. “That big purple thing, right?”

The guardians looked over at Dani with a mix of intrigue and confusion. Slowly, however, Noh-Varr began to back away into the ship, a grin on his face that never seemed to leave.

“That was me,” she said. “I created him — an illusion of him, at least. The Blood Brother things were terrified of him, so I pulled him from their heads.” There was a brief pause. “And I can do a lot more than that. I need to come with you, and I promise I won’t be a detriment.”

“I believe you,” said Heather. “What’s your name?”

“Danielle,” she replied.

Heather offered a kind smile and an open hand to the young mutant.

“Welcome aboard, Danielle.”

Salutation True Believers!

It's March! And we welcome you back to another exciting month of MNCU action!

What to expect from this month's release:

• Alias: The Devil #3
• Amazing Spider-Man #22
• American Kaiju #3 & #4
• Black Panther #45
• Fantastic Four #45
• Fantomex #14 & #15
• Guardians of the Galaxy #5
• Iron Man #8 & #9
• Mr. E #1
• Scarlet Spiders #3
• Wolverine #2

Last Month <> Next Month

Fantastic Four
Volume III: Frightful
Issue #44: Beatdown

Written by: u/PresidentWerewolf
Edited by: u/Predaplant and u/VoidKiller826

Previous Issue

35 Years Ago

“Did you know Elvis had a twin brother?”

Startled, Dr. Nathaniel Richards looked up suddenly from his book. Before him stood a lanky man in a tweed suit, complete with Oxfords and a bowtie. His short-cropped, dark hair, which was graying at the temples, framed a keen, hawkish face. He was smiling expectantly as if there was a second half to what he had said, a joke that Nathaniel was supposed to finish. For an instant, it felt like Nathaniel was looking into some sort of strange mirror. Something in the visitor’s features resembled his own, not to mention their attire was more than merely similar.

“My office hours ended some time ago,” Nathaniel said. “Surely, you were informed by a departmental assistant that I do not entertain visitors after three.”

The man shrugged. “I bypassed the front desk, and I know about your alone time. That’s why I came when I did, so that we aren’t disturbed by some student.”

Nathaniel sighed and slowly closed his book. “Very well. You don’t seem like the type to leave without having your say. Is this about the Sigma construct?”

The man shook his head with a little laugh. “No. The problems with the Sigma construct will come out in time. For now, it’s a good statistical approximation. I–”

Nathaniel pulled his spectacles off with one hand, and he shook them towards his visitor. “Now see here. Approximation?”

The visitor put up his hands in mock defense. “With a non-uniform elasticity, yes. With a delta axis, yes! You already know that.”

Nathaniel had been half out of his seat, but now he slumped back down into it, grumbling unhappily. “Of course I know it. How do you know it? A delta axis is hardly–”

“Common,” the man said. “It’s not common, no. And I said it was a good approximation.”

Nathaniel nodded. “Well, it hardly seems reason enough to bother me so, mister…”

The man stepped forward and put out a hand. “Richards. Reed Richards.”

Nathaniel’s eyes widened slightly. Similar face. Same last name.

Reed chuckled. “We look a little alike, right? And listen to this: my dad is named Nathaniel.”

Nathaniel let out a longer sigh as he replaced his glasses. “Are you going to tell me that we are family, then? Some second cousin in common, perhaps? If this is a prank, please, save us both the time, and–”

“No, no, not a prank. We are related, in a manner of speaking.”

“Hmph. Excellent,” Nathaniel said dryly. “Well, I have a postal address. And office hours. If you don’t mind,” he said, gesturing to the door.

“Yes, well, none of those methods would have been sufficient,” Reed said. “Tell me, Dr. Richards, what do you know about the multiverse?”

Nathaniel surged from his seat, swept past Reed, and shut his office door with a rush of air and a bang. He turned to face his visitor directly and gave him a long look over the tops of his glasses. He was expecting an aura of pipe smoke and old books, but he smelled nothing. He had expected the telltale shrug and smirk of the Classics Department stalwart, but this man held himself readily, cockily. His knuckles were nicked with small scars...

“You’re an engineer,” Nathaniel said accusingly, but then he chuckled lightly. “Tell me, did Bellweather put you up to this? He never did think I was hazed properly.”

“No. No one put me up to this,” Reed said. Then, he leaned down and whispered something into Nathaniel’s ear.

Nathaniel’s eyes went wide as his face drained of color. He stumbled back towards his desk and leaned on it clumsily, glaring at Reed with a mixture of fear and suspicion. “How...”

“You told me,” Reed said simply. “Well, not you.”

Nathaniel straightened his suit and smoothed his hair as he composed himself. He went back to his seat and settled into it, letting all of the familiar creaks and pops the chair made lend a sense of normalcy to the room that is so desperately needed.

“Go on,” he said. “Explain yourself.”

Reed suddenly seemed excited more than he seemed amused. Still, he spoke at an even clip. This man was a teacher. “I take it you are familiar with multiverse theory, then.”

Nathaniel nodded.

“Well, I have good news. It’s not a theory.”

“I surmised that much,” Nathaniel said, “and I am letting you speak because if this is a prank, then it is transcendent.”

Reed chuckled. “If you want to see a prankster, you should meet– well, never mind. As I said, the basics. Multiple universes. Multiple Nathaniels.”

“Which still doesn’t explain the single Reed before me.”

“That takes a little bit of digging. You are familiar with the normal distribution, yes?”

“Some call it the Bell Curve here, where a random sample will coalesce around its mean. You will find that an elementary concept in this… universe.”

“Right,” Reed said. “Mine, too. But, consider applying it orthogonally to an individual across the multiverse.”

Nathaniel nodded eagerly. “I see. Yes, I see! There would be a… a period of time, correct? A period of time where an individual would be most common.”

“Exactly,” Reed said, snapping his fingers. “There will be a time when most of the Reed Richards of the multiverse will be born and live their lives.”

“Hence… your visit? Are we in this time now?”

“No,” Reed said, shaking his head. “Not yet.”

“You’re an outlier, then,” Nathaniel whispered.

“Now you’re getting it. I’m early. Not as early as some, but certainly a statistical outlier. As for my visit? I’ve met a few other Reeds, and I’ve met a lot of Nathaniels. I even met a very early Franklin. I suppose there is no easy way to say this, Nathaniel, but I haven’t come today with a simple, friendly greeting.”

“Today, I come to you with a warning.”

Now

Nathaniel Richards fired a plasma-laced blast of power at Reed, who ducked it easily. The blast shot behind him and blew a hole in the wall of the lab, sending debris flying out and sunlight streaming in.

“I’ve got it!” Johnny shouted, as he darted outside to catch the falling bits of metal.

“What the hell are you doing, Dad?” Reed shouted.

Nathaniel’s whole body blazed with the same strange power they had witnessed before. It blew up around him like a whirlwind, tearing tiles from the high ceiling and throwing them around him.

“I’m proving to my spit-smear of a son that he’s a spit-smear of a son!”

Reed looked at him with despairing sadness. “Is that all this is? This whole thing is about you and me?”

“If that was all it was, I would have just strangled you in your crib,” Nathaniel growled.

“Dad, I know about the anomaly, about how the Negative Zone split you. I can help.”

“Your help is the last thing I need. Last chance, Reed. Hand Franklin to me, and you keep the rest of your family.”

Reed looked back at his father grimly. He reached with one hand and yanked the metal line of technology from the other arm. As soon as it was free, it reshaped itself, changing into a staff. Reed held it up over his head, and the crackling energy still dancing about the portal instantly flew to the staff, illuminating it with an unearthly glow.

“Dad, whatever happened, whatever went wrong, I’ve got no problem beating it out of you.”

“Careful, Ben!” Sue was sweating with the effort of holding up so many forcefields. She was blocking the older Franklin’s power as he tried to assault Ben, John, and herself, but it was a losing game. He was more powerful, and he kept finding a way around her defenses. Was this what her son would be like? Would little Franklin wield this power some day?

Ben fired at the insectoid version of Franklin, but the energy beam peeled away in midair. “Not sure what ta do about this one, Suzie. My powers a’ clobberin’ ain’t what they used ta be.”

John Storm, Johnny’s older, more experienced double, was keeping most of Franklin’s attention. The two of them battled fiercely, both of them throwing fire and energy in huge sparks that shook the floor.

“My hope was to assimilate you all,” the older Franklin said in his odd, monotone voice. “I think I will kill you instead.”

“No!” young Franklin cried from behind his mother.

“Yes! Cosmic radiation gave you these powers. How much can you withstand?” A yellow glow suffused the air around the battle. John Storm slowed in the air, and he flew away, barely dodging an energy blast.

“Sue!” John exclaimed. “You can’t block this! You need to get back!”

A shockwave of force shot out from the older Franklin in all directions, smashing Sue’s forcefields and throwing everyone to the floor. Sue cried out in pain and collapsed in a heap. Ben went rolling away, cosmic energy seeming to stick onto his body in patches. John’s flame went out and he fell to the floor.

“Come on!” he shouted. His flame lit up and then went back out. “Flame! Flame on!”

Franklin’s insectoid jaw clacked menacingly as he approached the injured hero. “Do it!” he laughed. “Burn me, if you can!”

A huge jet of flame hit him from behind, and Franklin was sent screeching across the room, tumbling head over heels. Johnny didn’t let up, throwing arcs of flame and exploding fireballs one after the other, destroying the floor around Franklin so he couldn’t find his balance.

“You want fire? You got it!” Johnny shouted. He concentrated, and his flame grew brighter, the heat around him intensifying. He closed in on the older Franklin, his body a blast furnace, his face a mask of anger. “I don’t want to do this,” he said, “but I don’t think there’s any way to save you, kiddo.”

Johnny’s hand blazed like the sun, and he leveled it at Franklin. “I’m so sorry.”

The insectoid features on the older Franklin’s face vanished and were suddenly replaced with the clean, human face of a Franklin as a child. “Uncle Johnny!” he cried out.

Johnny Storm hesitated.

The insect jaws returned in a flash, and Johnny was hit with a wave of power point blank. He was thrown like a rocket, one broken arm flailing sickly at his side, while the evil Franklin cackled. He hit Johnny in the air again, and the Human Torch shot straight down, slamming into the floor, bouncing, and lying still.

“Who is next?” said the evil Franklin in a cruel voice. He got up and walked over to John Storm, who was still trying to restart his flame. “I will be glad to be rid of you both.”

“That was dirty!” Young Franklin stood by his mother, who had shielded him from the blast. “You stop it! Right now!”

The older Franklin stood slowly and appraised the boy. He let out a small laugh. “I am older, child. I have had my power longer. I was trained at the end of the Cosmic Control Rod itself.”

“Oh... oh yeah?” the smaller Franklin said. He had been hurt by the blast. His legs were shaking. He was terrified and barely on his feet. He stole a quick glance at his mother, unconscious at his side. “Well, I have something that you don’t.”

“And what is that?” The older Franklin’s jaws clacked with delight. His eyes began to glow.

“I have a big brother. I have Ben.”

“I was trained by Annihilus himself,” the older Franklin laughed. “What did your brother teach you?”

Young Franklin Richards gritted his teeth and clenched a fist. “How to take care of a bully.”

Behind the younger Franklin, a copy of the child appeared, made of pure energy and so large that it stooped inside the massive lab. It snarled down at the floor where the two Franklins faced each other. It pulled back one massive fist, and it roared with such power that the floor shook and the ceiling cracked. Reed and Nathaniel both stopped to stare at the scene.

“Take him out!” young Franklin yelled, and the colossus of power punched down. The older Franklin tried to defend himself, but the sheer force of the attack obliterated every one of his defenses. The blow flattened him, smashing him to the floor and on through it. The gigantic arm bore down, down through six floors, barreling the cosmic-powered fiend through steel plating, concrete, wood, and tile, until it left the broken teen in a twitching heap at the bottom.

Franklin fell to his knees, unable to believe he had really just done that. The gestalt faded behind him, and he could feel his control, fueled by his anger, fading away. He suddenly remembered Uncle Johnny, and he scrambled to his feet and ran to his side. Johnny was writhing weakly. So many of his bones were broken. The middle part of his body was bent at a slight, unnerving angle.

“I don’t know what to do! Mom! Uncle Ben!” Franklin yelled.

Johnny’s eyes focused on Franklin, and he forced a horrible smile. “You...got him good, kid–” He coughed, and blood spouted from his nose and mouth.

“Dad!” Franklin yelled. “Val!”

______________________________________________________-

Reed whacked his father with the staff again, this time staggering him with a blow to the shoulder. With each hit, more of the energy transferred from Nathaniel to the weapon. He was already dimming, while the staff was so bright its details could barely be seen.

“Give up!” Reed shouted. He slithered away from his father’s energy attack and came back around, hitting him in the small of his back and sending him to one knee. “I had plenty of time to analyze the power you use.”

Nathaniel tried to draw his energy closer, to concentrate it, but he couldn’t avoid Reed’s attacks, and he was slowing.

“We defeated your team,” Reed said, as he bashed Nathanial with a downward blow. “We faced your twisted versions of us.” He hit him again. “We saw the evil we could become.”

Nathaniel was panting. “Wait...Reed.” His armor was finally starting to crack, his vast power finally failing.

“It’s not going to work,” Reed said.

“You don’t know what’s out there!” Nathaniel roared, and he fired back, catching Reed by surprise. He took the chance and flew forward, punching as electric power jumped from his body in random, lethal sparks. “You’re the king of this little world, Reed, and you have no idea how small you are.”

Reed deflected the attack with a swipe. “Are you kidding?! We were out there, Dad. Nathan. We were out there for years. We fought the Badoon. We battled space pirates. We defeated a Herald of Galactus!”

Nathaniel stopped short. “You took down a Herald?”

The opening was all Reed needed. He hauled back and hit his father with a home run slugger, shattering his armor, sending pieces of it flying through the air and sending the old man rolling into the wall.

Nathaniel struggled to get up, but Reed put the end of the staff on the center of his chest. “You are done.”

Nathaniel fought for a second, but he had nothing left. He slumped back against the wall, as he thought of that day so long ago, before his marriage, before his family, before the entire universe had become so strange. He was fading out, the black edging his vision. Was this it? The end? It didn’t even seem to matter. It was becoming so clear in his mind that every day since he met that other Reed, every moment since the anomaly...

“Wasted,” he whispered.

“You’re telling me,” Reed huffed. He used a device on his gauntleted arm to quickly scan Nathaniel. “You’re going to be fine, Dad. You’re going to live, like it or not.”

Reed looked around the lab. The entire structure was damaged, probably beyond any sort of repair. With the wind blowing in from outside, with the hole in the floor– Franklin. Franklin was kneeling over Johnny. There was blood. Reed dashed for his brother-in-law, when one of the large screens on the wall came to life.

“Nathaniel never thought we would win,” said The Maker from the screen. Behind him, innumerable lights and screens blanked and flickered. “I knew it from the start!”

Reed stopped. “No! I thought...” he hadn’t thought anything. Nathaniel had taken his attention, and he had thought The Maker defeated. Instead, the old enemy had escaped, and now, what was he up to?

The screen changed, and it showed the exterior of a huge spaceship floating in the blackness of space. The camera zoomed out, revealing that it was parked in Earth’s orbit. Not far in the distance was Reed’s orbital lab.

“Reed, we both know there’s only room in this universe for one of us. All those years ago, I won! I already won. I--we replaced you! All of you! And now I can finish the job that we started.” The Maker leaned to the side. “Target the Baxter Building. Begin power up sequence.”

The screen went dark.

Reed stopped, frozen, staring at Johnny’s broken body.

“Go, Reed!” Ben yelled from behind him. “I’ll take care a’ the matchstick! Go get that guy!”

Reed wasted no more time. He ran to the portal he had used to bring his family back, and he touched the staff to it. Energy flowed into it, and the portal came to life. Reed jumped through it, and he was gone.

Next: The end of the circle

Wolverine
Issue #1: Mister Logan
Gaijin, Part 1

Written by: u/PresidentWerewolf
Edited by: u/Mr_Wolf_GangF

From the files of Professor Charles Xavier
Audio//Digital//Logan11XA.WAV

XAVIER: This is session Eleven-XA. Subject Logan. Date stamp…oh, never mind that. You seem troubled today, my friend.

LOGAN: [inaudible]

X: Well, now. [laughs] It is a fine day. My office, you can see here, has been expertly cleaned. There is no reason to blame…external factors. I’ve always known you to be honest with me, my friend.

L: Maybe there’s a little too much honesty around here, Chuck.

X: I am not sure what you mean, exactly. I thought, well, things were going well. You and Jean–

L: Yeah. Yeah…I guess…

X: You are not the pacing type, Logan. Would you like to sit?

L: Chuck. Charles. I just need someone to listen.

X: I…of course. What happened?

L: [heavy breathing] [sounds of movement]

X: Logan! You are seething. Please, speak with me.

L: [growling] Chuck, I need you to answer a question. I just want you to answer one, flamin’ question for me.

X: I will. I…Logan, come here. Please, sit down. My friend–computer, end recording.

Now: Tokyo, Japan

I sniff the air as it comes to me on the wind. Gasoline in the warm air. Sizzling takoyaki, green onions, and miso. Cigarettes and sake. I’ve been here. I’ve lived here, working the days, prowling the nights.

I don’t remember it. In my experience, a memory can be a wild thing, hiding in the brush, the shape of it dancing in the far off when it thinks you can’t catch it, ready to bite if you corner it. I knew it right away, as soon as I saw the old, squat peak of Mount Fuji from the airplane window, and my blood started to pump.

This memory let me get too close, and I ain’t letting it go.

When was this city my home? Who remembers me here? The answer seems to be in the corner of my eye, darting out of the way every time I turn my head. That’s the past talking all right, testing the impulse in me to follow my instincts, and probably getting me in a heap of trouble. Lucky for me, I don’t have to follow my nose.

I have a name: Haru Hayashi. Even better, I remember his face. In the flash of it that comes to me, he’s laughing, holding his belly, his round face split with a grin that I can’t help but return when I think about it. His eyes, though...sharp, like a viper’s. Whatever business we had going on, we were two of a kind.

Anything else, anyone else, that had to do with me here in this city is a big unknown, but I have a feeling that won’t be an issue. Before putting Westchester in my rearview, I did take a minute to look Hayashi up. He was easy enough to find: founder of Hayashi Unlimited, rich enough that half of the pictures of him have a U.S. President in them, too.

Also, he’s a hundred and two years old.

The way I remember him, he’s young. Probably explains why no one rolled out the red carpet when I landed. Whatever Haru and me were a part of, I’m bettin’ we’re the only ones left.

The Japanese I understand in bits. The big words? Nah, but I know the greetings and the honorifics. Combined with my senses, I can tell rude from polite. I can tell the demae giving me directions is lying through his teeth, probably trying to send me somewhere dangerous. I figure he’s sent a tourist or two down a dark alley to get mugged, and...I stop myself from teaching the kid a lesson. I ain’t looking for that kind of trouble, not anymore.

Gaijin. That one I know: foreigner. That’s what they keep calling me, in various tones of “go away” as I ask around. About the hundredth time I hear it, another memory shakes loose, and I suddenly know why the word sounds so flamin’ familiar.

“Logan-san, surely you are not afraid of heights?” Haru is laughing again as he works behind the panel of an old biplane. It’s a Hiro H1H, a flying boat, sitting in the lapping waters by the docks. I flew in that thing…trouble on the way down…Haru holding my ankle as I climbed out to…

The memory cuts off.

“...our most brave gaijin!” Haru again, his voice flipping on in my head like someone plugged in his mic.

A police officer growls at us. “Stinking barbarian,” he says.

Haru, laughing again, stepping between me and the officer. “Not a barbarian! Logan-san is a Canadian gaijin. They bathe.”

I finally find someone who knows what the hell I’m talking about, and they get me facing the right way. It ain’t easy even with directions, seeing as how I can’t read any of the signs, but I know the place when I see it. I recognize “Hayashi” in kanji like I’m reading a favorite old book.

What did I expect? A towering pagoda? A rotting, bamboo temple? The sleek steel and glass rises up to the Shinagawa skies, proud among its neighbors. If this is what Haru made for himself…I feel a flash of pride for a man I barely remember. I wonder if he’s up there, staring down at the street. I could be on a screen right now, caught by a security camera. I wonder if he remembers any more about our time than I do.

At least the front doors aren’t locked. A security guard at the entrance watches me as I walk past, but he doesn’t stop me. My heart begins to pound again.

I did something stupid, before I came here. It didn’t seem like a good idea when Chuck suggested it, and it seems like an even worse idea right now. Write a letter, he said. Tell my old friend that I’m coming. Not my style. I like to sniff things out, literally, before I make my move. I don’t want some old rival to know I’m prowling his turf. I don’t want to give a hundred-plus year old man a heart attack, seeing as how he’ll probably think I’m a ghost.

I should have caught on the second security let me in the door, but my head was swimming, the old days and the new sights fighting it out. I heard him pick up a phone as I boarded the elevator. I heard the extreme honorific on his tongue as the doors closed.

I heard the fear in his voice, and I ignored it.

And now, well...

The tall, lean man in the blue suit looks like your type-A, sales floor shark. Slicked back hair and bright, eager eyes belie the calm smoothness of his voice. Oh, he’s a shark alright.

“Mr. Logan, I wanted to meet you personally, now that you are here.” He speaks perfect English, better’n mine.

“Is that so?” I ask. Something’s not right here, and it’s so damn obvious Wade Wilson himself would have figured it out by now. “I came to visit an old friend a’mine. I wrote ahead.”

“Yes...forgive my rudeness. My name is Norio Nishimura. As the Operations Manager of Hayashi Unlimited, it was I who intercepted your letter to the elderly Mr. Hayashi. He handles so few of his own affairs these days, you understand.”

“That makes sense, but no offense, Mr. Nishimura, I didn’t come all this way to meet one of Haru’s employees. Sooner I can meet my old friend, the better.”

Nishimura tilts his head slightly, examining me. That’s when I hear them, footsteps just on the other side of the door behind him, the smell of warm bodies gathered back there. “No offense taken, Mr. Logan. However...how should I say this? I had hoped that when you received no reply, you would have understood.”

Shuffling, behind that door.

“Mr. Hayashi will not see you.”

The two of us are standing in this spotless board room, at the corner of a massive table, and I’m dressed for a night of bar hopping in my old leather jacket. I look the part of the barbarian right now, and Nishimura, his sharp teeth gleaming behind that smile, is looking at me like I’m the only speck of dirt he’s seen in a year. I don’t remember what kind of business old Haru was up to, but it’s dawning on me that Mr. Nishimura is in a different line of work entirely.

“I ain’t askin’.” I want to growl at the man like a dog. I think he wants me to as well. I think it would finish painting his picture of a gaijin at his door.

Nishimura raises one hand and snaps his fingers, and the door opens. More suits, at least a dozen, file in silently and wait behind him. Unlike their boss, these guys aren’t pretending. Bald heads, tattoos, scars, and each one has a tanto tucked into his belt. I don’t need a translator to tell me they’re yakuza, or something just as nasty.

“Mr. Hayashi gave up his controlling shares of the company some time ago,” Nihimura says. “He does not take visitors. I will say it again, so that even a...visitor such as yourself can understand. You should not have come to Japan.”

I’m not having it. Every bit of good sense in me is telling me that my old friend needs my help. The claws are right there, hidden behind my knuckles. But Nishimura is looking mighty confident. I’ve been on TV. The mutants aren’t hiding out these days. I figure he might not know about my unbreakable, adamantium skeleton, the deadly claws that can cut through most anything, or the fact that I can heal up from whatever a man can throw at me, but he knows I can do something.

My claws are itching, he’s so smug. That anger starts ticking down in the bottom of my brain, that animal urge to bite. I’m fighting it, but it’s not just in me, it’s part of me. That animal is who I am. I gotta tell myself over and over to fight it, that my wild urges are the cause of every bad thing in my life.

I think of Jean, and the last time we spoke. The way she looked down at me...

Apparently, I don’t retreat fast enough. The three in front step politely past Nishimura, and they advance. One swipe, that’s all it would take. I could tear these men apart like paper dolls, drench this room in blood, feed that animal hiding behind my eyes.

Instead, I make a fist. Without the claws, my hand is basically an adamantium dumbell. I hit the first one across the jaw with about five times the force he expected, and he goes rolling back to his friends, a dumb, eager grin still stuck on his face. The other two go for their blades, but I already knew that was gonna happen. I grab the hand of the closest one and jam the weapon back down into its sheath. His finger bones crunch between mine, and he screams. The other goes down, fighting for breath, after a quick kick in the gut.

I hope it’s enough. The curl of Nishimura’s lip tells me it’s not.

The rest attack at once, filling the room with a battle cry as they pull their weapons. It doesn’t matter. Even if they could kill me with those turkey slicers, I ain’t letting them get close enough to do it. I hit hard, going for maximum pain. A jab under the armpit, a palm strike in the solar plexus, and each one of them is down for the count.

See, I might not speak the language in this country, but thugs are the same everywhere. They’re all young dogs looking up at the top of the pile, ready to bite at anything to climb on up. Numbers might make them bold, but your average street punk has about two point three seconds of fight in him. None of them know what to do when the prey turns out to have sharp teeth, too.

In a few seconds, it’s just me and Mr. Nishimura again. I step over groaning men to get to him, and he backs away, disgust on his face.

“I truly did not believe it,” he gasps. “You are a wild animal dressed as a man.”

“Bub, you got no idea,” I say. I want them out now. The claws are burning under my skin, itching to prove him right, and I’m about to let them. Nishimura stumbles as he fumbles at his side. He’s got a pistol there. Let him draw it. I’m growling, starting to see red. Let him!

Do it!

The door behind him opens again. “Nishimura!” a woman shouts angrily as she enters the room. “Kare wa doko ni imasu ka?”

She stops short with a little gasp when she sees me wading through a pile of yakuza grunts, and then she sees Nishimura slinking away. “Mister Logan, I presume?”

My hands drop to my sides as the fog clears. I’m ashamed of myself. I grumble,” Yeah.”

She puts her hands on her hips, and she smiles faintly. It’s like a beam of sunshine. “Mariko,” she says. “Yashida Mariko. So, are you going to kill him, or not?”

Next: The Yashida Clan

Generation X #12: The Next Chapter

<

Author: Predaplant

Editors: VoidKiller826, AdamantAce, DarkLordJurasus, PresidentWerewolf, Deadislandman1

With A Very Special Thanks To ChurchBrimmer!

Book: Generation X

It was a cool winter day in New York. Or at least, that’s what the weatherman had said would be the case on the local news, and what all the weather apps on Westchester inhabitants’ phones had predicted. But for inhabitants of the small town of Salem Center, New York, it felt like a day in the middle of the summer. Temperatures were approaching triple digits, with just enough clouds in the sky to make the heat not entirely oppressive.

Of course, for the inhabitants of the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, both students and teachers, the cause of this strange weather phenomenon was well-known. Today was the day that the squad of young mutants known as Generation X would be departing for their biggest mission yet, and the school had pulled out all the stops to say farewell.

The teacher known as Storm had shifted the weather enough for the school to host a barbeque event to celebrate the departure on the lawn.

As Sam Guthrie stepped out onto the lawn to survey the preparations, he gave a small shiver.

“Something wrong, Sam?” asked the young man’s boyfriend, Quentin Quire. Sam counted himself lucky that they had that relationship. It had been rocky, at times, dating a powerful telepath... but they made things work.

Sam shook his head. “No, it just all feels a bit... uncanny, I guess.” He chuckled. “Just yesterday there was snow still on the ground.”

“That’s life at the Xavier School for you,” said Ellie Phimister, stepping out beside the couple. This was a lot of words for her; she usually kept quiet, unless there was something happening that she felt was clearly wrong. But maybe she was feeling sentimental, today. “You never know what weird thing is gonna happen next.”

“You don’t gotta tell me twice,” Sam smiled. “All these years here... it’s been great.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m glad we’re moving on,” Laura Kinney said. Sam hadn’t even noticed her arrival. She was the youngest of the group, at sixteen, but she had already been through a lot in her short life. “I want to see the world... and I think everybody here still looks at me weird. With Wolverine gone, it’s gotten even worse.”

As Sam led the group over to their friend Gentle, who was already outside, he nodded. “I can sure understand why you’d say that... but I think it’s gonna be a little hard to leave, for me. What happened to Wolverine, anyways? He was Xavier’s right-hand man.”

“Relationship trouble,” Quentin said, smirking.

“Okay, you don’t gotta tell me anything else,” Sam said, raising his hands with a laugh. “I feel like the Phoenix is gonna track me down if you do.”

Gentle turned to see his friends approaching, and smiled, waving at them. His smile dropped a bit as he made a realization. “Is Clarice still inside, then?”

Ellie nodded. “Still sulking.”

“She’s still coming with us, right?” Laura asked her teammates. “Maybe we can tell her that we’ll pick up Jubilee on the way?”

Sam shook his head. “She’s too smart for that. Jubilee said she wanted to be alone, and I think we gotta leave her be.”

“It will be a hard mission for Clarice as it is,” Gentle noted. “She’s the most visible of us; she’ll draw the most attention. We need to be patient with her. Maybe, in time, we’ll draw her out of her shell.”

XXXXX

Clarice was, in fact, still in her room. Feeling neglected after the loss of her closest friend, she had, like so many without an outlet before her, turned to writing. Unfortunately, every way she tried to communicate herself felt like she was trying to scream for help from the bottom of the ocean; nothing seemed to quite convey the nuance of her feelings, no matter what she tried.

She guessed this was why writer was a profession, something that you had to spend years doing before you got anywhere. Unfortunately, she didn’t have years. She had maybe a couple hours before she had to show up at the barbecue, with her bags packed, to be officially sent off on her mission with the rest of the group.

Somehow, she doubted that she’d have terribly much time alone to write while on the mission with the rest of her team.

And Jubilee was off somewhere, alone, without friends. For all Clarice knew, maybe she had ended up in one of those mutant gangs she had heard about on social media, the ones in M-Town, not able to call her friends for help...

Frustrated, Clarice stood up, grabbing her laptop. Maybe she just needed a change of location.

Pulling open her door and shutting it behind her, she walked quickly to a nearby lounge, sitting down in her favourite chair. There were some younger students buzzing around, but she glared at them and the noise level simmered down to a point where she could focus.

She started typing, but she didn’t even manage a full sentence before...

“Hi!”

Clarice recognized that voice. She closed her laptop.

“Deadpool.”

“The one and only!” Wade Wilson was in his full red and black garb, as usual, with the mask covering his face. “Wanted to come and talk to you before you left.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Me, specifically? Really?”

“Yeah!” Deadpool nodded. “I noticed you’ve been on a writing kick lately, and as a bit of a writer myself, wanted to offer some advice!”

“You sure this isn’t about Jubilee?” Clarice said, narrowing her eyes. “Seems like she’s all that anybody wants to talk to me about, recently.”

“No, honest!” Deadpool said, raising his hands in defence.

“Huh,” Clarice said, blinking. “So if you’ve been a writer, what’s your advice?”

“My advice is to figure out what path you want to take. The thing with the X-Men is, I dunno, they don’t really seem like the thing to do anymore. I spent so much time with Wolverine, and then with you guys, and now he’s gone, and you’re leaving... maybe it’s time to find a book where I’m the main character. Maybe you want to, as well.”

“That doesn’t sound like writing advice,” Clarice chuckled. “But thanks, anyways.” “Never said it was!” Deadpool replied.

Clarice nodded. “So, if you’re leaving the X-Men, are you going to use this barbecue as a send-off, too?”

Deadpool snapped his fingers. “Aha! Smart! That’s why they put you in two books at once, Blink!”

Clarice cocked her head to the side, trying to parse his words. With the book metaphor he had started earlier... it lined up.

Sort of.

Deadpool noticed her consternation and decided to excuse himself. “Right, well... I should be off!”

Clarice watched him walk off. She smiled to herself. Maybe this mission was just the chance she needed to write her own story, after all.

A thought came to her mind. She called after him. “Hey, Deadpool!”

He stopped, and turned back to look at her, curious.

“Were you ever really even a writer?”

“We’re all writers of our own stories, Blink!”

And with that, he hightailed it out of the room, leaving Clarice with her lack of an answer.

XXXXX

The whole student body of the Xavier School was gathered on the lawn, milling around, eating barbeque, talking, and laughing.

It was only a couple minutes until the time when the departure ceremony was supposed to commence. Ellie Phimister’s eyes narrowed as she watched Charles Xavier make his way up the ramp onto the platform constructed for the event.

Despite all the years she had spent here, and how she had, eventually, grown to love the school and its students, she had never really quite gotten over Charles Xavier as a principal and leader. There was something about him that felt... off.

Take his usage of codenames. It was something he insisted upon, that mutants choose their own names. She had chosen the name Negasonic Teenage Warhead, almost as a satire of how stupid it all was, to force him to confront what felt almost like a childish practice to those who had no quarrel with their birth names. But he had taken the name in stride, still, treating it with the respect he would give to the names of her friends.

She supposed that showed his commitment, if nothing else, but it was also emblematic of another fact: that he treated the name as more important than the person. He obviously cared about mutants, and ensuring their safety, but it felt empty like that. It rankled her, and to tell the truth, she was glad to be getting out from under his thumb.

Xavier cleared his throat. “Thank you all for attending this grand celebration. As you all know, today is the departure date for the youths who form the group known as Generation X! Please, give them all a hand!”

The crowd collectively cheered as Ellie and her teammates rose and made their way to the stage. Luckily, Clarice had joined them for the ceremony; she had arrived with only a few minutes to spare.

“You all know well of the Purifiers, and the threat that they pose to mutants, both across this country and across the world. Today, these young mutants will take to the front lines, meet mutants across the country fighting against this enemy, and help them ensure that the Purifiers never gain any true foothold in America’s collective discourse.”

Ellie looked out over the crowd, towards the teachers’ tables. All the X-Men, sitting there together. She had realized a while back that they were never going to replace the X-Men, not really. They were never going to be Xavier’s favourites.

It was why she and Quentin had worked together to suggest this mission to Xavier. Too often, they just felt like backups… but maybe, with a long-term mission that got them away from the mansion and the X-Men, they’d be able to make a bigger difference.

Hopefully, it would pay off.

“So let’s wish them luck, and remember: we, as mutants, can do anything if we set our mind to it!”

It was clear that Xavier intended this to be a moment at which the student body would cheer. While there were some cheers, they were mixed with confused murmurs, as Deadpool had taken the stage besides Xavier.

“Thanks, Charles. Hi. Hello.” Deadpool said, bending down to grab the microphone. “While these kids are obviously awesome and their mission is gonna end up saving the world or whatever, I’ve got an announcement of my own to make.”

“Deadpool! What are you doing!?” Xavier hissed, his whisper carrying to the entire gathered crowd through the mic.

“So, I’m just going to level with y’all...” Deadpool snatched the mic further away from Xavier. “I know that most of the X-Men have these strong, unshakeable reasons that they’re part of the team. But I've said before that when this stops being fun for me I'm done, and that day has come. It used to be that every mission I’d go on, with Wolverine, with Generation X, with the X-Men, with whoever, was exciting. But I don't have the excitement I used to; instead it feels like a chore. Worse, I feel as if I can't do the things that I want to because I have an obligation here! And I bet you don’t want an X-Man who’s just going through the motions, do you, Charles?”

Xavier took time to consider. Slowly, he shook his head.

Wade continued. “So... that's it. Just didn't wanna leave without giving you guys a reason or a goodbye. Best of luck to all y'all.”

And with that, he put the microphone back in its stand, waved goodbye to the established crowd, and walked off down the lawn towards the road.

Xavier cleared his throat. “Ahem… yes. Safe travels on your journeys, Generation X! We will remain proud of all of your accomplishments!”

Rolling forwards, he shook the hands of each team member, before the group walked off stage. This time, the applause was uninterrupted.

After a set of final goodbyes, the group made their way to the van they had purchased for the trip. They filed into the car: Sam driving, Quentin riding shotgun, Ellie and Laura in the middle, and Clarice and Gentle in the back.

“Next stop, Buffalo!” Sam said as he started the car. “Alright, first real roadtrip!” Laura cheered from behind him. “Don’t worry, we will ensure you stay out of trouble,” Gentle assured her. “Unless you want some, of course,” Quentin chimed in. “Then, we’ll find whatever you need.” Sam pulled out of the driveway. The group looked out of the windows at the Xavier Institute. It was a complicated place, and their memories were similarly complicated. It was a school, it was a home, it was a base of operations. It was their lives, for so many years.

It passed behind a sheaf of trees and was gone.

XXXXX

A/N: Thank you for reading! Unfortunately, this is where our chronicles of these intrepid young mutants will draw to a close for now. If you want to follow some of the characters mentioned in this issue further, here’s where to go!

Wolverine will appear in his own ongoing series by u/PresidentWerewolf, starting this month!

Jubilee will appear in Spectacular Spider-Woman by u/ericthepilot2000, starting this summer!

Deadpool will have his own ongoing series as well, by u/deadislandman1, starting in the spring! And the Uncanny X-Men’s ongoing series will return in July, by me, u/Predaplant!

Of course, check out our other books featuring mutants in the meantime, including Fantomex by u/VoidKiller826, Centurions by u/FrostFireFive, Alpha Flight by u/FPSGamer48, and Excalibur by u/MadUncleSheogorath, and keep your eyes peeled for more mutant surprises throughout 2024!

Centurions

Issue #18 - Cross Examination

Written By: FrostFireFive

Edited By: u/Predaplant , u/ericthepilot2000

Arc: Trial of the Centurions

The courtroom had begun to fill with various members wearing red and blue. The Captain Britain Corps were always wrapped in the colors of the Queen’s country. Except there was no Queen here, just the Majestrix, and unfortunately for those on trial… Saturnyne was nowhere to be found.

“You know if I was ruling the whole multiverse, I probably would make a courtroom more fun,” Morph said as he walked in to take his seat next to Steve Rodgers. The shapeshifter was annoyed; he had just spent the last few hours with his other self. Earth 913’s Morph was grating and shockingly horny for someone who was supposed to help people. But what Kevin Sydney was really trying to hide, was the fact he recognized the reflection in front of him. “Or be here on time!”

“Morph, please,” Steve Rodgers asked as he looked over his notes. He had been pulling from the library here in the Starlight Citadel. Certain arguments were forming in his head, even if he hadn’t been able to see how he would call for witnesses. There had to be a way out of this. The good Ccaptain had not come this far to lose another soldier, no matter how figurative the battlefield was.

“I mean, he’s making this more of a joke. There are stakes here,” Brian Bradock explained. He was feeling better after his talk with Rodgers, but deep down he was still feeling like a grain of sand against a raging sea. As he sat brooding, he couldn’t notice the cleaning girl that he had nodded to earlier, her blonde hair darkened due to the dust. She couldn’t help but pretend to sweep the floors of the courtroom, just to get a glimpse of the rare person to be kind to her. “My bloody sister can’t even be h-”

“We’re right here, Brian,” Betsy Bradock said as she walked in with her purple fuzzy robe flaring out. She treated the courtroom like another runway, confident and cocky. No one was going to tell her friends how to live their lives.

“Sorry we’re late,” Jean Grey muttered as she pulled her towel up a bit. The young telepath could feel the stares around her and could have sworn to hear whispered cComments on her legs, mumblings that the four on trial were some kind of sinners. “I had to make myself decent.” She pointed to the socks on her feet, finally warm against the cold wooden floors of the courtroom.

“Did you just make a joke?” Mayday Parker asked. The girl had never seen Jean be so glib before. Mayday had always used humor to diffuse tense situations. She had found that it had mostly worked with everyone, except one. But to hear Jean, sweet Jean, make one after how damp and scared she was when this first started… Well, it was a good sign.

“Of course, I mean… that’s what you do in situations like these, right?” Jean asked.

“No, it’s just… nice to see you confident, especially with that much thigh showing,” Mayday joked.

“My thigh is showing?” Jean asked as she quickly looked down, tried to move the towel, and ignore that look May gave her, the one that burned into her heart.

“Typical Grey, always panicking,” Blink said as she walked in and took her seat. She stared at everyone around her. For policing the multiverse, these captains seemed more like an army, and this trial a show of force. Of course, they were so busy paying attention to themselves, they didn’t focus on the green blinking light on the collar they put on Blink. All she needed to do was wait.

“To be fair to Miss Grey, we are currently stared at by one hundred and twenty-two members of the Captain Britain corps. And one cleaning girl,” Mainframe explained as she stood, wanting those who could feel tired to sit down, rest, and hope they could mount a defense against the outlandish claims being leveled at them.

“Yeah but no fucking prosecu-” Morph began before the doors slammed open and the sound of bare feet could be heard slapping against the wood floor of the courtroom.

“Apologies for my lateness,” Saturnyne explained as all of the eyes on the courtroom turned to her. She had not bothered to wear anything as she strutted into the courtroom, natural and confident. Her eyes moved to Jean as if she was calling her a coward. The sounds of catcalling from the more rowdy members of the Corps did not bother her. She was royalty, and her subjects deserved a treat every once in a while. “Apparently, some fools decided to burn my wardrobe in protest. But as you can see, it doesn’t bother me. For I have nothing to hide.”

“Some of us do,” Jean mumbled as she hugged her towel. She couldn’t hear the quiet *thwip* as Mayday made sure there would be no slippage. Her eyes were only on Jean.

“Excuse me, Saturnyne,” Captain Rodgers said as he stood. “But as this is a trial, I would ask for decorum from the prosecutor. We can’t just have people running around naked because of some sick power play to clearly bother my client!”

“What, Captain America is bothered by the flesh?” Captain Carta asked. “Your Majesty, I apologize for the uncivilized nature of this… pale imitation of a hero. How you dress works for the people in this court.”

“Why, thank you, Captain. But I can see some of our… guests are uncomfortable by this. And since their backwater presence is why we’re having this trial in the first place, I believe a new look is in order,” Saturnyne explained as she snapped her fingers. Several Captains Britains entered with a gorgeous peacock cape that soon covered and draped over Saturnyne.

“Oh thank god,” Jean mumbled as the rest of the Centurions took their seats. The large crowd that had gathered peered down. As a show of force the large courtroom and amount of British stooges was effective.

“Now, Captain Rodgers, I’ve noticed I don’t have a list of witnesses,” Saturnyne said as she looked over the papers on her desk. “And the fair Captain Carta here has presented me with an excellent witness list with reasoning. And you seem to have, well… not. Care to explain?”

“Your Honor,” Captain Rodgers said as he stood up, annoyed that the rules had changed once more. “I was not told the procedures or how we’re supposed to move forward with this trial. I demand a fair set of rules be established to allow my clients a chance for justice.”

“Well then, you should have been doing your homework, Captain Rodgers,” Saturnyne explained with a slight grin. “Are these witnesses ready?”

“I’ve prepped them during the recess and willing to summon each one as I need,” Carta looked over to the Centurions and Rodgers, pausing for a moment. “And I will be willing to let the defense cross examine if the need arises. Is that fair to you, Captain?”

“I-” Captain Rodgers began.

“It’s fine, Captain,” Betsy Braddock said before whispering to Rodgers. “We need to play their game. Saturnyne may seem crazy but everything has been done to keep us off our feet. Observe and respond instead of fighting it… for now.”

Rodgers nodded before taking his seat with the rest of the defense. This game was exhausting, but his unit needed him, and that meant remembering how to be cool, even when the odds seemed so stacked against them.

“Thank you,” Captain Carta said. “I would like to call my first witness then, Charles Xavier from Earth Ten!”

“No…” Blink said, her eyes going wide as the wooden doors of the courtroom swung open, a man in a black bodysuit floated towards the witness stand. The reflections of all the colorful Captains around gleaned off the metallic X on his helmet.

“Hello Blink,” Xavier said… his lost lamb, found.

…

“Well at least I’m not having to walk this in heels,” Greer muttered as she slowly moved through the muddy ground of Otherworld. She had wondered how her life had gotten this weird. Before, she would enjoy spending a cozy night with Will in their Chicago brownstone that overlooked Lincoln Park, where they would listen to whatever cheap record Greer found at a second hand store and ate generic boxed mac and cheese.

Instead, he was gone, and Greer was more concerned if her fur could handle the strange weather of this odd place she had found herself. Her teaching clothes were tattered from the fight with the knights’ battalion, the sword she had claimed from them still heavy in her hand. She kept wondering to herself as she dragged it behind her what Will would have thought, his darling Greer a stray just fighting to survive.

But amidst all that chaos, Greer could hear a different sound, far from the arguments of villagers or the sounds of the creatures that made the forests of Otherworld their hunting grounds. Instead the calming sound of water moving peacefully through the lands could be heard. She began to move quicker, her furry feet bounding across the grasslands as she entered the clearing.

Slowly she looked around, plunging her sword into the ground. She moved closer to the river. The bright blue water was idyllic, at least compared to whatever Lake Michigan was these days. Greer had hated water since her transformation, something about the amount of fur she had to deal with.

But she tapped her cat’s amulet and suddenly the fur faded away, and here Greer Nelson stood once more, the grass cool on her feet. It had been so easy to slip between Tigra and Greer before. While Greer was stuffy, conservative, hiding behind teacher’s clothes and big round glasses, Tigra could run around in nearly nothing, powerful, strong, and willing to do what needed to be done to find justice.

But it had left her alone. Will’s death hung over her like a cloud, and while she thought she had found something with Marc…the specter of Moon Knight would always hang over them. But that wasn’t the complete truth. After all, Greer had her own powers and problems that seemingly always got in her way of a normal life.

It would be easy to stay here, to be in this backwards land and find peace. After all she had managed to defeat their valiant knights, and the magic within her longed to be in place where it could be the champion Greer’s adopted people had always wanted. But that wasn’t Greer. As much as she wanted to be alone, she had people who needed her. Besides, who would make sure Morph didn’t teach Mainframe new and terrible words like radical. Her friends needed her, all of her.

She took a deep breath before touching her amulet once more. Glowing green energy poured around her, as if being in Otherworld gave her a mainline to whatever magics powered the amulet. Normally Greer would be in control, just another superhero, but here…the beast would be freed.

“RAAARWR,” Tigra growled as she picked the blade up and looked to the river that separated her from the familiar scent of her friends. And heaven help anyone that hurt them, for the beast would not be stopped.

…

“Professor… Xavier, is it?” Captain Carta began. The Charles Xavier of Earth-10 floated in the air, his black suit and silver helmet clashing against the red, blue, whites of the many Captains that surrounded them. “Tell me why you tried to kill the mutant known as Blink.”

“It was as simple as making sure that my flock was safe,” Xavier said. He was scanning the thoughts of everyone in the room, cataloging their experiences and secrets, tThe Cerebro helmet on his head amplifying his powers to worm out secrets from everyone’s head… Who had been cheating on their taxes, who had been having interdimensional dalliances, something about… the Fury? “On my Earth… we have found peace.”

“Peace? You mean to tell me that no one fights on your Earth? That you have managed utopia?” Captain Carta asked.

“Of course. Mind you… there are still pockets of resistance that believe not in our cause,” Xavier said. In the back of his mind he could feel the rage of one mutant, the one mutant he had came here to correct. “Blink over here has managed to become a pain in my efforts to put the world as it should have always been.”

“A world without free will,” Blink said through her teeth. She had been raised by Moira MacTaggart, a human who once worked with Xavier to achieve a dream of coexisting. But after the destruction of Genosha and the death of Magneto, Xavier decided to mold the world into his vision of mutant superiority. Moira had taken the last group of New Mutants trained before Xavier’s new order and taught them to fight back, to retake the world. The only one left was Blink. “Rogers, you can’t believe his utopia. He lies.”

“I know,” Captain Rogers explained. He could always recognize a fascist, no matter how simple they dressed or how much their reasoning made “sense”. “But I need you to stay calm. He’s playing you.”

“But he lies,” Blink muttered, looking down. A dagger began to form in her hand. No one around her knew about the deactivated collar… and Blink’s dagger soon faded away. Even angry, she knew her time would have to wait. And Xavier loved to talk.

Carta had managed to make the questions paint Xavier in a good light, a benevolent god to his people that had guided them in a golden age. Saturnyne was busy looking at her nails. It didn’t matter what Xavier had to say, she had already made her deal with him. He would stay in Earth 10 and rule it without the Corps looking too hard at his human rights issues for testimony.

“Thank you, sir,” Carta said as he shook the floating Xavier’s hand. “Defense! He’s all yours.”

“Mister Xavier,” Captain Rogers began. “This paradise of yours. How do you manage to keep everything together? Utopia is a hard thing to promise.”

“I welcome all my mutant children into the world, place them where they fit best, and sit and watch on a content world, free of the problems that befall other worlds. Blink only seeks to damage the rare perfect universe. When she is found guilty, I will make sure she is punished and placed where she should be.”

“Place them where you see fit?” Rogers asked. “Shouldn’t the people have their own choice?”

“People are foolish, they need guidance, Captain… Rogers was it?”

“Yes, but they should have their own choice. The people around you now, they all had will. They all had a choice to be here. Does this mean you want to force everyone here into your perfect world?”

“If I can spread my gospel and reign across the multiverse, would that be such a bad thing?” Xavier said. “Someone needs to take control.”

“Just like Blink did by joining the Centurions? She doesn’t harm your perfection, Mr. Xavier, she’s fighting to free other worlds from the threat of the collector. How could that be a problem for you if it keeps your utopia safe?”

“Because she escaped from it!” Xavier yelled out, the ground shaking a bit as his control of his powers slipped for one moment.

Saturyne looked at Xavier and could hear the mumblings of the other Captains Britain around her. A foolproof witness was suddenly becoming a liability. Captain Rogers smiled as he could see the shock in the other Captains faces. Saturyne did her best in hiding the dangers of some of the other multiversal worlds, but the good Captain was shining a brighter light than most.

“Do you have any more questions for the witness?” Saturyne asked.

“No, we’re done here,” Rogers said. The first seed in his defense was planted.

…

“I hope I can get back soon. My team and I are about to take on this Japanese guy with flame powers, and I need to get back before they really break down,” Scott Summers said as he sat confidently in the jury stand, kicking his feet up and observing the large crowd, especially the redhead in the small green towel.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Summers, our magicks can send your right back where you started from. You may even be able to take your girlfriend home,” Carta said as he continued to pace. “Tell me, Mr. Summers, was Jean Grey a good girlfriend?”

“Oh God, this isn’t happening,” Jean muttered as she saw her boyfriend on the stage. Even through his ruby red glasses, Jean could feel his eyeballs pouring all over her, as if she was a prize to be lusted over. Scott had only ever seen a bit of shoulder, and here she was now, virtually on display. Everyone was paying attention to Cyclops’ testimony; no one could see the glasses of water beginning to float in the air.

“You’re OK,” a voice said as Jean felt a hand take hers. Mayday Parker didn’t usually do comfort, her hands rough and calloused from years of basketball and web slinging. But surrounded by the entire multiverse that told them they were somehow wrong to just exist, it was nice to know she wasn’t alone.

“Well, she was a good girlfriend. Made this costume for me, fun to go driving with, but her cookies are terrible,” Cyclops explained.

“Was she a good X-Man?” Carta asked.

“Good? I mean she really didn’t do much but sit there and look pretty, I mean she’s not like Lorna at all. All defense with no offense. Even Warren does more than her, and all he has is wings,” Scott continued. “But you know, she was great for moral support.”

“And did she serve you well? In this role?” Carta asked.

“Of course, until she disappeared we were fed, clothed, and treated like kings. But that was before Lorna opened my mind. Let me see that I don’t need another mom, I need a partner.”

“And Lorna is?”

“Polaris. We picked her and my brother up against some pharaoh freak. She can move metal… and she also moved my heart,” Cyclops explained. “With Je… Marvel Girl… gone, I figured I needed to find someone new, who truly got me, you know?”

“So you two are dating, then?” Captain Carta asked.

“Yeah, we are, and she’s even helping me with my whole eye problem. Turns out she can suppress my blasts with metal mirrors or some bullshit like that. Prof says I may be cured sooner than later.”

The audience of Captains Britain gasped, a cured Cyclops was something none of them had witnessed before, let alone one who was with the daughter of Magneto. Many of them were doing the calculations in their head on just how skewed Earth 3965 was becoming.

Betsy Bradock rolled her eyes at this. The multiverse was supposed to be infinite according to the Corps, but here they were gawking over changes in certain stories, as if they had a right to tell someone who they had to be. Betsy looked over to Jean and the cups floating around her and Mayday’s hand in hers. Whoever Jean was, it wasn’t the Phoenix, or even the ideal girlfriend Cyclops was describing. She was Jean Grey, and she deserved something more. Something better.

“What? What’s the big deal that I can see without these stupid shades?”

“Because Mr. Summers that would be changing fate, it would be changing the natural order of things. And that is why this trial and your former…gal pal are accused of serious crimes,” Captain Carta explained. “The multiverse must be kept in order. And you clearly need your Jean Grey back.” Captain Carta calmly walked back to his seat, smug in pointing out the holes in Earth 3965.

Steve Rogers looked down at his notes, unlike Xavier, Cyclops really didn’t do anything wrong. His world was seemingly normal, just a little behind time wise compared to the others. His only crime was being a dick to Jean. And judging by the harsh reaction from the crowd around them, people agreed with Carta’s assertions that this was how the story had to go. Before Rogers could question, Betsy Braddock got up from her seat and asked a simple question.

“Did you love the defendant, Mr. Summers?” Betsy asked.

“Loved? I mean she’s OK I guess,” Cyclops said. “Always reliable, always there, always making me the best.”

“You didn’t answer my question Mr. Summers,” Betsy stated.

“I…don’t think I did, not like that,” Scott Summers said as he looked away. Not wanting to stare at a certain redhead’s reaction.

Jean Grey sighed a breath of relief. For the year she had been on this Earth she had struggled with certain feelings of guilt, of fear, of self-loathing. But it didn’t matter anymore. She was never truly loved or understood by someone. But she felt the warmth of Mayday’s hand, and as the cups around her gently floated down she knew she was wrong.

“Exactly. The court here has stated that Jean Grey must become the Phoenix, that she must live a life of pain and suffering in order to fulfill her role. But the multiverse is bloody infinite. What if we’re sending all these Jean’s to die because we’re telling them what they have to be. We’re supposed to be protectors, not judge, jury, and executioners. Jean Grey deserves the same rights every person across the multiverse has,” Betsy spoke passionately.

“The more we press down on the Jean Grey’s of the world, we create our own worst nightmares. Her only crime is being taken from her world and finding something better. And you want to give her a death sentence by sending her back?”

The Captain Britains in the stands mumbled as they realized Betsy had a point. She took her seat and looked at Jean and Mayday. In the face of multiversal conflict, it was nice to remember why she became a superhero in the first place. Someone had to look out for the little guy.

…

“Speak your name for the jury?” Captain Carta asked as he looked towards the gorgeous redhead in the stands.

“Mary Jane Watson-Parker,” Mary Jane said as she sat in the stand. She was in her 40’s, with a leopard print top and a black blazer that contrasted against the bright colors of the Corps. The makeup she had on hid the wrinkles that had accumulated from years of worry about her husband…and anger at her daughter. “Excited to actually get to be at one of these superhero things. Did anyone tell you guys you accessorize well?”

Mayday Parker looked at her mother, someone that she should have been glad to have seen. But she remembered their last conversation, and what it was like to have no home at seventeen, with only her Uncle Matt and Kristen to take her in. Her anger could be felt as she trembled at the table. The rest of the team had been focusing on what they would say to whatever witness would damn them. Blink had kept cool, Jean nervous, but the furrowed brow of Mayday suggested a very different response.

“Tell me, what is your relationship to your daughter?” Carta asked.

“We have no relationship,” Mary Jane responded. “Mostly because she rejected me after I wanted to help her.”

“And what was that help?” Carta asked.

”To be normal,” Mary Jane explained. “Like the other girls really. I made sure she would have everything she could have wanted and more. Like a really rocking sweet sixteen and the hottest fashions from Paris.”

”And she rejected this home, this perfection you provided?”

“Of course, off playing basketball, the skatepark, or with those horrid GI Joes. Did you know one of them is a ninja? I mean what little girl wants to be a ninja?”

“He’s a ninja commando,” Mayday mumbled.

“And then she came home with that friend of hers,” MJ continued. “I know Felecia Hardy, and I know her daughter is such a sweet girl. I hoped when May took an interest that some of…Felicity’s interests would rub off on May.”

“And did your daughter finally become what you wanted?” Carta asked.

“No, not when you find two of them snuggling together, in such…sinful conditions. When I told Felicia she couldn’t believe it. Her daughter was not…into May she swore. Just the thrill.”

“That’s a lie and you know it!” Mayday spoke up finally, raising from her seat. “You and Ms. Hardy never wanted us to be happy, just status symbols for your empire, Mom. You broke us up for your enjoyment and left me alone.”

“I left you to be normal,” MJ responded. “And instead you take after you damn father. Having to be a hero, having to be different. When the Captain here explained that you had corrupted that sweet girl next to you, I believed him immediately, it’s what my daughter does.”

“That’s not…that’s not,” Mayday began to say. It had been a long time since she had gotten into an argument with her mother, and she remembered how weak she had felt. She wanted love, but all she got was that stare through those painted on eyes.

“That’s not true,” Jean stated as she stood up. “I’m here because of my own choices, not because May decided to “corrupt” me. She’s the only one to ever show me compassion, friendship, who lets me into a different world where maybe…maybe I don’t have to keep suppressing who I am.”

Jean gazed into May’s eyes for a moment, the rare time she could see them so uncertain. That was the real crime to her.

“Mayday Parker will be more of a woman than you’ll ever be Ms. Watson. And the fact you can’t see that. That you can’t love her for loving those…silly ninja commandos…is why you should be on trial. Because you can’t see we all belong, isn’t that the point of infinite possibilities? So we all won’t be damned.” Jean preached, supprised at letting a profanity out for a moment before seeing the eyes peering at her. She didn’t care anymore of their stares and gawking. May needed her, and that would have to be enough.

“Can you keep the witness down,” Carta asked.

“Why? She just made my defense for me,” Betsy Braddock said with a smile.

…

“God this has been painful,” Morph said as he drooped in his seat. So far, each of his friends had been torn a new one from the ghosts from their past. And despite what people assumed, Kevin Sydney wasn’t stupid. He knew that his turn was up next as his mind drifted to the life he had found on Earth 95.

Would it be Raine, the girl who’s heart he broke because he had a shot with the Emma Frost? Would it be his ol’ buddy Cannonball who was still suing him over that restaurant in Tampa? Or would be Erik Lehnsherr himself, who Morph looked directly in the eyes as he signed that contract with Stark, all but killing the studio. He wish he could say that he was on drugs, or received bad advice, but those choices were on him. And he had to live with them.

”You good?” Blink asked as she saw Morph’s tired eyes. They were part of the original team that first made it to Earth 913. And compared to the rest of the Centurions, Morph was the only one that had treated her like a friend.

”Yeah, better than Jeanie or Mayday though. People really suck don’t they?” Morph asked.

”Sure, but you usually would morph into a hot redhead or Summers’ damn visor to make fun of them,'' Blink said.

“I just don’t think I find this funny anymore, none of it really,” Morph frowned. “I’m not a good person, Blink, the sooner you get that, the sooner you’ll understand me.”

“You are wiser than you think, besides we shall past these tests. Believe me when I say I have a plan,” Blink explained.

“You have a plan? Jeez,” Morph said. “Things really are bad then.”

Before he could continue, the booming voice of Captain Carta could be heard.

”The court calls Nobel winning scientist and head of the Moira Island laboratories of Earth 95, Moira MacTaggart, to the stand,” Captain Carta yelled.

“Oh no, not her,” Morph mumbled as a mousy woman in an oversized labcoat and large glasses slowly made her way to the witness stand. She stared in wonder at the architecture and the science around her. How they were able to cram so much people but still feel so spacious was something she was going to bring back to her team on Muir.

“Moira,” Blink mumbled, remembering the kind figure on her Earth who had both trained her and told her stories of the world before Xavier. Moira was her hero, when that damn Grey took her from Blink, it had broken the freedom fighter To see her now, even a version she knew was not her own, brought a tear to the emotionless mutant.

“State your name and relation to the accused,” Captain Carta began.

“Moira Mactaggart, and that is my son, Kevin,” Moira explained.

“Now, you are a respected scientist, why do you think your son isn’t like you,” Carta asked. “And instead a man who tries to cling to the spotlight at the expense of him and the people he cares about?”

“Takes after his ‘da,” Moira explained. “And…I wasn’t there for him, I considered him more of an experiment than a son. And he…pushed away.”

“And hurt so many others,” Carta explained.

“He did,” Moira said as she looked away from Carta and into the eyes of her boy. They were a brilliant gold, and she could see how tired he looked. “But I also caught up on his exploits since arriving in this so-called contest. I checked when I was first plucked here to your lovely citadel.”

“You did?” Carta asked.

“Yes, from the crisis of dinosaurs to those dreadful Dreadnauts, to even how he keeps these so called Centurions together. You all assume my son could never be a star, a leading man. But I’ve read and seen so much more of him than you ever will. He’s always meant to be something more. He just had to find the right place. And as far as I’m concerned? Having a sham trial does no good for them or the multiverse you so-called Captains proclaim to protect.”

Carta fell silent as he heard the murmurs from the other Captains, and Saturyne’s frown indicated it was best to dismiss the witness. What was supposed to be an air tight case was slowly crumbling before him.

“The prosecution is done with this witness,” Carta mumbled.

“And the defense as well,” Rogers smiled, sometimes the universe gave them a break.

As Moira walked back to be taken back to her universe, Morph leapt from his seat and embraced her, tears beginning to form.

“I’m sorry ma, I’m sorry,” Morph said.

“I know you are my boy. Now go show the world just how bright you can shine,” Moira said with a smile as Blink looked on, longing for the comfort stripped from her.

…

“God, this has been bad,” Brian Braddock said as he tapped nervously in his chair.

“I don’t think so,” Captain Rogers explained. “We’ve shown them their logic is flawed, and that by you letting us be here makes this world better.”

“Well I could have told you that,” Betsy Braddock retorted. “Saturyne just hates she was included on the plans for you. She likes being the center of attention.”

“So she keeps showing,” Jean mumbled.

“Well you’ve now seen my mom, so I can’t really talk,” Mayday said.

“Right, so now all we have to do is hope nothing else goes wrong,” Morph said with a confident smile.

“That is very confident Morph,” Mainframe explained. “But by process of elimination and my latest probability models…I am up next to be judged.”

“And? You’re a machine,” Blink said. “Birthed in this universe with no family. Who would they call?”

As Blink said that, heavy metal footsteps could be heard as well as the whirling of a bright blue repulsor engine. The armor may have been sleeker, but for the rest of the Centurions they recognized that damn voice.

“Hello team, I believe it’s been a bit,” Arno Stark had been called to the stand.

NEXT: The Trial Continues as Arno Stark and Tigra Crash the Party! But Can the Centurions Get Out of this Together?

American Kaiju

Issue 2: Battleship

Written by: Mr_Wolf_GangF

Edited by: Predaplant & VoidKiller826

=================

Two hours have passed since everything at Troubleshooter went to hell. Of course, for General Maverick, the passage of time felt closer to that of a decade than any other unit of time.

How foolishly optimistic he had been just earlier that day.

He had truly believed in the research, believed in the science. Perhaps it was predictable that something would go wrong like this, but for the first time in his long life, Maverick had chosen to be on the side of optimism. A mistake he would internalize and never repeat again in whatever amount of life he had left within him.

A Homeland Security agent was dead on his watch, one of the science types he had spent millions of taxpayer dollars in bringing aboard the project was also dead, and a mutated American soldier was currently somewhere out there in the world doing God knows what.

What a shit show.

“General.”

Maverick looked up to Dr. McGowan, whom he had tasked with compiling Nagel’s research in order to figure out just what went wrong.

“I have the files you requested,” McGowan said while raising a collection of beige folders.

Maverick said nothing but gestured for her to go on.

“Well, I went through the reports given to Major Sparr and they all seem consistent with each other, but as you may have guessed, the actual research suggests something vastly different.” McGowan opened one of the folders and slid it across the meeting table towards Maverick. “It's hard exactly to figure out what Nagel did since he didn't keep any notes of his progress, but I think I have a good general idea of what he was doing.”

Maverick picked up the file.

His old eyes traveled over the lines and lines of science talk he didn't understand, eventually landing on something he did almost understand.

“What are the NYC samples referring to?” Maverick asked and McGowan sucked in a deep breath.

“The primary samples Nagel was using for his research were DNA samples recovered from the 2022 New York incident,” McGowan replied. “He had them shipped in from other government holdings.”

That made a nasty amount of sense.

Maverick hadn't been personally involved with the incident, but he had seen the footage of it. It was surreal to see a modern city like New York overrun with dinosaurs, another motivating factor for Troubleshooter.

“So he was juicing up the dino DNA with every resource we had to offer?” Maverick asked.

“It certainly seems so,” McGowan confirmed.

That boiled Maverick’s blood something awful.

Troubleshooter was supposed to be a shield against threats, the ultimate line of defense that could just as easily be an offense. It was supposed to stop threats, not create them.

“How did this happen?” Maverick’s latest question seemed to catch McGowan off guard as it took her a few moments to come up with an answer.

“We were just tricked, it seemed. Nagel was a good liar and a decent enough scientist that all the work seemed fine to the scientifically untrained eye.” McGowan paused, considering for a moment that what she said might be offensive to the scientifically untrained general. “Nobody saw any red flags until it was too late.”

Maverick tossed the file back onto the meeting table.

“A fatal flaw that a damn high school could have seen coming!” Maverick slammed his fist into the table. “We're a billion-dollar government program handling the most dangerous projects this country has ever seen! We shouldn't have been working off an honor code for making sure everyone was doing shit right!”

Maverick rose from his seat.

“Congratulations, Dr. McGowan, I'm giving you a promotion.”

Once again, the doctor seemed to be caught off guard, but quickly recovered.

“A promotion, sir?”

“Yes, a promotion, you are now the individual with the most control over this operation besides me. I want you to take this new authority and utilize it to look over every single detail for every single project in this program,” Maverick ordered. “If you find any other silver tongues in this building I want you to melt them down and turn them into scrap.”

“Yes sir,” McGowan confirmed.

“Get to work, Major Sparr will be at your service if you need any manual labor done.” Maverick started to make his way over to the door.

“Where will you be, General?” Perhaps McGowan was stepping on an eggshell with that question, but her curiosity had won out.

“I very well can't leave a thirty-story tall monster to its own devices, doctor.”

=================

Rita had stopped crying at some point.

She wasn't quite sure when, but it wasn't because her sorrow had bottomed out. It was more because her tear ducts simply could not keep up with what was required of them, a biological burnout if one were to be alliterative about it. Of course, no amount of alliteration or jokes could change the facts of what had happened today.

This was all her fault.

Todd was gone now, and it was her fault.

She should have never recommended him, she should have just let him be disappointed and angry at her, but at least then he would still be here with her. At least they could still patch things up and continue on with their lives together.

Now there was no chance of those lives going on anymore.

Todd was gone.

He was gone, and it was her fault.

Before Rita could spiral any further, there was a knock on the door of her room.

“DeMara,” Major Sparr called from the other side, her voice hard in the manner only military members could achieve. “I need to talk to you.”

Rita wanted to tell the Major to piss off, but she managed to summon forth some level of professionalism through her emotions.

“Give me a moment.” That was the first time Rita had spoken in the last two hours and she sounded like hell.

After wiping her eyes to hopefully erase any remnants of tears and straightening out her rumpled shirt, Rita determined herself decent enough to get up and answer the door.

“Major,” Rita said in a flat tone as she opened the door.

“DeMara.” There was her last name again. Sparr loved using it and it always felt just a little demeaning. Practically speaking, it was probably only Sparr’s preferred name for her since Rita wasn't military nor did she have an official doctorate, thus no official title.

“What do you need?” Rita asked.

“General Maverick wants you to report to him in 30 minutes to set off,” Sparr said.

“What?” Rita couldn't keep her tone flat with the surprise that filled her.

“The General wants you on board for his counter-offensive, he's transferring your prototypes and research to his flagship for the operation,” Sparr explained and Rita could only really summon up one word.

“Why?”

Sparr seemed to not want to answer at first.

“You gave the recommendation.”

=================

McGowan watched from Troubleshooter Base’s watchtower as jets, both transport and fighter in nature, lined up and took off from the runway to head off towards Maverick’s mobile operation HQ.

She said nothing, but watched on as the full scale operation went on. She didn't envy anyone going out with Maverick, but she had her own job to worry about: she needed to pull the base back together both physically and morally.

She just hoped that the other side of the coin would be successful because otherwise, what would all that work mean if a monster toppled it over?

=================

Maverick had moved a small army's worth of equipment from the Troubleshooter base. Highly advanced prototype fighter jets, state of the art computer systems, and enough manpower to staff a dozen smaller operations twice over. All of these things and people were stuffed corner to corner within the confines of the aircraft carrier USS MacKenzie.

Not that it was a problem for Admiral Rebecca Houston.

She ran a tight ship and all the extra equipment and personnel was only just another set of standards she would meet. Her job would be done exceedingly well, even in these quite frankly unusual circumstances.

Houston’s attention was drawn from her internal monologue to the door of the bridge as a man she immediately recognized as General Maverick walked in, flanked by a woman who Houston didn't recognize but immediately pinned as a civilian thanks to her dress and the way she held herself.

“General,” Houston greeted.

“Admiral,” Maverick gave in return.

A small part of Houston was irritated by having to work with another military branch, especially where the highest-ranking member of the collective was from the other branch. Yet the time to be bothered over the chain of command would come later.

“We've tracked your target, General.” Houston led Maverick and the woman over to a nearby console which displayed a digital map. “At first, we believed its direction was random. However, with satellite imagery and predictive algorithms, we were able to determine that it was actually heading to a specific location.”

“And where is that?” Maverick asked.

“It's making a beeline for the Russian coast.” Maverick had no outward reaction to that information, but Houston could spot the movement taking place behind his eyes.

“How long till we can catch up with him?”

“Based on our movement speed compared to his, we can't,” Houston answered bluntly. “However I've already taken that into account and set plans in motion to slow the target down.”

Houston pressed a button on the console and the image switched, now depicting the map of the open ocean with the only details being two blue dots and one red dot slowly moving towards each other.

“I called two destroyers off their patrol route to intercept,” Houston elaborated.

“Which ones?” Maverick asked.

“The Rogers and the Walker.”

It seemed Maverick didn't recognize the names and Houston quickly expanded her answer.

“Two of our newest and most advanced destroyers,” Houston spoke with pride. “Outfitted with the newest and most advanced weapon systems alongside superior armoring, those ships are the next step in evolution for Navy engineering. Not to speak out of turn, but I believe they're going to tear that lizard to shreds.”

“Are you sure?” The General asked.

“Completely,” Houston answered.

Maverick seemed pleased with the answer but Houston couldn't help but notice that the civilian woman paled slightly upon hearing it.

=================

Captain Brody was nervous.

In the seven months since the Rogers had been put to sea, it hadn't seen any real action. Its advanced build had been relegated entirely to patrols and the occasional war game, but nothing as serious as the current matter.

Perhaps a good first instinct would be to simply think positive and hope for the best. Brody’s first instinct was trained out of him years ago, long before he was ever assigned to being a captain aboard a destroyer. He knew he couldn't depend on any universal factor and instead had to put in the hard work for the victory.

“Captain!” Radar technician Davis yelled. “The target has entered range.”

Wordlessly, Brody claimed the binoculars hanging from a lanyard around his neck. Holding them up to his eyes and aiming them out the front window of the bridge, Brody spotted the target.

A giant lump moving through and disturbing the surface of the ocean, spikes piercing out through the top of it and creating a horrific silhouette. Brody had known they were going to engage an unusual opponent, but this certainly pushed past the level of unusual he had been expecting. Although, perhaps, a giant monster should have been closer to the top of that list.

Dropping the binoculars, Brody took a radio off his belt.

“Rogers to Walker, come in Walker,” Brody spoke into the radio.

“Walker responding in, we see it,” The Walker’s captain called in. “Do we have permission to open fire?”

“Permission to open fire?” Brody snapped at his radio operator, who quickly got in contact with the USS MacKenzie.

“Permission granted,” The radio operator said after a moment.

“Let's rain hellfire,” Brody said into the radio.

Aboard both the Rogers and the Walker, both bridge crews got to work preparing to unleash hellfire, almost literally, with the weapon they were preparing. Both ships were equipped with a salvo of six experimental napalm missiles, basically hellfire in an oversized can.

“Ready to fire,” one of the console technicians announced.

“Fire,” Brody ordered without hesitation.

From both the Rogers and the Walker, a dozen missiles flew free from the silos on the rear of the ships. The bombardment made record time over the vast distance between the destroyers and the creature and slammed atop the lump in the sea, exploding in a spectacular display as the napalm set the surface of the water itself on fire.

“Direct hit confirmed!”

“Any confirmation on elimination?” Brody asked.

Nobody said anything and instead locked eyes with their instruments, waiting for a result to be given to them so they could answer. Unfortunately, when a result did come in, it landed within a very unfortunate probability.

“Movement on the radar!” Davis yelled, and Brody placed his binoculars up.

Indeed the beast was now rushing ahead through the water, seemingly uncaring that parts of its scaly hide was aflame. The sight was enough to briefly stun Brody into inaction.

What the hell was this thing?

Brody was beginning to plan out a next move when suddenly the front cannons aboard the Walker began to fire. Shells arced through the air and crashed into the flaming wave to no effect. Despite this fact, Brody quickly followed the example.

“Forward cannons fire!” Brody yelled, and the bridge crew quickly scrambled to comply.

The Rogers soon joined its brother ship in blasting potshots at the creature, creating a consistent rhythm of explosive impacts against its impossibly tough skin.

Despite the continuous assault, the beast continued forward toward the two destroyers, and eventually the once vast distance was closed into just under a mile. Both the crews of the Rogers and the Walker were staring down a monster who cared nothing of the napalm burning its skin nor the armor-piercing cells crashing into it.

“It's invincible,” Davis let out without thinking, and Brody was inclined to agree with her.

“Walker! Take the left and we'll go right!” Brody screamed into the radio before directing the crew to get the Rogers in motion.

Both ships drove forward and as planned, the Walker moved out to the left while the Rogers went right, putting the creature in the position of needing to focus on only one of its two opponents.

The creature chose the Walker.

The flames were extinguished as the creature dove beneath the waves completely, aiming to strike the Walker from below. As a counter, the Walker fired a cluster of depth charges off of its deck and into the sea. The only indicator that anything happened was the surface of the water rippling as the charges went off below.

Wordlessly, Brody looked to Davis for confirmation that made the kill.

“Yuuu! Esss! Aayyy!”

Confirmation came entirely on its own as from below the Walker, the creature blasted up from the sea under the Walker, and in a spectacular sight, it carried the Walker upwards into the air. For a moment Brody thought they would keep going, but gravity sunk its claws in and dragged both monster and ship back down to the sea.

While the beast vanished beneath the waves, the Walker stayed above the surface, although that was a nominal situation. The ship was leaning to its side and anytime Brody spoke to his radio to make contact, he would either receive panicked unintelligible talk or nothing at all.

“It's coming,” Davis said, unable to hide the fear in her voice.

“Depth charges!” Brody yelled, ambivalent to the fact they've already been proven ineffective.

The silo containing the depth charges opened but before they could fire out, a massive reptilian hand reached out from the sea and grabbed onto the silo. When the charges shot forward, they crashed into the hand and exploded immediately. The result was a massive fireball consuming the majority of the Rogers’ front deck.

“Shit!” Brody failed to stay on his feet as the explosion rocked the ship. Although he now laid flat on his back, Brody spat out another command. “Rotate the front cannons!”

“We can't! Remote operation was disabled by the explosion!” A technician revealed.

“Find something to shoot it with!” Brody screamed as he made his way back to his feet.

The upper half of the creature’s body rose from the sea and as it did, it found itself bothered by a spray of a few different 50-caliber machine guns that might as well be flecks of sawdust to it.

“Yuuu! Esss! Aayyy!” The beast roared and prepared to finish the practically helpless target. Yet as quickly as clawed hands rose up, they went down.

Although the windows of the bridge provided Brody with a limited view, he could tell that the creature was focusing on something on the ship.

“Yuuu! Esss! Aayyy!” The beast suddenly sunk back beneath the waves and although relief immediately shot through Brody, worry and fear made sure to follow right after.

“What's it doing?” Brody asked.

“It's leaving,” Davis spoke in a near whisper as she monitored the barely functioning radar.

Brody rushed outside of the bridge and, with his own eyes, spotted the massive disturbance in the sea once again moving on its path, away from the crippled Rogers and Walker. Once he was confident that the mountain of disturbed water wouldn't turn around and come back for them, Brody turned to look at what had ever caught the creature's attention.

Captain Brody found himself looking at the American flag that, despite all the damage to the Rogers, flew proudly above the bridge.

Trigger Warning: Please note that Mr. E will tackle Nazism, anti-semitism, and the long lasting effects of the Holocaust. This will be done through the usage of real ideologies held by people, derogatory language, and depictions of Nazi violence. As a Jew myself, I find it important to portray these things in the book as realistically as possible. While Mr. E is set in the fantastical world of the Marvel Universe, antisemitism and the actions of Nazis are real and should be treated as such. Please read with this in mind.

New Jersey, 1938

From blocks away, the noise of people convening in front of a synagogue can be heard. It’s loud, it’s volatile, and it calls for action. The people inside the place of worship move away from the windows, mothers and fathers holding their children’s heads to their chest. The men outside have not made any attempt to enter the synagogue, nor have they begun to deface it, but the protest is just beginning. It does not take a genius to know it would only take a second for the people outside to grow violent.

The stone walls of the sanctuary seem to quiver as the loud chants from outside force their way onto the ears of those cowering in fear. The veins of those inside run cold as a single phrase is repeated over and over, “Fight for God and the Country.”

Looking from on top of a nearby building, Victor Goldstein sighs. He was hoping his information was wrong, but it seems that the German American Bund has gotten a grip on his state. He is a realist; he knew it would have happened eventually. Pro-Hitler movements have been spreading throughout the country. Hell, on Long Island there is reportedly a summer camp advertising itself as pro-Hitler, but he had hoped that New Jersey would be safe for longer.

He knows he is being selfish. Nazi sympathizers can’t just be ignored if they aren’t at your doorstep, but he still wishes they weren’t so close to home. No longer are the protests merely something he heard about in passing before services, or seen in the newspaper and on television, now it was in his front yard. Thinking that his friends, his community, his wife could be hurt by these bastards… Well, it fills him with a sense of dread he has never felt before.

Victor watches and counts about twenty people, all men in the age range of 18 to 40. None seem to be outwardly brandishing weapons, but that means nothing. Ignoring the potential of hidden guns and knives, he sees that many have brought signs brandishing messages about how Jews are secretly communists or how Christianity needs to be returned to America. Not conventional weapons by any means, but anything can be dangerous in the hands of the angry.

Victor checks his gear one last time. Brass knuckles covered by gloves, check. Cape for distracting, check. Smoke bombs for his grand entrance, check. Two pistols in case things go very south, reluctantly check.

A small smile latches onto Victor’s face as he cracks his neck. The only good thing about Nazi sympathizers in your neighborhood is that it means they’re close enough to punch. Jumping off the roof of the building, cape billowing in the air, Victor is ready.

BLAM.

The noise of a heavy object slamming down into a metal car causes the assorted German American Bund members to turn in silence. What they see is the roof of the car dented and a man on top, a single knee and fist touching the cool metal.

The top of his face is covered by a brimmed fedora, his eyes peering through a dark red mask. Shining bright in the sun is a Star of David necklace hanging around his neck. A grin is on the man’s face, one with dark knowing, one accentuated by his glaring eyes.

Jumping down from the car, the man, Victor, says, “Hello boys. I’m guessing you all aren’t here to help make the minyan.”

For a moment, silence reigns supreme. The protestors feel their bodies tense in fear. They were expecting to yell a bit, maybe deface the building, and then call it a day. They knew the police weren’t going to stop them; they’ve seen the police’s poor attempts at breaking things up at other protests. But now that this man, this vigilante, is here, well… things can get dangerous. Victor, though, remains still despite everything telling him to move. He wants to break the jaw of the nearest man, but he reminds himself that he has to give them a chance. If these bastards have a brain cell and decide to pack up before it gets ugly, well, then, that is better for everyone involved.

Slowly, one of the men steps forward. He has broad shoulders and a bald head that seemingly shines in the glow of the sun. “We are good, honest American citizens. We have a right to be here and make our voices heard.” the man says, his tone strengthening with every word. Victor can’t help but feel that his little speech was more to assure himself than for Victor’s ears.

Behind the mask, Victor raises an eyebrow. His voice calm, he says, “And I have just as much of a right to tell you that this isn’t going to end the way you want it to.”

The man grins, but it's weak. It’s the grin of someone who knows they are over their head, but are too invested to quit now. He begins to saunter towards Victor, “And why should I listen to you? One heeb against all of us, I doubt there is much you can do.”

So focused on his own bravado, the man fails to notice Victor grabbing a smoke bomb from his belt. Instead, he just continues forward until he is in front of the masked vigilante. Pushing Victor’s hat down with a lazy hand, the man asks, “What? No answer?”

Victor lets out a dry laugh, “I can do a hell of a lot.”

Before the man has time to process the answer, Victor’s fist is in his gut and smoke envelops the two of them. The man doubles over, his knees hitting the ground as pain courses through his body. His mouth opens; the man gasps for breath to circumvent the pain.

Outside the cloud of smoke, people are running. They scramble over each other, signs dropped as they rush away from the doors of the synagogue. They were cowards, willing to stand in a group and yell at those weaker than them, but now that the balance of power has changed, they trample each other to get away. From the twenty that were at the event, only five remain, one of them currently heaving for air on the ground.

Victor walks out of the smoke, his body seemingly larger than life as his red cape paints an image of divine judgment on those who stand before him. Once again, he does not move forward to attack, merely standing there as if taunting them with his unbloodied body.

The first one forward is a younger man, definitely in his mid twenties. He rushes at Victor as he takes something out of his pocket. The vigilante only has seconds after seeing the glint of the weapon to prepare a defense. Victor grabs onto his cape and side steps as the man thrusts out the knife he is holding. Victor wraps his cape around the knife and the man’s hand, the knife falling with a clang. The man drops seconds later as Victor slams his foot into his ankle.

Letting go of his cape, Victor looks forward to the three men remaining. He can’t help but note that he’s been lucky. These men obviously aren’t experienced with fighting, at least not with fighting someone who can punch back. If they coordinated their attack, or, hell, even all rushed him at the same time, they might have a shot, but even then, Victor’s experience would give him an edge.

“One last chance,” Victor says, taking a half step forward, “Leave now before I have to make you leave.”

His words get through to two of the men. One just outright makes a break for it, sprinting down the road as fast as he can. The other one is much more deliberate. He slowly places the sign he is holding on the ground and puts his hands in the air. Step by step, he walks backwards, making sure to show that he is unarmed. Victor gives him a curt nod and the man turns around and books it.

The remaining man looks at Victor with hatred overflowing in his eyes. “You think I’m fucking scared of a godless jew who can throw a punch?”

Victor watches silently as the man gets into what can only be called a fighting position. The legs are straight, and his fists are too close to his face, but at least the man didn’t put his thumbs into his fists.

The man rushes forward and throws a clumsy cross at Victor who dodges and grabs the man’s wrist. Victor follows it up with an elbow to the face, the nazi-sympathizer’s nose breaking with a crack.The man tries to break free and slam his foot against Victor’s but the vigilante merely slides back before snaking his arm around the man’s throat.

In one solid movement, Victor slams his foot against the back of the man’s knee and pulls his arm back, breaking the elbow in the process. Victor then lets go of the man, allowing him to drop to the ground.

Black spots cover the man’s vision as pain blossoms from his now broken elbow. Gasping in pain, the man can barely move. Victor stands above him, his face as much of a mask as the cloth that rests near his eyes. In a cold tone, Victor says, “I’ll only say this once. Next time I see one of you Hitler-supporting bastards, I won’t let anyone leave peacefully. The people of New Jersey are protected by–”

Mr. E

By: u/DarkLordJurasus

Edited by: u/dwright5252, u/deadislandman1, u/Predaplant, u/FPSgame48, u/PresidentWerewolf and u/MadUncleSheogorath

-----------------------------------

New Jersey, 1942

Victor drags himself through the arch of his company’s doorway. His body hurts, bruises already forming on his arms. Luckily, for accounting, long sleeve suits are expected, so no one will see the purplish-red welts running up and down his forearm.

Anyone who is looking close enough would see the rigid way that Victor walks on his way to the front desk. It’s slow, calculated, and it is the result of the vigilante fighting his body. Last night, when the group of robbers he was chasing threw a garbage can at him, Victor twisted his ankle. It’s not the worst injury he got last night, that probably goes to the potential concussion caused by a good right hook to his head, but it is the most debilitating. Unlike the pain in his arms and torso, he can’t just avoid straining the injured area. He needs to walk, and just in case, he needs to make it seem he wasn’t hurt at all. Sure, a twisted ankle might not immediately connect him to vigilantism, but it will be a hint that isn’t needed.

Walking over to the front desk, Victor places his arms onto the wooden top. Slowly, he places more weight onto his hands, shifting it off of his bad ankle. The woman at the desk smiles at him, and he smiles back, strained from pain and exhaustion.

“Hello Mr. Goldstein.” the woman says, her head dropping down to read from a notebook, “Your 2 o’clock is still on today, but your 4 o’clock has requested to reschedule. They would like to potentially meet after 6 today, but you usually leave the office at 7, so I didn’t know if you would be fine with staying in a bit later.”

Victor stands back up, his eyes clearly displaying his discomfort. “I’ll call Laura and tell her I’m staying in for another half hour.”

The woman nods, still not looking up from the notebook, and scribbles something down. “I’ll get right on it then.”

Victor gives a curt nod back and begins to make his way to the back of his office. Before he can take more than two steps though, his receptionist calls out, “Also, someone from the government is currently sitting in the main conference room. Joshua tried talking to him, but the official insists that he must speak to you.”

For a moment, Victor pauses. Government officials coming to his firm aren’t strange, but they always work with Joshua, and they rarely ever come in person. Maybe his company forgot to submit a document, but that’s unlikely to lead to someone coming in person on such short notice. Usually there would be a call or two as a warning beforehand.

“Thank you for letting me know,” Victor responds absentmindedly. Slowly, he walks to the conference room, the pain in his ankle drowned out by the myriad of possibilities.

Getting to the foggy glass of the conference room, Victor stands outside for a moment. He’s at a total loss of what the government official may want. Grabbing the door handle, Victor can feel the tension in his shoulders. Closing his eyes, Victor takes a deep breath and opens the door.

Walking into the room, Victor sees an impeccably dressed man staring straight at him. Straight, slick, black hair matches the color of the official’s suit and tie. A brown, leather suitcase stands to the man’s side.

“Sorry for making you wait so long,” Victor says with a smile that does not reach his eyes.

The man shakes his head and gives a short chuckle, “It is no problem at all, Victor.” For a moment there is silence, the man’s face contorting as a smile splits it in half. Then the man corrects himself, “Or should I say Mr. E?”

Every muscle in Victor’s body painfully freezes, time stopping for a brief second. The vigilante’s mind begins to slam back and forth from denial, that this can’t be happening, and dread, how can this be happening? He’s been careful, he thinks to himself, leaving few ways for anyone to trace Mr. E back to mild-mannered Victor Goldstein. The only thing that Victor can think of that links the two is that both are Jewish. Hell, Victor even goes out of his way to change where he starts and ends patrol each night just for this reason.

Shallow breaths leave Victor’s mouth, his heartbeat audible in his ears. No one was supposed to know of his double life, much less the US government. Slowly, he closes the door, his fingers shaking on the glass the whole time. He turns around to once again look at the government official.

The man looks at Victor and gestures for him to sit. Going into his briefcase, the government official begins to talk to Victor, “Don’t worry about being in trouble. We aren’t fond of vigilantism, but even I have to admit you're one of the better ones at it. You haven’t killed or even shot any of your victims and have been keeping injuries to only bigger threats. It’s better than we can say for others like The Thunderer and Father Time.”

Victor releases a breath he was holding in, his chest and shoulders shaking as immense amounts of pressure are released. “Then may I ask, what are you doing here?” Victor asks, his voice shaky.

The man looks at Victor and responds, “We’ve noticed you have been a bit extra violent when it comes to Nazi-supporters. There were reports of your fights with the German American Bund before they disbanded last year. You really went all out with them.”

Victor nods, afraid words will escape him if he tries to speak.

“Well,” the government official says, “how would you like to fight more than Nazi-sympathizers? The American Government would like to welcome you to a chance to join the war effort.”

—--------------------

New Jersey, 1942

Laura Goldstein sits on a wooden chair, tears in her eyes. Her hand loosens its grip on the fork she is holding, the utensil forgotten upon hearing her husband's words. Europe, so close to the discussions that labor the country on the daily, but still so far away. She knows it matters: the deaths, the destruction, the inhumanity of the war and of Germany’s Final Solution, but the desire to cling on, to pretend it’s all fiction, nothing more than a show made for ratings courses through her.

“You want to go.” The words come out in a forceful whisper. It’s a matter of fact, not a question.

Laura feels a desire to throw her plate of food at the wall, to stand up, to shout, to tell Victor she won’t allow it, but she doesn’t. Victor is selfless, she knew that when she married him. She knew he was a vigilante, that he risked death every night when she said “I do”. She can’t stop Victor from getting involved, from fighting for those who can’t fight for themselves.

Victor nods, “Our brothers and sisters… they are being massacred, Laura, killed for the crime of being Jewish. I can’t stand here and watch it happen through a screen. How many names will never be uttered again, how many families will be wiped out? I can do something to help, maybe not much, but something.”

Laura’s lips whiten as they are pressed together and for a moment she is silent. She has nothing to say, what can you say? Any argument she could use would sound selfish, is selfish. The fork feels heavy in her hands, the metal digging into her flesh as her grip hardens. “You’ll be gone when she’s born.”

Guilt flashes through Victor’s eyes. She hates it, she hates more that she’s the one who put it there. Of course he knows he will know that he’ll miss the birth of his daughter, but still Laura needed to say it. She refuses to allow it to be an elephant in a room full of fragile discussions the two refuse to have.

“I know.” Victor says. That's all he can say. “I know”.

Taking a deep breath from her nose, Laura nods slightly, “Okay then.” A single rogue tear slides down her face. “Just come home. Please, I don’t care if you have to fight Adonai himself, just come home to me.”

“I promise.”

—-------------------

Poland, 1942

In the cover of deep night, Victor lies under a tree. The wind sways the leaves back and forth, the whooshing noise violent in the vigilante’s ears.

Victor picks up his head, his chin in foliage, searching out to the world. In the distance, the glow of a lantern burns brightly, golden light searching the darkness for something out of the ordinary. Nazis with dogs at the source, barking, hunting, ready to eviscerate and devour anything they come across.

The desire to scream comes to Victor suddenly. It’s a desire to curse his bad luck. His first mission was supposed to be simple: sneak into The Wolf’s Lair, steal some Nazi intelligence, and get out without being seen. His supply of smoke bombs out, a bullet slammed into the back of his left thigh, and now a good two dozen or so Nazis hunting him down, Victor can easily say the mission has been compromised.

The light starts to move away from where Victor is hiding, and in response, the vigilante slowly rises to his feet. It’s a slow process to do so, taking a good minute or two to do so. Victor slides his hands to be parallel with his chest and methodically, he pushes away the sticks and leaves underneath his hands. Having clear dirt, he pushes himself up. Between the pain of the bullet hole, and the strain of his muscles from previously running, Victor struggles to keep himself from a groan that births itself deep in his throat.

On his feet, Victor makes a small step.

Crack

Victor winces, all that work for a random branch to give him away. He can’t help but hope it was unheard, but he knows that is unlikely. A silent forest can echo out a noise into the infinities.

In the distance, there is talking. Between the distance and not being fluent in German, Victor is not quite sure what they are saying, but he is quite sure what will happen next. At least one soldier will come this way in search of him.

Victor scouts the area around, his mind desperately thinking of a way out. He can’t outrun them. Even with his headstart, his injury will make him far slower. Going into a tree isn’t going to help either. He’ll be unable to easily get down, essentially making him a sitting duck.

Closing his eyes, Victor sighs. He knows what he has to do. The only way out of this is by shooting his way out, and even then, he knows he is highly outgunned.

The rustling gets closer. It seems to be only one person, potentially a scout to see if it was just a wild animal. Good. Even if the sound of a gun going off alerts others, at least this means Victor get’s more time to think something up.

Victor takes out his gun and sighs. He’s never shot at a person before. It’s self-defense though, kill or be killed. Surely he can forgive himself, surely G-d will forgive him. Who is he kidding? He actively joined the war. He knew he might have to kill. Neither him nor the one he kills will meet G-d with a clean conscience.

Even in the dark, Victor can see nearby bushes shake as something climbs through it. A thumb pushes down on the hammer with a click.

As a flashlight turns on, a loud bang blows through the empty forest for all to hear.

In the hours following that bang, Victor escapes to a secret hideout a few hours west of the Wolf’s Lair. While Victor survived that night, until the day he died, he could not escape the vision of wide eyes behind the glowing of a flashlight. Every night, the vigilante was tormented by the images of a body falling backwards, blood seeping from a chest wound. Victor never could run away from reliving the first time he ever took a life.

—------------------------------

Soviet Union, 1943

Hidden deep in the cold depths of the Soviet Union sits a small base currently being used by a collective of Soviet and American vigilantes. The base does not have a name, for their role in the war is to be kept as secret as possible.

The base, disguised as a rundown three story house has a small basement. In the claustrophobic room is a single light source, one flickering bulb in the center of the room. It was not made for comfort. In all honesty, it was made to never be used. The gritty concrete walls and ceiling were formed as a last case scenario, a potential way for the people inside to survive a bombing or a shelling if the situation arised.

Now though, the grime-covered concrete is the current living place of a single man. The man, Franz Wagner, sits on a wooden chair in the center of the room, his hands chained behind his back. His blond hair looks brown, dirt and blood dying it darker. Covering his body is an SS uniform, slashed across his chest to allow for a medic to take out the bullet previously inserted into his body. Gauze now sits over the wound, taped across his bare chest.

Creak

Franz tries his best to look bored as he hears the creaking of the steps in front of him. He’s been starved for two days now, barely given a full glass of water a day from a person wearing a full face mask. From what he hears from above, the people who captured him speak a mixture of Russian and English. Franz knew that it meant any chance of rescue was slim. Chances are they were holding him up north, and the chances of any German soldiers surviving the winter, much less finding the hideout were non-existent. Closing his blue eyes for a moment, Franz makes a decision: he will probably die today anyway, so no matter what his captors do, he won’t give in.

Victor enters the room, his veins flowing hot with liquid rage. His fingers twitch inside their black gloves, the desire to let out his anger boiling over. He stays at the outskirts of the room, his body only partially visible in the shadows. Victor circles the room in silence, once, twice, then a third time. It takes him that long to calm his desire to just kill the Nazi where he stands.

The man in front of him is the only survivor of the most recent raid on Armin Zola’s Poland base of operation. Victor was no fool of the horrors of the Nazis, but seeing them was different from knowing them in the abstract.

It seemed that Zola was experimenting on the human brain inside his lab. Scalped children were kept alive as electricity was shot through their brain, burnt corpses littered the walls, and in one room laid a man who was being consistently drugged to keep him awake. Of course, all the experiments were done on so-called undesirables. From the documents found in Zola’s office, an equal number of Romanis, Jews, and Black people were experimented on. It seems that Zola wanted to make sure there were similar results on each group before he moved onto experimenting on “white” prisoners.

Victor takes a deep breath, and turns to be eye to eye with Franz. His anger isn’t gone, but the vigilante is able to keep it restrained. If not cracking the Nazi’s skull right now means that Victor gets a chance to put a bullet in Armin Zola’s head, he’ll accept the compromise.

Victor clears his throat and asks, “Wo ist Armin Zola?”

The Nazi glares at Victor and spits at the vigilante. Speaking in English, he says, “Don’t disgrace the German language by letting it escape your dirty lips.”

Victor ignores Franz’ outburst and takes out a pistol. A shaky finger rests on the hammer of the gun, Victor’s skin cold against the metal touch of the weapon of death. Unblinking, Victor brings the barrel of the gun up, the eye of the weapon staring straight down at the Nazi.

“Where is Armin Zola?” Victor repeats, this time in English. His voice is low, calm, the total opposite of how he truly feels.

Both American and German are quiet for a moment, the air in the room growing heavy. Franz stares at the dark shadow in front of him, his eyes dashing back and forth from the visible gun to the face hidden in shadows.

Finally, the silence is broken by a laugh, a dry, coarse laugh. Franz throws his head back, a taunt at his captor. “What are you going to do?” Franz asks, his eyes lightened with false humor, “Shoot me? You can’t, you need me alive to talk.”

Franz watches as the gun lowers just an inch. It’s barely any movement, but in Franz’ mind, it’s enough. It’s a sign that he has control in this situation. “Word of advice, if you aren’t willing to –”

Bam

Franz’ eyes widen as pain explodes in his knee, a bullet wedged inside. It takes all his strength not to scream, the Nazi’s mouth quickly clamping shut to avoid his throat wrenching with noise. In front of him is his captor, his pistol still smoking.

Victor stands there, his knuckle white as it grips the trigger. Bile rises in the vigilante’s throat, but he quickly swallows it, refusing to let the sight of crimson red dripping down the leg of a tied up man get to him.

“You have one more kneecap,” Victor tells Franz. “One more kneecap, and then I aim for your balls.”

A shaky finger lets go of the trigger as a thumb goes to the hammer. With a click, the next bullet is ready. Pointing the barrel to Franz’ other knee, Victor asks once more, “Where is Armin Zola?”

The Nazi merely spits at the floor, his eyes daring his captor with a glare.

Victor pulls down the trigger. With a bang, the bullet leaves its nesting place, shredding through the air with immense speed, finding a new home in Franz’ kneecap. This time the Nazi can’t stay silent, a grunt of pain escaping his barely parted lips as the sharp pain destroys his senses, leaving him with a throb that travels up his knee and into his ears.

Victor takes two steps forward, becoming clear in the dim light of the room. For a split second, Franz forgets himself, forgets where he is. The symbol in front of him, the dark red cape, the eyes hidden by the shadows of a hat, it looks demonic in presence, a spirit of death and vengeance brought to life. But then, Franz sees it. A golden necklace, glinting a drop of the room's light in his face. It’s a Star of David.

Franz’ lips curl up, an idea in his mind. He knows he is going to die. If he gives up Armin Zola’s location now, he’ll just slowly bleed to death from his wounds. No, he doesn’t have any pull or power to use in order to remain alive. What he does have control over is how fast he is going to die. He’ll never give up the location of one of the Fuhrer’s elites, and they are going to torture him for it. If he can get his interrogator to crack though, get the Jew to fire a bullet through his head in anger, well it would be a much easier death.

“You know,” the Nazi taunts, “I always loved when one of your kind was part of Zola’s experiments.”

Victor’s breath hitches and Franz’ smile grew. The Nazi has his captor right where he wants him.

“They would pray in the cells, hearing the screams of others subjected to the test.”

Victor grits his teeth, all his energy placed in keeping still, in avoiding the taunts. “Where is Armin Zola?” Victor asks again, but this time, his voice is short, each word grunted out with challenge.

Franz only laughs, “I wonder how loud your screams would have been as your flesh burned.”

Victor drops his pistol to the ground. The vigilante takes a single step forward, his fingers clenched into fists.

“Would you have cried out to your god, I wonder?”

Victor takes another step closer, his brass knuckles heavy on his hand. He knows that Franz is trying to rile him up, but frankly, in that minute he doesn’t care. He’ll get the information he needs, even if it is out of a broken jaw.

Franz half stands, his eyes shining with malicious glee, “Oh Adonai, oh Adonai,” Franz mocks in a high pitch tone. “Save me, please save –”

Crack

Franz slumps back down into his chair, the rest of his taunt forgotten as pain blossoms from the shattered nasal bone. Blood rushes down his face, entering his mouth and dripping off of his chin. In front of him is Victor Goldstein, his hand coated in crimson liquid. Not even bothering to ask the question again, Victor slams his other first into the side of Franz’s jaw. The second punch in a night filled with them.

—----------------

Atlantic Ocean, 1943

Victor sits down, a gun in his left hand. He can hear above him the sound of gunshots and screams. In 24 hours, he is supposed to be in Britain preparing to retake Tunisia. He knows he won’t make it that long.

It’s strange, Victor supposes, how different it feels to be close to death, and to know death is inevitable. In the past, even against impossible odds, Victor had been able to keep a calm mind. He used his intelligence to outwit and survive whoever he was fighting. Now though, now as he hears the slaughter of Allied forces above, his mind is blank. He is cowering in fear as others die, his survival instincts overtaking any other thought.

The wooden boards of the boat shake as Victor can’t help his leg from moving. He doesn’t know what is worse: going out there and dying, or somehow surviving being shot. The vigilante knows the rules of “civilized war” won’t matter to the Nazis when they get their hands on him, the Jewish Vigilante.

For a brief moment, Victor thinks of turning his gun on himself. “Maybe,” a small voice in his head suggests, “maybe it is better to go out on his own terms.”

Victor shakes the thought away. No, he owes it to himself, his loved ones, and all those who died in this war to go out fighting.

Victor’s index finger shakes on the gun’s trigger as the vigilante rises. If he’s going to die, he might as well take some Nazi fuckers out with him.

—---------------

New Jersey, 1943

Brrrrrrring

Laura sighs as she puts down the cardboard box she is holding. She finally got Anna to sleep, but now her brief time to pack before her daughter wakes up is being taken up by a house visit.

Walking over to the door, she steels herself for what’s on the other side. It’s been three months since Victor died and everytime someone comes over to wish their condolences, the wound bleeds a bit more.

Opening the door, she sees a sight she was hoping to avoid, Rabbi Abromowitz. A middle-aged man with brown hair and black eyes, she knew this was a conversation that would happen, but her hope was to avoid it for as long as possible.

“Hello Laura,” he says. “I just heard that you sold the business. People in the community are worried. First you stopped attending Friday night services, and now this.”

Laura resists the urge to slam the door in his face, to yell that he doesn’t need to know, that it’s her life. She knows that he is just trying to help, but that only makes the rage hotter. Instead, she responds neutrally, “I’m moving.”

“I-” Abromowitz stutters in shock before catching himself, “I can’t imagine how tragic losing Victor was, but that’s why it's so important you lean on your friends in this time of need.”

Laura’s eyes feel hot, pins pricking them. “Please, I– I can’t do this now.”

Abromowitz stands there for a moment, trying to find what to say. He doesn’t want to leave her, one of his congregation, one of his friends, this close to breaking down.

“You said that we don’t need a synagogue to pray, that god can hear us anywhere?”

Abromowitz nods. He now knows what is coming next. Laura isn’t the first one to make the decision during these past few years, and he is sure she won’t be the last.

“They found him maskless,” Laura whispers, more to herself than anyone else. “His mask was gone and a Star of David was carved into his skull. The Nazis who left him wanted us to know that they took extra pleasure in his death.”

A loud sob escapes Laura’s lips, tears now streaming down her face. “I can’t do it. W-what if it happens here? What if someone firebombs a synagogue with my daughter inside? I can’t take that chance, Rabbi. “

Abromowitz hugs her with both arms, her tear-ridden face going into his shoulder.

“I feel like I’m betraying myself, betraying Victor, but the thought of stepping foot into a synagogue kills me. I can’t get the image of Anna dead and it being all my fault.”

The two stand there, embracing. This is the last time they’ll meet, their paths are going in different directions. Rabbi Abromowitz and his family will stay at Temple Beth Israel, his son studying to be the rabbi after Abromowitz eventually retires. Laura will move to New York City and change her last name, removing any ties that connect her or her daughter to the Jewish faith.

Eventually, Anna begins to cry again and the two let go of their embrace. With a sad smile on his face, Abromowitz says, “I’ll check on Anna, see what’s wrong. You should continue packing.”

##ALIAS: THE DEVIL

Issue #2: Devil’s in the Details

Written by: dwright5252

Story by: dwright5252 & AdamantAce

Edited by: AdamantAce, Predaplant, VoidKiller826

<Last Issue Next Issue>

Having the devil rush at you can be a bit unnerving, even when you have super strength. Add on the fact that you just saw this devil brutally beat a bunch of gang members to death and sprinkle in a little bit of alcohol withdrawal, and you have a shitty afternoon dance card.

I put my fists up, ready to fight back against the being I once knew as Matt Murdock, but the figure leapt over me, slamming his billy clubs into the goons I left behind and finishing them off.

His back turned to me, I saw his shoulders rise and fall as he breathed heavily and turned his head to regard me. “Jessica. Been a long time.”

I kept my defensive stance, unsure whether my casual acquaintanceship would prevent him from continuing the onslaught of violence. “Matt… What-”

“You want to talk, come with me,” he cut me off, his head tilted as he heard something I couldn’t. “Police are on their way.”

Sure enough, the telltale cries of sirens began to draw closer. Matt bounded back down the alleyway, leaping onto a fire escape with acrobatic skill rivaling the best trapeze artist. I followed as quickly as I could, using my strength to give me height where my skill couldn’t match.

As we made our way across the rooftops, Matt stayed silent, and I tried my best to push the faces of the dead men from my head. They looked all too similar to bodies I’d seen, blood that had been on my hands that time.

And if I was around this… devil during my blackout days, were there more bodies lying in my wake than I realized?

These were thoughts I didn’t want to be a reality, but consequences I’d rather face head-on than just bury them in the dark.

Our Sister of Mercy, Hell’s Kitchen

If any building could properly represent me during a really bad binge, this building was the one.

The church was old, still structurally sound on the outside, but a complete mess indoors. Graffiti-covered old tapestries depicted the Virgin Mary with unspeakable objects now surrounding her. It was a teenager’s paradise, like one of those smash rooms where you can give twenty bucks and go to town on an old TV with a sledgehammer.

Behind the altar, a new shrine had been erected: a pinboard of countless thugs, goons and baddies with that conspiracy-theorist-standard red yarn connecting the dots. The shadow of where a massive cross once hung served as the background for this flow chart of crime, and as I drew closer I noticed that a good number of the photos had permanent marker X’s crossing them out. The pictures reminded me of the faces of presidents on coins, raised off of the background and distinct in their facial details. A way to make the pictures more prominent for his fingers to discern?

“This your handiwork?” I said, my voice echoing through the empty hall of worship. A second passed, and then I felt his breath to my left. Even before he went off the deep end, Matt was an intimidating presence, taller than me and built like a boxer. Whatever regimen he’d been on since we last saw, it only amplified that aura.

“Me and a few others I’ve crossed paths with,” Matt whispered, his voice breathy as he walked past me. Grabbing a marker from one of the tables, he traced his hands across the pictures and landed on one of the faces that had attacked me. With two swift strokes, he drew black lines through him. “It’s been a while, Jessica. You seem more… together than last time we crossed paths.”

Willing the corpses back to their mental cupboard, I swallowed and took a seat in one of the pews. “I was hoping you could fill in some blanks I have. Just woke up the other day and can’t remember a thing about the last two years.”

I saw Matt start at that, the first human emotion I’d gotten from him. “That explains some things. I’ve been trying to find you for a couple months now. You… didn’t seem yourself.”

I snorted, unable to stop myself. “I could say the same about you, my guy. I know times are tough, but I thought you were above murdering thugs, Matthew.”

He stormed toward me, placing his face into mine. Though his eyes gazed straight through me, I saw the fire of his rage light them. “Matthew Murdock is dead. I had to get rid of him in order to help the city. Now, it’s just Daredevil. It’s better this way.”

A part of me wanted to push through this outburst, to get back to discovering my forgotten period, but as I saw how lost my friend truly was, I couldn’t leave him to this… madness. “You think it’s better to leave your wife and kid wondering where you are? To have them watch the news every day and see bodies piled outside their doorstep? You used to be such a God-fearing man; what changed? Did ‘thou shalt not kill’ get removed from the latest edition of the Bible?”

He scoffed. “Everything changed. I had a revelation, Jessica. God wouldn't abide a monster like me. If God is real, He has forsaken us, and left us to the denizens of Hell. I’m condemned by my actions, but that doesn’t mean I won’t stop protecting the people of this city from the evils of Lucifer for as long as I can.”

“Look—”

“I’ve come to terms with a God who isn’t watching enough to appreciate what I’m doing. But that doesn’t mean that what I’m doing isn’t good. I don’t need His approval. Not anymore.”

Matt had turned back to the crime board, and it was all I could do not to roll my eyes at his self-righteousness. “There’s a lot to unpack here. Look, I know you think what you’re doing is—”

As I started to try and talk him off the ledge he’d placed himself, the din of a distant walkie-talkie echoed through the church from wherever it was stashed. Matt made a beeline for it, deftly grabbing it and tuning it to another frequency.

“Calling the Devil. Another target has been found. D8 to F4.” The voice sounded familiar, but before I could place it, Matt put the communicator down and started to walk out of the church.

I jogged up to him, placing my hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Matt, where are you going? We haven’t—”

He grabbed my arm and tossed me over his shoulder. “Stay out of this, Jessica. I can’t have you fall farther than I have.”

I smashed into the holy water font and sprung to my feet. My friend was clearly not in his right mind, but I found that sometimes a swift punch to the face would clear a head. “Judo toss me one more time and you’ll find yourself on your ass.”

I launched myself at him, but he redirected the blow into the wall, the stone pulverized to dust. Tossing my leg backwards, I managed to push him back as I tried to follow up with a quick tackle. He leapt into the air, using my back as a springboard that launched him into the upper seating. Cursing loudly, I smashed myself some handholds into the pillars and climbed up to follow him.

He was waiting for me at the top, and suddenly another memory flashed into my mind. I was standing above a mass of disheveled bodies, with one of them in the position I found myself in now. They hung onto a ledge as I pulled them up and proceeded to pull my fist back and—

Daredevil’s foot smashed into my face, sending me plummeting to the floor. The wind thoroughly knocked out of me, I heard the telltale signs of a wooden door slamming shut. I’d lost him.

Dusting myself off, I quickly moved back towards the altar, hoping to find some clue of where Matt had gone.

Scanning the board, I saw nothing that initially caught my eye, though strangely it seemed like each picture had a small symbol next to it. I thought about what the radio had said, and suddenly it all came together

The symbols looked like chess pieces, and the man on the radio had given Matt a chess move.

I quickly pulled out my cell phone, hopped onto the nearest free wi-fi (thankfully my burner email for those still worked), and looked up the chess grid. D8 was the black Queen, and F4 was the middle of the field.

I looked around the room and found a chess board with a map of the five boroughs overlaying it. F4 led to a Midtown business, and, judging by the symbols on the pictures, the black Queen was Georgia Fallow, an underboss working for the Maggia.

Matt had a head start on me, but hopefully I could beat him there.

Midtown

The bike I’d commandeered with my totally legal police badge I’d lifted from an officer after a bad blind date was working overtime, and as I made my way to the possible future murder site of a prominent crime family, the endorphins from the workout got me thinking. Was what Matt was doing to these criminals really that bad? Sure, murder was inherently a bad thing, but these were bad people.

Besides, I should be focused on getting my life back on track, I told myself. I’d been away for two years. I couldn’t spend all this time trying to get someone who didn’t want to be saved back on track. I figured that maybe it would be best to just relay Matt’s base of operations to my client and focus on using that money to get the business back up to its former glory.

It was during this train of thought, as I contemplated the ways that money could help me fix the dinosaur vandalism in my office, when I ran right into someone’s car door just as it opened.

I flew off the bike and skidded to a halt a few feet away, my jacket getting a bad case of brush burn.

“Hey, jackass, maybe watch before you open your—” I started to say when I caught sight of the person who’d unintentionally catapulted me down the street. “Malcolm, is that you?”

It was indeed Malcolm Ducasse, my former neighbor that’d gotten caught up with loan sharks in order to feed his drug habit. I’d helped him settle that score and gotten him into a program, but hadn’t heard from him since. I thought he’d disappeared down the hole again, but here he was, dressed in a rather fashionable business-casual outfit and stepping out of a rather decent sedan. He looked… healthy.

“Holy shit, Jessica! Are you okay? I totally didn’t see you!”

Despite myself, I smiled. “Hey, what’re powers for if not for surviving car doors stopping you on your path? How have you been?”

Malcolm rubbed his neck and helped me retrieve my bike. “Got a job doing IT for one of the Stark offshoots! I’ve been clean for a couple years now, so thanks for that! But hey, are you still in the same building? I’ve got to get to a meeting, but maybe we can catch up one of these days?”

“That sounds great, Mal. Good to see you,” I said as he waved and headed into the building. Malcolm had been so far gone into his addiction that I thought he’d never get out of it, but he did. Could Matt find his way out too? And could the people he was ending possibly find their own way back from their sins?

I tossed the bike onto a nearby trash can and started sprinting towards Matt. I didn’t know if this would work out the way I wanted it to, but I owed it to Matt… and to Malcolm… to try and convince him that sometimes people deserve a second chance.

Even him.

Scarlet Spiders

Issue #2 - Returning the Favor

Written By: Deadislandman1

Edited By: u/VoidKiller826 and u/Mr_Wolf_GangF

How do you measure the worth of one’s life?

Does it come from one’s sense of self-fulfillment? Their ability to make themselves happy? Does it come from the knowledge they gain? Their ability to dedicate themselves to becoming their own repository of facts and education?

For Fritz Von Meyer, the answer is simple. A life is measured by what is accomplished by the soul, the magnitude of what they have created. If you haven’t created something that changes the world, then the life you’ve led is worthless.

It’s in this mindset that he finds himself staring at one of his most promising experiments. Having made his way into one of the middle levels of the ship, Meyer entered a well-lit room bisected by a thick layer of glass. Placing a hand on the barrier, he looked wistfully into the other side of the room, watching the swarm of mutated bees fawn over the artificial hive sitting in the center of the room.

It’s not often that he finds himself without a clear favorite. While Kaine had been the crux of much valuable research in genetic splicing, these bees had been equally as fruitful an avenue. A hive of mutated insects, they worked telepathically with one another, displaying even greater unity than any normal family of bees on planet Earth. Imagine how well this could be applied to other groups of animals or people on Earth?

Their fickle differences, their individuality, stripped away until only the valuable strength of the whole was left. They could unite and pursue a singular purpose as a collective with a speed unmatched by teams with separate consciousness.

As a bee landed on the glass, as if to touch Meyer through the barrier, the rest of the bees began to follow suit, leaving the hive and landing on the glass to create a silhouette to mirror their creator. Meyer smiled at the gesture, the recognition of their progenitor…no, their master, bringing him joy. It was tragic, really. He could only take one experiment, and in the end it had to be Kaine, but there was certainly a heavy feeling of regret knowing he couldn’t take his precious bees.

Just as he was soaking the feeling in though, a loud clang sounded off from behind him. He turned around, face to face with a sweating guard who had burst into the room, completely out of breath.

“I made it known that I was not to be interrupted!” Meyer growled.

“I know, but sir! It’s an emergency!” The guard remarked. “Kaine has breached containment.”

“What?!” Meyer’s eyes widened. “How?! I verified the security of his tank myself!”

“I don’t know! Sometime after you left, someone cut his dosage of anesthetic,” The guard looked back towards the hallway nervously. “One of the guards nearby has responded and a squad is moving in as backup, but I wanted to keep you up to date on what was going on.”

“Call my bodyguard, have her assist in this manner,” Meyer turned back to the bees. “Kill any intruders to find, but Kaine must live! No need to be gentle, but be sure he’s still breathing so he can go back in the tank.”

“Yes sir!”

The guard left the room, speaking into a walkie-talkie as Meyer returned to reminiscing about his experiments. He couldn’t lose Kaine, not now, not when he was so close to a life of meaning. Whatever it took, he needed him contained.

Whatever it took.

Deep within the confines of Kaine Parker’s mind, there sat a boiling, barely contained rage. Something had been taken from him, something important, and the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it filled him with an unbearable malice. How could he let it go?! How could he stand to let the injustice go unpunished? The feeling was so overwhelming that it left him shaking, barely keeping himself contained in his own anger.

Yet, as he stared at this lonely old man, clutching a bleeding young girl who couldn’t have been more than a couple of years younger than him, he couldn’t recall the exact source of his anger. Something had been taken from him…yet as his memories grew clearer, the reality of what was lost didn’t come to him. He remembered flashes, moments on a stretcher under an old doctor’s knife. He knew the pain of the scalpel’s cut well, the things the doctor had done to him, both to further his own experiments and to facilitate his own sick pleasures.

And yet the deepest kernel of fury was deeper, yet lost, like a file that had accidentally been tossed into a shredder.

As he processed the anger, letting it simmer out in waves, Kaine turned away from the old man, moving towards his tank’s interface to gather as much information as possible. He’d been out of the loop for years at this point, but how many? He had no clue.

As Kaine tapped the screen, Sheldon finally snapped out of his terrified trance, realizing that his protege was bleeding out on hum. Rolling his jacket sleeves back, he began ripping off parts of his shirt, moving to wrap them around Cindy’s wounds. He’d been in a few wars, he knew how to patch a bad wound, yet Cindy’s situation was one of the more dire cases he’d seen. He could stop the bleeding, he knew he could.

Yet the moment he remembered the shot had gone straight through, he knew that patching the wound wouldn’t be enough.

Even now, as he was wrapping both sides, she had lost so much blood. It’d leaked onto the floor, stained his pants and jacket. If she didn’t get a blood transfusion soon…she’d get anemia, she could die.

As Sheldon sat there, horrified by the circumstances he found himself in, Kaine swiped through the interface of his tank, attempting to pull up whatever knowledge he could find. The earliest records of his time in the tank dated back as far as five years, longer than he could have imagined. He thought he’d been stuck for one, maybe two years at maximum. Images from those years began to creep to the forefront of his mind, reminding him of the horrors that had been visited upon him.

Hours upon hours on a sterile table, a scalpel cutting into his chest, parting the flesh to reveal the viscera underneath. Syringes and tweezers picked at his insides, taking sample after sample without any breaks in between. Sometimes, the doctor would seek out samples in other places, turning to the base of Kaine’s spine, or seeking samples from areas below the waist. The doctor took savage pleasure in this routine, watching Kaine squirm under the harsh light of a headlamp.

Finally, when he was done, he would use these samples to turn men into monsters. Kaine was only able to watch in horror as the doctor tested every new batch of serums on the lost and the forgotten. The lucky ones died quickly, their ruined bodies failing them within minutes. For others, death comes slower as the doctor does his best to sustain what remains of their agony-filled lives, taking as many notes as possible for his next batch of serums. Some of the most horrifying of these experiments survived long enough to be blessed with a cage to stay in, a reminder that some batches had some half-successes.

Five years. Five years, Kaine had been this doctor’s plaything, and now that he was starting to think clearly for the first time in half a decade, that wasn’t going to be the case anymore. Nobody owned him…nobody.

“Yes my boy…Free yourself. Nobody will hold you down…”

Kaine shook his head, the foreign voice passing through his mind like a ship through fog. He looked around the room for the voice, unable to identify its source. Lost in thought, he was prepared to return to the screen when Sheldon spoke up, “Hey!”

“Hmm?” Kaine turned towards Sheldon, regarding him with a neutral disposition.

“Kaine…right? Is that your name? It was the name on your vat’s profile.”

Kaine grunted, “Yeah…far as I can remember at least.”

“Okay Kaine…” Sheldon held Cindy close. “I know you’ve been in there for a long time, and that this whole thing is disorienting to say the least, but I need your help. Your bio-feed said that you’ve got an o-negative blood type.” He looked down at Cindy. “She needs a blood transfusion…now. I can’t donate my own blood, I’m AB+. Without help, she’s going to die.”

“Bad Idea, old man. That Guard I took out? First of many. I need to be on the top of my game,” Kaine crossed his arms. “And besides, I remember what my blood’s done to be people. The doctor’s used it to turn people into monsters. You really want that for her?”

“No…but we have to take the risk.” Sheldon looked down at Cindy, guilt in his one remaining eye. “I’m no scientist, but Doctor Meyer used your blood to make serums, right? I have to believe it won’t have the same effect on its own.”

“You’re making a hell of a stretch, old man,” Kaine shook his head. “Way I see it, this’d be a risk and a waste of time. If you wanna get out alive, leave the dead weight.”

Sheldon looked down at Cindy for a moment, seeing the weakness in her face. Then, as his mouth curled into a frown, he looked up at Kaine, “Her name is Cindy Moon…and she’s the reason you’re out of your tank!”

Sheldon stood up, attempting to meet Kaine’s gaze with his own glare. Despite the fact that he was still half a foot shorter than the tall and imposing man, Sheldon’s grit seemed to make up for it, giving him the feeling of being just a bit taller. Kaine took a step back immediately, surprised by the outburst. Sheldon pressed his finger against Kaine’s chest, “We didn’t have to get you out of there! It was dangerous for both of us, but she convinced me to let you out because it was the right thing to do. I don’t know who raised you, but if they ever instilled any sense of gratitude, of doing the right thing, then by god's sake you better help us! If not for my sake, then for the girl who risked her life for you.”

Kaine stared at Sheldon, anger possessing him. How dare this geezer tell him what to do. His fists tightened, the sound of cracking knuckles reverberating throughout the room. The sound alone struck fear in Sheldon’s heart, yet he remained where he was, refusing to budge. Kaine opened his mouth to reply, only for another voice from the ether to pass through his head.

“With great power comes great responsibility.”

Kaine shook his head in confusion, suddenly filled with a crushing sense of guilt, its origin shrouded in mystery. Kaine looked down at the girl…no, at Cindy Moon. He internalized the fact that she was the only reason he was standing here, focusing in on it with hawk-like precision. He was here because she was willing to get shot for him, someone she didn’t even know.

Someone like that didn’t deserve to die like this.

Kaine knelt down next to Cindy, “...Do it.”

Sheldon did not pause to comprehend the fact that his argument worked, instead moving to grab medical supplies from the desk nearby. Utilizing pieces of a blood transfusion kit, Sheldon utilized his wartime experience to set everything up, connecting the tube at the right points between each person. Kaine was still nervous at the prospect of a mutation, yet he followed Sheldon’s reasoning. This was a risk worth taking.

Kaine grunted, as the sensation of blood circulating out of his body was both familiar yet uncomfortable. Cindy, meanwhile, seemed to respond better, with the color returning to parts of her body. Once Sheldon was confident that she had received enough, he disconnected the tube and wrapped the entry point, fully bandaging both Cindy and Kaine. He looked Kaine in the eyes as he did this, “Thank you…thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Kaine turned to the door, picking up the sounds of heavy footsteps behind them. “Now, let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Remember, if it’s Kaine, hit him with the tasers. Otherwise, it’s weapons free!”

A squad of armed Alchemax security guards stacked up next to the door to Meyer’s main office, guns aimed squarely at the door. They knew their target was inside, knew that he was capable of many things. If they were going to take him on, they needed to go in, hard and fast. The commanding officer gave a hand signal to the pointman, prompting him to move up towards the door to kick it open. He raised his foot, shouting out to his teammates, “Breaching!”

At that moment, the door flew open from the other side, knocking the pointman across the corridor and into the metal wall. The rest of the squad raised their weapons as Kaine dashed through the doorway, making a running leap onto the wall before racing alongside it, drawing the guard’s fire. He stretched his arm out as he passed two of them, decking them across the jaw and sending them into a flip before they landed on their backs.

The weapons fire continued from the remaining three guards, who began to back up in response to the wild assault. Leaping and flipping between the walls, Kaine grabbed onto a loose pipe on one of the walls, using the explosive force of his next jump to tear it from its place. As he landed on the opposite wall, he squinted, taking aim before throwing the pipe at the guards, clocking two of them with the same spinning object. The third guard, the commanding officer, finally ran out of ammunition, and as he rushed to pull out his pistol, Kaine dove onto him, tumbling with the man until the lab experiment was on his back, his feet primed for the final attack on the guard. Kicking upward, Kaine sent the final guard soaring into the ceiling, resulting in two resounding clangs as the guard hit the ceiling, then fell down to the floor.

Rolling back onto his feet, Kaine picked up the pipe as Sheldon exited the office, Cindy in his arms. Kaine looked back at Sheldon before nodding at him to follow, “Coast Is clear. There should be an exit hatch around the engine room.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, saw the plans while catching up on the last five years.”

Together, the two traveled down a floor towards the engine room, navigating a set of stairs before going down another corridor towards the engines. Kaine pulled the bulkhead door open, confident that they’d soon be out, only for a volley of gunfire to tell him otherwise. Sheldon hurries into cover, taking a position across from Kaine at the side of the doorway. A new set of guards laid down a barrage of bullets from within the engine room, causing Kaine to grimace, “These guys are pretty stupid. They hit the wrong spot, they could blow a hole in the boat.”

Kaine raised the pipe, ready to toss it in retaliation to the gunfire, “Good thing I don’t have a gun.”

Peeking out, Kaine threw the pipe at one of the men, causing him to fall backwards, finger still pressed against the trigger. The hail of bullets exploding from the assault rifle pinged all about the room, hitting various pipes, and as the sparks began to light up, the gasoline leaking from the pipes were lit aflame. Eyes wide, Kaine only had time to mouth a grim “Shit.” under his breath before screaming “Get Down!” to Sheldon.

Sheldon dove for the stairs as Kaine swung the bulkhead door shut, holding it in place as the explosion crashed against the steel door. The force of the impact knocked the door, and Kaine with it, clean off its hinges, yet by holding the shield in place, Kaine had saved both himself and his compatriots from a near instantaneous demise. The ship rumbled and whined as several more explosions sounded off at different points in the ship, causing it to begin to list to one side.

“Ow Ow Ow! Fucking Hot!” Kaine kicked the scorching hot door off of his body, wincing at the burns littering his naked skin. He moved back, getting his bearings while Sheldon moved out of hiding, beholding the raging fire in the engine room. Rising to his feet, Kaine took one look at the open flame before turning his back on it, “Well…guess we’re not going that way.”

Pulling Sheldon along, Kaine brought him back to the stairs, this time taking him as far up as possible. After about four floors, they were blocked by a mass of wreckage, which lodged itself not just on the stairwell, but across the entire area as a whole. Alone, Kaine could maybe crawl up the wall, squeeze through a gap, but not with Sheldon and Cindy in tow. Instead, he led them through the door, hoping to take them across the ship to a different stairwell.

Pushing through a set of double doors, the group entered a kitchen, which Kaine hoped would work as a shortcut to the other set of stairs. They were halfway across when gunfire once again erupted, dogging them and forcing them to duck behind a set of stoves. Three guards moved across the space, weapons trained on Kaine, who was getting a bit sick of all the fighting. He wanted this over with, now.

Before Sheldon could ask what he should do, Kaine kicked the stove with all his might, sending it sliding across the kitchen and into one of the guards, pinning him against a wall. Tasers flew at Kaine, hitting him square in the chest and delivering a shock to him, yet despite the pain, he pulled the wires out of his chest, then used it to rip the guns out of both of their hands. One of the guards, caught off guard, stumbled forward, allowing Kaine to swing the weapons like a flail, knocking him out with a strike to the side of the head.

As the last guard drew his sidearm, Kaine grabbed a nearby wooden block built to hold knives, swinging it towards the guard to send the knives flying. The guard braced for the attack, his body armor protecting him from the sharp objects, only for Kaine to follow up the assault by bludgeoning the wooden block over the guard’s head, shattering it into pieces while sending the guard flat onto his face.

Tossing the remaining pieces of the block aside, Kaine motioned for Sheldon to follow him once more, leaving behind the remnants of his battle. Exiting the kitchen, the trio moved down another hall towards the last stairwell, the smell of seawater closer than ever before. They were twenty feet away when a voice stopped Kaine dead in his tracks.

“What do you mean you let him escape?! He’s one man! Does your training mean nothing?!”

Sheldon stopped as well, recognizing the voice all too well as the one that belonged to Fritz Von Meyer. He turned to Kaine, but Kaine was already moving towards the voice, located in a small space off of the hallway. Von Meyer was desperately typing away at the mutant bee’s enclosure interface, a phone resting against his ear, “You know what, the matter has been concluded, all is lost. Whether you will have a job is going to be the least of your worries when I get out of here.”

“Who said you were getting out.”

Meyer whirled around, the phone flying from its stop on his shoulder as he laid eyes on Kaine, who promptly swung the door shut.

“No!” Meyer hobbled towards the door as fast as his bones would let him, but it was too late. Kaine wrapped his hands around the handle before crushing it inward, breaking the handle from both ends. Meyer desperately clawed at the handle on his side, but it refused to budge. Looking through the window separating him and his experiment, he planted his palms on the glass, “Please! Kaine! Look at me! I’ve taken care of you all these years, made you better than you’ve ever been! You don’t have to do this. Think about it, I’m practically your father at this point, caring and protecting you as a father should! Shouldn’t a son do the same for his father?!”

Kaine glared through the glass, “I already had a father, and bad as he was…you’re still a hell of a lot worse. This is for what you did to me…and for all the suffering you’ve subjected to others.”

Without another word, Kaine left the door, not bothering to turn back as Meyer screamed hysterically. Sheldon was horrified by the display, the barbarity of the act, yet as he opened his mouth to tell Kaine off, a thought crossed through his head. Meyer was a Nazi, a murder, someone who spent their life inflicting pain on other people in a variety of different ways. This wasn’t legal, murder never is…yet if Meyer was going to die, this would be a fitting way for it to happen.

So Sheldon swallowed his pride and kept walking, leaving Meyer to panic in his room. Thinking quickly, Meyer realized that there was no escape for him, at least not in this form. Looking back to the bees, an idea hit him, and he rushed for a chemistry set sitting on a nearby desk. The serum would only work if the bees let him in, but he knew that they would. They considered him family after all. Mixing together a set of different colored substances, Meyer gripped the vial tightly before drinking the entire thing. A burning sensation immediately overwhelmed him, clawing downward from his throat to his stomach.

A gas main hissed in the room next door, signaling an oncoming explosion was coming with just one spark. The end was coming, and he needed to get to the bees, now! Grabbing a heavy object, Meyer used all his might to throw it at the glass, shattering the barrier between him and his beloved bees. Falling to the ground with the weight of the action, Meyer felt his hip crack, and he yowled in pain. Hearing the perils of their master, the bees swarmed out of the enclosure, circling, landing on, and biting into Meyer.

It was agony at first, the pain of hundreds of stinging bites across his flesh, but soon the pain faded, and thousands of voices flooded into Meyer’s head. They were so numerous that in most circumstances, Meyer would not be able to understand what they were saying, yet that wasn’t the case, all because the bees were saying the same things in unison.

“Home” “Home” “Friend” “Alive” “Friend is Home”

Fritz Von Meyer’s human form smiled, making this final expression as the gas main exploded in the neighboring room, blowing a hole in the wall and engulfing the entire enclosure in flames.

Kaine kicked the door to the deck open, rushing outside to find the topside of the ship in a state of mania. Guards, scientists, and staff were screaming, rushing to and fro in hopes of finding a lifeboat that hadn’t been taken under the bright light of the moon. As Sheldon exited the ship’s interior, Kaine grabbed his shoulder, “Stay close.”

Together, the two rushed across the deck, Kaine’s eyes darting across to both sides of the ship. Every time a guard got in their way, Kaine would send them on their way with a swift kick or punch. Near the back of the ship, the trio spotted an untaken lifeboat, only to watch as a guard leapt in first. Kaine charged the boat, hoping to prevent the guard from lowering himself into the water, only for a dark shadow to pass under the moon, its winged silhouette passing over Kaine and causing him to slow down. The Guard only had time to look up before a winged man swooped in, scooping him up and carrying him screaming off into the night sky.

Kaine had seen this man before in between his operations, gotten glimpses of a monstrous winged creature in his cage. He didn’t have time to ruminate on the connection however, as now as the time for escape. Jumping into the boat, Kaine beckoned at Sheldon to hop in as well. Sheldon followed Kaine’s lead, gingerly placing Cindy’s unconscious form into the boat before moving to work with Kaine. Together, the two began to lower the boat into the water, slowly inching their way towards freedom.

But it was halfway down that Sheldon, taking a cursory glance towards the ship, spotted a humanoid shape creeping downward along the hull…a shape with six arms. The shape stopped in its tracks, and as it looked out towards the boat, Sheldon realized that they’d been spotted. Eyes wide, Sheldon turned to Kaine to give a warning, only for the shape to let out a horrifying growl, leaping at the boat with a ruthless demeanor. Kaine jumped into action, throwing himself between Sheldon and the creature as it collided with him, tackling the both of them into the front side of the lifeboat.

As Kaine tangled with the creature, striking at its head as it raked its claws across his chest, the two tumbled overboard, only managing to stay on the boat by sticking to its underside. The rope Kaine was holding began to slip, causing the boat to lean forward despite the back rope remaining in place. Cindy began to slip forward, almost spilling out of the boat before Sheldon grabbed onto her arm. Holding on for dear life, Sheldon prayed that Kaine could get them out of this jam quickly before they were claimed by the ocean.

Striking the creature again, Kaine planted his feet against the creature’s chest before looking it in the eyes. Even through the veil of night, he could see hints of its facial features…features identical to his. Refusing to look at the monster any longer, he kicked with all his might, sending it flying downward into the Atlantic. Panting, he crawled back into the boat proper, bleeding profusely while returning to his duties at the rope. Working once again in tandem with Sheldon, the two finally managed to get the lifeboat to sea, at which point Sheldon fired up the engine, driving them away from the burning research ship.

Kaine sighed, leaning back in the boat. It was over, it was finally over. No more experiments, no more torture, no more being a pawn for greater schemes.

He was free. He was truly free.

Hours later, the lifeboat finally bumped against the shore, allowing Kaine to get out. His wounds were already beginning to heal, though the place where he had been clawed remained visibly cut up. It was horrifically cold, with snow littering the sand, freezing the nerve endings of Kaine’s feet, yet as he looked up into the sky, he felt a relief at the fact that he could once again be entranced by the stars. He closed his eyes, the smell of seawater mixed with the smells of the city nearby. His tank had been regulated to one temperature at all times, and now that he was free, he welcomed the sensation of a biting cold, from the top of his forehead, to the tips of his fingers and toes. He welcomed this hostile breeze, knowing that it wasn’t a sensation designed to keep him complacent.

Sheldon clambered out of the boat, placing Cindy on the sands. She wasn’t as pale as before, and despite the rocky escape, her wounds were not reopened. The bandages held, and Sheldon realized that she was going to be alright. He let out an exhausted grunt, running his hands through his sweaty mat of white hair.

Taking a deep breath, Kaine began to walk down the beach, leaving Sheldon and Cindy behind. Noticing this, Sheldon stood up, “Where are you going?!”

“How’s that your business?” Kaine asked, not looking back.

“She still needs help!” Sheldon said. “And…and you’re a walking piece of evidence! Alchemax wronged you, wronged so many other people! You could testify, be a witness! You’re living proof of their crimes!”

“You think I want to stick with that mess?! To paint an even bigger target on my back?! No fucking thanks,” Kaine waved his arm back at Sheldon dismissively, “I saved you and her because you got me out of that tank. The debt is paid, and now it’s time for me to wash my hands of this bullshit and find some fucking clothes. Best of luck, old man.”

Sheldon raised his hand to protest, yet before he could say anything else, Kaine disappeared into the brush and out of view. Lowering his hand in defeat, Sheldon looked back at Cindy. This entire thing had been a disaster, yet they were able to salvage it with their lives. Maybe they’d be able to go home and sleep the stress of the entire crisis off.

If only it was ever going to be that simple.

Next Issue: Enter the Enforcers!

##GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY

In Guardians Fallen

Volume Two, Issue Four: Under Pressure

Written by ClaraEclair

Edited by Predaplant & VoidKiller826

First Volume

First | Previous | Next

There was tension on the borrowed ship that the Guardians piloted. Words shared remained quiet and brief. There was no banter, no conversation, no teasing or joking — only the cold comments of status reports about ship systems and flight diagnostics.

Phyla was avoiding Heather, turning away whenever she’d notice her partner’s eyes fall on her. Rocket and Groot stayed silent next to each other, content in their company, yet unwilling to engage with the rest of the group. Gamora, despite being on the ship, was nowhere to be seen.

The ship they had been given was much smaller than the Alba — it had only sleeping quarters, a mess hall, and a cockpit. There was no indoor access to the engine room or any other vital components, and the tight spaces were all too suffocating for five people to share the space.

What would have once been a trip to a moon that Phyla had hoped to be a refuge was now the only way to secure her freedom for good — and the difference was losing her friends and partner in the process. She made herself seem all too willing to sign the Guardians over to the Kree if it meant her freedom, but it had been something she’d been desperate for, years in the making. She was lucky to have managed to slip away during the Symbiote War, but that only made the Kree angry.

Now, they employed her to capture another Kree — a man whose crime was the same as hers — all so she could sleep better at night. The worst part was that she did, and though her waking hours had been eaten away by nerves and some semblance of remorse, Phyla-Vell was ready to make the bargain. She couldn’t face Heather knowing that about herself, much less express love to another while committing such a selfish act.

Heather only wanted to know that Phyla would be alright. Of course, she was concerned about the decision being made without the input of the team and the quick disintegration that seemed to be happening before her eyes. Both Peter and Drax were back on Spartax, imprisoned by J’Son, while Rocket and Groot were searching for a way out. Gamora was a stowaway who wished to avoid contact with the Guardians at all costs. Phyla, the woman who had become so important to Heather’s life, seemed to be shutting herself in.

Perhaps Heather would’ve found the situation to be salvageable, had the Dragon of the Moon not been acting up within her mind and soul, pushing and prying at the boundaries she placed to subdue it. Fits of bloody noses, headaches, and even total unconsciousness were more and more common as days went on, and she had no indication of how to put a stop to it. More and more, she worried that she would harm those around her, and she wondered if they were better off to take their first opportunity to leave. She envied Rocket and Groot in that way.

Gamora didn’t particularly care for her travelling companions. In fact, they frustrated her more than not — their disorganised, hypocritical method of arguing with the Kree and Spartaxian Emperor made the situation much more difficult than it needed to be. For a group that had seen firsthand what a small regiment of Thanos’ forces could do, they were tremendously shortsighted in their distaste for the Spartax and Kree alliance. What the Kree would do in years, Thanos would try to do in minutes — and worse.

Phyla wallowed in her own misery aboard the cramped ship. She shouldn’t have made that deal, and even beyond that, she shouldn’t have pretended to fight the deal in the first place, but she also couldn’t make it obvious that she hoped to have been able to sabotage the deal. She wanted the Kree to fail, and she had a delicate situation to balance in order to ensure her freedom. She didn’t know if she could do it, and it pained her that she couldn’t tell Heather her plan — she didn’t even have a plan to share.

Standing from her seat in the cockpit, trusting Rocket and Groot to safely pilot the ship, Phyla walked back through the tight corridors toward the living quarters, laying down on the bed she had claimed as hers. Unlike on the Alba, however, she had not chosen a bed next to Heather. She needed peace and quiet from the pounding in her mind that never stopped when she was in the cockpit. She had run out of luck in the living quarters.

“Phyla,” Heather's voice called out from the entrance. “You can’t avoid me forever.” She stood, leading against the frame of the door with her arms crossed. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong? This isn’t like you.”

“It’s nothing, Heather,” said Phyla, guarding herself from Heather for the first time in years. The thrust of a blade into her heart, Heather couldn’t hide the hurt she felt. They had spent so long trusting each other, knowing each other through and through, that it was foreign to be stonewalled so intensely. She wore her hurt on her face — unintentionally so, yet clearer than her own words could express. Phyla, however, could not see Heather’s hurt from her bunk, facing away from her partner, too preoccupied with her broken machinations. “I’d just rather not deal with the Kree.”

“I get that,” Heather replied. “But there’s something else. Something you’re not telling me.” Heather moved from the door and knelt down next to Phyla’s bunk, bringing her face level with the pink-skinned woman she had fallen in love with.

What could Phyla even say? That she was shooting in the dark with an alliance of two empires that could stomp out the team with ease? That she was gambling with the lives of her friends over her selfish need to finally escape the Kree when they hadn’t even bothered her since soon after the Symbiote War? What could she possibly say to Heather that would make sense?

She could say it all, but she didn’t want to. She needed to figure out a plan first, and Titan — the last known location of Noh-Varr, far outside of Kree space — was fast approaching.

It was some sort of poetic, Phyla figured, that she would find her freedom in the one place she sought refuge, years after it had been destroyed. Her life would change twice on Titan, but whether it was for the better, she would never quite know. The Guardians had given her more than she could ever ask for, but, in the end, the spectre of her father’s defection followed closely behind, ready to bring her back to the place she’d fled in chains.

Phyla’s continued silence and the refusal to let Heather into her mind said all that it needed to, and Heather couldn’t stop the tears from welling up. The dragon tugged at her mind, begging to take control, to unleash itself upon the universe, but Heather fought the constant fight. Its assault came in waves, but it always tugged, always pulled on the vulnerable parts of her mind, hoping to find that thread that would unravel her sense of self — and, in turn, its prison.

She would never let it happen, but Phyla was a thread that she could not let it get its claws in.

“Titan on the horizon,” Rocket called through the fuzzy announcement system on the ship. “Landin’ in a few. Get down to the cockpit, everyone.”

Phyla stood from her bunk and walked past Heather, who was left dejected and confused. Moments later, Heather followed, more than tempted to explore the minds of her teammates, though she stopped herself, knowing the promise she had made with all of them. None of them would communicate what they were concerned about like they used to, now she was lost among a sea of reclusive minds that she couldn’t read.

“Do we know where, on Titan, Noh-Varr is?” asked Phyla.

“I don’t got scut on this guy,” said Rocket. “But, if I were to guess, it’d be–”

“Mentor’s monastery,” said Heather. “Where I was trained. And where…”

“My mother,” said Phyla, her tone quiet and solitary. “I haven’t been to Titan since Thanos attacked looking for you, Heather.” Phyla looked over at her partner, the care and concern that she always held toward Heather finally returning for a brief moment. “I didn’t get a chance– she might have died back then, and I didn’t even–” Phyla’s voice broke under her. She had moved to Hala with her father after years of living on Titan, and in all that time, she hadn’t seen her mother since, not even returning to her birth planet until the Mad Titan destroyed Mentor’s monastery. Soon after, she left, not even bothering to look for her mother, who may very well have been killed.

Perhaps, she hoped, she could make up for such a mistake. She could never be sure, but if she was on the planet, it would be worth the effort.

She never pictured herself returning, and yet she was now within its atmosphere.

“I see the monastery,” Rocket said, flicking numerous switches around his control panels to engage the landing systems of the new ship. His tone was flat, almost remorseful. “Been a while since we seen this place, huh…”

“I Am Groot,” Groot replied, speaking slowly, his voice lower than usual. Drax had aided them in escaping prison, and on a favour, Rocket and Groot helped him land on Titan — in the middle of Thanos’ assault on the Eternal monastery, it turned out. Rocket wasn’t totally sure that Thanos had been totally thwarted that day. He missed out on Heather and the Dragon of the Moon, but the Monastery itself was totally destroyed, including its leaders Mentor and Sui-San.

After escaping the attack and being thrown directly into the Symbiote War, Rocket never had a chance to return to Titan, so he told himself. He didn’t want to face the fact that he couldn’t have saved the Titanian monks. The Guardians, just a collection of criminals at the time, fled one conflict to find themselves thrust into the midst of another.

Battle took a toll on Rocket, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go throwing himself into bigger and bigger conflicts. He was being dragged into a delicate time between Spartax and the Kree Empire, and he wanted to get out before the tides changed. Now that he was doing Kree dirty work, he wasn’t quite sure that would be possible.

“Scanners on this garbage heap of a ship are scut,” Rocket said, slapping the side of his console while eyeing a small screen to his left. “Can’t get a read on live bodies on the surface. No help from up here.”

“It’s alright, Rocket,” said Heather. “Set us down at the entrance to the ruins.” With a nod, Rocket directed the small ship toward what he interpreted to be the entrance of what once was an impressive structure. As it landed, the ship rocked and groaned, letting the Guardians know how much J’Son respected them.

Opening the airlock, the disassembled team stepped out, Gamora trailing behind as she slowly climbed out of the engine block cubby she had carved out for herself.

“We’ll do a sweep, I guess,” said Phyla, looking around at her group, largely all dejected and directionless. “Fan out, scan for anyone we can find. If he’s a Kree deserter, Noh-Varr won’t be hard to miss.”

“Sure, boss,” said Rocket, already walking away from the group, halfheartedly bringing out a small device from a pack, activating it with a few button presses, getting slow, rhythmic beeps in response. “I’ll get right on that.”

Phyla sighed, prompting Heather to approach, placing a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. Gamora, before either of the remaining two had noticed, walked off in a separate direction, silent and frustrated at her situation. She didn’t need this detour through the Sol system, through Titan, for such a meaningless task.

If it were up to Gamora, she would ignore the Kree’s tantrums over lost soldiers and instead focus on taking the fight to Thanos, stopping him in his tracks before he poses more of a threat to the galaxy. He was searching for all-powerful artefacts, even attacking Titan as recently as five years prior for the Dragon of the Moon, killing numerous Eternals in the process.

Perhaps it was the proximity to the Symbiote War that prevented the Kree and other similarly large empires from turning their gaze to Thanos? The Mad Titan was measured, but the Symbiotes posed such a foreign, unknowable, unquantifiable threat to the Galaxy that something as measured as a man wanting to murder trillions could easily be swept aside. He had only made small moves until now, why worry about him?

Gamora thought most leaders in the galaxy were idiots — and now she knew its citizens and self-proclaimed Guardians were, as well. She felt as if she were surrounded by imbeciles who could not grasp the situation. Perhaps she was more blind to the growing threats within the galaxy than she was willing to admit. After all, the Kree were no strangers to brutal annexation of nearby territory.

Mass death for the sole purpose of death, to Gamora, seemed the larger threat.

She found herself wandering the destroyed ruins of the Eternal monastery for longer than she expected, taking in the sights and admiring the horizon of Titan. It was quiet, almost calm — something that was bordering on foreign for Gamora, ever since she had been chosen by the Mad Titan in the days before her memories formed. Years prior, she had found the Guardians before they had donned their name and fought her sister to a standstill. She wanted nothing to do with them, and as Nebula fled, so did Gamora.

Now she was returned to Titan, bound to the Guardians by fate. The last of the Zen-Whoberi, slave to Thanos in body for her early years, slave to him in mind for all that came after her escape.

Noh-Varr was her target and the easiest way for her to find a new ship and hunt for Nebula, unbeholden to the whims of the Kree Empire. Her eyes were keen as she scanned her surroundings, yet all seemed empty despite the light sound of footsteps she could hear. Unable to locate the source, she continued on as if she were blissfully unaware of her pursuer, waiting to listen to their next move.

It came faster than she had expected, a plasma blast shooting toward her back, giving her a mere split second to react and deflect it with her sword. The blast, redirected, crashed down into the ground, sending a wall of dirt up in front of Gamora’s face, allowing her attacker to manoeuvre around Gamora and fire another plasma blast.

Deflecting it upward, Gamora watched as her attacker, now slightly more visible as a pink-skinned man with whitish hair, tried circling around her once more. Lunging toward him, she grabbed onto the collar of his space suit, holding it tightly in her hand as she threw him down onto the ground, smashing his back against the ground hard enough to create a small crater.

“Wait!” he shouted, putting his hands up. His call was ignored by Gamora, who took the opportunity to launch a hard punch at his jaw. “Didn’t feel that, do it again!” He shouted mockingly, recovering from her strike quickly. More than willing to oblige him, she struck him across the cheek with her other fist, watching him recover just as quickly despite the bruising on his face.

“Gamora!” shouted Phyla as she and Heather ran toward the Zen Whoberi assassin, ready to put down her attacker. “Wait!” With a scowl, Gamora turned back to the pink-skinned man, ready to continue striking him. What waited for her, however, was the onset of odd shifting in her vision. It started with changing colours and slowed hearing, but eventually different images began to appear to her, slowly filtering into view.

She watched as the man aimed a small plasma weapon at her face, and as she groggily moved to swat it away, her hand appeared to shift through his. Furrowing her brow as she looked down at her palms, she reached down to grab him by the neck, meeting the dirt below in his stead.

“Who are you?” His words echoed through her mind, though they weren’t directed at her. She looked up to see trailing visions of the man begin to circle her, blooming into a tapestry of watercolour bursts, colour and sound blending into one inexplicable mental experience. Taking a step forward, her vision and hearing were so compromised that she tripped, hitting the ground in a way that did not befit the most dangerous woman in the galaxy. It wasn’t long before Gamora fell unconscious.

“My name is Phyla-Vell,” Phyla replied, putting her hands up in hopes to show the man that she wasn’t a threat. “Are you Noh-Varr?”

“That’d be me, yeah,” said Noh-Varr, nodding along, with eyes wide from hearing Phyla’s name. “If you’re really Phyla-Vell, what are you doing here? And why are you with her?”

“What do you mean?” asked Phyla, cocking her head.

“That’s Gamora,” said Noh-Varr. “Wanted outlaw and assassin, agent of Thanos.”

“Sounds like you’re out of the loop,” said Heather, mentally connecting to Gamora to ensure that she was alive. Upon establishing the connection, however, Heather’s mind was infested with a torrent of twisted imagery that she could not begin to understand before immediately disconnecting. “What did you do to her?”

“When she was giving me that beatdown,” Noh-Varr began. “She got some of my saliva on her fists. It’s a hallucinogen.”

Phyla straightened her stance and took a step back, clear confusion on her face.

“I don’t feel like spitting on anyone right now, so unless you’re dying to try, you won’t have to worry about it right now,” said Noh-Varr, relaxing himself slightly in response to Phyla’s retreat. “But first, I want you to start with why you’re travelling with Gamora Zen-Whoberi Ben Titan.”

“It’s sort of a long story–”

“Then amend it.”

“But she’s no longer serving Thanos,” Phyla said. “As far as we know, she hasn’t for over six years.”

“Is that true?” Noh-Varr asked, though he didn’t seem to be speaking to either Phyla or Heather. “Not you,” he interrupted just as Heather began to speak up. He let out a quick scoff as he shook his head at something, returning his focus back to Phyla and Heather. “Fine, so she’s not with Thanos. Why are you here, Phyla-Vell? You’re just as much a Kree traitor as I am.”

“Lots of accusations flying at me right now,” said Phyla.

“Are they wrong?”

“Not exactly, but they’re not right, either.” Phyla took a step toward Noh-Varr, her stance tall yet peaceful, hoping to ease the tension he felt. “I was sent here by an Accuser to retrieve you, in exchange for my freedom and the freedom of my friends, but I don’t intend to hand you over. At least, not without a way to get you back out.”

“And how do you intend to do that?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. He finally relaxed, seeing the sincerity of Phyla’s words. He knew she was just as much a victim of the Kree as he was, and he knew of the tales of the Guardians of the Galaxy. There was no way to believe she would willingly work for the Kree again. It was easy to take her word for her intentions.

“I don’t have a solid plan yet, but beyond our freedom, there’s more at stake,” said Phyla. “The Kree are looking to form an alliance with Spartax, their biggest neighbour. If that happens, there’s not much that’ll stop them from annexing more of the galaxy.”

“They’d be a formidable power against Thanos,” said Noh-Varr, biting his lip as he looked down at Gamora. “But I can see the concern in allowing them to grow. I certainly don’t think they need any more power than they had years ago, let alone what they’re trying to consolidate now.”

“So, you’ll go along with us?” asked Phyla. “You’ll help us stop the alliance? I promise we’ll come up with a way to get you–”

“Hold on,” said Noh-Varr. “Not that easily.”

“What is it?” asked Heather.

“We might as well hit two flerkens with one warhead,” said Noh-Varr, causing Heather to furrow her brow. “I’ve been tracking some of Thanos’ forces skulking around Terra. My guess is it’s headed by some low-level grunts, but I can’t imagine that abducting live bodies is worthless. Whatever it’s for, they’re looking for prisoners from a planet he doesn’t want to actively antagonise. It’s a quiet op. Help me hit that, stop them from taking innocents, and I’ll help you with your Spartax problem. After that, we’ll see about getting us both free from our Empire.”

Phyla took a quick glance over at Heather, needing only a split second to see the approval on her face. She was ready to take the fight to Thanos in any way she could after having returned to Titan for the first time in years. To her, any small effort mattered.

“Our ship is nearby,” said Phyla. “We can head out right now.”

American Kaiju

Issue 1: Troubleshooter

Written by: /u/Mr_Wolf_GangF

Edited by: /u/Predaplant & /u/VoidKiller826

=================

How do you create a phone?

It's a simple question, albeit a strange one.

Why do you wanna know? Why does it matter? What is the point?

Well for Rita DeMara, the point was just to know how. She had pulled apart her family’s home phone when she was 12, and she knew the ins and outs of that technology like the back of her hand after doing so. It was her very particular specialty.

She wasn't some grand creator able to come up with the impossible on a whim.

No, she was a great recreator who just needed to pull apart the impossible once to make a copy of it.

And right now, the impossible was laid out in front of her, its metal casing pulled open to expose wires and circuits that Rita eagerly prodded and ripped at, each bit of damage committing a new piece to the puzzle of the device’s form and function. It was a barbaric way of learning, but also the most effective for Rita.

As her father used to say: to plant a tree, you must first rip open the Earth.

Her father was a tad dramatic with the wording but Rita had immortalized the spirit of the phrase.

Before creation comes destruction.

The tip of one of Rita's tools gripped onto a wire and slowly Rita started to pull on it, wishing to see how the copper inside was wrapped and how far the wire was connected within the port. It was a simple process that just needed to be done nice and slo-

“BOO!”

Rita screeched as someone yelled into her ear while simultaneously poking her in the rib. The tool she held went flying from her hand, yet not before yanking the wire and its port out of place.

“Jackass!” Rita yelled as turned around from her workbench.

Rita now faced the laughing face of her boyfriend, Corporal Todd Ziller.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Todd said as his laughing died down. “I just saw you were really into it and I couldn't help myself.”

Rita glanced at the ruined wire and port before glancing back to Todd.

“You owe me a new power cell,” Rita said, serious enough, but her tone was edged with a bit of amusement. “You can get on that after you buy me that dinner you owe me.”

Todd puffed out his cheeks.

“Why does it sound like I owe you a lot?” Todd asked.

“Well, actually, I have a list if you really want to get the big picture,” Rita answered and Todd laughed with one half genuine amusement and the other half genuine nervousness.

“Well, you know you can send me that list later and I'll get working on it.” Todd scratched the back of his head. “You might need to add another thing to it first.”

Rita raised a brow.

“What?”

“I need a favor, a really big one.”

Rita didn't like the sound of that. In the seven months she and Todd had been dating, he had never outright asked her for a favor. It was always an unspoken thing.

“What is it?”

“I want you to recommend me for the demonstration tomorrow.”

The small bits of concern inside Rita morphed into confusion.

“What demonstration?” She asked.

Now it seemed it was Todd's turn to look confused.

“You don't know?” He asked in return.

“I don't ask questions about things I know the answer to,” Rita replied.

“Well, um, ok… so I guess I should start from the beginning.” Rita felt the concern reshape itself within her at Todd’s words. “So there's been rumors for a couple of days now, and I got a good feeling that they're confirmed. Nagel cracked the super soldier formula and they're secretly fast-tracking a test for tomorrow.”

Rita couldn't stop her jaw from dropping.

“You're kidding me, right?”

“Nope.” Todd nodded his head. “It's been the talk of the town, but I guess you haven't really been in town much.”

Ignoring the sting of how much time she spent either here in her workshop or her quarters, Rita spoke.

“Nagel cracked the super soldier formula? The Rogers mixture?”

Todd shrugged.

“That's what everybody's saying, and at this point I just think it's true.”

“No, it can't be.” Rita turned back to her bench, her eyes locking on the opened-up power cell. “I've been here for over a year and I'm barely getting to the prototype phase for the Yellowjacket. He's been here 3 months, there's no way he's actually cracked the formula.”

Todd shrugged again.

“I know it sounds impossible, but Major Sparr says he's a superstar scientist, and honestly he does seem like the weird type of guy to manage to pull it off,” Todd said.

Rita was feeling the beginnings of a headache.

“So Nagel has cracked the super soldier formula, and they're going to rush into a demonstration tomorrow… and you want me to recommend you to be the subject for the serum?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“What?”

Rita faced Todd again.

“I don't believe that Nagel actually cracked it, I just can't. Three months to do what the greatest minds haven’t been able to do for nearly a century?” Rita leaned back on her workstation. “It doesn't sound safe, and I'm not going to put you in the way of something that could potentially hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” Todd seemed somewhat offended by the word choice. “It's not gonna hurt me, Rita, do you really think they would be doing a demonstration if they haven't tested it already?”

That was a fair point, but this whole situation still felt very fishy to Rita.

“Maybe on rats or mice, but it could do something completely different to humans.” Rita imagined Todd getting injected and dropping dead on the spot, a feeling of horrible dread following right after the image. “If you're really dead set on doing this, then could you at least settle for being second in line?”

“Second in line? What if there is no line? What if they only want to make one new super soldier?” Todd asked. Rita laughed.

“They're not going to crack the formula and just make one, that would be stupid. Besides, even if they still just made one super soldier, you're still up at the top of the list for the Yellowjacket,” Rita said.

“Why would I want to be an ant when I could be Captain America?” Todd’s question was clearly asked without thinking but by the time he realized that, he was too late.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Rita asked.

“No, it's just that… I, um… I just…” Todd trailed off without answering.

Silence fell over the couple and before either of them could figure out a way to restart it, a buzzer started to go off on Todd's belt.

“I need to go on patrol in a bit,” Todd said awkwardly. “Look, I didn't mean anything bad about what you do, but you know what that serum means for me, to me.”

“I know.”

“Just please consider it, you're a department head and it would really help a lot If I had your recommendation.”

Rita sucked in a deep breath.

“I will think about it, I'm not promising I'll do it but I will think about it.”

“Thank you,” Todd said, leaning to plant a quick kiss on Rita’s cheek before rushing off to patrol.

Now alone in her workshop, Rita really wanted to get back to ripping wires.

=================

Major Kathleen Sparr stood at the edge of a helipad, her eyes straight forward despite the helicopter descending from above. The helicopter’s landing gear met ground and as its blades slowed their spins, the side door opened. Two figures emerged from it.

Sparr recognized one immediately.

Tall, mustached, gray-haired, and dressed in military attire was General Robert Maverick. The man following behind Maverick was a younger blond man wearing a more casual-looking suit.

“General,” Sparr greeted while saluting.

“At ease, Major,” Maverick said with a quick salute back.

“The briefing room is ready for you, General.”

“Good.” Maverick gestured back to the blonde man. “Major, this is Sam Stein, he's from Homeland Security and he's here to see what we've been making here.”

Sparr gave a nod as a greeting to Stein.

“Agent Stein, this is Major Kathleen Sparr. She's the on-site overseer for Project Troubleshooter,” Maverick introduced her.

“Pleasure to meet you, Major,” Stein said while offering a hand that Sparr shook.

“If you two will follow me, then we can head to the briefing room.”

The trio quickly made their way off of the helipad and into the base itself. A short trip through a series of hallways eventually landed them inside a conference room where another man waited for them.

This man was a balding man of 40, wearing a suit at least one size too big and with deep bags under his eyes.

“Agent Stein,” Sparr started. “This is Doctor Wilfred Nagel.”

“Hello, doctor,” Stein said and only got a slightly too big smile back from the doctor.

“If you may take a seat then we can begin the briefing.” Sparr gestured to one of the conference chairs and Stein took a seat.

The lights in the room automatically darkened and a TV on the far side turned on. Sparr and Maverick took their places at the sides of the TV.

“So I know the name Project Troubleshooter has been spoken about in hushed tones during long conference meetings, Agent, so perhaps you don't quite have the best idea of what we do beyond rumor and baseless speculation.” Maverick paused to allow the TV to change images. Now the screen displayed the project logo, a silhouette of a vulture with ‘Troubleshooter’ written out below it. “We are a research and development program that was founded in secret two years ago by the government. Our mission statement is to understand and recreate the powers and technology of unaffiliated heroes and villains.”

The TV screen changed again, this time it showcased various images of superheroes ranging from the Hulk to Iron Man.

“We have gathered America’s best scientists, engineers, brainiacs, and copycats to work towards a single goal. To strengthen the American military with resources that have been refused by those who selfishly hog them for their own self-serving methods.” Maverick paused again, this time to glare with disgust at the heroes pictured on screen. “It is in this project that we have finally done what we have started to believe was impossible. We have cracked the formula for the Captain America serum.”

The TV changed again, now displaying digitized documents containing scientific information overlaid various chemical formulas. This seemed to catch Stein’s interest.

“Doctor Nagel, may you please step up?”

Nagel rose from his seat and made his way to stand with Maverick and Sparr.

“For decades there has been an unachievable goal in the world of weapons development, the human weapon.” The TV switched to a vintage photo of Captain America. “Humanity has suffered from physical weakness since our beginning; we had no claws or fangs, and our muscle mass stood far below our ancient contemporaries. Yet we had one thing they never could.”

Nagel tapped the side of his head.

“Our intelligence has made us, the weakest of the Earth's inheritors, the most dominant. We weren't strong enough or armed enough so we understood that we had to pick up rocks and logs to defend ourselves. And as we progressed, the rocks and logs became knives and spears and those knives and spears would become bullets and bombs,” Nagel spoke with a fanatic dedication. “Those bullets would be traded for plasmatic bullets would be traded for plasma and those bombs would become nuclear but by the time we achieved such innovations, we stood without challenge at the top of the food chain. Yet despite our undeniable dominance over the very existence that once threatened us, we still felt the inherent need to make not just our weapons better, but also our selves better.”

Nagel reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial of dark blue liquid.

“We as a species see what the best of us can be. We have seen men match gods and create the impossible. Yet we are denied such greatness being shared as a whole, as the selfish hoard their gifts so they may feel special among their suffering peers.” Nagel held the vial up to the light of the TV. “I refuse to let that stand, Agent Stein, not when I have my own gifts to share. With what is in this vial, I can make men great and I can make the selfish obsolete.”

“When can you test it?” Stein asked.

Nagel stared at Stein.

“Give me tomorrow.”

=================

The night had fallen over Troubleshooter base and Rita had retreated to her living quarters. Now she sat at her desk, laptop glowing in front of her with an unwritten email staring her down.

Was she going to do it?

Her fingers glided above the keys and nearly went to press down on a few but always stopped short.

Was she actually going to do it?

“Fuck,” Rita let out as she leaned back in her seat and away from her laptop.

After leaving her workshop, Rita had gone into town, so to speak, and engaged with the rumors. Sure enough, damn near everyone with a mouth was saying there was going to be some sort of test or demonstration happening the next day. There were also rumors of a potential short-list for candidates but nothing was confirmed for sure because nothing was ever confirmed here.

“Fuck,” Rita repeated while dropping her face in her hands.

She still hated this idea.

There was just no way someone cracked the serum in just 3 months; that just couldn't be possible regardless of how much money and resources you had behind you. But if it wasn't possible, then why was there going to be a demonstration tomorrow?

If it wasn't possible, then why was it being tested?

No! Rita had to stop that train of thought; she was letting rumors affect her judgment.

This was not a decision of the committee, but one of herself. She had to take into account what she knew and run it against her own facts and feelings, nothing more to it.

She didn't think the serum was safe even if it was real.

She didn't want Todd to potentially suffer harmful side effects from it.

That was the beginning and end of it, and for as much as Todd would be disappointed, there was still an opportunity for him to be the hero she knew he always wanted to be: the Yellowjacket would be for him.

“Why would I want to be an ant when I could be Captain America?”

Like a dagger through the heart, the words pierced through Rita’s internal arguments.

Todd didn't want to be Yellowjacket; he would never admit it if she asked but he had already unintentionally stated his answer.

Clicking off the unopened email, Rita viewed her home screen. The set background was a photo from one of the few times she and Todd had been allowed to go off base for a bit. It had been the 4th of July and basically everybody wanted to celebrate, and a dingy mess hall wasn’t the most attractive party hall.

The photo was taken on the end of a dock; she and Todd were holding each other while fireworks went off in the distance over the sea.

Todd was a tapestry of American flags: the baseball cap he was wearing was an American flag, the shirt he had on had a flag planted on the chest, and it wasn't visible in the photo, but the jacket he was wearing had an American flag printed on the back.

“Why would I want to be an ant when I could be Captain America?”

“Look, I didn't mean anything bad about what you do, but you know what that serum means for me, to me.”

It wasn't about the powers, it was about the meaning. Was she going to take that from Todd?

She didn't want to, but the risks were high.

Yet if they were testing the serum, then they would have tested it on other things and cleared it for human trial. Troubleshooter was shady and off the books, but it wasn't the type of place that just threw lives away. Especially if they were going to make a big show out of their testing.

Maybe she was just worrying too much.

Or maybe she was just being bitter.

Bitter over the comparison; three months to completion versus her whole year for just a prototype. She was bitter, that part was undeniable, and perhaps it was clouding her judgment on the matter.

Perhaps she was wrong.

Rita opened the email again and started to type.

The night ended and the next day came upon the base fast, a day Rita started by being awoken by a persistent knocking on her door.

“Gimme a damn second,” Rita hissed out, unable to summon any sugar to coat her words.

Rolling out of the twin-sized bed, Rita half stumbled and half walked to her room door. With a hard yank, she pulled open the door and briefly considered using her other hand to throw a punch at whoever had the audacity to wake her up in such a rude fashion. Yet that thought passed and was replaced with a different one.

“Todd? What are you doing here?” That sounded like a bit of a dumb question to ask her boyfriend, but Rita was still not fully awake, so no negative points as far as she was concerned.

“I don't have a long time before I need to go get ready, but I really want to thank you,” Todd explained with a smile.

“Thank me for what?”

“The recommendation.”

The haze of sleep lifted off Rita and the events of the previous day fell onto her. She sent in Todd’s recommendation to Major Sparr, quite a glowing one that would have been a bit questionable if her relationship with Todd wasn’t an open secret.

“I, um… you’re welcome.” Rita didn't sound all that genuine, but Todd didn't seem to notice.

“I can't tell you enough how much I appreciate this, Rita, but I did get you a gift.” Todd pulled something out from behind his back.

“Where the hell did you find an ant farm?”

Todd laughed.

“Well, McGowan kept a ton of them doing nothing in cold storage, so I figured I'd just snag one,” Todd explained.

“You're fucking joking, you stole lab supplies from McGowan? She's gonna kick your ass.” Rita took the ant farm and examined it. The poignancy of the gift wasn't lost on her.

“Well, she can kick it after I become a super soldier.”

Rita placed the ant farm on the desk.

“Hey, could we talk about that a bit more?” Rita asked.

“Sure.” Todd checked his watch. “I still have a few minutes before I have to go in for the physical and stuff.”

“Are you sure you just don't wanna wait to be second in line?”

“Ok, I know you're coming from a very good place, but it's going to be fine,” Todd reassured. “This isn't some half-baked operation with no money, we are a legitimate thing with billions in the bank for testing this type of stuff. I mean, how much money have you used for your stuff?”

The question brought Rita pause.

“I haven't exactly been budgeting, but at least over 100 million,” Rita answered.

“See! No one's spending a minimum of 100 million on anything without making sure the money is being used properly. This is a safe test, Rita.” Todd was making sense and that alone was sending Rita into a tailspin.

“I know, but I'm afraid for you,” Rita admitted. “This could go wrong and I can't just not be worried about it.”

Todd’s face softened and he gently took Rita's hands.

“It's gonna be okay, Rita, I know you're not going to stop worrying about me and I really can't say how much I love that you worry about me, but it's going to be okay.” Todd ran his thumbs over the back of Rita's hands.

Rita nodded in agreement and the two stayed like that for a moment.

Eventually, the buzzer on Todd’s belt sounded.

“I gotta go now, but I'll be back, I promise.”

Rita didn't say anything back. She just nodded and, slowly, she pulled her hands out of Todd’s.

“I promise,” Todd reinforced his word before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to Rita’s lips. With that, Todd went off and Rita was alone.

She closed her door and stepped back into her room, where she had nothing else but her fears and the ants that she now had to take care of. A quick glance at her clock showed that it was still early enough that she could go back to sleep and get some decent rest before having to get up and work.

So that's what she did, snuggling back under her covers and soundly hoping that when she woke up, all of the rumors would turn out false despite all the odds.

=================

Todd wordlessly slipped into the empty elevator and pressed the button for the medical floor. As the elevator slowly started moving toward its destination, Todd was trapped with his thoughts. He wasn't lying when he said he loved that Rita worries about him, but the unspoken thought was that he would have definitely preferred if she kept those worries to herself.

Now they were in his head and he couldn't help but dwell on them himself.

The anxiety of something going on was slowly climbing towards the top of the chart and Todd wasn't sure how to stop it.

If something went wrong, then it would be hell for him; it wouldn't be like a computer frying out or an engine falling apart. It would be his own body shredding, and he would have no other options but to live in or die in it. Neither choice was his preferred option.

Todd took a deep breath.

“No,” he said to himself.

This would go right, he needed it to. Out of everything in his life that had to go right, this was it. This had to work out, and it had to work out perfectly, so it was going to work out.

It was his preferred option.

The elevator dinged as it reached the medical floor and the doors slid open, Todd stepping out of them without hesitation.

This would be fine; it had to be.

=================

The department heads and other high-level staff received a highly important email first thing in the morning that directed them to meet in the auditorium.

That was the confirmation Rita got that every rumor was true.

She, alongside several others, shuffled into an observation room. Inside the room already were Major Sparr and General Maverick, alongside an important looking blond man who Rita had never seen before. The General noticed her and stood.

“Agent Stein, I would like to introduce you to our engineering head for the Yellowjacket project, Miss Rita DeMara.” The blonde man stood up and he and Rita had a quick handshake. “And behind her is the head for the gamma program, Doctor Charlene McGowan.”

With wide eyes, Rita looked over her shoulder and indeed McGowan was behind her. The radiation scientist somehow snuck up on her more efficiently than a church mouse.

“It's a pleasure to meet you both,” Stein said. He offered a handshake to McGowan only for it to be ignored as McGowan moved past him and took a seat. Following the set precedent, Rita sat in the nearest available seat while Maverick and Stein returned to the ones they had already been in.

“So, Yellowjacket, huh?” Stein asked. “I haven't been able to go through every project file for this project thoroughly, but it's certainly a catchy name.”

“Thanks, I came up with it myself,” Rita said. “I'm not quite sure if I'm at liberty to share details about it yet.”

Maverick seemed to catch what she meant.

“If you have something to show, then you can show it.”

With that confirmation, Rita opened her mouth to explain but was interrupted as the shutters on the observation room windows started to lift.

“Show after,” Maverick added.

With the shutters lifted, everyone could see into the center of the auditorium, where Nagel stood with a group of nurses and a pair of military guards. They were all focused on a metal table where Todd was strapped down.

Immediately Rita felt regret over her decision.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Nagel announced. “I know most of you already know what we're here for, but I do wish to explain the wider implications.”

A large syringe was handed to Nagel, one filled with a dark blue liquid that made Rita’s stomach turn.

“Today, we do not just unlock a secret of the past, but today, we unlock a secret of the future.” Nagel stepped closer to Todd. “Today, we learn what we can do together, for everyone. Today we learn what the spirit of our work is for.”

Nagel pushed the syringe into a vein on Todd’s arm and, almost too quickly, the blue liquid injected into him.

Rita expected Todd to scream or his skin to turn red while his muscles bulged out in horrendous ways. Yet none of that happened. In fact nothing happened at all, it seemed. For a moment Rita believed the serum might have not worked.

Suddenly, with a flex of his muscles, the straps holding Todd down snapped and he jumped on the table in a flashy manner. Todd reached down and picked up a barbell that had been laying on the floor and had not been noticed with everything else going on in the room. As if it was a simple papier-mâché prop, Todd lifted the barbell with the massive weights on the ends well above his head with just one hand.

“Behold!” Nagel stepped in front of Todd. “The pinnacle of humanity is right in front of you all.”

The audience in the observation room started clapping and despite herself, Rita joined them. She really had just been worrying for nothing.

Then Todd dropped the barbell.

It crashed into the floor hard enough to crack the tile and made a loud enough sound that all attention was on Todd.

“Corporal?” Nagel asked.

His reply was nothing, instead Todd just stood there shaking. Actually no, that wasn't entirely correct. His body was completely still, but his skin was pulsating.

Rita‘s whole body was filled with a horrific mixture of regret, fear, and terror.

“Corporal!” Nagel yelled, and this time, it got him a response.

Todd screamed and his skin faded from a human color into a horrible sickly green. From Todd’s back, large bone spurs ripped through his flesh. Todd’s arms shot out and wrapped around Nagel, a desperate hug in a search for some form of comfort from what was happening.

“Let me go!” Nagel screeched. “Help!”

The guards finally sprung into action and rushed Todd with their batons.

“No!” Rita yelled.

One of the guards swung his baton, smashing it into the side of Todd’s head where it snapped in half on impact. Despite the attack having done no apparent damage to him, Todd hissed at the guard before letting go of Nagel and rushing the offending guard.

The entire observation room watched in horror as Todd’s fist cleaved into the man's chest and out of his back. Screams rang out as several people stood up and ran from the observation room. Rita didn't scream or run, she just sat there with the feeling of guilt beginning to numb all her other emotions.

The other guard, unwilling to go the same way as the other, tossed his baton and pulled his service pistol. Immediately, he placed two shots straight into Todd’s back and, miraculously, they broke right through his skin and into his body.

Todd roared in agony and collapsed to his knees. Pressing the opportunity, the guard rushed up behind him and pressed the barrel of his pistol to the back of Todd’s head.

“YUUU!”

Before the guard could finish the job, Todd exploded. His skin ripped open and horrible green muscle burst out, growing to massive size in mere moments. The surface of the muscles hardened into scales within seconds and a long tail stretched itself out for the first time.

Those remaining in the observation room realized they were staring at a dinosaur now, although not one recognized by the fossil record.

It stood fifteen feet tall and its posture was upright and humanoid despite its many reptilian features. It was primarily a green color with the exception of its forehead and its underbelly, which strangely enough were colored red, white, and blue.

An American flag.

It was a funny realization that Rita was only able to have as she had already long disassociated from the moment. Yet she was forced right back into the moment when the monster grabbed the metal table and with its awesome strength, ripped it out of the ground and sent it flying straight towards the observation room.

Rita managed to duck to the floor just in time for the table to burst through the windows and into the room, but there was a scream and when Rita looked up, she found Stein crushed between the back wall of the room and the table.

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” Rita’s attention was dragged the other way as she heard Nagel's cries. He was now alone in the auditorium, the rest of his staff having abandoned the room while he lay helplessly on the floor.

The monster, who had horrifically grown to twenty-five feet now, stepped closer to Nagel.

“I created you! You have to listen to me!” Nagel yelled desperately. “So you stay away!”

The creature didn't listen. Instead, it lifted one of its large dinosaur-like feet up high. It seemed that despite the creature not being able to understand what Nagel was saying, it did understand he was the source of its pain.

“Please, no,” Nagel let out meekly.

It was perhaps a poor choice of final words but those were his as Nagel said nothing more before the foot came down and crushed him into the ground.

With its target dead and another growth spurt pushing its head up against the ceiling, the creature changed objectives and slammed into the wall hard enough to burst right through it and out of the building.

Freed from the confines of the indoors, the creature's body grew quickly, passing well over a hundred feet tall in just a few moments. Those who were outside watched in amazement as the massive beast rushed from the base and right towards the visible ocean.

With a running leap, the creature crashed into the sea and disappeared into the depths.

Fallen Angels #18: Godspeed

<

Author: Predaplant

Editor: VoidKiller826

Book: Fallen Angels

Arc: Season 3: Symbols

“So... what now?” Longshot asked, collapsing onto some nearby cushions. “Now that we’re presumably all safe and sound?”

“We just go on living?” Chance said, shrugging. “This isn’t a movie, where all the loose ends get tied off every time we make it through something. This is our lives, as weird as they’ve sometimes been.”

“Yeah…” Longshot said. He looked over at Ariel. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“I think I’m going home now,” she blurted out. Everyone turned to look at her. “Lunella. You can set up this portal to send me back to Coconut Grove, right?”

Lunella thought about it. She nodded. “Yeah. Gonna require some astronomy, and running a lot of numbers to make sure you don’t end up alone in space... but yeah.”

“We’re going to miss you, you know,” Chance said softly.

Ariel slowly nodded. “I think it’s time.”

“Can we have a few days first?” Morris asked her. “It’d be nice to be able to say goodbye to you. Properly, and all.” “It’d also be nice to recover from getting kidnapped a second time,” Longshot pointed out. “Sure,” Ariel replied. “Why not?”

Lunella raced home. After quickly telling her parents what had happened, and a much longer period of them asking questions to make sure everything was alright, she was finally able to start on a present for her friend.

It was a bit tricky since she couldn’t make it in her lab, since Ariel would definitely be there. She only had limited supplies at home, but it was mostly fine since her science supplies were the ones in the lab, and she thought that Ariel would probably want something a bit more artistic, anyways.

Art was never Lunella’s strong suit; she could admit that freely. She had a lot of fun just toying around, making whatever she thought looked cool, but she could never get it to really hit somebody in the feels, the way that adult artists seemed to.

She was just a kid, she conceded; maybe she’d get it with time. But it was frustrating, since all the science-y stuff came to her so easily. It had caused her to give up on the idea of doing anything with art more than once.

But it was something she always came back to, nevertheless.

She contemplated medium for a second, before pulling out a box of coloured pencils. It wasn’t anything super professional, sure... but it was something Lunella felt relatively comfortable working with, and she thought that Ariel would appreciate it.

She got to work.

A few hours later, she collapsed into her bed. It was immensely frustrating, and there had been a number of false starts, but she finally had a basic outline that she thought looked good enough. Now there would just be the work of actually handling the details.

They were the trickiest part, though, or so Lunella would discover when she woke up the following morning. It was so hard to convey Ariel’s brilliance, the way that she would stay positive even when things were tough, how her smile itself would almost act as motivation to keep going…

As Ariel’s departure day approached, Lunella threw herself at the details, time and time again. She had to start from scratch a couple times, but it got easier as she went and, finally, she had a piece that she was more or less happy with, ready to give to Ariel before she left.

One nice thing about his incorporeal form, Morris realized, was that it was easy to scour the city for possible gifts. He had to admit that their budget was pretty slim for gifts, but he was also certain he could find something special for cheap somewhere in the city. It took a lot of scanning of low-end retail stores, but he eventually found something he was happy with.

He had to get Chance to accompany him to buy it, of course. Both because they kept track of the group’s money, and to let him actually pick it up to bring back to the base.

It was a straight shot on the subway, luckily, even if a bit of a long one. Morris passed the time trying to get Chance to tell him what they had got for Ariel, but they simply smiled and told him that he was going to have to wait and see, no matter how absurd his guesses got.

Before Morris’s life had been irrevocably changed, he had never really taken the subway; his dad always got a car to chauffeur them around. He had recently started flying alongside subway cars, though, watching the people get on and off, trying to imagine what sorts of stories they had behind their journeys.

Today, though, one of those stories was his. It was going to be strange losing a friend, but he should have seen it coming; they had talked about going home for a while. He didn’t consider himself and Ariel particularly close, but there had been a day where he had broken down and ended up explaining pretty much everything about his life story to her, with all the ups and downs and complications… and she had listened. Like, really listened.

She had told him that she knew what it was like, to leave everything behind. That she could understand the loss that he was carrying, the trauma of being torn away from the future that he had expected. She had told him that he could build new memories and that things would get better as long as he looked for opportunities to make things better rather than letting things remind him of his loss.

It was all in how he looked at things, she had told him.

So he got her a kaleidoscope.

It wasn’t just a cheap dollar store kaleidoscope, though. It had a bunch of settings you could adjust, to create a whole bunch of patterns.

Sure, it might not have been anything useful, but he hoped that she would treasure it anyways.

When he showed it to Chance at the store, they chuckled.

“What?” Morris asked. “I thought it was nice.”

“Nothing,” Chance smiled. “It fits her. She’ll like it.”

Morris nodded. “Yeah. I really hope so.”

Longshot sat in Central Park, skipping stones across the surface of the Lake. It was a favourite pastime of his; sometimes, he could make them skip all the way to the opposite shore if he set it up right.

The challenge, then, was to not skip the stone as far as possible, but to optimize the number of skips. You needed to get a good angle on it, to get it to curve more and cover more of the lake’s area.

It was surprisingly tricky, and it helped him think.

He already knew what he was planning to give Ariel, to remember him: one of his knives, from Mojoworld. He had a couple dozen, so he could definitely spare one for a good friend. But that wasn’t what he was worried about.

He picked up a stone, and turned it over in his hand. This wasn’t a very smooth stone, so it might not make it across the lake... but he wanted to see how long he could coax it to skip. He pulled back his arm, and he let it fly.

It skipped almost halfway across before succumbing to the waters below.

“Wow,” somebody said from behind Longshot. “Surprised you even got a single skip out of that one.”

Turning around, Longshot saw a young man in glasses and a slightly scruffy beard. Longshot shrugged. “I’m just lucky.”

“That’s a lot of luck...” the man mumbled. “Mind if I watch?”

“Go ahead.”

The man sat down on a nearby bench.

Longshot grabbed another stone and skipped it all the way across the lake. He shook his head. He could do better.

Startled, the man squinted at the other side of the lake. “Okay, that’s not luck. You’re like a master at this or something.”

“Something like that,” Longshot murmured. He went to grab another rock. “Is there a trick to this?”

Longshot shook his head. “No, it’s just me. It’s just who I am.”

The man smiled. “Wish I had a talent like that.”

“I’ve got a lot of talents,” Longshot replied. “Just have to figure out where to use them.”

The man furrowed his brow in concern. “Something wrong?”

Longshot heaved a deep sigh. “I just think I should leave my friends to make more of a difference in the world... but it’s hard to leave them, especially when one of our other friends is going to be leaving soon as well.”

“Why don’t you just... talk to them?” the man asked. “I’m sure your friends will understand what you’re asking, and you can work things out together. And sure, leaving people behind is always sad, but maybe you’ll get to meet new people, too!”

Longshot stared out at the water, lost in thought.

“I know you probably like to work through things yourself, but if you’re worried about what they think of you, that sounds like the best way to make sure.”

Longshot stood up. “Thank you. I think I’ll wait until my other friend leaves, so as not to worry her... but I’ll talk to them.”

He walked off with a smile, happy to have gotten some good advice.

Chance knew what they wanted to give Ariel: a plant from Earth, one that she wouldn’t be able to find back home. She had always remarked on the beauty of Earth’s plants and how they changed with the seasons. Chance wasn’t sure whether plants would keep that pattern on a planet without seasons that were as strongly pronounced, so one day they popped into a garden shop and asked.

Turned out, plants responded to how much sunlight they were getting to determine their change. Chance figured that asking Ariel to dynamically change the length of time which the plant got sunlight wasn’t feasible. Shame.

So, instead of getting some plant that had some amazing seasonal transformations, Chance picked up an orchid. It was recommended by the guy at the shop as a plant that wouldn’t require too much experience to keep alive, which was good considering that Chance didn’t think Ariel had much experience, and because if it died it would be hard for her to replace easily.

So Chance bought the orchid, white with purple tint, and then they realized that they needed to both keep it hidden from Ariel and ensure it received adequate care for the few days that they had left until Ariel’s departure.

The only place that they could think of that could fulfill those requirements was the roof of the school.

Chance had been up there a couple of times before, with the help of Ariel’s portals. It was nice and flat, and would definitely have the sunlight needed. The only problem was how to get up there now with the orchid.

They waited until school let out before creeping into the building. Though they had been living underneath it for quite a while, they’d never bothered to familiarize themselves with the entire floorplan. Seemed unnecessary, after all. But now, as they scanned the top floor of the school searching for the door to the roof, it seemed like it would’ve been something useful to have done earlier.

As they walked, they ran into a teacher: a short woman with jet-black hair and a kind smile. Almost literally ran into her, in fact. They stopped and stepped out of the way, apologizing as they did so.

“You look a little old to be a student and a little young to be a teacher,” the teacher laughed. “So what are you doing here, after hours?”

Chance cleared their throat. “I have this roommate who I really appreciate, and she’s going to be leaving soon... so I wanted to get her a present, and I got her this flower, but I can’t leave it in the room or she’ll see, and I can’t leave it lying around outside or it could get taken, but I saw this school and thought maybe I could leave it on the roof?”

The teacher stared Chance down. “What if I look after it for you? When is she leaving?”

“Wednesday,” Chance said, handing the orchid to her. “Thank you so much. Can I come by before your classes start to pick it up?”

“Sure,” the teacher smiled at her. “It’ll be nice to brighten up my room for a few days, in any case. It’s Room 213, come by at 8:00.”

Chance headed down towards the basement, happy to have found somewhere safe to leave their present.

The night before she left, Ariel couldn’t sleep. She laid awake, nervous thinking about how big of a change it would be to head back home. She missed her family, and she missed her friends there, but she wondered how much she had missed while she was on Earth… it was hard to know exactly what to expect.

She heard a noise in the black of the room, and her senses went on edge… until she felt something brush up against her.

Devil Dinosaur had moved closer to her, to comfort her in her distress.

She snuggled up close to him and, fairly soon, she was asleep.

The next morning, they gathered in front of the portal as Lunella entered the finishing touches.

“There! You should be set to go.”

Ariel shuffled awkwardly. Chance was missing; they said that they’d be a few minutes and dashed off shortly before 8:00. They couldn’t all wait too long; Lunella’s school started in half an hour.

There they were, rushing down the stairs, carrying a potted plant in their hands. They raced up in front of Ariel, and handed it to her.

“Hope I’m not too late,” they said, catching their breath.

“You’re alright,” Ariel told them. “Is this for me?”

“Yes,” Chance nodded. “I hope you appreciate it.”

“Thank you,” Ariel said in reply. “It’s beautiful.”

She was touched that Chance would think to give her such a present… and then the others started to step forward, offering presents of their own. A kaleidoscope. An original sketch. One of Longshot’s prized knives.

Ariel started to cry. She tried to wipe away her tears, tried to stand strong, but she couldn’t do it.

The group crowded around her, hugging her from all sides, offering her safety and security until she was able to recover and step away from them.

“Thank you all,” she said, holding her gifts tight. “For everything, through all this time.”

She paused, before continuing. “Well, I feel like the longer that I stay, the harder this gets. So please forgive me, but I’m going to take my leave now.”

Waving to the others, she stepped through with a chorus of “Goodbye!”s.

She looked around on the other side, and slowly smiled. She was home, just outside her childhood house.

She went up to the door and knocked.

In a few moments, her mother opened the door, her face immediately brightening upon seeing her daughter.

“Ariel! We didn’t know what happened to you, we thought you might be dead!”

Gently setting the gifts down, Ariel hugged her mother. “Well, I’m home now!”

“What happened?” she asked, excited but nervous in the way that parents often are. “All that time away... what did you find?”

Ariel smiled as she made her way inside. “Well, it’s a bit of a long story...”

Longshot looked between everyone who remained. How was he supposed to start the conversation?

As Lunella shut down the portal, she called out to Chance. “I was wondering why that orchid was on Mrs. Martinez’s desk.”

“Yeah, she was taking care of it for me!” Chance replied to Lunella. Their eyes shifted; they looked over at Longshot looking at them. “So... when are you gonna be going, now?”

Longshot blinked, surprised. How had they guessed?

“Oh, come on,” Chance laughed. “If she’s leaving, then it makes sense that you’d think about wanting to head out, too. Both of you having your missions, and all.”

“I... I need to find where to go. I think I want to stay on Earth. But soon.”

“Good luck; we’ll miss you!” Lunella shouted, hugging Longshot.

He hugged her back. “I’ll miss you all, too. I’ll come and visit, though.”

“You better,” Morris chuckled. “After everything we’ve been through together, you’ve always got a place here.”

Longshot nodded and smiled, gazing around the room. He was grateful that, above all else, his friends trusted him to choose his own path.

He was excited to see what it would be now that, for the first time in his life, he had the full freedom to design it himself.

<

Author's Note

Thank you all for reading! I'm glad I've been able to bring this story to a conclusion. I still have some upcoming stories planned here, so stay tuned!

Salutations True Believers!

It's February, and it's a leap year. We got a lot of books for this month! With the debut of our new book, American Kaiju! The finale of Fallen Angels after 18 amazing issues! And the coming of a new hero in the form of Mr. E! Along with the end of an old mutant book, and the start of a new one!

What to expect for this month:

• Alias: The Devil #2
• American Kaiju #1 & #2 - New Limited Series!
• Black Panther #44
• Centurions #18
• Fallen Angels #18 - Finale!
• Fantastic Four #44
• Fantomex #13
• Guardians of the Galaxy #4
• Generation X #12 - Finale!
• Iron Man #8
• Journey Into Mystery #2 & #3
• Mr. E #0 - New Limited Series
• Moon Knight #40
• Scarlet Spiders #2
• Utopia #2
• Wolverine #1 - New Series!

Last Month <> Next Month

Black Panther
Volume IV: Across the Sky
Issue #43: The Shadow Fleet

Written by: u/PresidentWerewolf
Edited by: u/predaplant

Previous Issue

From The Book of the Dead, Canta 43, Verse 4

...between her gnashing teeth, all things are ground to dust. Oh, King, you chew upon mercy, you chew upon righteousness. You chew upon valor and honor. Love is crushed between your fangs. Long days and warm nights fill your mouth as it snaps shut.

They are spit into the tall grass.

What fills your maw then, oh King? What fills your belly?

Vengeance.

Sweet tar. Hearty smoke. Black, heavy, vengeance. To score their flesh, to rip their flesh, to taste their flesh, to wear their flesh. Punishment!

Justice!

Oh, King. Oh, man of sorrow.. Justice lies broken in the tall grass.

Revenge!

A King’s Revenge!

It began as a whisper, the rumors flickering to life along the starways, mysterious theories about a single ship gone missing. But it was a pirate vessel. It came to a fitting end, some would say. Pirates aren’t known for taking care of their things. Maybe the ship just blew up. A simple misaligned fuel lattice, perhaps. Or it crash-landed.

Still, no trace of it? No distress call? No one coming forward, claiming to have survived? It was fuel for rumors, at least.

When the second ship went missing some weeks later, the stories took a different tone. This ship, the Garland, had been well-known. Its owner was the Pirate Lord Tesren, a former general of Spartax, whose empire was a corporation unto itself in some sectors of space. The first ship had been his as well.

As was the third ship.

Now, the rumors were about war. Had the Pirate Lord found a challenger? No one had claimed so, yet the pattern was hard to explain otherwise. Pirate raids increased in Tesren’s territories as his ships were all gathered inside closer boundaries.

A fourth ship was lost, and then a fifth and a sixth, all in the span of a few days. Tesren’s empire commanded many hundreds of ships, but these were still bold losses, absent a cause. It was said that paranoia had gripped the Pirate Lord, that he had retreated to his central planet. There had been no survivors, no communications, not a single bit of debris from any of the missing ships.

Then, the seventh ship vanished. This was the Turmoil, a fully fitted battleship, bristling with pilfered Badoon and Kree weaponry. Boasting a crew complement of 3800, it had spent most of its time cruising central pirate space, enforcing Lord Tesren’s law, handling incursions and any law enforcement entities foolish to approach it. And now, it was gone.

Two weeks (and three more ships) after the disappearance of the Turmoil, an escape pod was picked up at the edge of Xandarian space. Inside was a single man, emaciated and suffering from battle wounds. Kept alive by the pod’s life support, he only lasted a short while after being rescued, but he lived long enough to tell the patrol officers his tale. It was a story about how his ship, the Turmoil, had been ambushed and defeated by a shadow fleet of dead ships, how the darkness of space itself had seemed to turn against them, and how a terrifying shadow of a man had boarded their ship and brought blood and death to all.

The man had been left alive to send a message, he said, as his death rattle approached. It was to be known that all pirate space was now a killing zone. It was to be known that no mercy would be offered to any who flew the sign of the plunderers. It was to be known that the Pirate Lord himself should prepare, for he would soon be visited by the Black Panther.

The first sign that something was wrong was a shuddering of the floor. Of course, this was no space station, but the central planet of Pirate Lord Tesren’s vast empire. The floor isn’t shaking, thought the Pirate Lord, as he stared between his slippered feet. The ground is shaking.

His communicator came to life, the private channel to his Second chiming with gentle urgency. In the still quiet of his personal quarters, the blinking light was a trap, waiting for him to approach. He opened the channel, and chaos poured out.

“Lord Tesren!” his Second shouted. “Orbital defenses are gone. We didn’t even slow them down.”

A bit of his bearing came back to Tesren in that moment, and he pulled himself up. “Scramble air fighters, then! Meet them in low orbit.”

“The launch pads are gone,” his Second cried.

“Send them from the poles, idiot!” Tesren yelled. “It’s a blasted planet!”

“Yes, my lord.” The sounds of blaster fire and explosions cut off what he said next.

“Damn it!” Tesren roared, and he smashed his communicator with one fist. He gathered his armor and blaster, and he headed for his command box, the most protected location on the planet. From there, he could observe the fighting outside and direct the act–

The entire compound shook from left to right as if a giant lined up a square kick. Tesren was flung against the wall, and he smashed his nose. He got his balance again and ran, blood dripping down his face, for the safety of his box. Once inside, he sealed the doors, polarized them, and activated the automatic defenses in the hall.

His screens came to life, and Tesren’s breath caught in his throat. Smoke, craters, plasma scorched bodies, everywhere. His fighters were falling from the sky, streaming fire and debris. His compound had been breached.

He opened every channel he had with his men. “Report!” he cried. “Where is my Second? Where are the intruders?” This second question made his blood run cold as soon as he uttered it, for in that moment, Tesren realized that on all of his many screens, there was not a trace of a single enemy fighter, except for one.

The Garland sat waiting on a single screen, floating above his compound. It was hailing his command box directly.

The rumors of the dead fleet swirled around Tesren in the dark room. The command box was large, outfitted for a long stay, and the shadows in every corner leapt at him as his eyes darted back and forth. Around the corner that led to his bunk, the silence was so tight it buzzed in his mind. What was back there?

Enraged, Tesren answered the hail. “Who dares?” he hissed. “Cease this cowardly ambush and face me!”

A voice from the Garland answered. “Look behind you.”

Tesren’s heart fluttered as he whipped around. He drew his weapon, ready to fire, and he came face to face with…

Silence. There was nothing there.

A shadow stepped away from the wall and leapt at him. It was a man of black, a phantom with glittering claws and glowing eyes. Tesren fired on reflex, and the shot went wild. Had it hit the shadow man? He thought it had, but–

A strong hand grabbed his wrist, a real, corporeal hand. Tesren’s bones snapped, and his blaster dropped as he cried out in pain. He tried to pull away, but the hand was a steel shackle. The shadow man pushed him back, up against the wall, and he leaned in close.

“Tell me who I am,” the shadow said, and Tesren knew.

“The Black Panther,” he whispered.

“Tell me why I am here.”

“I don’t know!”

The Black Panther turned and threw Tesren, tossed him by his broken wrist into a heap against the far wall. He was on him in an instant, pressing down at his throat.

“You grew fat, Pirate Lord Tesren, fat and rich on ambush and plunder. Now, your fleet burns. Your men have fled like cowards. You are locked in here, with me. Tell me why.”

“...because I took something from you,” Tesren said, understanding blooming with new terror.

The shadow nodded. “You took something from me.”

Tesren tried to sit up. “Take it back. It is yours. Tell me what–”

The Black Panther roared at the ceiling then, with such power that Tesren quaked. The Panther grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up, and he raised his other hand to a striking position. The claws on the ends of his fingers were no decoration.

“I will take what I want from you, worm,” the Black Panther said through gritted teeth. “There is only one thing you can give me.”

Tesren’s feet jerked as they tried to find the floor beneath him. “I will give it to you!”

“Your Captain, Dangar Zurn. Tell me where he is.”

“He doesn’t know.”

Agent Ross had been waiting by the shuttle as T’Challa took care of business inside the compound. When he came out, the look on his face told Ross before he uttered the words.

“I mean, he only told you what everyone else told us. None of these pirates know where Dangar went. He’s been MIA for months now.”

“Which tells us everything,” T’Challa said. “He has the Anvil. He was the Vibranium Atlas. He is headed to the source. To think that a pirate would get there first.” He clenched his fist in anger. “To think this is how he evades justice for…”

Ross put a hand on T’Challa’s shoulder. “Look, T’Challa. Okoye…”

T’Challa shot him a sharp look.

“Okay, what I keep wanting to say is that Okoye wouldn’t want this. She wouldn’t want you to spend your time, to risk your life, just getting revenge. But then I remember who Okoye was...” he smiled briefly and took a deep breath. “All the platitudes I have about right and wrong came from Uncle Iroh.”

“And what did your uncle say?”

“No, no -- it doesn’t matter. The point is, I’m still with you in this. If you want to get revenge for Okoye or die trying, or get revenge and die trying, let’s do it.”

“There are many Wakandans who would try and talk me down at this point,” T’Challa said. “My sister would. W’Kabi would.”

“And M’Baku would ask you what’s taking so long,” Ross said. “The point is, if you could catch Dangar, would you do it? Would you avenge Okoye? Would you continue on, and find the source of that huge Vibranium spike? Because your sister would have a point, right? This challenge was too big, but it’s not the only challenge there is, or the only one that’s important. There are millions of people back home who need you.

“I mean, who’s the king now? M’Baku? Imagine.”

“I want Dangar Zurn dead at my feet,” T’Challa said. “More than that, I want to see this journey through. She came with us to see the end, and I would see it in her place. I don’t know how, but I want to finish the odyssey that we started.”

“Okay,” Ross said, nodding. “Let’s do it.”

“Just like that?” T’Challa asked.

“Kind of. I had a thought, way back when we were in the mines, and maybe even before that, when I was working on the Anvil’s systems. I’ve been turning it over, working through it, and I don’t think it’s the longshot that it might sound like.”

“A thought?”

“A plan.”

T’Challa was thoughtful. “A plan to what? We have no Atlas. Dangar has a head start of months.”

Ross shook his head. “No, TChalla. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but we can still use the Atlas.”

“How—never mind,” T’Challa said, excitement in his voice. “You are saying that we can follow Dangar’s trail?”

Ross shook his head again. “Even better. If I’m right, we can catch him.”

Next Issue: Speed

Fantastic Four
Volume III: Frightful
Issue #43: Family Reunion

Written by: u/PresidentWerewolf
Edited by: u/ericthepilot2000

Previous Issue

Franklin Richards was terribly frightened. He had felt so brave just before returning to the Baxter Building. He had felt the way Uncle Ben must feel whenever he charged into danger, but the confidence hadn’t lasted long. Alone on the rooftop, as smoke trailed up from the side of the building and the cold wind blew hard against his clothes, he felt exactly seven years old.

His family wasn’t here. They had been here, and he had tried to show up at their location, but the roof was where he ended up. This was the worst part because he could always tell where his family was if he thought about it. He had never received the vague sense of well, they were here a second ago that he felt now.

He also sensed something else, something large and powerful, on the floor beneath him. Someone down there was a hundred…a million times stronger than his family. It didn’t seem possible. He was afraid that if he used his power again, that huge thing down there would know that he was up here. Then, it would come for him.

His big brother Ben would know what to do. Ben was always brave. Even when they were all running from danger, he always made sure Franklin and Val were in front. And Val…she would have figured everything out by now. The rooftop would be covered in equations, and Mom would step out of some glowing cube…

Franklin sniffed hard, fighting the lump in his throat. He wasn’t going to give up. There was something else here, a trail. There. On the top floor, where Dad’s lab had once been. There was–

The monster down there moved. It sensed something.

Never mind that. His dad was down there, too. He was just through a door. Franklin could push right through it. His dad was building something, an ugly, pointy thing made out of scraps, and he was trying his best, but it wasn’t turning on. Franklin didn’t know what it was or how it worked. Did he need to know? A new kind of confidence was building in him, as he flexed his own power for real, reaching out across time for his father.

It wasn’t how it worked. It was just that it worked.

“On,” Franklin said.

There was someone behind him. He made a clicking noise, like a big insect. He was going to kill Franklin right then and there.

“No,” the man said. “Worse. So much worse than that.”

Reed Richards turned the device over in his hands. The makeshift superposition rangefinder was built correctly, but the tech wasn’t up to the task. The processors he found would be too slow. The circuit boards would melt. It was a start, though. He had a model and all the time he needed.

“I just need to reinvent an entire sub-processor tree structure and two new branches of material sciences,” Reed muttered to himself. “Then I can turn this on.”

That would require travel, probably years of work here, and if he couldn’t figure out the proper time divergence, Sue, Johnny, and Ben might experience years before being rescued. To do it right, Reed would spend the time on his end. He might be an old man, but they would return the moment they left. He would have to scour this planet, fight off the remaining mutants and sentinels, maybe even bring it under his rule, but he would never give up.

“Maybe there’s a Baxter Building on this world,” he said to himself. “Might give me a–” The indicator light was blinking on the device in his hands. Somehow, it was working.

The two Franklins appeared in the old lab, blinking into existence right in front of Nathaniel Richards. The older Franklin had a firm grip on the younger, but the hand that protruded from his long sleeve, with its fused fingers and mottled skin, was more of a pincer.

Nathaniel, who had been looking over the portal that John had used to dispose of Reed, reacted with shock. “How did you capture him?”

“Let me go!” the young Franklin yelled, and the air around them wavered.

The older, insect-like Franklin blinked quickly, and the distortion faded. “I was trained…” he clicked, pausing to take a long breath, “My master trained me…on threat of the Cosmic Control Rod…your resistance is…humorous.”

“Where are the other children?” Nathaniel asked.

“He was alone,” said the older Franklin. “He came back to save [click-click} his family.”

Nathaniel looked down at the boy grimly. “I doubt even you could save them now, kid. Whoever helped you escape my Reed and Sue, you wasted their effort.”

At that moment, The Maker and Gray Susan entered the room. The Maker’s odd helmet was pushed back so that his face, a perfect copy of Reed Richards’s, was visible. “I nearly fell to my death!” he panted. Then he saw Franklin, and his face lit up. “You have him!”

“How?” Gray Susan asked, her voice hissing with suspicion. “We saw him escape.”

The gravity of Franklin’s situation started to hit him, and he began to whimper and pull harder against the strange hand that held him in place.

The older Franklin clicked in an effective imitation of disgust. “It doesn’t matter how. I have him. Master Annihilus will be pleased to have a second servant of my stature.”

“And what makes you think that he will go back to your universe?” The Maker queried.

“He isn’t going anywhere just now,” Nathaniel said. “We have that orbital lab to dismantle and, well, he’s a part of my family.”

Gray Susan leaned back against the wall and slowly lowered herself to a sitting position. “He’s more my family than yours, perhaps.” She waved her hand, and Franklin was yanked out of his older version’s grip. He floated towards Susan until he was right in front of her.

“I lost my son,” she said softly. “I remember him now.” She brought Franklin close, and he recoiled in fear and disgust. “When I die this time, I’ll take you with me.”

Behind Nathaniel, the portal came to life, its ring-shaped aperture sparking into a stream of bright light. The machines that powered and calibrated it hummed with lively energy.

“What the–” Nathaniel said, jumping back.

The Maker ran to the portal and began to check the controls. “I don’t know what’s coming through. It’s locked us out! How did it do that? Who could do that?”

Nathaniel’s face was grim. “You know exactly who it is.”

“She killed him. We watched him die!”

Nathaniel looked around. “Where’s the Torch…?” He sighed. “I wondered about that one.”

Gray Susan pushed young Franklin against the wall, and he stuck there struggling. “Who…? He’s coming back?”

A foot emerged from the portal as someone stepped through. The light was so bright that the figure came out as a shadow, lanky, tall, nearly inhuman. Reed Richards emerged into the room, his hands encased in blocky hunks of technology that sizzled with pent-up energy. He wore a similarly patchwork bit of tech on his head, an oblong helmet that only left the bottom of his face visible.

“Kill him again!” Gray Susan screamed, and she reached out toward him.

Reed’s helmet lit up with a hundred small lights, and Susan was thrown back violently. She slammed into the floor and skidded to a stop.

Nathaniel and The Maker shared a concerned look, and they readied to fight. “We got him once,” Nathaniel said.

Behind Reed, something else started to come through the portal, something far larger than a man. Its shadow darkened the entire room, and then it shot out past him and slammed onto the floor. It was a massive, robotic hand, connected to an arm that was still feeding out from whatever alien reality Reed had come from. Out came a shoulder, and the portal seemed to stretch to allow the massive thing to enter this world.

Reed’s new gauntlets flashed with electric power. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought a friend,” he said. Behind him, ducking and somehow managing to fit through the portal, was the head of a gigantic robot.

“He told me his name is Sentinel-144,” Reed shouted over the roar of the portal winds. “He has ninety seconds to live, and he is pissed.”

“Dad!” Franklin yelled, and everything around was pushed back suddenly.

“Get over here, son,” Reed said seriously, and while the others were dealing with the sudden light and wind from the portal, and the Sentinel crawling into their reality, the young boy darted across the room. Reed wrapped one arm around him and pulled him close.

The Sentinel’s lensed eyes pivoted down towards Franklin “MUTANT DETECTED! ELI–”

“Stop that,” Reed ordered, and the robot fell silent. “He just does that sometimes.”

“You’re back,” Nathaniel said. The two men glared at each other across the chaos in the room.

Reed finally answered. “Yes, and I’ve had some time to think, Dad.”

Nathaniel seemed surprised, but it lasted only a moment. “Well, you’ve figured that much out, at least.”

“It wasn’t much of a leap to figure that one of the Nathans who paid us a visit was my Nathan, my real father. I’m still a little unclear on the why, but it doesn’t–”

“It doesn’t matter,” Nathaniel finished. His entire body began to glow with crackling energy.. “You should have stayed on whatever world was kind enough to take you in. Kill him.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice!” The Maker said as he produced an energy blaster from nowhere. He fired a lethal beam at Reed, but it was deflected towards his gauntlets. The blast hit them and dissipated instantly.

“I’ve had a long time to think about how to take you apart,” Reed said. “You, at least, were the easy one.”

“The EASY ONE?” The former Skrull grew to twice his size in an instant, and each of his fingers was suddenly curled around some new, intricate type of weapon. He fired them all at once, and a rainbow of energy beams and projectiles flew toward Reed. At the same time, Nathaniel attacked the Sentinel with a wave of his own strange energy.
Most of it was attracted towards Reed’s gauntlets again, where it fizzled out in the air. The projectiles fell uselessly against Reed’s or the Sentinel’s resilient skins, most of their momentum somehow sucked away on the trip across the room.

“How is he doing that?” The Maker cried. He flexed his fingers, and all the weapons were new again.

“He cannot stop us all,” the older Franklin said. “Susan, cut him off wi–” A huge blast of flame came from directly above, completely enveloping him in a pillar of fire.

John Storm shot down from the upper reaches of the lab, blazing with orange fire. He fired a flame blast at Gray Susan, but she shrugged it off with a force field.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” Gray Susan hissed. “My family gets to die again, and I get to watch.” She glared at John, flexing her power, but nothing happened.

John hovered in the air, smirking at her. “That was supposed to take my head off, wasn’t it?” Franklin, smoking but unharmed, reached out towards him, but his hand was knocked away.

“On my world, I had the Cosmic Control Rod,” John said. “I pulled it from the dead hands of Annihilus himself. Learned a few tricks of my own. Like how to keep your forcefields from forming in the first place.”

Susan reached up, but the air sparked around John weakly. Sighing, he fired back a huge fireball that exploded on the floor in front of her. Susan was thrown back with the blast, and she slammed into the wall, her skin blackened and sizzling.

The Sentinel was now completely through the portal. It couldn’t stand to its full height, and so it scrabbled towards Nathaniel, reaching out with one, gigantic hand for him. The elder Richards threw fountains of energy its way, but most of it vanished in the air between them. What did hit was potent. Metal plating was knocked loose and flew through the air, glowing with energetic sparks of power.

The Maker had given up on his technology. He threw off his helmet and leaped towards Reed, and the two of them grappled like pythons. Neither had the advantage, other than the mass of Reed’s gauntlets for battering, and they twisted and fought on the floor. Franklin jumped around, uncertain of how to help. He wasn’t able to even tell them apart.

The Sentinel grabbed Nathaniel, and with a burst of energy, he blew the fist apart into scrap. He was left injured, however, and he grabbed his ribs with one hand. “Enough!” he shouted, and he fired into the floor, shooting up metal tiles that began to shred the robot.

John fired a blast of flame at the older Franklin that curled away like a snake, and he was suddenly hit with a beam of force that took him by surprise. He landed hard on the floor, rolled away, and just managed to protect himself from the invisible attack that came next.

“You did not...learn enough...tricks,” the older Franklin panted.

Reed was able to throw the Maker away. His gauntlets were now glowing with electric, green energy. “We got it! 144, we have enough!” He slammed them together, and the gauntlets blew apart. What was left in Reed’s hands were two glowing orbs of power that were instantly pulled toward the Sentinel. The robot’s body broke apart at once, the pieces flying through the air, reconfiguring themselves.

The pieces of the Sentinel shot towards the portal and formed a second ring behind it. The entire ring lit up with energy, and it shot a pillar of light through the original portal.

“You threw enough power around in this room to melt the Moon,” Reed said. “It was more than enough to supercharge a superpositioning rangefinder, to do what it should have taken weeks, or even years...well, anyway.”

The two portals combined their lights, and between them, a glowing, flat pane appeared. It flashed once and vanished, the rest of the Fantastic Four stood in its place.

Susan darted for her son, and she scooped him up against her chest and held him tight. Ben and Johnny looked around the chaotic mess that the lab had become, and they looked at each other and nodded.

“Clobbering time?”

“Clobberin’ time.”

Next: Nathaniel’s Big Secret

#Fantomex

Issue Twelve

Arc: Purgatory

Written by u/VoidKiller826

Edited by u/Predaplant

*************************************************************

Hours after the Mandoline Incident…

Alphabet City, a neighborhood in East Village, is freezing tonight. Even after the snowstorm that hit the city, winter is rushing hard into the city, reminding everyone that this year isn’t gonna be a warm one.

Sniffing his nose in an alleyway was one Tommy Lao, a lowly member of the Golden Tigers Triad, standing guard in front of a steel door alongside his fellow gang member and best friend Harry Tsu. Both were dressed in black leather jackets with yellow and red shirts underneath, the Tiger colors, while carrying heavy semi-automatics and keeping watch.

“Hey,” Tommy was the first to speak up, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?” Harry asked, he was smoking a cigarette.

“Why are we here?” asked Tommy, scratching his nose.

“What kind of fucking question is that?” Harry turned to his partner, huffing out smoke. “You mean why do we exist? That’s what you mean?”

“No dumbass,” Tommy chided him. “I meant why are we guarding out here and freezing our asses instead of being inside where it’s warm with the others?” he asked specifically.

“After Hammerhead tried to hit us last month, the boss isn’t taking any chances,” said Harry. The ash of his cigarette burned off and hit the floor. “Almost called half the Tigers for this meet, so the boss wants to make sure everything goes forward with no problem. Plus, they paid good money for these doors to be armored up,” he pointed at the reinforced door they were standing in front of. “So whoever is dumb enough to hit us will need the biggest rocket launcher to even make a dent on it.”

Tonight was a big night for the Golden Tigers, and not in a party way. Billy Hao, leader of their triad gang, had set up a big meeting with the other high-ranked Tiger members, all coming together from all over Manhattan in one place to discuss the future of the organization and what to do with the constant attacks from the Maggia and other gangs vying for control after the death of the Kingpin.

“Isn’t Chaka supposed to be here too? Don’t see any of his people around,” Tommy asked.

“Nah,” Harry huffed a cloud of smoke out of his mouth, leaning by the reinforced steel door, newly installed by the Tigers after buying the warehouse. “Boss said that Chaka needed to be watching over Chinatown. Can’t risk those guido fucks going after our turf and not expect a fight back.”

Tommy had never seen Chaka in action up close, only the stories. The Bloody Tiger, as they called him, was a man who sliced and diced his way to be a feared enforcer all over New York, making sure the Golden Tigers had power in Chinatown by keeping other Triad gangs under their heel and outsiders from making any business in their turf. He was the perfect man to make sure the Maggia didn’t try anything stupid without a big risk.

It helped that Chaka was Billy Hao’s younger brother, and there were few things more dangerous than a business run by brothers who dearly loved each other in a city with an empty throne.

As the two continued to guard the door with the usual New York noise around them, they noticed someone approaching them at the end of the alleyway that led to the main street.

“Hey,” Tommy said, pointing forward. “We expecting someone? Thought they were all in.”

Harry put his cigarette out and turned to where Tommy was pointing, eyes narrowed. The figure wore all-black, pants, boots, and a big raincoat covering their entire body. The steps they took were loud and heavy.

“They should be…” he muttered, gripping his assault rifle tightly. “Hey!” Harry yelled out, eyeing the figure in black with suspicion. “You lost? Because you picked the wrong night to go into a dark alley!”

The Tiger goons tensed up when the figure didn’t stop their approach, their steps only echoed louder the closer they came.

“Shit… is it the Punisher?” Tommy whispered, gripping his SMG that was slung by his shoulder closely, fearful that the one who was crashing this meeting might be the one vigilante in the whole city who would kill them all without hesitation.

“No way… I heard he was in Hell’s Kitchen wasting some Irish Mob…” Harry said, aiming his weapon now at the figure in black. “Don’t make me ask again, you fuck! Turn back now or eat bullets!”

The figure stopped, just fifteen feet away from the Tiger goons and the door they were guarding. Then they lowered the hood of their raincoat, to reveal a dark-skinned woman with a half-shaved head, piercings on her ears and nose.

Tommy scoffed at the woman. “Thought we were getting hit by something worse, but it looks like the girl here wants a grand old time,” he said with a smile, nodding at the woman.

Harry didn’t share the same feeling, eyeing the woman with suspicion. “A bit late for someone like her to be looking for johns…” he noted, keeping his weapon close. “But if you want to get a chicken head from her, do it somewhere else-”

The woman was still staring at them, or rather, was staring at the door behind them. Studying it up and down, noticing the shining silver steel underneath the rust and the strong reinforcements, strong enough to repel anything except for a rocket launcher.

Thankfully, Joanna Cargill, aka Frenzy, was that rocket launcher.

“Alright.” Stretching her neck and arms, she took a step back. “Let's get this over with…”

She ran forward, like a charging bull, toward the Tigers and the door in front of her.

“What the shit?!” Tommy shouted, staring at the woman in shock as she ran towards them. “What is she doing?!”

Harry was quicker to react compared to his partner, raising his assault rifle and firing upon the charging woman.

But it did little to stop or affect her as the bullets that came at her bounced off her, catching instead the walls, windows, and dumpster in the alleyway.

“She is bulletproof!” Tommy once again shouted in panic, joining in and firing his SMG at the woman. “SHE IS FUCKING BULLETPROOF!”

Nothing terrified thugs in New York City more than someone who could shrug off bullets… except maybe the Punisher. It was like shooting a BB gun at an elephant, and it was clear that she didn’t even feel the impact.

“FUCK!” Harry was still firing at the woman. He yelled at Tommy. “Warn the boss! Tell him we are getting hit-”

As the ground shook, Frenzy came in close, extending her arm out from her side, and swung it at his chest, a clothesline. Despite her size, the woman was strong enough to flip Harry upon contact and powerful enough to completely shatter his rib cage.

Not stopping, she continued ahead, right behind Tommy, who was trying to open the door but was too late as the woman hit him shoulder first, going through him and the door, creating a large hole in the process thanks to her super strength.

“What the fuck?!”

“Who’s hitting us?”

“Is it Castle?!”

Inside, panic came from the Golden Tiger Triad’s highest-ranking members and their bodyguards who were seated around a circular table for their meeting, standing up, and turning their attention to where the noise came from.

Stepping forward from the crowd was an older man in his 40s, wearing a black suit with a black and gold-lined tie. He carried the air of a businessman, but one that had a lot of blood in his hands after years working in the criminal underworld.

“Stay sharp!” Billy Hao ordered his men, staring at the dust and debris ahead with wariness. “Should have known someone would be hitting us tonight …”

The Tigers tensed up when they heard heavy footsteps. As the dust settled, they all stared in shock as they saw Frenzy coming out, covered in blood and guts after she rammed through Tommy like he was paper, along with the door.

“Billy Hao…” Frenzy said in a low tone, recognizing him. “You look a lot older than the pics I got.”

“Who are you?” Hao demanded, glaring at Frenzy. “You work for the Harlem Kings? The Legion?”

Frenzy said nothing, instead, she tore off her trench coat with one hand. Revealing underneath she is wearing a black tank top, leather pants and gloves, and black boots.

Billy looked at her up and down, noting the bullet holes on her clothes and the lack of any wounds despite being sprayed with enough bullets that would put down a squad of cops.

“Another freak…” Hao muttered then took a step back. “Take care of her!”

The Golden Tigers began to circle Frenzy, who had her eyes focused on Billy Hao as he retreated into the back of the warehouse, possibly looking for an exit while she was busy with his goons.

She pressed on her earpiece and called, “Random, Hao is going through the back, probably has a few cars ready to move him out.” she said as the Tigers circled her. “Get that rabid idiot to catch him, and make sure he cuts off his head, clean. Hammerhead's orders.”

[Got it. Do you need any backup?] Her teammate, Random, real name Marshall Stone, asked in a calm tone.

“No, just make sure Wild Child does his job well,” Frenzy tore off her ruined raincoat, and took a fighting stance, readying to fight through the army of Tigers coming at her. “I got this handled.”

***********************************************************

Present Day - Murray Hill ‘M-Town’ - TIME: 02:03 P.M

To train the body, you need to train the mind.

To train the mind, you need to train the body.

Words given to him by General Sablinova, CEO of Sable International and protector of Symkaria’s defenses, during his training sessions, after he took him in. It was one of his earliest memories and was one he never forgot. Training day and night, in a snowstorm or a hot summer. in the middle of Castle Sable’s courtyard. All in the name of keeping Symkaria safe, by any means necessary, as the weapon for the Royal Family’s interests.

‘To think before all this… before my curiosity got the better of me… I was a patriot…’

Taking a deep breath, he was upside down, standing on his hands by the edge of the apartment building he lived in M-Town. He used all the training he received to get back into shape and prepare for when he was needed again.

He made sure to maintain his balance, keeping his breathing under control and making sure he didn’t fall off into the street below and ruin all the progress and work that the beauty of a nurse did for him.

A few minutes passed and he felt his arms shaking; the tension in his muscles from prolonging the exercise had reached its limit. Even with his pain dulled, he knew that his body still had its limits, and no matter how far he pushed it he had to know when to stop.

“How long?” He asked, turning his attention to the other occupant on the roof.

“Five minutes,” Barnell Bohusk answered, seated on a sofa nearby and staring at a timer watch. He had been helping Charlie with his training for the past couple of weeks, something he didn’t support, but the injured mercenary's stubbornness had won out. “Two more minutes than the last time.”

“Still too low.” Fantomex grabbed a bottle of water on a table nearby; the training made him sweat a lot. “I used to be able to stand steady for thirty minutes on a balcony without moving an inch, my highest record was forty minutes when I was hired for a job in Prague.”

“Your muscles must have been stiff from all that wait,” Barnell said, and Charlie chuckled.

“Not unless you do long hours of stretching, and I mean long hours.”

“Even still, you should slow down, Charlie,” Barnell advised, worried. “You said it yourself, the injuries you sustained were so bad you can’t feel any pain.”

“Partially I can't feel any pain,” Charlie pinched his arm. “Just need to hit the right area for me to feel anything.”

“That doesn’t exactly make it better,” Barnell muttered, remembering Fantomex’s nonchalant explanation when he told him that, according to the nurse who treated him, his nerves were so damaged that he couldn’t feel any pain no matter how much tension he put into it. “Your body will crash without you noticing.”

“I know, but it’s better than just boring myself to death while watching TV and feeling sorry for myself.” Charlie huffed, wiping the sweater off his head as it began to drench the bandages on his face. “And this,” He pointed at the bag and delivered another powerful punch, making it swing. “Is more therapeutic than anything I’ve done since coming to this city.”

Barnell couldn’t help but shake his head. Charlie’s stubbornness could be a hindrance when it came to his well-being.

“If you keep punching like that, you’ll easily break your wrist,” The two men turned their attention to a new visitor, a familiar face. “Always keep your hand and wrist aligned, you aren’t in an actual fight.”

Standing by the doorway was Jesse Aaronson, aka Bedlam, the man who was seen by many Mutants living in the neighborhood to be their protector, their leader, and the man who helped them through the worst after being kidnapped by the Maggia and experimented on by the Serpents. He remained a steady hand after coming to New York, helping through the troubles of the residents not happy in having a community of Mutants living in the city, fighting off the gangs trying to take advantage of them, and making sure things didn’t go far between their community and the police.

“Bedlam!” Fantomex greeted the man with a smile. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“That would make me a sad sight,” Bedlam snarked and smiled. “Is this what you two do all day? Punching piss-poor clothes? Don’t answer that,” he stopped Charlie from saying something sarcastic. “Need you to follow me, got something that might interest you from Sage, you too, Beak.”

Barnell muttered under his breath, complaining about his nickname catching on around M-Town.

“So I will finally meet this supposed wise Sage?” Fantomex asked.

Bedlam snorted. “Ain’t nothing wise about her, trust me.”

*********************

Jumbo’s Goods and Wears - M-Town:

The mutants living in Murray Hills had begun working in various jobs across the city to make a living for themselves. All their homes weren’t exactly given to them out of the graciousness of the landlords letting them live. This is America, and green was the real way of life no matter what you were.

Some mutants took jobs that suited their powers, such as Guido Carosella, aka Strong Guy, using his powers to lift heavy objects for a construction company in New York, working all around the five boroughs. Some used their experience like Bedlam, who was planning to open a boxing gym in M-Town, to give the kids something to do when they are not in school… at least, according to him.

Enter Jumbo Carnation, a mutant with four arms, a fashionista, a clothesmaker, and a man who would call you out if you dressed hideously. He was a business owner of a thriving shop in the middle of M-Town, where mutants and humans alike could shop for the latest wear made by Jumbo, for the right price, of course.

Jumbo was able to make a name for himself long before M-Town was a thing, even making clothes for celebrities and even city officials who paid very good money to receive the best clothes made by the fashionista.

While he provides high-end clothes, he still made sure to help out his fellow mutants whenever they needed any new clothes or even money. Jumbo may be a show-off, but he has a good heart.

“Gentlemen!” Jumbo Carnation greeted Bedlam, Fantomex, and Barnell as they entered his shop with open arms. His smile was wide and beaming. “You grace us with your presence!”

“Jumbo,” Bedlam greeted the four-armed mutant. “You ain’t busy as usual.”

“Not today, but tomorrow, I have a big order of dressed for a group of housewives who are dying to try it out for their party next week,” Jumbo said, hugging the man before turning to Barnell. “And my dear Beak, looking feathery as ever! Have you ever thought of having your clothes that fit your size? I am sure I can think of something more avian-appropriate.”

“Again with Beak…” Barnell muttered and sighed. “I am still thinking about it. Your prices can be a bit much for someone without a job.”

“You can work with me,” Jumbo suggested. “I am sure all my clients will appreciate someone as unique as you selling them clothes.”

“Not what I meant…”

Jumbo then turned to Fantomex and had an even bigger smile. “There he is! The Fantomex! The Gentleman Mercenary!”

Fantomex chuckled and the two shared a hug. “Jumbo! Looking as tacky as ever with that fur coat!”

“I’ll have you know that this fur did not come from an animal,” Jumbo raised his coat. “Mutant-made by my delicate hands.” He then pointed at Charlie’s clothes. “Unlike this abomination you are wearing.”

Charlie laughed. “Forgive me, Jumbo. But the nurse insisted I keep the bandages on until I am fully healed.”

“And hopefully, ready to wear your newest suit,” Jumbo said. “I am just adding the finishing touches. The ceramic matrices and body armor have been difficult to weave but you will be moving fast and be protected better.”

Jumbo’s other connection was his contact with the black market of the city. Thanks to his success, and meeting very shady people who didn’t question his mutant status, he could make ‘friends’ who provided him with more high-end material: not just fabric, but metal, ceramic weavings, kevlar, and top-of-the-line weapons.

It wasn’t what was expected from someone jovial like Jumbo Carnation, but he had to make ends meet for his business, which meant dealing with people he wouldn’t normally get along with.

And so, Charlie gave Jumbo his ruined white suit, which was covered in blood, dirt, and more blood. And Jumbo promised to not only remake it but make it better.

For the right price of course, and Fantomex was more than willing to pay it whenever he has the cash.

“Is your cave dweller downstairs available?” Bedlam cut through their conversation. “She said she had something for me.”

Jumbo’s smile lowered a bit, back to business mode. “She’s always available, and she told me to expect you two.”

Bedlam nodded as he walked past Jumbo, following behind was Charlie.

“I’ll wait up here,” Barnell said, not feeling comfortable in a public place like this.

“Oh, if you are staying up here, then you must let me take your measurements!” Jumbo said, bringing out a measuring tape from his pocket.

“You think he’ll be fine?” Bedlam asked, walking through the back room of Jumbo’s store. “I know Beak doesn’t go out at all, with his looks and all.”

“He’ll be fine,” Charlie assured. “Barnell is much stronger than me when it comes to facing the world, and Jumbo will take good care of him.”

Bedlam grunted and opened the door, revealing to them stairs that headed downwards. Following the path, the two found themselves in the basement of Jumbo’s shop, a spacious place, filled with open boxes of old clothes and closed-up boxes that were ready to be shipped for the fashionista’s clients all over New York.

Further inside, there was a chill due to the air conditioner, and the two saw a room filled with computer equipment, all broken down. There were also three server boxes that were turned on and had wires coming out from the back reaching to the walls and up the ceiling.

“Server room? Here? These look expensive.”

“Yeah… she likes this room cold just for these things.” Bedlam pointed at the lone person who was working behind a computer desk at the other end of the room, the sound of the keyboard clicking echoing all over the room.

“Huh, I thought you were joking that she lives like a cave dweller,” Charlie said. “Is she a mutant as well?”

“So she tells me,” Approaching the lone figure, Bedlam cleared his throat to catch their attention. “Sage? It’s me.”

Clicking away on her keyboard was the elusive Sage that Fantomex had been hearing about for the past year, more focused on the program she was working on instead of answering Bedlam.

She cleared her throat and finally spoke up, her voice low and restrained. “I know… saw you on the cameras…” She pointed at the screens around her.

Charlie took a step back and was in awe at all the screens in front of them. Multiple screens were showing live CCTV footage of what was happening around the city, from Midtown, to Hell’s Kitchen, to Chinatown and Harlem. Every inch of Manhattan Island was covered, every street and corner with a camera, and Sage could see them from here.

A useful tool, and a dangerous weapon at the hands of the wrong people.

“You have eyes in Queens?” Fantomex asked, looking at the one TV that didn’t show CCTV footage, but instead a music video of Luna Snow, a famous K-Pop artist on the rise.

“Their camera system is outdated…” Sage answered, eyes on her screen. “Can’t get in their system from here, have to go there personally, put a floppy disk with a rootkit, and pray that it will work through that dinosaur tech they got over there.”

“Floppy disks?” Fantomex was amazed people still remember them. “Do they still use it?”

“They do over in Queens…” Sage said. “Brooklyn feed is easier to get through, they have the latest tech, better than over here in Manhattan…”

Fantomex whistled. “Impressive. The last time I heard a hacking of this scale was with DRK over on Madripoor; they said they had eyes and ears in every corner before the Jade Dragons wiped them out.”

Sage said nothing, but Fantomex noted she stopped typing for a moment. Then, she turned her attention to the two men who entered her room.

He noted how pale she looked. Her dark hair was long, with a few strands covering her eyes, along with two small scars underneath her eyes. She was also skinny, despite all the food wrappings littered around them, and petite, making the black hoodie she wore too big for her size.

“You’re Fantomex…” Sage noted, studying the man. Charlie noted that despite her size and youthful appearance, he could see that behind those eyes, she was someone who had been through a lot. That explained why she was hiding out here under Jumbo’s store, making sure no one except a select few knew of her location. “Not bad for a dead man…”

“Well, almost a dead man, but I got better,” Fantomex noted. “And you need to clean this little den of yours, not very appealing to leave it like this for the guests.”

Fantomex could see a pile of burger wraps, pizza boxes, and Chinese takeouts in one corner. In the other, he saw a pile of broken-down PCs, screens, a server box, and a torn-apart laptop. Her clothes were littered everywhere, hanging in different places.

Charlie would be the first to admit he isn’t the most organized person you’ll ever meet. He even had a lot of bloody clothes and bedsheets to prove that , but this was a bit much, even for him.

“I’ll hire a maid to clean this place up…” Sage noted. “Maybe you can ask Sable for that…”

“Oh?” Fantomex raised an eyebrow. “You seem to have read up about me?”

“I know enough… didn’t expect you were actually Symkarian with all your fake IDs…”

“What can I say, home is where the heart is.”

“Shame the place is getting destroyed with this civil war…” Sage turned to a nearby screen and changed the channel to show old news footage from last week talking about the Symkarian Civil War, a conflict that had been happening for the past three years between the Symkarian Royal Family and their loyal soldiers from Sable International against a group of rebels led by a traitor from Sable’s organization. And, from the looks of it, the war wasn’t calming down any time soon.

Fantomex said nothing about it, only telling himself to trust his former commander's safety from all the fighting. Before all this, before he became Fantomex and traveled the world, he was a soldier for Sable International, and he left that all behind.

“Now that we know each other,” Bedlam cut through for the second time. “Can you show us what you were working on, Sage?”

Swinging her chair back, Sage clicked on her keyboard to show different recordings around the city, each showing a group of sharply dressed men leaving a club or a restaurant, or making a weapons deal with another gang.

“I got something on the Maggia as you requested,” Sage said, and Fantomex’s attention turned to Bedlam. “And you were right, they are planning something.”

“The Maggia?” Fantomex asked. “You actually followed up on them?”

“First thing I did after you woke up and told me to keep an eye on them,” Bedlam said, crossing his arms. “Not gonna let those thugs get away with it after what they’ve done to us.”

Bedlam and the mutants of M-Town did not forget Rome. What happened to them there was still seared deeply into their mind. The Maggia, the Reavers, and the Serpent Society were at the top of their shit list.

“You said the Maggia have connections to this secret society? It’s why they turn that ugly ass castle into a research facility for them?” Bedlam asked and Fantomex nodded.

“Serpent Society, they provided them with the equipment and the security. And they have deep pockets, people in every important place around Europe, and probably in law enforcement as well,” he explained. “The Reavers are under them, working under orders to help the Maggia and use their castle as their main base.”

“So… are they like the Illuminati?”

“That or they have a snake gimmick,” Fantomex said. “Either way, they are dangerous, and they are the reason I almost died.”

Bedlam was taken aback by his answer; he never asked how Fantomex ended up here in New York half dead, bloody, and injured to hell. But just from that answer, Bedlam knew these Serpents were bad news.

“But that’s for later,” Fantomex said, moving a little closer to Sage. “What do you have on the Maggia?”

When he woke up and began his recovery, Fantomex found out that the Maggia had a presence in New York, and that got him thinking about their possible connections to the Serpents and whether they were trying to expand into the city. So he asked Bedlam to keep an eye on them in case of any irregularities, like using high-end weapons, or a new set of soldiers working for the Maggia to eliminate the competition around…

Anything you wouldn’t consider normal gang behavior.

“Right, so I was looking for anything out of the ordinary with the big five of the Maggia table,” Sage began, clicking away at her keyboard to show the two men old CCTV footage of well-dressed men going about with their day. “This one crew has been making headwaves all over Midtown and Hell’s Kitchen, you know, buying real estate, dealing in weapons, taking care of gangs, the usual.”

“Marking their territory,” Fantomex said. “But what’s unusual with that? Kingpin left a rather big hole for everyone to try and take over.”

“See this number?” Sage showed them a graph of the five families' territory of where they control and noted the big red wave covering Hell’s Kitchen, Midtown, and even the Upper West and East Sides. “All of this is owned by one family, the Hammerhead Family.”

“Hammerhead?” Fantomex raised an eyebrow. “First I’ve heard about them.”

“They’re new,” Bedlam said. “They’ve been coming through here every once in a while, even had a run-in with Spyke a few months back.”

“Is he alright?”

“He is, but can’t say the same for those bastards.”

“The reason why this crew is weird is how fast they managed to take over a lot of the prime real estate,” Sage continued. “All of this territory? They managed to take control in just one year. Taking out the Irish and the bikers in the Kitchen, bought a lot of fronts here in Midtown and the Upper West Sides, and even swallowed other Maggia families’ businesses who were too weak to refuse his offer.”

“Huh… the only way they could do that is if they had both the influence and the firepower,” Fantomex noted. “And this Hammerhead seems to have both…”

It was one thing to take over a district; eliminating a gang and keeping the area clear were very difficult to do. But doing it across the entire island of Manhattan, in a year? That required a lot of help, money, and firepower.

“Reavers?” Fantomex asked. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary if Hammerhead asked for them. They had the tools and the training to take on lowly gangsters.

“You tell me,” Sage pressed the enter button to show another piece of CCTV footage, not as well recorded as the others due to the static parts on the screen and the rather shoddy quality, but it was clear enough to show the date and the building the camera was pointing at. Then suddenly, the garage door of the warehouse opened wide, folding like it was paper as a woman in black leather clothes came out looking like she went through a meat grinder.

Cleaning herself, she looked left and right before running towards a nearby alley, and the footage stopped.

“Huh… you show me a bad camera of a pretty woman covered in blood?”

“That pretty lady just came out of a Golden Tiger warehouse, and everyone inside of it is dead,” Sage said in annoyance. “And the shitty quality is because someone over there forgot to upgrade the camera.”

“It can’t be…”

Charlie and Sage turned to a shocked Bedlam who stared at the woman on the screen.

“What’s wrong?”

“I know this woman…” Bedlam said, shaking his head in shock. “She was with us in Rome.”

“With you in Rome- You mean, she is a mutant?” Fantomex asked, shocked at this news. “She never came with us?”

“No,” Bedlam shook his head. “She was destroying the place by the time we left.”

“So that was her…” Fantomex remembered hearing someone smashing through the Reavers, giving them a hard time in an already bad situation when he freed the mutants. “But what is she doing killing the Tigers? And how does this involve the Maggia?”

Sage showed another footage, showing a few blocks from the massacre to see the woman catching up to two men. One was a giant man wearing a biker jacket and a bandanna, and on his shoulders was someone whom Fantomex could describe looking like a hairy child licking his fingers.

“Are those two...?” Fantomex turned to Bedlam who nodded.

“Mutants, too. The little one is vicious, like an animal, while the big one is quiet but very dangerous.” Bedlam explained. “But the woman, her name is Joanna, and she is the one I fear the most.”

Bedlam always struck him as someone who had seen a lot, and his being fearful of this trio indicated they were not to be trifled with.

“She met up with these two. One of them, the small one, was holding a bloody bag. Can’t imagine what they wanted that for…” Sage said, a bit disgusted at the thought. The footage showed the woman saying something to the two, as if scolding them over something, before taking the lead as the trio left the area. “Using the other cameras, I managed to catch them coming through Midtown and into this pretty place.”

The next footage showed the three walking through the crowd of people, and into a neon-lit building, with a large sign that was easily readable.

“Purgatory…” Fantomex read the sign. “Let me guess, that club is owned by-”

“Hammerhead.” Sage finished his sentence. “The news has been going over what happened. Billy Hao, the Tigers’ boss? Is dead, the cops don’t have a suspect, but everyone can guess who did it.”

“Hammerhead… and his mutant enforcers…” Bedlam muttered. “No way they are working with them willingly… not after what they did to us…”

“The Serpents might have had a hand in this to force them to cooperate. It might have happened to everyone else in that lab if I didn’t stop it.” Fantomex noted. “But it looks like Joanna and the others weren’t as lucky as you guys.”

“Less expensive, too,” Sage said, eating her chips nonchalantly as she turned her attention to watching a Luna Snow concert. “Bringing in guys like the Reavers here would mean moving heavy weapons, armor, and grunts over the water. But three mutants who can run over a bunch of gangsters with guns? Yeah, sign me up for that.”

As Sage continued watching her show, Fantomex and Bedlam watched the screen in silence, contemplating what to do with the information. There was no mistake now; Hammerhead was using mutants to fill the void left behind by Wilson Fisk’s death. But Fantomex knew that wasn’t enough. The Serpents don’t allow a band of thugs like the Maggia to use mutants for something this simple. There had to be more, an endgame for all this.

Either way, Fantomex knew what he needed to do, and sitting on his ass isn’t the answer.

“You think Jumbo can provide me with some equipment?”

It was time to get back to work.

*************************************************************

Volume 2, Arc 1

Previous Issue <> Next Issue

Fallen Angels #17: Deep Dark

< >

Author: Predaplant

Editors: VoidKiller826

Book: Fallen Angels

Arc: Season 3: Symbols

In the end, it wasn’t really that hard for Morris to find out where Alex was.

They had gotten his address from Nico in the past, and Morris had remembered the neighbourhood. He just had to check which building could possibly house a dinosaur.

Or at least, that was his plan, but when he arrived he noticed a sign on the street pointing up to a window, and in the window was another sign that read “In Here”.

As Morris entered, he found Alex standing there looking out the window. Morris didn’t even think. His friends were in danger, and Alex was the one who put them there. He had to use his power and inhabit Alex. Even if it was a misunderstanding, this was the fastest way to learn the truth.

So that was what he did.

The first thing that struck Morris was Alex’s confidence. There was some sort of plan, and Alex was certain that nothing could go wrong.

As Morris searched for answers, it almost felt like a conversation between the two of them. Despite the fact that Alex couldn’t react to anything Morris presented, his mind was so well-structured that it felt like he was.

“What’s your plan plan?” Morris asked.

“It’s a plan I’ve been working on for almost all my life, one set out for me by my parents. A sacrifice, in order to gain ultimate power.”

Morris scoffed. “Ultimate power? Really?”

“Immense enough power to nearly make me a god. To let me really make a difference in the world for once, like I’ve wanted my entire life. And all I would need to do would be to sacrifice six lives.”

“And that’s us? Should’ve just gotten some rats or something.”

“It’s not that simple,” Alex explained. “There are these six concepts. Mind, Time, Space, Reality, Power, and Soul… the sacrifices need to have a connection to the concepts in the collective consciousness. Luckily enough for me, there’s enough of a craze around people with supernatural powers that it was easy enough to manufacture those associations for you and the rest of your friends in the minds of the world. It wasn’t that difficult. Or, well, it shouldn’t have been, but then you had to go and disappear for months, and then decide becoming heroes wasn’t something you wanted to continue.”

“Glad I’m annoying to your plans of world domination.” Morris rolled his eyes.

“This wasn’t even the first time I tried this. That was with my old friends, the ones who helped to find you, and they had their parents raising them to be sacrifices their whole lives.”

“Let’s stop wasting time. Where are my friends?”

“They’re downstairs,” Alex replied, providing Morris with a mental map of how to get to his apartment’s basement. “It’s a big room, and I’ve got them tied up, ready for the sacrifice. Just waiting on you.”

“And you think you’re just gonna get me to sacrifice myself, just because I’ve got a connection to Soul or something. For real?”

“If you walk down there, I’ve got some knockout gas I can use to ensure you’re taken out before you can free your friends. From there, I can sacrifice you myself.”

Morris shook his head. “I’ll walk your body down there instead.”

“You’ll be ejected into your own body, thanks to your friend who blocks your power, and I can knock you out from there.”

“What if I just sit here, huh?” Morris asked. “Sit in your body, and use it to call somebody else to get them out.”

“If only you had time,” Alex laughed. “In only a few minutes, I’ve hired some muscle to come grab me and take me into that room, by any means necessary. The way I see it, your choices are to leave, and let me sacrifice your friends... which I will do, by the way, even if you leave, since there’s no point in letting them escape now that I’ve captured them... or to sacrifice yourself, and let me finally achieve my goal.”

Morris stood in Alex’s body, lost in thought. Was that really all that he could do? Did he really not have any other options?

No. There had to be a way. He just had to think outside of the box.

He had an idea, and just in time. He rushed to Alex’s computer. It was a risky idea, but hopefully, it’d pay off.

Carter checked his watch. Only a few seconds left... now.

He nodded, with a swift check over his shoulder to ensure that the other two were following. Dane and Ryan... he had done jobs with both before. He wasn’t sure that he trusted either completely, but it was really hard to trust anyone that deeply in their line of work. They should at least do well enough to get the job done.

Busting in the door, Carter motioned the other two forwards. They spread out through the apartment, and it wasn’t too long before he could hear Dane call out that he had found the guy they were there to collect.

They rushed into the room, only to find him seemingly asleep at his computer. In front of him were his bank cards, and the computer, which was logged into each of his bank accounts.

Dane was busy at the computer, scrolling down the page. “Come on, guys, you gotta look at this. This guy has millions.”

Carter raised an eyebrow at Dane. “Really? Look, we’ve got a job to do, let’s just do it.”

Dane shook his head. “Listen, Carter, I know you’re big on your reputation and everything, but we can all get enough money to retire, just from this. We can care for our families, donate to charity, whatever you want to do. Not have to worry about paying any more medical bills.”

Carter stood looking at him, lost in thought. He opened his mouth to say something, but Ryan was talking as he elbowed Dane aside. “We can do both, you know. Do the job, then come back to do this.”

“Nah, a lot of these banks have timeout features,” Dane explained, pushing back against Ryan. “If we leave and come back, it’ll log him out, and then we’ll have lost our chance.”

“What about the lawyers?” Carter asked. “Won’t this guy be able to afford lawyers who could track where the money goes?”

Ryan laughed at him. “All we gotta do is take the money out of the bank, and then they’ll never see it again!”

“Have you ever tried to take more than, like, a hundred dollars out of the bank at once?” Carter laughed back. “They have limits so you can’t try this stuff!”

Alex started to stir in his chair. Acting quickly, Dane grabbed his mouth, muffling him. “Come on!” he called out. “We gotta get this guy tied up before we figure out what we’re doing with this money, in any case.”

“And then we’re gonna do the job, right?” Carter asked, moving to help Dane. “I’m only helping you because this is part of the job anyways.”

“We’ll get to it when we work this out,” Dane replied. “You’re really gonna act like we can’t find a better use for seven figures than just letting them sit in this guy’s account?”

“Maybe... but we have to be careful about it.”

Morris made his way down to the basement. It seemed like his plan had worked, but he had to act quickly to make sure he could get his friends out in time.

He arrived and, regaining his physical body, surveyed the situation. There was a gag over each of their mouths, including an absolutely giant one over the dinosaur’s, but as he walked around to ensure that each of them were there, he told them that it was gonna be alright and that he was going to get them out of there. He saw their eyes look in his direction with fear, but also with hope.

Looking closer, he saw something that almost made him laugh. There was a simple button to release each of his friends, with a timer next to each of them set to ten minutes. He swiftly ran around the room, pressing all the buttons, and waited. It was nerve-wracking, watching the timers tick by, but at the same time it felt bizarre; it felt like he was waiting for a microwave timer. But luckily enough, the timers eventually counted down, and they were all free.

Everybody started talking at once as they removed themselves from their shackles.

“Thanks!”

“Took you a while...”

“Well, let’s get going!”

“Any trouble on the way out?”

Morris struggled to know where to start replying to them, but luckily enough Devil Dinosaur interrupted them all with a roar.

Smiling, Morris hugged each of his friends. “So glad you’re alright. Come on, we should get out of here.”

“Wait. How are we going to get him to leave?” Longshot asked, pointing at the T-Rex, who was busy sniffing around the room. “The door’s far too narrow.”

Morris turned to the door. Longshot was right.

“We can head back to the school, and I can create a portal to bring him through?” Lunella suggested.

“That’s going to leave him alone, though,” Chance pointed out.

“We can stay,” Ariel said, looking at Longshot and smiling. “The two of us. Make sure he’s alright. Morris, Chance, could you escort her to the school?”

“We can do that,” Chance replied. “Come on, let’s go.”

The three headed off up the stairs.

Longshot looked at Ariel. He took a deep breath. “It hurts. Being taken advantage of again like that... it reminds me of being back in Mojoworld. Mojo would do it all the time to me and, well, you saw it again there with the sequel.”

“I did,” Ariel said, with a heavy sigh. “It gave me everything I was looking for, even if unintentionally, but I haven’t been able to go home to give it any value. You know... with this portal technology that we’re going to use to bring Devil Dinosaur back home... do you think that I could go home, too?”

Longshot smiled at her. “You know, I’m not super knowledgeable about any of this tech stuff... but there could be a chance!”

He started to pace around the room. His face fell. “I just feel bad for my home. Being away from Mojoworld… it really eats at me. How do I help people who don’t want to be saved?”

Ariel followed him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you just have to find a place where your work can do more good… and maybe, someday, we’ll all be strong enough to go back and save everybody. For good.”

Longshot mutely nodded. “I just… I feel like I have a responsibility to them. I don’t want them to feel like I abandoned them.”

“Well, how much have you actually accomplished while there?” Ariel asked. “From what you’ve told me, it doesn’t feel like a lot. Maybe you can help people more another way, and actually make a bigger difference, rather than wasting your time.”

Longshot hugged her. “Thanks for your advice. I’ll think about it.”

They broke away from their hug as they noticed a noise from the stairs. They watched three large men in tactical armour carry a tied-up Alex down the stairs, dumping him in the basement. One of them dusted off his hands.

“Well. That’s the job done.”

He looked up at the dinosaur. “Oh.”

Turning on his heel, he sprinted up the stairs, following his fellows who had already done so moments prior.

Ariel and Longshot burst into laughter.

“That’s one way to lighten the mood,” Longshot said as he regained control of himself. “What’s he doing here? Didn’t he kidnap us?”

“Yeah... Weird.” Ariel gingerly walked over to Alex, who had a gag in his mouth. “Now, when I take this out, you’re not going to try to hurt us or do anything that might cause us harm, alright?”

She looked back at Longshot over her shoulder and grinned. “See, I learned my lesson.”

She pulled out the gag, and Alex sputtered. “You... you got free.”

“You’re stating the obvious,” Longshot noted. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

“What’s the point, even?” Alex asked. “If I can’t fulfill my birthright... influence the world for the better... why am I even here? Why do I have to keep failing?”

“You know, you have the most important power of all,” Ariel told him. “The power to choose not to hurt people.”

Alex thought it over for a moment. “It feels impossible, with how messed up the world is.”

“You know, playing with our lives all this time, just for this? Just to try and disregard us as people? Reminds me of Mojo,” Longshot told him. “Trust me, you don’t want to be that. You don’t want to proclaim your will over everybody. Just be kind to people… and let people be people.”

Alex shook his head. “You’re naive, and you don’t know me.”

Longshot shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

The portal appeared behind them.

“Come on, let’s go,” Ariel said to Devil Dinosaur, and the duo walked through.

As Longshot walked off, he looked over his shoulder at Alex. “I hope I don’t ever have to see you again.”

And with that, he walked through and was gone.

< >

Invincible Iron Man #7: The Morning After Show

Written by: u/FPSGamer48

Edited by: u/Predaplant

———

It was the morning after Arthur Parks was finally arrested, and Tony Stark felt like he was on top of the world. Not only was his would-be assassin behind bars, but he was no longer the focus of the media’s attention. Instead, that focus was now pointed towards the engineers. Though they were initially nervous, Tony assured them that they’d warm up to the camera, and to just go out there and make their presence known. That was the goal, after all: by allowing the heads of his various projects to become their own spokespeople, credit would end up where credit was due. Another Arthur Parks could never happen again, Tony told himself.

Reclining in his chair, Tony looked around the lab, marveling at what felt like the first peaceful moment in weeks. No vengeful engineers, no overbearing colonels, no boisterous media, and no-

“Tony?” came a feminine voice from the door. No work. Or at least he had hoped.

“Jarvis, open the door,” Tony commanded with a sigh, followed by Ms. Potts walking in. That seemed to perk Tony up, as almost immediately after he saw her, a smile spread across his face.

“Virginia! What can I do for you?” he asked in a relaxed tone.

“Well, the first interview with the engineers came out,” she explained, “did you catch it?”

“No, I was asleep. I’ve only been up for… Jarvis, how long have I been up?”

“17 minutes and fifty-one seconds,” the computer replied.

“It’s almost noon,” Virginia tutted jokingly.

“Oh, is it? I guess I could get a few more hours then,” Tony laughed. He genuinely did appreciate her checking up on him. Ever since he came back from the first surgery, she had been constantly getting updates from him. It was almost like she genuinely cared, and it didn’t affect her paycheck. Hell, Tony told himself, maybe his charm was finally working, and that cold professionalism she displayed could be melted away.

“Really, though,” she remarked, “the interview was a bit of a… apologies if I’m being a bit too improper.”

“You? Never,” Tony smiled.

“It was a shit show,” she stated.

“Oh?” Tony’s smile faded to concern, “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah, Jarvis, could you pull it up for him?” Ms. Potts requested. Silence.

“Jarvis, do what she said,” Tony ordered before turning back to his secretary, “Sorry, after Rhodey I doubled down on his ability to only follow my commands.”

“Beginning playback,” Jarvis complied as Tony’s computer monitor was brought to life with footage from the interview.

“Welcome, Ms Andrea,” the interviewer began, only to be quickly cut off.

“Doctor… sorry,” Valerie corrected, “it’s, uh… it’s Doctor Andrea.”

“My apologies,” the interviewer remarked, “may we begin with a bit of backstory about what has brought you here?”

“Fast forward a bit,” Tony suggested. The video skipped five minutes forward.

“And would you say you and Dr. Parks were close?”

“I don’t see how that relates to my work on-,” Valerie tried to interrupt.

“Please answer the question, Doctor.”

“I, um… I wouldn’t say close. We were colleagues. I had only known Arthur for a short amount of time during the development of-,” she tried to continue.

“Well clearly you were close enough to be on first name basis,” the interviewer chuckled.

“I mean, as head of the DiscoVision Project, I knew each member of the engineering team enough to at least call them by their first names,” Dr. Andrea explained. Tony looked at Pepper sheepishly.

“So she isn’t exactly media trained. I’m sure the audience may find it charming to have a quirky, awkward scientist on TV rather than someone like me who specializes in buzzwords!” he suggested. Pepper redirected him back to the monitor.

“Yes, yes, of course. And DiscoVision, as we now know, was an Iron Man project, correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“So would that mean Stark Industries has returned to its old ways of arms dealing?”

“I… no, Mr. Stark assured us the laser would only be used for humanitarian purposes,” she declared, trying to regain control of the conversation.

“Come now, Doctor, a weapon for humanitarian purposes? That’s a bit like using a diesel engine to run an electric car, isn’t it? Kind of defeats the purpose.”

“Well, Mr. Stark has a history of-,”

“And there he is again! That’s really where all this traces back to, it seems. Tony Stark, and yet, where is he? Rather than face the questions of this reporter, who does he send? One of his lead scientists, a poor young girl thrown as a sacrifice to avoid the reality of this all. He claims he wants to give credit to his engineers, but has he even really considered that some of the credit for all of this should fall to him? That it was his decision to restart armament development at Stark Industries? This reporter can’t help but wonder if maybe-,” the interviewer ranted before Tony closed the monitor.

“I can’t watch anymore,” Tony declared, standing from his desk.

“Well, it certainly doesn’t get any better from there. She turns it into an introspection of Dr. Andrea, learning she previously worked on Stark Industries’ weapon programs. It only helped push the narrative that you haven’t lived up to your promise to put an end to weapons dealing,” Pepper remarked. Tony slammed his fist on the desk.

“Oh, come on! This was completely different! What would they want me to do, fire hundreds of well-meaning engineers overnight?! I’m not Musk, I wasn’t going to make a move like that! Plus, it was a one-off! I wasn’t going to mass produce DiscoVision!” he ranted.

“So what do you want to do?” Virginia asked.

“Send a message to Dr. Andrea. Tell her to redirect from any questions related to me. Focus on her own successes. That should work… yes, we can spin this! We at Stark Industries wanted to put one of our best and brightest on camera, give her the recognition she deserved, and what did this interviewer do? Focus on her boss, downplay the achievements of a proud woman engineer! Yes, that’s great!”

“Do you want me to reach out to the station Dr. Andrea is scheduled for next and tell them to update their questions?”

“Yes, if you could,” Tony affirmed, “Oh this will be great! We can absolutely flip the scales on this, Pep - erm, Ms. Potts!” He had been so caught up in his own ideas that he’d forgotten her corrections.

“You know, I’ve been thinking… and I think you can call me Pepper, actually,” she replied with a smile. Tony’s already large smile grew even more.

“I’m glad to hear that, Pepper, thank you,” he paused, letting those words sit properly on his tongue, “now, let’s go save ourselves a doctor.”

Pepper gave a nod and the two left the workshop to draft up some notes for both the interviewers and the doctor. The day passed by quickly, until finally, another interview was on the horizon. This time, there would be no interruptions or extrapolations. At least, Tony had hoped. All seemed to be going well on the interview, until that final question came around.

“Alright, well, I’d say we’ve learned a lot about you, Doctor, but if I may, can I ask something else?” the reporter requested.

“I uh - sure,” Dr. Andrea replied.

“Your skills, clearly, are an important asset to Stark Industries, so my question would be what’s next? Does Mr. Stark plan on continuing to build weapons?”

“Um… well, I… I obviously can’t divulge anything, but I haven’t been told to clean out my desk yet, so I know I’m at least still employed,” she tried to pivot. Still, Tony could tell the reporter picked up on the seeds hidden between her words.

“So you believe that your continued employment suggests Stark Industries has not learned its lesson with this laser project?”

“Learned its lesson is rather harsh, I think-,” Andrea tried to push back.

“I mean, if it wasn’t for the intervention of Iron Man himself, who knows how many people Mr. Parks would have killed?”

“I don’t believe Arthur had any intention of hurting other people.”

“Maybe Mr. Parks didn’t, but what about next time? If what you said is true, and Stark Industries is continuing to build weapons-.”

“That isn’t exactly what I said.”

“Then surely more lives could be in danger in the future, courtesy of Stark Industries! Now that’s all the time we have for today, Dr. Andrea, thank you for coming on and providing us with your wonderful stories of working at Stark Industries!” The reporter concluded, standing up to shake her hand. Clearly nervous, the girl rose from her chair and shook his hand.

“I um… yeah, thank you… um, about that last part, Mr. Stark would rather his company not be the focus, so could we cut that?” she asked meekly.

“Well, unfortunately, you were, and still are, live, so that will have to be a no,” the reporter chuckled. Tony turned to Pepper.

“Son of a bitch,” he groaned, “Ms. Potts, we’re blacklisting that network from any future press conferences and interviews.” It wasn’t going to be that simple, he surmised. Even when giving these reporters notice ahead of time, still they pivoted back to him.

“I just… now what? I can only assume any further interviews will go this same way…” Tony relented.

“The girl isn’t media trained. She doesn’t know how to word these things properly,” Pepper sighed, “that’s the price that comes with putting them in the spotlight.”

“Maybe we could coach her? Give her some basic instructions? Are you media trained?” he asked.

“I went to business school, there was an entire class on it.”

“Okay, so let’s see: imagine you’re Dr. Andrea. You’re being interviewed and they say: so does your continued employment imply that Stark Industries will continue to make weapons like this DiscoVision?” Tony acted out, raising his shoulders and deepening his voice.

“Stark Industries has thousands of positions open for engineers like me that don’t involve weapons production. I’m capable enough to change focus, wouldn’t you say?” Pepper replied. Tony was impressed: not only had she weaved through his question, but also put him on the back foot by accusing him of undermining her own capabilities.

“Well, of course, but Mr. Stark did assign you to his top secret-,” he tried to reposition.

“Mr. Stark put me there for my abilities, not because I have any particular preference for weapons. My employment merely means Mr. Stark understands I am an engineer worth keeping around, not what projects he has in the works.”

“Wow, that was perfect! You really were media trained!” Tony applauded.

“You can thank Professor Waterson for that,” she said with a giggle.

“Well, if you can transfer any of those lessons to Dr. Andrea, please do,” Tony remarked.

“I’ll ask if I can stop by tonight to coach her on what to say,” Pepper agreed.

“Excellent. I’m going to head back down to the workshop, all this media talk has made me miss the solitude of it. Maybe I’ll load up the ol’ emulator, play some Punch-Out or Lode Runner,” Tony noted. Suddenly, though, there came a knock at the door.

“Boss,” called out the familiar voice of Happy, “the cops are here to see you!” Tony’s smile disappeared.

“Or not,” he lamented, “I’ll be right there, Happy!” With a somber disappointment in knowing he couldn’t load up his games to numb his stress, the billionaire took the elevator down to the ground floor with Happy to meet the police. Two cops were waiting near the front, with a cart covered in a cloth between them.

“Gentlemen!” Tony announced, “What can I do for you?”

“Just returning the destroyed property you requested,” the older officer told him, “all the little bits and doodads have been photographed for evidence, so we shouldn’t need ‘em. It’s a pretty open and close case.” Tony peeked under the cloth like a kid checking under the tree for Christmas. His smile was back.

“Excellent, thank you, good sirs. Is that all?” he asked. The younger officer nodded, and after a bit of small talk, the two duos went their separate ways. With Happy pushing the cart, the two of them returned to the elevator and set course for the workshop.

“So, Tony, is this what I think it is?” Happy asked.

“You know that’s classif - I’m just kidding,” Tony laughed, “yeah, it’s the remnants of DiscoVision. I wouldn’t want all that work going to waste, you know?”

“And the cops just let you have it?”

“That’s what happens when you so obviously attack someone in broad daylight: the cops don’t need much to make a conviction. Plus, there are some scales from the S.U.I.T.C.A.S.E that fell off after I released that energy burst,” Tony replied.

“Still… don’t you think you’d be giving the public the wrong message by rebuilding Parks’ weapon?”

“I think of it as reclaiming it from how Parks used it. DiscoVision was always meant to be a part of Iron Man, and when the public sees it being used for good, hopefully they’ll realize my intentions,” Tony assured Happy. A moment later, and the two wheeled the cart into the workshop, where Tony finally lifted the tarp.

Gold and red scales were all over, but in the center, the remnants of DiscoVision lay. The backpack that held the generator was noticeably burnt, and the connectors between the wiring showed obvious spark damages. Tony lifted the generator out from the backpack, revealing its broken condition. The Palladium chip was fused to the lesser arc reactor. Lesser of course, he noted, only to the superior form he used in his suit. The shell also seemed cracked, most likely from Parks falling to the ground. Looking at the laser itself, though, Tony was a bit more dismayed. In his haste to eliminate it, Stark had shattered the central mechanism, bent the barrel, and broken half of the connecting wires to the backpack. What wasn’t physically shattered showed obvious spark damage signs. Black singes ran up and down the chestpiece, indicating where each of what appeared to be a good two dozen galvanic events had gone off.

“That, uh… that looks bad,” Happy noted.

“Honestly, I expected as much. JARVIS, 3D scan this and have it rebuilt holographically,” Tony ordered. A projector turned down from the ceiling, surveying the shattered husk on the desk.

“Front side scanned,” JARVIS confirmed. Tony then turned the scrap around, letting JARVIS scan the other side. After JARVIS confirmed the scan, Tony turned his attention to the scales, which he promptly grabbed and brought over to the S.U.I.T.C.A.S.E. sitting in the corner. The Mark IX was originally just meant to be a temporary suit used to beat Parks, but given how little actual action it faced, Tony thought he could just fix it up and reuse it. It definitely offered far less protection than his other suits, owing to his first attempt at off-site assembly and the need to make it portable, but perhaps he could find a way. Any future suit he would construct, though, needed to return to that titanium alloy for its plating. Energy absorption was nice but rather niche when compared to the advantages of being bulletproof. Could he maybe compromise to ensure the next suit remained portable, though? As he considered these ideas, he looked back to the cart and saw Happy was still there, swaying back and forth on his heels, his hands in his pockets. Clearly he still felt obligated to stay close to Tony after everything that had happened. It was a sweet gesture, but for the first time in a while, Tony actually felt safe.

“Alright, Happy, you’re dismissed,” Tony called out as he began to pull the Mark IX to the center of the room for repair, “In fact: why don’t you take the day off? It’s been a stressful few weeks.”

“You sure?” Happy asked, to which Tony nodded, “well… thanks, boss!” With that, Tony was free to tinker and create to his heart’s content. Even if that heart was wrapped in an electromagnet powered by a reactor in his torso. Pepper, meanwhile, concluded her call with Dr. Andrea, with plans to visit her that night to help give some pointers for future interviews. Truly, everything seemed to be on the up and up.

Across the street from Stark Industries though, a familiar van was parked, but nonetheless running. The cops who had just dropped off the suit came up to it, seemingly doing a simple check, knocked on the front window. A man in a trench coat and sunglasses rolled down the glass.

“Did you give it to him?” he asked.

“Yeah, just like you asked,” the younger officer assured him, “so what do we do now?”

“Your checks will be in the mail. The United States government thanks you for your services, gentlemen,” the driver replied as he closed up the glass. Looking at a monitor in his van, he confirmed a red ping echoing from the depths of Stark Industries. A smile crept across his face. All was progressing as he hoped.