Manhattan
The Financial District

“The problem with posing as a mere mortal,” the Enchantress said to the man standing in the corner as she scanned the document on the computer screen before her, “is the sheer volume of the mundane that accompanies the disguise.” She did not wait for a reply, and in truth would have been surprised if he had. Instead she recrossed her legs under her desk and continued scrolling down through the litany of gibberish that one of her many lawyers had cobbled together for her approval and signature.

“Sign,” the Enchantress said with a sigh as she finally reached the end of the document, “and notarize.” She watched a moment longer, waiting for the computer to comply then told the machine to send to all parties before finally pushing away from the vast expanse of her desk, standing and stretching.

She glanced at the red-haired man standing naked and at near attention, sweat running down his skin despite the central air that kept her offices at a pleasant seventy-three degrees. Only his eyes were not locked, the fierce blue filled with passion, fluxing somewhere between lust and rage. He trembled occasionally as he eyed her, watching her stretch, the curves of her body exciting him and she had to smile.

“Your will is strong, Zhib-Ran,” she taunted as she strolled towards the huge, well-muscled man. He towered at least a foot over her diminutive, mortal frame, though their heights would have been almost equal had she been in her natural, Asgardian form. Still she stood before the man unafraid, reaching up a manicured nail to trace a line down the man’s smooth, bare chest and over his sculpted abs, finally to rest at his crotch. “Few are those that can stand against my most powerful spell.” Her soft hand slithered down and cupped his groin, her thumb gently caressing his manhood. She heard the slightest grunt or perhaps it was a whimper before her attention was diverted by a voice:

You have mail!

Amora turned towards her computer, one eyebrow cocking in curiosity as her Gmail account opened in a window displaying dozens, swiftly hundreds of new messages. Even as she stepped away from the man and back towards the machine she saw another window appear as her private e-mail account popped up; the account locked within the network within her corporation. Heels clacking on the marble floor she hurried back to her desk and slid into her rich leather chair, sidling close to scan the screen.

Reading the Subjects she saw ads for Viagra, requests for money from deposed royalty, Links to obviously pornographic websites and more; a glut of waste. “Spam she whispered as she watched a third mail account open and quickly fill. Despite the spell that she had long ago invoked, her enhanced intelligence to cope with all things Mortal, she was totally at a loss as to what was happening. She reached across her desk and touched her intercom to life.

“Yes, Miss?” a pleasant female voice asked over the connection.

“Tessa. Call Tech Support and get them up here. I think I have a­—”

HSSSSTT…

Amora the Enchantress blinked as static blatted from the intercom. She punched at the button with a long, crimson nail, trying other channels but the static persisted.

PING

The Enchantress watched as a Skype Chat Window opened on her screen shunting the mailbox windows into the background. Her fingers slid to the pad inlaid in the varnished mahogany of her new desk, moving the pointer to close the window but it adamantly remained open and flickering as an image clarified. Shadowy at first, then gaining color and definition, it finally focused as the visage of a man that seemed almost familiar. Handsome but grim, almost haunted the flickering head had reddish blonde hair, white skin and blue eyes. Amora captured the image and saved it to her files to reference it later even as a staticky, metallic voice crackled over the computer speakers.

“I am most impressed with your firewall,” the voice said, its pitch fluctuating from bass to soprano. “It has taken me days to bypass your defenses.”

Amora tried once more to close the window unsuccessfully then settled back in her chair in defeat. She crossed her silk-clad legs and lit a cigarette, staring at the flickering, familiar image. “Who are you?” she finally said blowing smoke at the monitor. “What do you want?”

There was a burst of static that almost sounded like laughter. “As to who I am, let us say I am a kindred spirit. As to what I want, Enchantress? Why the same as you. Vengeance against the Avengers!”

Amora’s eyes widened at that. Bad enough that this ‘hacker’ had breached allegedly impenetrable defenses, but he knew who she really was and that was impossible. There was absolutely nothing on her computers to tie her to her Asgardian origins. Thus, she assumed, this was a foe of the Avengers and one with knowledge enough to connect obscure dots into a much, much larger picture. “How did you—” she started to say, but the tinny voice cut her off.

“The how does not matter, Enchantress. Suffice it to say that I have been watching you and your endeavors. I saw you gather up the battered remains of Hyperion… And see now that you have him well in hand.” Amora glanced at the red-haired man, her champion and Bloodaxe and saw that his eyes were focused on the computer screen as well, narrowed in suspicion. The hacker apparently had apparently compromised her security relay and was watching the room.

“Again,” Amora said taking a long drag from her cigarette as she popped a shoe to dangle from her heel. “What do you want?”

“Why, to join forces of course. I’ve been harassing the Avengers for weeks now, directing assault on their new island headquarters, keeping them occupied as I gain control…” The voice paused at this, then continued. “Your new Bloodaxe is impressive, but even he alone cannot hope to defeat their combined forces, powerful and merciless as he is. He will need aid, assistance that I can provide.”

“And just what is the price of this aid?”

“If your champion and my minions deal a blow to the Avengers, that will be payment enough. I do not want them destroyed… yet. But if you and yours and mine can deal them a devastating assault I might experience… happiness.”

“And what is my reward?” Amora asked as she heard the buzzer to her office doors sound.

“The pleasure of seeing your most hated foes humbled.”

Amora the Enchantress took a final drag from her cigarette then dabbed it out in the otherwise pristine ashtray on her desk. The door buzzed again and she knew the Techs were on the other side come to fix her computer. She recrossed her forever-long legs and glanced at Hyperion, her Bloodaxe, bearer of the blade of Skurge the Executioner. Finally she smiled.

“Tell me your plan.”

Advanced Idea Mechanics
Level Beta Technological Laboratory
Edison, New Jersey

The strange creature who was once George Tarleton sat in a near-meditative state. Fiber-optic wires ran from his oversized head, plugged into the massive computers of the AIM base. The eyes of the Mental Organism Designed Only for Killing were glazed over, his computer-like mind sifting through the data in transit from other bases all over the world.

MODOK’s body experienced a brief spasm. Life flew back into his eyes and he disconnected from the machinery, stunning the scientists and technicians dressed in their matching yellow uniforms. MODOK’s hover-chair spun, carrying him quickly from the systems and deep into the bowels of the base. The technicians scattered, trying to ensure no data was lost with his abrupt departure.

Despite his appearance, his speed was unreal, as was his maneuverability. He zigged and zagged through the corridors, easily avoiding the technicians who jumped from his path in shock. Once MODOK made it to the base’s lowest levels, a single door opened with a quick mental command from him. Inside the chamber were a number of technicians, all watching him curiously.

The technicians were all clad in protective suits, variations on the traditional AIM uniform. MODOK ignored the questions they barked at him, almost like he either couldn’t hear them, or was simply tuning them out. In the center of the chamber was a glowing, translucent cubicle, sporting a shadowy man-like shape within. The jewel on MODOK’s massive brow began to glow and a mental beam of energy shot at the cubicle.

“NO! The synthezoid’s not ready! It’s still unsta—”

MODOK faced the technician, the first he actually acknowledged. Without a word, MODOK fired another beam, this one at the technician. The poor man experienced violent seizures before falling to the ground, eyes rolled into the back of his head, drool seeping from his open mouth. His mind left a barren wasteland.

The cubicle opened and the other technicians backed away. A silver, shining man, completely featureless, emerged from the cubicle. MODOK looked down at the creature and spoke in a voice that was not his own. “The Super-Adaptoid…I have a mission for you.”

THE COMPOSITE AVENGER

By Curtis Fernlund and Dino Pollard

Avengers Island

Supersonic jets carried Tony Stark in his Iron Man armor from the southern tip of Manhattan. He burst through the clouds, sailing over New York Harbor, and smiling to himself at the cheers from bystanders below. He flew low across the surface of the water, then pulled up before he hit the coast of Avengers Island. Iron Man came to a hovering position at a tower near the coast. Scott Lang stood in his Ant-Man uniform at a control panel, a pair of goggles on his face as opposed to the bulky helmet he wore into battle. Storm, Captain America, and Maria Hill stood near the human-sized tube-like object near the array, looking over it.

“How are we doing here?” asked Iron Man.

Scott raised the goggles to his forehead. “Looks like everything’s in place. Are we set on the other end?”

Iron Man nodded. “Checked and re-checked the transmitter. Kurt?”

A small image of Nightcrawler appeared on Tony’s HUD, complete with information from the Avengers’ files. “Yes, all set, Tony.”

Tony nodded to Scott and the engineer’s fingers danced over the control array. His Avengers ID card sat on the console, a holographic image of Nightcrawler standing on its surface. “Okay Kurt, we are all set over here. Just step into the tube and brace yourself…”

Storm, Captain America and Hill backed away from the tube on their end as it began to glow with blue energy. The machinery let out a low hum which quickly grew in intensity to match the light. After just a moment, both the sound and the illumination died down. A hand with three, long fingers reached out from inside the pod, gripping the edge and pulling himself out.

Tony’s faceplate slid up. “How do you feel?”

“A little different from my own teleporting,” said Kurt.

Scott watched the digital scanner, displaying the read-out of Nightcrawler’s vital signs. He nodded with satisfaction. “Vitals are A-OK. Any residual effects?”

Kurt shook his head. “Just slightly out of sorts. I’m used to teleporting when I’m in control of it. Think I’ll stick with that.”

Josiah reached out a burly hand and tussled Kurt’s dark hair. “Who better to be our little test monkey than the guy who looks like one?”

Kurt smiled and bore the teasing, but meanwhile his forked tail slowly wrapped around his teammate’s ankle. With a quick tug, Captain America was thrown from his feet and landed on his back, much to the amusement of the gathered heroes. He laid his bald head on the scaffolding for a moment. “Don’t think you’ll be getting away with that, Elf.”

“Seems like you had it coming,” said Hill.

“Will this technology replace the need for Quinjets?” asked Storm.

“Not completely, we’ll still need those for the most part. But it can definitely help with some short-range jaunts. At least from the harbor to the Island,” said Scott.

“We should look into setting up stations across the city,” said Hill. “Maybe even at the homes of Avengers who live off-base.”

“A little comic bookish, don’t you think?” asked Tony. “The real issue with that is possible interference with air traffic control. But as far as ideas go, it’s not a bad one. I’ll work on some specs, see if we can make it cost-effective and with a minimum of interference.”

“Speaking of which, there are some technical details I’d like to go over with you, Tony,” said Scott.

“Show me,” said Tony.

“The Geek Squad’ll likely be up here for a while, so we should get moving before they bore us to sleep,” said Hill. She descended the metal staircase from the tower with Storm by her side and Josiah trailing behind. Nightcrawler jumped to the railing and sprung off it, teleporting in a flip before landing on the surface.

“It seems Tony has been responding a bit more positively to your suggestions,” said Storm.

Hill shrugged. “Guess he finally realized I’m not going anywhere, so it’s time he started behaving like a professional.”

Josiah remained silent, but kept his eyes on Hill the entire time. While Stark may have been more open to trusting her, the Sentinel of Liberty still has his own reservations. Still, he found it better to remain silent in times like these.

Delacorte Theatre
Central Park, Manhattan

Melissa Gold leaned over the edge of Belvedere castle as Simon and Garfunkel played a reunion concert with attendance in the thousands below. The Vision, in his civilian guise of Victor Shade, stood behind her. Thanks to an internal image inducer, the synthezoid’s normally hairless, red body appeared as a white man with short, black hair graying at the temples.

“I love this song, hits pretty close to home,” said Mel as they began playing “The Boxer.”

“The harmony mixes well with the acoustics, producing a melodious sound that is indeed quite pleasing to the ea—”

Melissa playfully punched him in the chest. “Lighten up, will ya? You know the rules—no HAL-speak when we’re off the clock.”

The Vision smiled at her. “I suppose I can acquiesce to that demand.”

“Good, because…” Melissa put her arms on the Vision’s shoulders, pulling him close. Her hands moved to his face, and just as their lips were about to touch, the Vision tensed. He pulled away, looking off to the side. Melissa glanced down at her feet, her cheeks flushed.

“Sorry, I-I guess that was a bit too forward…”

“We are not alone,” was the Vision’s response. Melissa snapped to attention and saw what the Vision did. A non-descriptive man with short brown hair and eyes stood before them. Due to their Avengers ID cards, the pair were supposed to have this area to themselves.

“I do not believe you are authorized to be—” The Vision paused as the man’s body shifted, his features vanishing and his shining form coming into view. His body took on a green hue, the features on his body resembling the Vision’s look, except with what resembled Songbird’s sonic carapace around his neck.

“Friend of yours?” asked Melissa, sonic wings hefting her into the air.

“Stay back, Songbird,” he said as the image of Victor Shade flickered away to reveal the Vision. “The Super-Adaptoid—”

“I’m not the kind of girl who needs a big, strong man to do her heavy lifting, Vizh!” Songbird flew at the Super-Adaptoid. “Plus, I’m a little tired of our dates being broken up by supervillains!”

Hard sonic wings with pointed edges stretched out towards the Super-Adaptoid. The being flew right through them, taking on the Vision’s phasing abilities. He solidified one hand, holding a diamond-hard grip around Songbird’s neck and plunged his other, intangible fist right into her chest, beginning to solidify.

“NO!” The Vision fired a solar blast from the gem on his forehead, but a sonic forcefield protected the Super-Adaptoid from the strike. He opened his mouth and a high-pitched shrill cry rang out. The Vision’s auditory systems went into chaos, dropping him to the ground.

The Super-Adaptoid looked at the unconscious form of Songbird and dropped her beside her laid-out teammate. He hovered there for a moment, looking off into the sky, as if waiting for something. With a facsimile of the Vision’s cape flowing behind him, the Super-Adaptoid was carried towards the harbor on sonic wings.

Avengers Museum
Manhattan

Clint Barton stood in the courtyard of what was once Avengers Mansion, but had since been rebuilt by the Maria Stark Foundation as a museum dedicated to Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. The famous statue depicting the founding Avengers had been reconstructed as well, although due to the events of Seattle, the Hulk was excluded, leaving Captain America, Iron Man, Giant-Man, the Wasp and Thor.

He had spent the day in the Museum, looking over the various exhibits and reading the history of the team. And he smiled as he overheard a few whispers asking if that blond guy was Hawkeye. Part of Clint wanted to show off, draw the collapsable bow he had strapped to his back, hidden beneath his leather jacket, but he ignored it. He missed the old mansion, but he had to admit, the Foundation had done a great job with the new Museum.

Clint paused as he heard something, like a low-pitched whine coming from above. He glanced skywards and saw someone flying overhead.

“Guess the date didn’t go so well, Vizh—” He paused and tried to look closer. The figure’s whole body was green, and not only that but a darker shade than his teammate’s costume. Plus there was the sound combined with wings that resembled Melissa’s. “Oh shit, please don’t tell me—”

Sounds of sirens in the distance were all he needed. Clint ran for his motorcycle, holding his communicard in one hand as he started up the bike. “Houston, we’ve got a problem!”

He sped towards the harbor.

Avengers Island

“This is getting redundant.” Hill hefted an assault rifle in her hands, scanning the skyline with night-vision goggles. “Is there an Avengers Supervillain Convention in town? Seems like all your old sparring partners have a hard-on for attacking this place.”

Iron Man hovered overhead, his armor in stealth-mode as he monitored the coast. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. The Wrecking Crew, the Mad Thinker and his Android, even Lorelei. If I were a conspiracy theorist, I’d think it was all some secret plot.”

“Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you,” said Ant-Man. He was doing his own monitoring, moving through the air on a winged ant. His helmet also kept him in contact with the Island’s entire insect population, turning them into additional eyes and ears.

Storm plunged the Island into a deep fog. Even a little bit of an edge on the Adaptoid was better than nothing. Like Hill, Captain America wore night-vision goggles, monitoring from a nearby tower. Nightcrawler was able to see just fine in the dark, teleporting from vantage point to vantage point on a continuous surveillance run.

“What’ve we got, Hill?” asked Iron Man.

“Hawkeye’s en route, still no word from Vision or Songbird,” said the SHIELD liaison. Under her breath, she added, “Danvers sure picked a helluva time to go soul-searching…”

“Still nothing over the water, maybe Clint was—ARGH!”

Iron Man’s onboard systems went into overload as something passed through him. The Super-Adaptoid had come up from the water, phasing right through the armored Avenger. Storm flew towards him, eyes crackling with electricity. The Super-Adaptoid’s chest shifted from resembling the Vision to Iron Man and he fired a uni-beam from the glowing disc in the center. Storm threw up ball lightning to try and defend herself, but it wasn’t enough to keep her from being blasted back.

The Super-Adaptoid rocketed towards Captain America, a facsimile of the shield forming over his arm. Josiah braced himself as the robot crashed into him, his vibranium/adamantium shield absorbing the brunt of the impact. Nightcrawler appeared above, drawing a rapier from the scabbard attached to his back. He brought the sword in a stabbing motion, but the Super-Adaptoid vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving the odor of sulfur. The mutant’s sword scraped against his partner’s shield instead.

“Sorry about that,” said Nightcrawler.

“No worries,” said Captain America. The stench of brimstone got stronger. He grabbed Nightcrawler’s hair and threw him to the ground. “DOWN!” Captain America hurled his shield at the Super-Adaptoid, who had just prepared to impale Nightcrawler with his own sword. He phased through the flying shield and teleported again.

“Mein gott, that’s really annoying when someone else does it!” said Nightcrawler.

Captain America snickered, catching his shield as it flew back.

The Super-Adaptoid had teleported to the middle of the Island, where he was firmly in Hill’s sights. She opened fire on him with her rifle, the bullets ricocheting off the shield. The Super-Adaptoid now resembled a composite of all the gathered Avengers—chest of Iron Man; hands, feet and tail of Nightcrawler; shield of Captain America; cape of Storm; helmet of Ant-Man; and the SHIELD emblems on his shoulders and the rifle wielded by Hill.

Insects began swarming at the Super-Adaptoid, commanded by Ant-Man as he flew around. He heard a voice echo inside his helmet, that of Captain America. “We need to start coordinating our attacks, it’s the only way to stop this thing. Ant-Man, keep him distracted with your friends.”

“Not sure how many of them are left on the island, but I’ll do what I can.”

“Nightcrawler, Hill—Maneuver 32 on my mark.”

Nightcrawler hopped onto Captain America’s shoulders and the pair vanished in a burst of smoke. Hill tossed a few grenades down to attract the Super-Adaptoid’s attention. It worked and he directed a flurry of lightning and repulsor energy at her. Hill’s hand turned her belt buckle, activating a forcefield around her body to protect her. “Hurry up, guys, this thing’s got a short battery life!”

Nightcrawler and Captain America materialized several hundred feet above the battle. Captain America dove head-first, holding his shield out in front with both arms, Nightcrawler still clutching his back. Just before they would strike the ground, just as the Super-Adaptoid turned, Nightcrawler teleported again. When they rematerialized, this time it was right behind the synthezoid, and their momentum remained, striking the Super-Adaptoid with the force of a missile.

The reverberations overpowered even Captain America’s shield, throwing the Avengers back along the coast. Nightcrawler was the first to slowly get up and saw that the Super-Adaptoid still stood in the middle of a massive crater. The mutant’s yellow eyes bulged in shock. “…what was Maneuver 33 again?”

“We don’t have one,” muttered Captain America.

“Well, we better think of one, and fast!” barked Hill.

The thunder grew louder and Storm hovered on the winds. She directed them at the Super-Adaptoid, hurling the full force of the elements at him. In his diamond form, he stood his ground. Lightning struck him repeatedly, but it barely seemed to phase him. And then, the Super-Adaptoid was gone, shrunk down to ant-size and encased in a sonic bubble.

Almost instantaneously, the Super-Adaptoid grew back to his normal size. He seemed as surprised as the rest of the Avengers. A voice blared through the Island’s PA system. “Adaptoid, you’re trespassing. And unfortunately for you, my new armor allows me to interface not only with the Island’s power grid, but also other energy sources in the vicinity.”

Iron Man rocketed from the sea, flying towards the center of the battle and crashing into the Super-Adaptoid. He kept a firm grip on the Super-Adaptoid, his armor draining away energy from the robot’s body. “That means I’m taking your juice. Everyone who doesn’t want to be flattened would probably do good to hit the deck right about now.”

Iron Man channeled all the excess power into his chest unit and unleashed a massive unibeam directly into the Super-Adaptoid at point-blank range. The Island grew dark as it lost power, but the energy signature from the blast lit up the Island like a nuclear explosion.

As the light died down, the Adaptoid fell at Iron Man’s feet. His body returned to its default, featureless, silver form, smoke rising from the inert body. Overhead, the sound of an engine could be heard. Hawkeye had just arrived, dressed in his uniform, his motorcycle converted into its sky-cycle mode. “Guess I missed the party, huh?”

A portal appeared right in the middle and a man in blue and crimson armor stepped forth. Hawkeye instantly recognized the man, and drew an arrow at the ready. “Looks like I’m just in time for the after-party, though.”

“Who’s this?” asked Captain America.

“The Scarlet Centurion,” said Iron Man. The Centurion pointed at him, then Captain America, Storm, and Nightcrawler. With a snap of his fingers, those four Avengers vanished.

“What in the—” asked Ant-Man.

“What’d you do to them?” demanded Hawkeye. “Talk, or I’ll—”

“You’ll do nothing.” The Scarlet Centurion’s entire body crackled with energy and a wave flew from him, knocking Hawkeye off his cycle. The archer fell limply to the ground, lying on the surface as Ant-Man and Hill moved to his side. A slew of unknown memories washed over Hawkeye.

“Stay where you are!” ordered Hill, aiming her side-arm at him. She fired several shots, but the Scarlet Centurion just laughed, fading away in a wave of crimson.

Hawkeye awoke in a bed in the sick bay. His head felt like he’d just awoken from a week-long bender. He saw a vision of the Thing in ancient Egypt. Grimm took control of the Time Platform and stranded Clint there, killing Moon Knight in the process and—

“Wait…what?” asked Clint. He looked up and saw the Vision standing over him. Clint shook his head. “But…that never happened…”

The Vision just looked down at him, considering his teammate’s words.

Iron Man, Storm, Nightcrawler, and Captain America appeared on a shining, golden field, circular and flat, floating in a void of some sort. In the distance they saw two similar platforms. One of them held four other shadowy images resembling people. The other held silhouettes of familiar landmarks. All in the vast openness of what seemed to be outer space.

“Oh no…” muttered Iron Man as the image of a large, blue-skinned figure with white hair appeared towering over all.

“You have been selected to battle in the game,” he said.

“What is this?” asked Captain America.

“The Grandmaster, one of the Elders of the Universe,” said Iron Man. “It is not even funny how screwed we are.”

NEXT: The Avengers vs. the Defenders for the fate of all reality!