Artesia, New Mexico

“Mein Gott…” Kurt Wagner whispered with a husky, hoarse voice as he watched in fear-filled awe the sight of the huge ICBM slowly rising skyward, slowly gaining speed. He was still running high on adrenaline after the battle with Ultron’s army of zombified minions, both human and Marvel, and he was horrified at the sights that he had seen; the total degradation and enslavement of what had once been living, breathing people turned into creatures with but a single motivation and thought. That, being to kill.

He was horrified too at the measures that he had been forced to take. He had been forced to kill himself, for survival and in a way, mercy. Mercy for the souls of those that Ultron had corrupted in his latest mad scheme to recreate the world in his own deluded design. The killing of others went against his very beliefs, and his own heart and soul were in turmoil over the things that he had been forced to do. Had he gone against his religious convictions, broken the First Commandment? He had been assured that Ultron’s victims were dead, but in his heart there was a spark of doubt, and in his head he would be warring his decisions for many, many sleepless nights. If of course the world survived.

“We have to do something!” he shouted, trying to focus on the greater threat. There was no doubt that the missile was nuclear and armed. Ultron had no soul, no conviction about taking life and apparently on a grand scale. Left unchecked, wherever that missile detonated, thousands if not millions would die.

Even as he spoke he saw the rest of his teammates already springing into action. Ms. Marvel and the Vision were rising skyward, and he could hear the sound of Iron Man’s boot jets squealing into overdrive. He could feel the warm desert winds increasing and glanced at Storm, her eyes white and aglow as she prepared to ride the currents as well. The rest of course were more or less land-locked. Granted, he could teleport to the rocket, but he doubted that his own mechanical skills would be up to the task of averting nuclear disaster. Like himself, Captain America and Ant-Man were also helpless, and though he could not see Scott Lang’s diminutive face he could imagine that it was as grim-set as Josiah X’s.

“Planes!” Kurt heard Maria Hill’s exclamation and turned her way, straining to hear over Iron Man’s armor. The SHIELD liaison had a finger pressed to the radio plug in her ear, shouting as she in turn looked to Nick Fury. “We can call in the Air Force. Nellis is close enough that a squadron of fighters can intercept—”

“And do what, Hill? Shoot it down?” The Director of SHIELD stared at his agent, his one eye sparking irritation. “Think before you talk, dammit! We need to either disarm the bomb or change its course. Shoot it outta the sky and the fallout’ll still kill millions.”

“A contingency that Ultron no doubt calculated and prepared for,” the Vision added, his cold, emotionless voice booming with increased volume of internal speakers. “The fact that the device has not already detonated alludes to the fact that Ultron is not through toying with us as yet. He could have slain us all simply by detonating the Thunderbolt Base arsenal en masse at any time after our arrival. In many ways he is all too human in his machinations.”

“Enough debate, people!” Iron Man’s voice boomed courtesy of his armor’s speakers. Nightcrawler could see that Tony Stark had sealed his armor fully, the Golden Avenger preparing to give chase to the missile. “Carol, you’re with me,” he said and Ms. Marvel nodded, hovering in flight. “We’re the only two fast enough to catch that thing, and hopefully have the power and know how to stop it. The rest of you…”

“We get the hard job.”

Kurt Wagner did not know if Scott Lang was joking or serious, but recalling the files he had read of past encounters with the maniacal robot and seeing first hand the destruction of what had once been a thriving community of living, happy people, he suspected the latter. Nightcrawler shielded his eyes then as Iron Man nodded and kicked in his thrusters to shoot swiftly skyward. He heard Ms. Marvel’s curse as she swiftly followed in his wake, the pair dwindling amidst the distance and the rocket’s red glare.

“Good luck, mein freunds,” he whispered, crossing himself. “And Godspeed.”

RISE OF THE MACHINE

Part II

By Curtis Fernlund and Dino Pollard

Iron Man opened the throttle on his thrusters, increasing his speed as he flew to catch up with the ICBM launched by Ultron. This was one of the very reasons Tony Stark got out of the arms business—the chance that weapons of mass destruction could end up in the hands of a genocidal maniac. No security system was every completely foolproof, Stark knew that from his own firsthand experience when his own Iron Man technology was stolen and used by his enemies. So now, he tried to keep as firm a grip as possible on his personal weapons.

A voice echoed in his helmet and on his HUD, the Avengers file photo of Carol Danvers appeared. Despite their close proximity to each other, they wouldn’t be able to hear while flying at such top speeds and the roar of the ICBM drowning out their voices, so they relied on their communicators. “What’s the plan here, Tony?” asked the newly rechristened Ms. Marvel. “Do you think you could knock it out with an EMP?”

“Possibly, but then I’d knock out all my systems—life support, communications, thrusters. I keep EMPs as a failsafe, Carol. And there’s no guarantee that Ultron hasn’t planned for that eventuality and installed a trigger mechanism,” said Iron Man. “I’ll try to disarm the guidance system. You work on physically disrupting its course.”

“Not quite sure I’ve got that kind of strength,” said Ms. Marvel.

“Today’s the day to find out,” said Iron Man. “We have to assume Ultron’s targeted a major city—he wouldn’t go to this trouble unless it was for a massive body count. Try to point it towards the water, away from civilization.”

“Gulf of Mexico is the closest. If not there, then the Atlantic.”

Iron Man caught up with the missile while still over New Mexico. He activated electromagnets in his armor to latch onto the missile. Tearing open a panel, Iron Man found the guidance system and wires emerged from his gauntlet, plugging into the missile.

“Okay…” he said, as the missile’s internal computer flashed the data over his retina in a series of zeros and ones. His armor worked fast, translating the binary code into something Tony could read. “Looks like we’re bound for Kansas.”

“Not a big fan of Kansas, I prefer the beach.” Ms. Marvel had finally caught up to the missile, her hands gripping the tip and pulling on it. Her own strength was impressive, but even in this case, the missile proved difficult to budge. “Nnnnph, remind me to thank the Department of Defense for the durability of this thing.”

“I’m working on trying to reroute it, looks like I’ve almost got it done,” said Iron Man. “Now, just need to execute the comm—”

His armor flashed a warning and the system began to short circuit. “Goddammit, no!”

“What happened?” asked Ms. Marvel.

“Ultron had a failsafe in place! The course is now locked-in!”

Thunderbolt Base
Level 3

Josiah X was sweating despite the chill in the air as they descended ever lower into the depths of Thunderbolt Base. He was nervous, though he was trying to not let it show. And perhaps just a bit afraid.

Like the others he had read the files and seen the video clips of Ultron’s past assaults. The robot was incredibly powerful and had stood up to the best that the Avengers had to offer, as well as the Fantastic Four and the Inhumans. The adamantium shell that made up his body was all but indestructible, and far too many times he had been beaten by fate, or chance or Allah’s guidance. Too, he was powerful, able to stand up to the likes of Thor, Goliath and the Thing. He wondered just what he might be able to do against such a threat. He was just a man after all. Enhanced true, thanks to the Super Soldier Serum coursing through his veins, but nowhere in the league of the others. Just a man with a shield.

But a man dedicated to right and justice. A man with the will to struggle on against adversity. He was Captain America, chosen by perhaps the greatest hero to ever live for the mantle. Steve Rogers had faith in him, had chosen him to carry on the title. How could he not do his best?

“Nervous?”

Josiah X flinched at the gravelly sound of Nick Fury’s voice. He and Fury were in the lead of the group of Avengers and the small contingent of SHIELD agents slowly and methodically making there way deeper into the complex. The Ant-Man had been sent ahead as scout riding one of his flying ants hopefully unnoticed though the Vision doubted that. The android was directly behind them, Storm and Nightcrawler intermixed with the SHIELD assault team that included Maria Hill.

“Yes,” Captain America answered with just a second’s hesitation.

“Good,” Fury replied with a tight smirk. “I’d be more worried if you weren’t. Last thing you wanna be is cocky. I’ve been doin’ this shit for way more years than I care t’ imagine, an’ I’m scared spitless. But there’s a job t’ do, an’ we gotta do it.”

“As far as motivational speeches go, that was horrible,” said Captain America.

“Boosting morale’s your job, Cap,” said Fury.

“Not quite sure how Steve did it, knowing so many people were looking up to him like that,” said Captain America.

“That’s ’cause he never bought into his own publicity,” said Fury. “Don’t matter how many people looked up to him, Rogers never thought of himself as better than anyone else. He just had confidence that he was doin’ the right thing.”

“I’ve been at this game for a long time, but doing the right thing wasn’t always my forte,” said Captain America. “I did what was necessary.”

“That’s what we’re doin’ here.” Fury looked down at the handheld computer, a GPS active and showing their progress through the base to the control room. Although they hardly needed it—all they really had to do was follow the trail of carnage.

The walls were marked with bullet holes and laser burns from Ultron’s entrance. The bodies of soldiers lined the walls and floors. It brought Josiah X back to the days of Vietnam, moving through the jungles, stepping over the bodies of friend and foe alike. Sometimes even lying among them for cover or surprise. It was this sort of inhumanity he had dedicated his life to preventing. And yet, it still occurred time after time.

The Vision remained emotionless, his android body hovering over the bodies. He gave none of them a second glance. Josiah had spoken with the synthezoid a few times and knew he was about as far removed from his “father” as possible. Yet the way the Vision moved and looked now was a bit unsettling. Josiah could only imagine what the SHIELD agents who were unacquainted with the Vision were thinking. And Josiah himself wondered if the Vision was able to turn his emotions on or off given the situation.

The lights in the hall suddenly went dark. The entire contingent came to a stop and Captain America brought his shield to bear, stepping forward to block assault in the pitch-black hallway. He heard the sound of guns ratcheting behind him and felt the stirring of a breeze caress his skin.

“Stand ready, people.” Fury’s gruff voice was full of authority and rough from years of smoking, the old soldier taking command instantly. “Infrared goggles,” he ordered, but even as Josiah raised his into place, the emergency lighting kicked on in a deathly ominous scarlet.

“He’s toying with us,” said Storm, electricity crackling about her tall, lithe form. It was almost blinding to look at her through the infrared. “Trying to put us on edge.”

“And doing a good job, I’d say.” Captain America detected a slight quiver in Nightcrawler’s voice, a man who had probably become his closet friend among the Avengers. Still, the demonic-looking mutant managed to compose himself quickly. He reached his hand out, the three, abnormally-long fingers wrapping around Storm’s hand.

“Are you okay, Ororo?”

Once he joined the Avengers, Captain America took the time to review the files of everyone on the active roster as well as some of the team’s most frequent enemies. He remembered something in Storm’s file about claustrophobia, a fear of enclosed spaces.

“I’m not, Kurt. But I can hold my own,” said Ororo.

A crackle of energy exploded at the end of the hall, a sickly golden glow seeping into the cold stone and chasing away the shadows. A moment later they all heard the terrified voice of Scott Lang shouting into the radio.

“Incoming!”

Captain America braced, shield high as the hallway ahead raged with a fiery light that grew steadily brighter. Something zipped past his face and he assumed, hoped that it was the Ant-Man. He licked his lips as Fury ordered his team back and felt the sudden shift in mass as the diamond hardened Vision stepped past him and to the fore. He heard the thoom, thoom, thoom of heavy footfalls coming closer as his skin prickled with the abnormal heat of radiation enveloping the corridor.

“Nuklo,” said the Vision. “Stand back. His radiation is elevated to lethal proportions.”

Josiah’s eyes widened as the huge, glowing giant rounded the corner and stepped into view. He was gigantic, hunched over and taking up the bulk of the hallway. His skin crackled with radiation, energy that would slay them all within seconds if left unchecked.

He recalled the Avengers’ files on the mutant. Son of the Whizzer and Miss America, Robert and Madeline Frank, both heroes of the Liberty Legion of World War II. Through their own strange origins they had birthed a mutant son that had grown to adulthood yet remained childlike in mentality and had been used and abused by others throughout his years. For a time he was believed to be brother to Wanda and Pietro, the Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver until it had been discovered that they were in truth daughter and son of Magneto, the Mutant Master of Magnetism.

“Nuklo kill!” the giant screamed even as the Vision ran forward. Garish light exploded through the hallway as Josiah felt the wave of a nuclear furnace wash over him. Instinctively, he raised his shield to act as a barrier, although he feared it would not be enough.

The sound of thunder echoed in the hall and Storm hovered to the fore, employing a combination of wind and ice to try and slow Nuklo’s radioactive assault. Captain America prepped his shield and called out to his teammate. “Cut the winds for a minute, sister!”

Storm followed his direction, the winds dying down just long enough for the shield to leave Josiah’s hand. It slammed into Nuklo’s throat, giving him a moment to catch his breath. In that moment, Nightcrawler materialized behind him, driving his rapier into Nuklo’s side. His skill was good enough that he knew the right points to hit and purposely avoided striking any organs. The strike was painful, but Nuklo would survive.

By the time Nightcrawler teleported away again, the Vision had entered the fray. While intangible, he slipped right past the heat waves and once he reached Nuklo, shifted his density to match that of a diamond. The Vision’s balled fist connected with Nuklo’s jaw. Nuklo roared from the pain and drove his fist into the Vision’s chest. The Vision shifted his density at the last instant and Nuklo became further enraged as he tried to batter the ghost-like android.

Storm took advantage of Nuklo’s distracted state, lightning arcing from her fingertips and rocking the golden mutant’s body. As Nuklo turned his attention to the new threat, the Vision phased inside of Nuklo and then began to slightly solidify. Nuklo screamed as his nerves erupted with pain before he collapsed and fell to the ground.

Ant-Man rose to his full size and looked around. The Avengers were tired but their enhanced physiology had protected them from the brunt of Nuklo’s radiation. The SHIELD agents were another matter altogether. Some of them had passed out, almost all were sunburned, and most were slumped over or leaning against the wall. Maria Hill held her hand against the wall to brace herself, her other hand gripping her stomach. She hunched over and vomited.

“Looks like you’re on your own now,” said Fury. “My men are down an’ I’m not that far behind ’em.”

“I’ve already radioed in for medical assistance, but I don’t want them coming in here,” said Ant-Man.

“How are you feeling, Scott?” asked Nightcrawler.

“I’m a little tired but otherwise fine,” he said. “This suit may not be as high-tech as Tony’s, but it protected me from the worst of it.”

The sound of an audio crackle came next and a voice blared across the intercom: “Come to me, fleshbags! Ultron awaits!”

Over Kansas

Ms. Marvel tore into the missile, tearing out chunks of it but careful not to rupture any of the destructive parts. The thrust had cut out, but now momentum still had it heading towards its destination.

“He’s altered the protocols!” Tony shouted into his microphone. Despite his armor’s internal environmental controls he was sweating bullets with frantic worry. He stared at the circuitry within the armament, watching as it seemed to morph and adjust to anything that he did that should work. It was just a fucking nuclear missile for Christ’s sake, but Ultron had changed it somehow. Whatever he did was blocked. Any changes he made to the circuitry were altered setting the sequence of detonation back to the starting point. It was almost as though the thing were alive.

“My God…” Tony Stark hissed as realization hit home. “He’s incorporated nano-technology into the structure with regenerative properties. No matter what I do they compensate and realign to the initial programming. How the hell—”

“Less speculation and more hand’s on, Tony,” he heard Ms. Marvel’s voice echoing through his helmet. “I’ve ripped up the propulsion, but now we have a big metal rock heading at God knows what city. You can’t defuse it, then get out and help me push.”

Iron Man stared another precious few seconds at the internal mechanisms of the warhead. He had seen immediately upon opening the internals that it was a neutron bomb and not atomic. He speculated then that it was aimed at one of the country’s major cities—Chicago, New York, or even Washington DC. Ultron wanted death, not destruction. He wanted to send a message to the world.

“Right,” he said, hesitantly admitting defeat. Ultron had out thought him and that in itself was humiliating enough. He released the magnetic aura of his armor and kicked in his boot jets again, arching up and out to join Ms. Marvel at the hull of the runaway missile. He saw her straining, trying to push the hulk off course, sweating and gritting teeth with the effort. Stark eased into the missile, adding his strength to hers, pushing his armor to the limits.

“It’s moving!” Carol said as he adjusted his flight, adjusting his internal circuitry to compensate for the power loss as he applied force to his boot jets. A quick scan told that she was right, though the change in trajectory was minimal. Manhattan and DC were still potential targets.

“Not enough!” he called back, his internal computers adjusting to the fluctuations in his demands for power. “We need to—”

Whatever he was about to say went unsaid as the world turned white about them.

And back in New Mexico, digitally enhanced laughter echoed throughout Thunderbolt Base…

NEXT: Well, Iron Man and Ms. Marvel are obviously dead. With the rest of the Avengers dying of radiation sickness and about to face their greatest foe, what’s the point of coming back. Ultron wins and kills everyone…

Oh, wait. Dino’s writing this book, not me. Strike that!

Join us next time as the Avengers struggle on in the heart of Thunderbolt Base and learn the fates of Iron Man and Ms. Marvel, not to mention a sizable chunk of Kansas. (I told you it would get worse).

Curt