S.H.I.E.L.D. Base SO-001

L-9 Classified

Technological Division

Jackson County, Oregon

Codename: Table Rock

Amora the Enchantress followed the flurry of motion down the long spiraling hallway that descended into the bowels of the ancient plateau. The spindly, green automatons running before her seemed to flutter and flicker even within her own god-like sight in the shaded radiance, fussing over the silver-cast creature that they were guiding down the dim path, sometimes moving too fast for her to follow as they fussed over their prize. She recognized the creatures of course; the Greens being commandeered worker drones of the Mad Thinker, the silver her own addition to the Grand Scheme; the inert husk of the Super-Adaptoid.

She watched as the creatures approached the end of the wide, sloping corridor, the hovering stasis platform containing A.I.M.’s’ second greatest success pausing as the apparent leader of the mechanical men set to gaining access through the thick, metallic doors that blocked their way. The ungainly thin ‘robot’ – she thought that was the proper Midgardian term – thrust its hand into a slim panel and froze. Amora watched noting everything as lights flashed on the adjoining wall, a series of melodic tones sounding followed by the low rumble of grinding gears. It reminded her of the sounds of her youth; an Asgardian millstone perpetually rolling in a never-ending circle crushing all in its path.

Too apropos, she supposed as she watched a razor-thin slice of light appear in the door before them. Slowly a gap appeared, widening with every second to reveal a brightly lit chamber beyond. She heard the sounds of forges blazing, the repetitious clang of hammers; metal on metal reminding her again of her youth in the outlying steads of the Golden Realm when life was simple and carefree.

She thought of Skurge…

She shook herself and dismissed the whimsical childish memories as the robots moved their charge forward again into the maelstrom of activity. They moved with purpose following some preordained course that only they knew for certain. And Amora followed them, her eyes roving the vast chamber that seemed a huge forge; a place where weapons and other wonders were created.

Everywhere she looked she saw mortals intent on their task hunkered over tables that held remnants of earthly mechanics; wires and electronics spewing from within the inner workings of otherwise vacant shells. Most were roughly in the form of Man but she saw others that were alien to her senses; senses that had viewed the wonders of the Nine Worlds. Too, she noted that most of the mortals they passed wore diadems of a sort; thin, metallic headbands that connected, actually piercing their temples forcing their cooperation apparently; their every intent focused on the task at hand, whatever that was. Amora was not sure.

Two mortals looked up at their approach. Both were old or appeared so by the standards of Midgard. Both were bald for the most; the taller, stockier with a fringe of red hair and sparse beard, the other seemingly thin and grayed wearing glasses as he directed contained fire into the inner workings of a huge, blue metallic construct; a robot covered in spikes and sporting an odd stylized crest framing a cold, featureless face. The latter looked up as the robotic detail approached, grinning with glee.

“Good! Good!” he said setting his tools aside and stepping to the platform that held the Adaptoid. The green robots froze to attention steadying the platform as both mortals hovered over the silver body, poking and prodding. The older man giggled and finally looked up seeing Amora perhaps for the first time.

“The Super Adaptoid; one of A.I.M.’s greatest creations! The…” The old man seemed to frown for a moment. “The Master will be pleased. He has been waiting.”

“Your master perhaps,” Amora said as she looked at the stockier man who remained silent. He seemed almost insubstantial at her scrutiny as she shifted her gaze through the spectrum of light. A simple word revealed that he was in fact not truly there; a specter of sorts though perhaps more solid. “Who are you?” she asked and the old man cackled, obviously bordering insanity.

“I am Stern,” the older man said as he motioned to the red-haired man, “and this is… Smith. We work for the Council, as do you.”

“No longer. I’ve done my part and expect your ‘master’ to hold up his end of the bargain we made.”

“He will,” the red haired man said. Amora saw his form flicker slightly.

“You are an Astral Form,” she said as she stepped a step back. Energy coursed around her hands; her magicks coming to fore as she expected treachery. The red haired man chuckled.

“Hardly. I am a hologram, simply here to aid with advice. I have other ‘Fats in the Fire’ as they say and can’t be too distracted at the moment.”

The Enchantress glanced about the vast workspace even as the Mad Thinker’s robots escorted the Super Adaptoid off into the shadows. She saw mechanical engines of every size, shape and form being worked on by the zombified SHIELD technicians; some of which she recognized though most were foreign to her.

There was a green-shelled creature not too unlike the blue though smaller and more stream-lined. It had spikes as well and an ‘H’ emblazoned on its forehead…

She saw a smaller robot golden in hue and shaped like a globe with what seemed to be a tail fin; its inner workings spewed across a work station…

A bulky, dragon-scaled creature with wings and a tail held immobile in stasis…

Most impressive was what she recognized as an older model Mutant-hunting Sentinel. It was splayed at the far end of the chamber, its chest plate opened as technicians probed its inner mechanisms…

Amora’s brilliance lay in the realms of Magick and this was beyond her. She looked to the forms of the two old men; one aloof and the other, older eyeing her lecherously. “I expect my compence. See to it,” she said as she raised her arms. Light flared as she faded from existence.

“Well, that was exciting,” Stern said as he looked at his companion, the last of the magicks winking away. The red haired Smith nodded and turned back to his project; the remnants of a man-shaped, gray, armored robot that had been found in the devastated remains of a shopping mall in Queens, New York years before.

Smith smiled as he set torch to the battered shell. “I believe the excitement has just begun…”

 

Avengers

GROUND ZERO

Part 3

By Curt Fernland

 

Stark Enterprises

Long Island

Captain America grunted as the axe slammed against his shield again. He was amazed and only a little worried at the force of the blow as it drove him to his knees. He knew well enough that the old shield was nigh on indestructible, created by chance in an experiment way back in the Forties; a combination of Vibranium, Adamantium and other metals that had never been recreated. Its unique design and structure allowed it to absorb the force of almost any blow, but the sheer force of the assault of the man called Blood Axe was staggering and he was feeling every blow to the very core of his being.

Josiah al hajj Saddiq rolled to the side as the huge man swept through the arch of his swing, the familiar-looking axe blade swinging high and back, his grip adjusting as he stepped to accommodate his assault changing his stance. Josiah X could see the man was not comfortable with the weapon, as though it was new to his hands, and there was the slightest break in the assault as the armor-clad assailant shifted his body to strike again.

Josiah X lashed out in that brief pause, his heel connecting with the larger man’s kneecap. He heard a grunt as he rolled away out of range of the swinging axe but aside from a bit of a stumble in his gait the man stood firm. Josiah on the other hand had felt his kick vibrate up through his bones. It was like kicking a concrete wall.

The big man screamed in rage more than pain brandishing his axe, threatening. His eyes blazed in anger through the slits in his iron mask, his very being tensing ready to strike again with an unbridled fury. Captain America crouched defensively with the shield raised before him waiting for another opening to attack again.

His gaze flashed to the axe as he watched the stronger man’s body posture. That he was outclassed strength-wise Josiah had no doubt, but that wasn’t what caught his eye. He had fought stronger opponents before and won. The Super-Soldier Serum that flowed through his veins left him as near-perfect a specimen of a human being as seemed possible and his training in Martial Arts over the years made him a formidable fighter against even the strongest foes of the likes of the Incredible Hulk, the Wrecker and… the Executioner.

His mind sparked at the thought, hours spent reviewing the history of the Avengers; their past battles and foes poring over the files logged in their computer of ancient enemies and their tactics and weapons. This then was the Atomic Axe of Skurge the Executioner. He recognized it, the chosen weapon of the Asgardian, one of the Mighty Thor’s ilk cast out of Asgard along with Amora the Enchantress to join the original Baron Zemo’s Masters of Evil. Skurge was a devastating opponent according to the files submitted by Thor and definitely far beyond Josiah’s weight class. But this was not Skurge.

Josiah X was ready to leap away as the Axe came crashing down again. He felt the impact even in the air as he jumped, the ground shattering and exploding under the force of the blow. Captain America again hit the ground rolling, coming up in a defensive stance facing the larger man wondering who it might be.

“You should just surrender,” Josiah shouted over the man’s rage hoping he might listen. “You can’t beat the Avengers… or me.” Captain America knew how stupid he must sound but authority dictated he say what must be said. “You’re under arrest.”

The Executioner surged forward, the Blood Axe raised high for another crushing blow. Cap tensed bracing for the impact when he felt the air change; a gushing wind that dropped the temperature instantly to sub zero. Snow swirled and he was immediately pelted with hail as the fringes of a contained Arctic blast of air washed over the area. Josiah looked up squinting into the sudden blast and saw the now familiar silhouette of Ororo Monroe swooping in riding the winds.

The Weather Witch hovered at the end of her arch buffeted by the gale force winds as crackling blue energy swelled about her hands. Her arms swept through the air as Storm directed the force of her amazing powers towards Blood Axe and the huge man looked up in sudden confusion. Rain, sleet and snow swirled about the man and Cap could see his body slowing as a sheen of ice quickly began to cover his body.

“This won’t hold him long,” the mutant Storm shouted over the thunder rolling and booming in the distance. Cap could feel the air crackling with energy as she called down the forces of nature itself, lightning flashing in the distance. Thunder snow, he thought as he surged forward going on the offensive again.

The bigger man was staggering under Storm’s assault, his body slowing and freezing as ice and snow piled up on his body covering his limbs and slowing him to a crawl. Captain America felt the shift in cold as he stepped forward in a low thrust, the sub zero drop in temperature making his teeth chatter instantly as he flowed through almost a fencing maneuver to get past the man’s guard. He stretched to his limits as his right arm shot upward; a ‘Bear-paw Thrust’ to the man’s jaw.

He heard a cracking sound but knew it was the ice shattering rather than breaking bone. The impact drove a wave of pain through his arm even as he continued forward trying to ignore the cold and the pain. He whipped his shield-arm up and around in a slicing arch; a blow that might kill a normal man, but he had no delusions about his opponent’s power and he needed to push his abilities to their very limits.

He heard the man scream again, this time actually in pain as he slashed the edge of the shield across the Executioner’s face. Cap was diving away instantly but he saw blood fly in his wake as the mask flew away. He had hurt the bigger man he knew as he tumbled out of range and the concentration of Storm’s assault. He rolled into his defensive crouch again, shield held high as he saw the Executioner stumbling about and wiping at the blood in his eyes.

Captain America blinked when he saw the man’s face. Even twisted in anger and streaked with blood he recognized his foe; the blazing red hair and chiseled features. He had fought the strong-man from the Squadron Sinister not so long ago. “Hyperion,” he whispered. He didn’t understand as the last he had seen of the villain was his burned body falling into the East River, yet here he was. He didn’t understand but somehow the man had lived and even healed.

Josiah hated to resort to an attack that might actually cripple the man for life, blinding him but these were desperate times and the man WAS trying to kill him, not holding back in the least. But this was Hyperion, one of the strongest men on the planet and coupled with the Blood Axe probably the greatest threat he had ever faced. Cap let out a huff of breath promising to make his peace when the battle was done, about to press his advantage when the area flashed a blinding white.

Captain America closed his eyes and raised his shield as lightning flashed down from the sky even as thunder exploded about him…

“Unglaublich!”

Kurt Wagner shielded his eyes and turned away even as the blinding flash erupted over the area. He recognized Storm’s telltale lightning strike – he had seen it often enough – and he wondered just what threat she and Captain America were facing to force her to unleash one of her most devastating attacks. But even as he felt the familiar charge of energy sweep across the battlefield followed by the BOOM of thunder shaking the ground he sensed his own danger.

“Arrgh!” he screamed feeling the blade slicing his leg as he flipped away. He somersaulted through the air to land a few yards from where he had been standing, landing in a squat as pain seared through his wound. He saw the blood seeping from the gash in his costume but tried to ignore it as he raised his own rapier in defense against his foe.

“Eyes on the prize, elf,” the evil Mutant Fatale mocked as she brandished her long knife slick with his blood. The blue-skinned woman laughed, smiling wickedly as she flourished her blade arrogantly, boasting as the knife twirled through her fingers, her stance shifting almost poetic as she stepped through a well-rehearsed kata. That the woman knew how to use her weapon well the Nightcrawler had no doubt. He got the feeling she was toying with him.

Pamela Greenwood was a professional assassin; that much he knew. As Fatale she had a teleporting ability not unlike his own along with the power to bend light about her body in ways to change her appearance and even become invisible if he recalled. Kurt Wagner knew she was skilled in the art of killing and her own power of teleportation might not be as long-ranged as his own but she had the strength to move large amounts of mass; something that still strained Nightcrawler. A truly formidable foe that had run with various bands of evil Mutants over the years.

“Be glad I didn’t poison the blade, freak,” she taunted as she suddenly disappeared.

Nightcrawler turned slowly in a tight circle keeping his sword high ready to strike or defend waiting for the woman to appear again. “We don’t need to fight, fraulein,” he called out wary as he nursed his injured leg. He had fought teleporters before and knew the frustration his own foes must have had not knowing where and when he might strike next. And worse he did not want to hurt the woman. “We should be allies, not enemies. We are much alike, you and I.”

“We’re nothing alike!” he heard as he twisted to the side, eyes wide as the assassin’s knife slipped past his guard barely missing his ribs. He spun quickly his own blade sweeping as his tail snaked out to grab the arm that was suddenly no longer there. His sword sliced through empty air, his foe teleporting away again. She was fast he had to admit, and skilled but he had spent countless hours in the X-Men’s Danger Room learning how to deal with just such an assault. “Plenty of foes out there that can mimic your powers, Nightcrawler,” Cyclops had often told him. “Sometimes your worst opponent is yourself.”

Right again, Scott, Kurt thought as he resumed his slow circle. With his tail outstretched behind him and both arms probing the empty air in front as he moved he had a wide radius of protection about him. He had sensed the slightest shift in the air when Fatale had teleported before, but with Ororo’s storm surging and she electrically charging the atmosphere that edge was gone. Now his senses were on high alert, eyes shifting as he sniffed the air, listening for any noise he might hear over the din of the battles raging about him.

Kurt tried not to allow his attention to wander as he sees his friends and allies locked in heated fights of their own. Tony Stark, the Invincible Iron-Man is in aerial combat against an old foe; the Titanium Man? Nightcrawler wasn’t 100 % certain but he did know Stark would beat him as easily as Melissa Gold would defeat her own opponent – Scream?

Angar the Screamer was a sonic-based villain not unlike as Songbird had once been. In fact they had been a team once upon a time, and apparently lovers as well, according to her. But something had happened over those months and Angar had somehow transformed into a being of pure sonic energy. They had had a falling out and Melissa had used her own abilities to disperse his unstable body. Obviously the man had reformed and now someone was pitting them against each other once more; sound versus sound…

Iron armor vs. titanium…

Teleporter vs. teleporter…

“Ach! Blöd, Wagner! Stupid!” Kurt Wagner spat as he swept his rapier in a wide arch in front of him as he realized what was happening. He wasn’t certain about the new, bogus Executioner but all the other villains seemed chosen to counter a specific foe in the ranks of the Avengers. Not unlike the original Masters of Evil gathered years ago by Baron Heinrich Zemo; old foes of the original Avengers to match their powers. Someone was playing them, but why?

They were a distraction obviously, perhaps assembled for some vendetta or simple revenge by one of the Avenger’s old foes. But why now and why here? Anthony Stark had explained some of the purpose of this branch of Stark Enterprises on Long Island on the short flight from Manhattan. It was an industrial complex like most of Stark’s facilities once producing advanced weapons and technology for the military and S.H.I.E.L.D. but now was more a testing facility and a holding compound. The Avenger Jocasta had been created here some years before by a deranged Henry Pym and the nihilistic robot, Ultron. And there was something else, but –

“Nein!” Kurt hissed as he felt the bite of the assassin’s blade again slicing into his side. Trying to ignore the pain he whipped about with his own sword spinning as he leapt, but again he cut through empty air. He heard Fatale laugh.

“Your mind’s not on the fight, dark elf. I should just end this. Put you out of your misery.”

“Nein, mädchen.” Nightcrawler winced as he felt the new gash along his left side. It wasn’t a deep cut but his hand came away wet with blood. He glared at the woman mocking him, baring his sharp teeth with a snarl. “I shall end this.”

Nightcrawler teleported in a cloud laced of sulfur and brimstone dark and cloying. He was long-since used to the foul smell and smoke but others were not. It was a huge advantage when fighting opponents like Wolverine that relied on their enhanced senses but against a normal foe – like Fatale he hoped – the explosive ‘BAMF’ was simply confusing.

He appeared behind the woman even as she started to disappear and lashed out with a huge fist. A ‘rabbit punch’ Logan had called it, striking from behind to the girl’s head. Not very chivalrous, Kurt thought. But the time to fight fair had passed. Fatale stumbled forward with the impact, her body fading back into sight as her concentration broke. But even as the assassin started to turn to strike back in retaliation, Nightcrawler teleported again.

He appeared above her, kicking her in the head this time and teleporting. Then behind her again, his tail lashing out to wrap about her ankle; her momentum making her fall to the ground. Nightcrawler saw her flail as she hit landing hard and rattled as the breath whooshed out of her. He teleported again…

Now standing above her prone body Kurt slammed the hilt of his sword against the base of the woman’s skull. She let out a muffled yelp at the impact then lay still. Kurt Wagner was breathing hard from the quick teleports as he stared down at the assassin. It wasn’t a pretty victory and he felt bad about so beating a woman but he would make amends with God later and beg forgiveness. He was in peril, as were his friends, and God would absolve his sins he was certain.

He reached down and touched Fatale’s throat feeling for a pulse just to be certain and breathed a sigh of relief. Just unconscious, he thought as he stood looking around. He had to help his allies now; tell them of the plot he had deduced, but –

“Vas?”

Kurt Wagner stared in confusion as something whistled through the air coming right at him. “A boomerang?” he whispered even as the weapon slammed into his chest almost before he could react.

And the world exploded…

“Jeez!” Scott Lang gasped as the polarized lenses in his cybernetic helmet darkened to protect his eyes from the sudden explosive glare. He held out a protective hand behind him motioning for his charges to wait as he scanned the area where Nightcrawler had been fighting the blue-skinned woman with the knife.

“Hold up, people,” he whispered more softly feeling the anxiety of the small crowd of people behind him. There were eight in this last group; the fourth and hopefully the last of the employees of Stark, L.I. he had to get out of harm’s way and onto the transport ship parked just a few yards across the compound.

“Oh, Gawd! We’re all gonna die!”

“We’re not gonna die,” Scott called back over his shoulder to the matronly lab technician pressed against the wall and trembling in fear. At least I hope we’re not, he thought. The others were holding up fairly well all things considered, but there was always one it seemed in every crowd on the verge of having an anxiety attack. Not that he could blame her.

It was nasty out there to be sure. Storm wasn’t holding back in the least it seemed as she cut loose with a dazzling and devastating display of power, thunder snow blowing wildly as bolts of lightning shattered into the ground in rapid succession ripping up the once well-manicured lawns and pathways of the compound. Even above the booming thunder claps he could hear the constant whine of the sonic battle between Songbird and Scream. He could barely make out the forms of Iron-Man and the crazy giant robot he was fighting through the sudden dense storm clouds that had descended over the area but for the occasional bursts of energy blasts and Repulsor Rays. Frankly the Astonishing Ant-Man didn’t really want to head out in the midst of that Battle Royale anymore than the people he was trying to get to safety, but he knew he had to.

Scott almost missed the days of being just your friendly neighborhood hi-tech burglar. But for going to jail and the love of Cassie, his daughter, he’d probably be living the high life and sitting on a beach somewhere earning seventeen percent. Those days were long gone now however, ever since he had invaded the home of Henry Pym and stolen the scientist’s cybernetic helmet and shrinking gas canisters. He was an Avenger now and with great power came great responsibility.

“Yada-yada.”

Scott’s gaze lingered on the spot where the latest explosion had occurred. Something had flown through the air striking Nightcrawler in the chest and blown the hell out of the area. Now as the flash diminished and the smoke dispersed on Storm’s winds he couldn’t see Kurt Wagner. He did see the woman’s body though thrown back and crumpled on the ground a few yards away. She seemed unconscious at least and maybe dead, she was so still. He hoped not.

But that explosion last had cleared the way. Lang licked his lips as he gave the whole scene more quick sweep. The battles had moved away for the moment leaving a clear path for the EVAC transport and he could see the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and medics waving for him to move out. He nodded to them even as he shifted his ‘sight’ through the helmet magnifying the view.

Thousands of ants were pouring onto the battlefield lining the path towards the transport. They were working feverishly to clear the way hauling debris with their amazing strength removing huge rocks and sticks, broken branches; anything that might trip up the technicians he was trying to get to safety. Thousands more winged ants were flitting through the air forming almost a fog with their sheer numbers hopefully to hide the ‘Hu-Mans’ as they made their dash across the compound. Scott could ‘hear’ the cybernetic chatter – Ant Telepathy’ he called it – a constant drone of voices in his head as the insects coordinated their work far better and faster than any man-made construction site. It was truly a wonder to behold and he had a moment’s regret knowing how many of them might soon die if the battle shifted again.

“Can we go?”

“What are we waiting on? C’mon…”

“Hold it!” Lang shoved back as one of the Stark workers tried to push past. He could tell they were starting to panic and he needed to get them moving. It was time to go he knew so he concentrated still talking to his refugees.

“I’m going to shrink,” he explained even as his crowd of escapees stared at him in confusion and started to babble. You’d think they’d recognize the uniform he thought, but then again the world was full of Marvels and there were some… Hell, so many out there he didn’t have a clue.

“Shrink!” he exclaimed. “That’s what I do, but don’t worry. I’ll be with you every step of the way. I got the others through…” Scott hesitated as the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents started firing their weapons at something up in the storm clouds that he could not see. “I’ll get you all to safety too,” he continued as his hands went to his belt. “Trust me.”

He doubted they really did. Sure he wasn’t Captain America or Iron-Man but he was all they had at the moment, so they better. Lang pressed the tiny studs on the gas canisters affixed to his belt and immediately he was enveloped in a spray of the gaseous Pym Particles. As always he gagged a bit at the noxious fumes as he felt his body start to change merging and altering; dwindling as his atomic structure compressed. It was almost instantaneous and as the gas dispersed he looked up at the shocked, gargantuan faces staring down in awe and confusion. The world was huge now and it took him a moment to acclimate adjusting the volume controls on the cybernetic helmet to lessen the impact of the booming, giant voices and initiating the built in microphone so he could be heard.

“We are here!” he shouted, visions of Horton flashing through his memory. He doubted anyone caught it as he saw his personal entourage swooping down towards him; the two flying ants he had chosen for the run.

“What’s up, Chumly?” he asked of one as he clambered onto the other’s back. It was always a weird sensation seeing the ants close up and huge, larger than he was and easily able to rip him to shreds with their mandibles. These were friends though, trusted allies that would give their lives at his mental command. He hated that more than anything. Since he had assumed the mantle of the Astonishing Ant-Man he had learned that the ants were… well, maybe not people but living, breathing sentient beings that he did not want to see hurt or dead. He’d heard the ants’ anguished screams before; their death throes, and he never wanted to hear that sound again.

<The way is clear, Master> the ant ‘said’, the cybernetic helmet translating the strange clicking and clacking into something that Lang could understand. Scott grimaced even as the ant he was riding took to the air.

“Don’t call me that!” Scott hated the way they all blindly followed and did as he said some times. Pym had explained to him that that was their nature. They all had a job in their normal existence, a task to fulfill at the direction of the colony’s Queen. The Ant-Man was simply usurping that authority for a short time, and smart as they seemed to be the ants didn’t know any better.

<Of course, Master,> Chumly agreed as he flew skyward, <But we must hurry.>

“We are,” Scott told him as he directed his steed higher to swoop in and face the crowd. Tennessee did as he was asked flying up to hover just before the lead refugee, but well out of reach. Common human instinct was to swat at a bug in your face and Scott didn’t want that.

“All right, people!” the helmet microphone and speakers boomed projecting his voice, “Stick close together and run like Hell to the EVAC transport. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents will get you loaded on the plane and out of the line of fire. Five minutes tops and you’ll be safe in Bridgeport where the EVAC Center is set up. Here we go!”

“Oh, God…”

Lang ignored the panicky woman as he urged Tennessee right up into the lead worker’s face to make certain he was seen. The flying ant then shot out of the enclosure that the group had been using for cover, flying higher to stay above the crowd and offer support. The other flying ants swarmed in at the Ant-Man’s request to surround the people and hopefully cloak them like a mist as they made their mad dash to the transport. Chumly buzzed closer as they ran.

<We are being watched!> the ant ‘said’ and Scott could hear the tension in his ‘voice’.

“What? Where?” Scott looked around frantically but saw no threat at all near.

<A strange Hu-Man there. By the hold…>

It took Lang a moment to decipher just what his partner had said but as the walrus-named insect darted off towards the far edge of the nearest building he understood. The ants didn’t have the massive vocabulary humans did and the point they were trying to get across sometimes didn’t translate but the Ant-Man finally spotted the hulking gray figure in the shadows.

It – or was it a ‘He’ – wasn’t tall, but Scott could see it was certainly massive. He thought the being was hunkering at first but then realized it was just misshapen and looking as though deformed with a lumpy mass on its back. It was thick and muscular; colored a dull gray and looking almost robotic save for the splash of flesh-toned skin of its face. It’s ugly, twisted face leering at him and his group of refugees in anger, its one huge, lens-like eye glowing.

“What the hell…” Scott whispered as he reared back steering Tennessee away from the potential threat, swooping around to line up with Chumly too high for the thing to reach, he hoped. “Who the hell is that, and where did he come from? We were in the clear.”

<The Hu-Man came from the dark place.> Tennessee offered thinking the Ant-Man was speaking to him.

“Yeah, I know.” Scott sighed as he thought sending out the telepathic impulses to direst the huge army of ants that had amassed. He hated to use his friends like he was planning but he needed that wall to hide the group he was trying to rescue so they could get to the transport. Even worse he new he had to do the ‘Hero’ thing and draw the creatures attention.

The ants swarmed at his suggestions forming almost a flowing river of tiny bodies creating a path for his refugees on the ground while a surging mass of flying ants flitted and buzzed through the air looking almost like a fog and hopefully befuddling the thing in the shadows. Scott swallowed the huge lump in his throat directing Tennessee towards the creature’s face, Chumly flying close at their side.

“We’re Avengers”, he called out, his tiny voice magnified through his helmet speakers. “I’m just trying to get these people to safety! I don’t know who you are, or if you’re a part of this whole thing, but don’t hurt ‘em! They’re innocents!” Scott Lang saw the creature hesitate just a moment as though considering, but then its huge right eye blazed with a new, blinding light that flashed over his tiny frame for an instant. He heard Tennessee and Chumly squeal in confusion even as his own sight faded for a moment in the flash.

“I am Quasimodo,” the creature’s gravelly voice explained, “and my master demands your… distraction. I have been promised reward for my aid – Humanity – so I shall obey to achieve my greatest desire.”

Wonderful, Scott thought as he directed his ants higher out of the blinding light that he was sure was some kind of scan. “I’m fighting Data from Star Trek,” he mumbled as his vision cleared trying to see his charges again. The refugees were bottled up at the doorway wanting to bolt to safety but afraid, and Scott didn’t blame them. This Quasimodo was an imposing figure, but he had to get them moving. “Go!” he shouted pumping up the volume on his microphone. “Run for the ship!”

That was all it took as the matronly lab technician shoved past the others and started to run. The others stumbled a bit then followed suit as Scott directed his insect army to follow and provide what cover they could. He just hoped Quasimodo would be more interested in what he was doing than wanting to incinerate a bunch of helpless, frightened humans. He steered Tennessee back at the creature with Chumly zipping right past his face.

“Please!” he pleaded rearing up and stalling right in front of the behemoth’s face. “Let them go! They’ve done nothing!” he shouted and Quasimodo paused for just a heartbeat. Then Scott saw the creature’s wide eye deepen in tone cracking with a crimson brilliance.

“The ‘flesh-bags are inconsequential,” the monster’s voice took on a cold, robotic tone that sounded familiar. “You are the threat… Pym. You must die.”

“Pym?” Scott whispered as a beam of searing red heat flashed from the creature’s eye. He felt the burn and he heard Chumly scream…

“Turn off the cybernetic interface,” Anthony Stark commanded as the high-pitched squeal of the ant’s death echoed in his ears. It was too late however as his internal A.I. complied and the link with Scott Lang severed. He didn’t understand the constant chittering of the man’s ant army like Scott did, but he could hear it and he’d hold the sound of that ant’s death throes to the grave.

Stark sighed and shivered trying to focus on his own fight, confident that Scott Lang – Henry Pym’s chosen replacement as the Astonishing Ant-Man – would do his job. All the Avengers would he was sure. Now he had to do his.

<Of course, Dear.>

“What?” Anthony Stark blinked to hear the sudden voice of Pepper Potts coming through on his internal Artificial Intelligence Aid. Some months ago when he was upgrading his latest armor he had toyed with the idea of using his ‘Personal Assistant’ and lover’s modulated voice as his A.I. but had dismissed the notion as too distracting, choosing instead the more erudite and composed version of Jarvis, the Avenger’s butler and confidant as his aid. He had thought he had deleted the ‘Pepper’ program, but apparently some fragment of it remained and had taken control.

Tony would run a Diagnostic later after the battle was won but for now he had bigger irons in the fire. Namely the Titanium-Man and his rag-tag group of ‘B’ Movie villains; second stringers that had no connection that he could see, yet had banded together to take on ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’.

“Ees jus’ so reediculous,” he whispered as his eyes flicked briefly to the tiny, internal wet-screen monitors lining the interior of his helmet. He saw that the Avengers seemed to be winning, or at least holding their own for the moment. With the exception of Blood-Axe who seemed to be Hyperion of the Squadron Sinister there seemed to be no real threat. And wracking his brain he just couldn’t come up for any logical reason that this group of villains might assault his Long Island complex other than for some kind of revenge. It made no sense.

<I’m sorry… I don’t understand.>

“Nothing, Pepper,” Tony said trying to focus. “Long-range sensors to full but can the background chatter for now. Keep an eye on the other Avengers and let me know if anyone needs help. Give me a quick status and amp up the external force field 17%.” Stark hovered angling his boot jets to meet the sweeping arch of the Titanium-Man as the old Russian agent flew up to meet him. At least he assumed it was Emil Bullski, his old foe.

Like the Crimson Dynamo and even the Black Widow there had been many that assumed the mantle of the Titanium-Man over the years. The Invincible Iron-Man had beaten all those old-school Russian agents that had been thrown his way, back in the days before the Cold War had ended and the ‘Wall’ had fallen. It seemed though that there were still old Soviet warlords in the KGB and GRU in their new government that wanted to bring the old ways back. Unfortunately, the Iron-Man had been a target back in the day and was still, apparently. Something else to look into and end, but that was for later. Focus, Tony…

<Yes, Dear.>

“Grrr…”

With a flick of his eyes and a quick blink Stark adjusted his power output shifting energy to his Repulsor Rays and bringing his arms up even as the Titanium-Man swooped up into a stall to hover a few yards away in nearly the same stance. Stark let loose his most effective assault expecting the larger foe to go spiraling away as he always did. Tony’s eyes widened however as the Titanium-Man’s armor simply crackled and glowed, not moving an inch.

“Fool!” Bullski’s hollow voice mocked. “You are as predictable and arrogant as ever, Stark! But while you’ve been dallying in cosmetic changes to your obsolete armor, my backers have made me far better than you; stronger, faster, and defensive. Your pathetic attacks mean nothing to me now, but you shall feel TRUE power!”

“Oh, shit…” Stark grit his teeth even as he willed his armor to start flying back hoping to roll with whatever impact was coming. He saw a panel on the green armor flip open to reveal a small cannon mounted in the chest. He shifted the armor’s defenses to take the brunt as the cannon flashed shooting out a beam of amber-colored energy enveloping in a searing wave of heat and sonics that sent him tumbling back through the sky.

It took a moment for the armor’s computers and internal programs to adjust with the sudden influx of energy; absorbing what it could manage into his power nacelles and shunting the rest. Stark adjusted his flight at the end of his arch checking the helmet monitors flashing out the armor’s status and analyzing the Titanium-Man’s attack.

“Pepper, what was that?”

<Sonic assault, Sir, with an Ion-energy base,> the mechanized voice replied.

“Ion?” Stark whispered, then, “Jarvis? You’re back?”

<Yes, Sir, and my sincerest apologies for the delay. There seems to have been an attempted incursion within the system protocol. An outside series of commands tried to alter the internal programming. A ‘Worm’ I believe, but the Anti-Virus and Firewall defenses seem to have purged the culprit.>

Stark frowned watching as Jarvis shifted power flows to defend against another attack. Not a good thing however. Stark had had his armor taken over by remote before with disastrous results. If Bullski now had that capability things good easily go bad. But Tony Stark had faith in his own abilities; the construction of his armor, the internal maintenance, and Jarvis of course. His ‘AI’ would handle the mundane operations he was sure as he shifted his flight path and suddenly rocketed forward.

Stark had dabbled with the idea of constructing an armor based and powered by ionic energy years ago but the numbers and benefits of the odd energies just never seemed worth the end result. In order to contain the power, his suit would have had to been huge to accommodate the batteries and conversion units – like Bullski’s. His dabbling DID however allow him to weigh all the pluses and minuses of the unique and unstable power source, and in his conclusion the minuses were top heavy.

Tony flew right up to the hulking Titanium-Man, his scanners reading the larger armor’s power grid. He pulled his power couplings from the sides of his own sleeker armor as he neared transferring all of the extra absorbed energy from Bullski’s attack into the pods before slamming them to the man’s titanium chest plate.

“Purge excess power, Jarvis.” The Iron-Man floated back out of reach to the limit of the power conduit leads and kicked in the helmet’s extreme light defenses. He had studied the Titanium-Man armor before for potential improvements and defensive flaws. And he knew the downside of ionic energy; it didn’t play well with other children. While his own armor had been revised and redesigned over the years to compensate for the multitude of energies he seemed to be assaulted with on a regular basis, he was betting that the Titanium-Man’s mysterious benefactor had not planned for every contingency. And he was right.

Stark watched as the Titanium-Man’s armor started to glow; first a deepening shade of blue that slowly faded into a near-blinding white. He saw Bullski freeze in flight as his bulky armor tried to compensate and redirect the sudden surge of power, but as he had suspected the titanium armor had been upgraded for assault and defense.

“But it’s the little things, Ivan, that separate the men from the ‘boy-ski’s.” Stark disconnected the power leads as the final surge of energy transferred flaring Bullski’s armor into a Roman Candle. Sparks flew from the metal and there was a silent flash of blinding light as the batteries in his foe’s armor sizzled and burnt out. The Titanium-Man shuddered and convulsed, then started to fall.

“I probably should catch him,” Stark mused as he watched the smoldering armor start to plummet to the ground.

<Weight ratios exceed current power capabilities, Sir.> Stark smirked.

“Oh well…”

Melissa Gold bit her lip watching as the Vision’s seemingly lifeless and disjointed body hit the ground. David Angar – Angar the Screamer; no… Scream she corrected herself – had battered the Vision’s near-ephemeral form with a series of sonic vibrations on a multitude of wavelengths all at the same time; frequencies coming so fast and furious that the android’s internal defenses could not compensate fast enough. She had gasped as his body had distorted; compacting and then elongating into a tangled mass that eventually became semi-solid and began to fall.

Songbird arched up and away her carapace vibrating with her own sonic emissions as she skirted the high edge of the huge sound dome David had created about them. She could see his power fluxuating, whatever form he had assumed flowing on the sonic vibrations they were both manipulating. He was using her own abilities to enhance his she could see along with every little noise erupting in the battle raging about them.

Melissa could see he had changed. As far as she could tell the man she had once… cared for seemed no longer even human. His body was gone and in its place was some wavering image that only vaguely resembled what he once was in appearance only. Kind of like Ulysses Klaw but not quite solid sound; more a frequency given form.

“What’s happened to you, David?” she whispered not expecting a response but even her slightest noise traveled back to her ex-lover in a resounding wave. Angar laughed.

“I’ve evolved, Sweetie.” His voice echoed and boomed causing Songbird to flutter in flight. She twisted and swept low in her arch as she had trained both with the Thunderbolts and later with the Avengers, her solid, sonic wings then driving her higher. “I’m not the same psycho, psychedelic Hippy you used to run with. I’m better now, Babe! Better than Screaming Mimi ever was! I’m sound personified! Way more than that cute little amplifier you’re wearin’, bitch!”

Melissa grimaced as she chanted bringing up a shield to deflect his screaming assaults. She had worked long and hard to put her Screaming Mimi persona behind her training first under Baron Zemo’s tutelage to hone her powers in the Thunderbolts, then under Hawkeye’s teachings, which made her a force to be reckoned with. David Angar said he had surpassed her, but she was Songbird now, and an Avenger. She doubted David knew what that really meant but she had nothing but memories of her former lover now – mostly bad memories – and she was ready to educate him.

“Sure,” Melissa shouted over the incessant noise within David’s encompassing dome. She could see his ‘body’ soaking in the vibrations but where he may have gotten more powerful, she had gotten more efficient. In effect, he was a butcher while she was now the surgeon. She changed her tone as she spoke and flew ever-closer to Scream’s form spiraling about him; confusing.

“You’re more powerful, lover. But better… Pfft!” Songbird sang shifting octaves ever-higher, modulating tone and volume as she swept through the air gaining speed and power. “You still don’t know what you’re doing, but I’ve been trained by the best!” She shrieked sending a white-hot blast through the wavering image of Scream. She saw his eyes widen as his bogus body rippled, losing cohesiveness.

“Mel…” He sounded suddenly deflated and worried but Songbird pressed on.

“You’re evolved,” she sang amping up the decibels then plummeting into a sub-sonic range, “but I’m an Avenger now! Not a Grappler and NOT your sidekick. And this carapace you laughed at? Well, the Fixer made it good, but he don’t hold a candle to Stark and the Black Panther.

“And you… You’re just a pathetic, burnt out wannabe that’s always gonna be second rate.” Songbird inhaled tears in her eyes.

“Melly…don’t…”

Songbird closed her eyes and screeched unleashing the most powerful blast she could muster. She could barely hear David trying to match her but his best efforts crumbled and faded before her onslaught. His song died but she kept screaming; blasting away at every last vestige of Angar the Screamer and the life she had once led; Mimi and the Grapplers, the Masters of Evil, the Thunderbolts…

Melissa Gold landed on the soft earth listening as the overwhelming roar of sound slowly faded away. She took a deep breath and let out a long, suffering sigh as she watched the final essence of her old life drift into oblivion. She had no idea id she had killed him, whatever he had become, and frankly she didn’t care. David Angar was gone and she could move on.

Melissa steeled herself and ran to where the Vision lay…

Avengers Island

“Oooo! Go, Melissa!”

Hawkeye shot up from his chair before the monitors and gave the air a fist-pump filled with pride that his protégé had so easily dealt with her former partner. And lover he recalled.

“She just killed that man.” Mariah Hill sounded agitated, the usual authority in her voice cracking just a bit. She was leaning forward on the console and Hawkeye could see the annoyance on her face more so than any shock.

“He was dead a long time ago,” Hawkeye shot in to back up his friend’s actions. He was getting tired of the government interference again and wanted to head off any problem for Melissa before it started. She’d worked too hard to put her past behind her and become the hero she was now and he wasn’t sure that she could wade through the tangled swamp of bureaucratic red tape that he was currently bogged down in for allegedly killing a man. “Check your records.”

“It’s true, Ma’am,” Jarvis the Avengers confidant and butler agreed as the SHIELD file for Scream appeared on a sub-station computer screen for every ones perusal. Hill leaned in closer and started to read as Jarvis explained: “David Angar died months ago. Apparently his somewhat unique physiology evolved into another form of ‘being’. SHIELD’s best medical minds and technicians cannot seem to agree on his current state. Reed Richards I believe suggested his physiology may have altered to a state resembling that of Ulysses Klaw and I believe Master T’Challa offered documents supporting that theory. Solid, animate sound I believe they stated; neither dead nor quite alive. I would not be so quick to accuse Miss Songbird of atrocities.” Jarvis looked to Hawkeye. “Or others in similar affairs.”

Hill frowned and folded her arms over her chest glancing between the two men. Old friends she knew, Jarvis was far more than Stark’s employee. Hell, the butler was practically an Avenger in his own right and more importantly to them; in their hearts and minds. And she knew, a status he had well-earned over the years, and deserved. Hill shook her head and saw Hawkeye smirk. The cocky bastard knew they were right.

“So what the hell’s going on here, Barton? SHIELD’s en route and they’ll want tactical.”

Hawkeye sat down and leaned back in his chair and typed one-handed a few keys on his computer console bringing up the schematics of Stark LI. “Like I said before, diversion. Someone wants the Avengers busy. I dunno who, but whoever he’s got a lotta pull. The FF are outta the picture; God knows where. The Whacko’s are twiddlin’ their thumbs on the Coast. The Defenders, Champions, even Grimm – “

“Grimm! He’s a wanted terrorist!” Hill snapped and Hawkeye felt his anger swelling.

“You keep thinkin’ that, Hill. Whatever Ben’s doin’, he’s fightin’ the good fight. There ain’t nobody short of Steve Rogers…” Barton grimaced shutting up as did Hill and Jarvis leaned into the computer trying to at least pretend to ignore the exchange. They all knew what had happened to Steve Rogers – the original Captain America – and Hawkeye especially had taken the news hard. It was Steve Rogers who had changed the arrogant archer into one of the greatest Avengers of all time years ago. Jarvis remembered those times well.

Hawkeye plucked an arrow from his quiver on the floor by his chair and started to twirl it again as he thought. “I’m missin’ somethin’ here though.”

“Oh, really,” Hill chimed in with sarcasm. Hawkeye ignored her remark as Jarvis spoke up again.

“Master Clint! Master Lang seems in need of aid!”

Hawkeye leaned forward just as his computer screen erupted in a flurry of white/gray/black snow…

Stark Enterprises

Long island

Boomerang hovered back over the vast complex, hopefully out of sight and out of mind.

“This is not good, Mate,” he whispered to himself as he watched the Titanium Man erupt in a ball of flame on impacting the beach. Boomerangs in both hands he floated on his boot jets spinning slowly taking in the chaotic battle below.

He saw Nightcrawler and Fatale both unconscious in the sand. He saw Songbird on her knees holding herself and sobbing in the center of a vast, flat mirrored surface where she had defeated Scream; of Angar there was no sign. Far away from the others the raging ice tempest obscured his sight as within Captain America and Storm battled Blood Axe…

“You’re outta your depth here, son,” he admitted as he geared his armor towards speed in propulsion. “Just like workin’ for the Secret Empire an’ takin’ on the Hulk. Bloody cloak an’ dagger an’ that nit Hawkeye didn’t even show. An’ the Enchantress leaves me high an’ dry? Time to cut our losses, old son.”

“Agreed.”

Boomerang looked down as a pair of yellow gauntleted hands emerged from his chest and then screamed as his armor’s power suddenly went dead, cutting out. Pain wracked his body at the intrusion of the two arms slowly solidifying within him. Darkness overwhelmed Frederick Myers, international terrorist and assassin as he lost consciousness and started the long fall back to the ground.

The Vision watched coldly as his opponent fell, his own body slowly losing density again allowing him to once more remain aloft. His brief contact within Boomerang’s body had allowed his own internal computers to swiftly analyze the specifications of the armor and he determined that the fall back to the beach and the resultant impact would do little to no injury on the man beyond extending his period of unconsciousness.

As his internal repair systems methodically worked to undo the damage Scream had inflicted he scanned the battle below taking in the scene as Boomerang had been doing. The villains seemed to have been defeated except for the Blood-Axe but the Iron-Man was flying towards that fight to aid Captain America and Storm. There seemed to be an additional member of the terrorist cell however, unnoticed before and it took only a moment to recognize the grotesque form of the pseudo machine, Quasimodo.

The Vision was perplexed as the creature’s historical records flashed through his mind. Quasimodo was a being not unlike himself; originally an android created by the Mad Thinker whose main purpose in being seemed always to achieve true humanity. Why the mockery was here he failed to fathom as none of his allies could possibly help him reach that ultimate end. Logic dictated then that there was another member of this group; more powerful perhaps or at least with the resources to help the creature achieve his goal of humanity, thus seducing the android to their cause.

Logic however did not offer an explanation as to why this group of terrorists had banded together to battle the Avengers. Scream had partnered with Klaw once years ago, and the Avengers had fought a version of the Titanium Man in Viet Nam when the team had been exploring the origins of Mantis…

The Vision frowned as his internal systems read at 97% efficiency. He dismissed old, unwanted memories of the Celestial Madonna as he swooped down towards the obviously overmatched Ant-Man. The Stark Industry employees Scott Lang had been assisting appeared out of harm’s way as S.H.I.E.L.D. agents helped in the boarding of the final evacuation craft. Ant-Man himself however was almost lost in the swirling swarm of insects he had called to battle the android. His sensors spotted the man though shrunken amidst the flurry of thousands riding a flying ant and directing the assault.

Reducing his density even more the Vision’s momentum still carried him forward towards Quasimodo. The misshapen android seemed near frantic as its one huge eye glowed and emitted a devastating beam of laser-like energy cutting a swath of death and destruction through the swarm of ants. An almost human response the Vision noted. Anxiety in the face of the army of insects; perhaps the creature was more human than reports had led him to believe.

Regardless the Vision simply flew through the creature’s form adjusting density again. In passing he noticed a strange collaboration of human organs laced into the synthezoid’s internal mechanisms. He logged the specifics in his own storage as he focused on the assault trying to dismiss images of Songbird’s…Melissa’s grief from his mind.

Quasimodo’s scream of shock and pain was all too human as his eyes dulled and darkened, his form quivering and finally falling to the dirt. The Vision landed not far beyond and turned. A swift scan confirmed the android to be powerless and no longer a threat. Or perhaps ‘Humanoid’ would be a proper term. The Vision considered.

“Thanks pal.” Scott Lang’s amplified voice drew the Vision’s attention as the tiny man flew past his face. The Vision remained intangible amidst the dispersing storm of ants as the Astonishing Ant-Man briefly circled over the defeated Quasimodo before finally flying back up. “I gotta admit I was a little outclassed there. Who is that guy and where the hell did he come from?”

“Inconsequential,” the Vision replied as he eased off the ground again, taking flight. “He is defeated and I will file the proper report later. Your human charges are out of danger so for now we must aid our allies in stopping this new incarnation of the Executioner who is apparently the Hyperion of the Squadron Sinister. Lacking Thor’s involvement it shall require our combined efforts to render his incapacitation.”

“Uhhh… Sure.”

Scott Lang watched as the Vision simply flew away towards the final battle. He wondered briefly just what the hell had happened to the Vision then shook his head and spurred his flying ant to follow…

 

Captain America charged forward barely holding his balance on the icy ground and slammed into Bloodaxe, driving him back and forcing him down. Above the two combatants, Storm coalesced the weather into a devastating assault. Lightning flared and thunder rolled as she unleashed her unfettered might; Nature itself against the pseudo ‘Asgardian’, or so she has been led to believe. Bloodaxe writhed in her elemental onslaught even as Cap rushed into the storm to smash his shield into his helpless foe. Bloodaxe bucked at the assault but swept his arm aside sending the Super-Soldier flying away to sprawl into the dirt yards distant. Slowly the Bloodaxe rose again, his axe crackling with energy.

Twin beams of red flashed down. Ororo stared as fire erupted around Bloodaxe and the pseudo Executioner staggered. She saw the Vision then flying above, his face impassive as he bore down on the crazed foe, unrelenting. Captain America ran forward as well and dove into the maelstrom, his shield held in both hands as he chopped downward in a killing blow…

“No…” Ororo whispered as she motioned; her arms sweeping and her fingers directing the near gale-force winds she had summoned. Captain America flew away in her grip, spiraling from his all out assault on the seemingly impregnable villain. He landed softly yards away, tumbling to safety even as she heard the high-pitched screech of another combatant coming closer.

Songbird swooped in and hovered briefly before unleashing 1000 Decibels of white-hot sound in a tight beam of devastation. The energy hammered Bloodaxe into the ground again even as The Vision intensified his assault; the gem on his forehead blazing as his solar attack burned. Ororo knew this villain must go down but not at this great cost. Not with his death.

Captain America ran forward as the battleground blazed…

Ororo heard the sounds of mechanics and looked to see the Iron-Man rise over the battlefield…

Gods and legends…

And devils as Kurt Wagner appeared in a cloud of fire and brimstone.

“Enough!”

Ororo Monroe stared frozen in the sky as something emerald flared into being down below. She recognized the woman as she strode imperiously forward, her long blond hair flowing about her beauteous face as the tempest subsided. She saw he teammates equally frustrated and helpless as Amora the Enchantress stepped up to her Executioner. The Asgardian looked down and sighed, waving her hand over the downed form of her comrade.

The fallen Bloodaxe started to rise but disappeared fading from sight and the Enchantress looked up at her foes…

“Know that I could have slain you all in this moment, Avengers, but I chose not to. There is a greater mystery here; one that you must discern, and soon or all of Midgard will be forfeit.

“Leave me be, and I will you… for now. Concentrate your efforts on a far greater evil. Dark times approach, for Midgard, Asgard and all the Nine Worlds. If Midgard falls, so do all.”

Amora the Enchantress’ body flared in blazing light and vanished.

Storm’s body suddenly relaxed as whatever spell the Asgardian witch had enveloped them all with began to fade. She could move again and Ororo could feel that old anxiety of being trapped and enclosed begin to fade as well. It was something she had battled since childhood – a fear of being entrapped in tiny spaces, which often left her an emotional wreck and useless to her teammates, sometimes with disastrous results. She hated that the Enchantress’ spell had sparked those fears again.

Ororo Monroe grit her teeth and focused as the feeling left her realizing she was falling. The witch had dispersed her tempest as easily as the Thunder God Thor might. A wave of her hand and the winds had died so Storm concentrated gathering her Mutant powers about her; calling and gathering the trailing, lingering winds and breezes about her, using her anger at herself and her weakness to keep her aloft. Slowly her cloak began to fill and billow but the ground was coming up fast… Too fast!

“Easy, Ororo… I’ve got you.”

She had not even heard the Iron-Man as he had swooped in from above and behind. She felt his strong, metal-encased arms wrap about her waist; holding her close as he soared downward in a wide, sweeping spiral to finally land gently amongst their friends. Ororo stepped away and took a deep cleansing breath stilling her fears, clenching and unclenching her fists with tightly shut eyes until she was calm again.

“Are you all right, mein freund?”

Ororo opened her eyes and saw the concerned face of her old friend, Kurt Wagner staring at her. She felt his reassuring hand gently lit on her arm for comfort and she just had to force a smile. Nightcrawler had been her teammate in the X-Men, and her friend; her oldest friend now they were both Avengers. She looked into his eyes and nodded.

“Yes, my friend,” she reassured, “I’ll be fine.” Kurt smiled.

“Glad, Ororo.” Anthony Stark’s hollow voice seemed to vibrate over the area as he stood surveying the scene. Storm saw that the others had all gathered about with no one looking the worse for wear. She saw too in the distance the S.H.I.E.L.D. security squads had arrived and were scrambling about to better subdue the fallen terrorists all under the watchful eyes of a contingent of Guardsmen. She wondered briefly how they might contain some of their foes. The Titanium Man was no problem she imagined; simply take the man from his armored shell, but how to contain someone like Fatale who could simply teleport away?  Her mind’s eye brought up an image of Forge then and she recalled the many devices he had created for S.H.I.E.L.D. and governments around the world. She remembered one in particular and frowned, but she understood.

“Well, we won people,” Anthony Stark continued in a normal voice as his face-plate slid up and open to reveal his handsome, sweaty features. He produced a ‘Wet-One’ from a tiny compartment on the side of his armor and wiped his face as he spoke. “That’s the important thing I guess. We stopped them from doing whatever it was they were here to do.”

“And any thoughts of what that might have been, Stark?” Josiah X took a drink from the Gatorade bottle the S.H.I.E.L.D. Medic had given him as the woman checked him over and cleansed a few minor cuts and scrapes. The battle done he shifted his shield onto his back by the straps and Ororo could see that though the unique metal remained unaffected the red, white and blue paint was scarred and chipped away from the battering assault of the Executioner’s axe.

“I mean, as far as I can figure this was a totally pointless battle. I admit Storm and I were a little busy,” Josiah nodded to Ororo in thanks, “so I didn’t see much of what else was going on, but that Blood-Axe seemed intent on just beating on us.”

“I agree,” Nightcrawler added. “Fatale is an assassin as far as I recall, and an effective one, but she all but admitted she was not here to kill me as she had not laced her sword with poison. Our entire fight seemed more a distraction.”

“Is that all they were here for?” Scott Lang asked as a medic tended his burns. His uniform had protected him somewhat from Quasimodo’s heat beam, but not enough. “What’s here in this complex they might want, Tony? Cap’s right. It seemed pointless.”

“Research and storage mainly,” Stark answered. “After Ultron took it over years ago when he created Jocasta I shut the place down from actual development. It used to be part of my weapons manufacturing plants when I was working in that field for the government. I don’t do that anymore, There are things stored here that might be of interest to a number of terrorists, but with the Enchantress involved and seemingly behind this whole thing…” Stark shrugged.

“Listen,” he continued snapping his face-plate back into place, his voice immediately shifting modulation and amplifying, “we all need some down time and a debriefing to sort this mess out. I suggest we head back to the Island and get some rest, then see what we can piece together. I know Hawkeye and Hill have some ideas they want to share. We’ll figure it out.”

The others nodded their agreement looking lost and beaten but glad somewhat they had won. Anthony Stark smiled as he rose into the air again hoping to lighten the mood.

“Anyone remember where we parked the Quinjet?”

 

Avengers Island

Several days later…

“So he’s really gone?”

Clint Barton glanced about the round table of the Conference Room at his two friends and teammates. Anthony Stark was dressed casually in normal clothes – well, normal for a billionaire Barton decided – designer, spandex workout attire that probably cost a small fortune while Kurt Wagner wore a simple collared tunic and tights leaning towards the ‘swashbuckler’ appearance her favored. Stark nodded at his question and Wagner agreed.

“I’m afraid so, Clint,” Nightcrawler sipped at his coffee with one hand, the other caressing the cross he wore about his neck when they were not on call. A nervous habit Hawkeye had noted some time back.

“He was deeply upset by the fire that destroyed his apartment and belongings and… killed his… mother.” Kurt sighed and set his coffee down. “We… spoke. He thinks the Freedom Force was behind the fire bomb. Josiah’s going to investigate and seek retribution I fear; vengeance he can’t achieve in the guise of Captain America. I worry though that the H-Rays might be clouding his judgment.”

“H-Rays?” Barton asked twirling an arrow through his fingers. His own nervous tick.

“Part of the process for recreating the Super Soldier, Clint,” Tony Stark offered. “Back in the Forties with Professor Reinstein’s original experiment, along with the serum Steve underwent a bombardment of ‘Vita-Rays’. Because of the saboteur that killed Reinstein that part of the process was lost along with the original Super Soldier formula.

“You remember the Captain America from the Fifties that found Reinstein’s notes and recreated the formula. He didn’t have the Vita-Ray treatment and eventually went mad with his over-zealous patriotism. Well, the process that Josiah went through was similar but employed the ‘H-Rays’ to temper the treatment. I confess I haven’t looked into it, and I should have. Josiah’s a friend. Word is though that the H-Rays might not have been up to par; maybe helping for awhile but now…”

“Then we shouldn’t be here sittin’ on our thumbs,” Clint said tapping the arrow head on the table in frustration. “We ought’a be out there helping him. He’s our friend – “

“Can’t allow that, Barton.”

All eyes turned towards the door, which none had heard open they were so intent on their conversation. Clint bolted from his chair, knocking it over even as Stark and Wagner followed suit. He stared angrily at Nicolas Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the two people standing in the doorway behind him. Fury stepped deeper into the room lighting his telltale cigar as Mariah Hill and General Thaddeus ‘Thunderbolt’ Ross came in to flank him.

“Fury!” Clint shouted. “What the hell – “

“What are you doing here, Nick?” Stark cut in to stop Clint Barton’s tirade. Fury puffed his cigar to life as he eyed the trio of Avengers.

“The Captain America problem is being handled. Not yer concern at the moment cuz you have bigger fish ta’ fry.”

“What could be more important than helping our friend?” Nightcrawler asked, his tail whipping about. He saw Mariah Hill frown but remain silent as Ross stepped up.

“Word’s come down from on high, Mutant,” Ross growled dropping a folder onto the table, “From the Commander In Chief himself. It’s time to earn your name.

“It’s time to avenge Seattle…” The three Avengers stared at the old war-horse in disbelief. They knew what was coming with those cryptic words but did not want to accept them.

“The President has ordered you to take down the Hulk!”

 

Next Issue: Hulk Hunt!

 

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Hello all. Been awhile. Sorry about that but Real Life seemed to hit everyone hard at about the same time. But, Marvel: Omega is back and in the capable hands of Hunter Lambright and Ed Ainsworth. Thanks fellas…

Hope you enjoyed this issue and stay tuned as things are only going to get more exciting. Until next issue though, you all have homework:

DO go elsewhere here at Omega and read Iron-Man, Captain America, Secret Avengers and Thunderbolts all written by the Dynamic Dino Pollard and tying into the Avengers storyline. Oh, and go read the Thing too if you have the time. It fits in…

Big things are coming…

Read… Respond… Enjoy!

Curt

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