Several miles below the surface, three uninvited guests have wormed their way into the bowels of an abandoned AIM facility. Century’s teleportation abilities got them to the surface and from there, it was Deathlok’s cybernetic overriding of the security systems that gained them access to the elevator shaft.

Activating enough power to summon the elevator would be too risky. But for these three soldiers, an open elevator shaft posed no problem. The Black Widow rappelled from side to side just like her namesake. Powerful electro-magnets implanted in Deathlok’s body enabled him to simply climb down. And as for the 3-D Man, having three times the attributes of peak-human conditioning meant he had no need for grappling hooks or magnets to be the first down.

Once they reached the bottom of the shaft, Deathlok gripped the doors and pulled. Although his strength wasn’t unlimited, it still proved sufficient to pry the doors open at least enough for the three of them to climb out and into the empty corridor. No lights were on, not even emergency ones. Deathlok’s cybernetic eyes automatically adjusted to any environment he found himself in. Black Widow and the 3-D Man were both equipped with night-vision goggles that enabled them to see just fine.

“Deathlok to Infiltrator, do you copy?”

“Reading you just fine. Our intel states that this tunnel was once used for cargo transport.”

“Explains the giant elevator shaft,” said the 3-D Man.

“It also hasn’t been used in a while. All intel states that this facility has been abandoned by AIM.”

“So why are we here?”

“Because Bridge doesn’t trust the intel, Widow.”

“What are we looking at, Cybermancer?” asked Deathlok.

“About a quarter of a mile up ahead, you’ll find an entrance to a boiler room, which probably isn’t well-guarded. If AIM is still using this facility, chances are they’re not using it for transport anymore. Which suits our purposes just fine. But if they are still active, once you get there you’ll have to go radio silent or risk detection.”

“Copy that, we’ll start now just to be on the safe side. Where AIM’s concerned, you can never be too careful. Deathlok out.”

“Heh, I just thought of something funny,” said the 3-D Man.

“What amuses you, Garrett? That big-mouthed simpleton could blow cover?” asked the Black Widow.

“Just a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” asked the 3-D Man. “I meant all three of us are legacies.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Deathlok.

“Well, we’re all carrying around identities that have been used—or in some cases are still being used—” he shot a look at the Widow with that line. “—by others. We’re continuing legacies.”

“I am no ‘legacy,’” said the Black Widow. “Romanova is imposter and traitor to homeland. The Black Widow title is mine by right of Red Room.”

“And I’ve got no connection to any other Deathloks. The name came with the body, simple as that. Never met anyone else who called themselves Deathlok nor do I really care who they are.”

“What about you, Garrett? You used to be Triathalon before Tremont betrayed you,” said the Black Widow.

“You seem to know a lot about me, Widow.”

“I made point to use Infiltrator to access the SHIELD files on all Force Works,” said the Black Widow. “If my life depends on others, then I want to know everything about them.”

“So what did you find out about me, sweet cheeks?” asked the 3-D Man.

“That you are washout, both as athlete and as Avenger. Once you discover where your powers come from, you took on 3-D Man legacy so you have something to model yourself after, to try and cover up your own failures.”

Delroy wanted to rebuff her but knew it would be a wasted effort. He had met Natasha Romanova and found her to be generally pleasant, even if she had a bit of a cool exterior. But Belova was nothing more than a total bitch with a massive chip on her shoulder. The 3-D Man found it ironic how much her brusque attitude bothered him when he had a similar one during his early days with the Avengers.

The trio continued on in silence. The only conversation had been the banter between the Black Widow and the 3-D Man. Deathlok remained silent unless he had to speak. Jack Truman was a consummate professional, a veteran SHIELD agent who knew how to do a job and do it right. He had no interest in either bonding or fighting with the rest of the Marvels he found himself sharing a unit with. Despite the cybernetic body, he didn’t consider himself one of them.

“We’re here,” he said. His strength was able to pry the door open and gain them access into the facility. From here on, the corridors were brightly lit and both Deathlok’s eyes and the goggles worn by his teammates automatically adjusted to the sudden infusion of light.

“Looks like Bridge was right, this place is still active,” whispered the 3-D Man.

“Welcome to AIM,” said Deathlok.

ASSAULT ON A.I.M.

Part I

By Hunter Lambright and Dino Pollard

The Infiltrator
Somewhere in the Atlantic

Dane Whitman walked through the corridors of the Infiltrator ship, the base of operations for the new Force Works. He was dressed in his uniform as the Black Knight, wearing a leather trench coat over the top. On the back of his coat was the red symbol of his ancestor, Sir Percy of Scandia, the same one that he bore on his chainmail shirt. In his hand he held the black and gold helmet that had become synonymous with his title.

When he reached the office of GW Bridge, he pressed the call button on the intercom outside. “It’s Whitman, you wanted to see me?” The electronic door slid open and Dane entered the office of Force Works’ SHIELD commander. Bridge sat behind his desk pouring over reports, seemingly not even acknowledging Whitman’s entrance.

“It’s been two weeks since Korea,” said Dane.

“Mmmhmm.”

“I assume that’s what this is about.”

“You have to leave for England immediately.”

Dane scoffed. “So that’s it, huh? I announce Force Works’ existence to the world and now you’re booting me from the team? When you first approached me, you told me you wanted someone with a conscience, who could keep a clear head in battle. That’s why you picked me.”

“And that’s why I still want you onboard.” Bridge finally looked up. “I’m not going to lie to you, Whitman—I don’t like my orders being questioned. I don’t like that you’re not always willing to do what’s necessary. But you get the job done. And as far as announcing our presence, you’re right—it’s not something I wanted to do. But it’s something that may help us out. If people are afraid of us, might make them slip up quicker.”

“I’m missing something here,” said Dane. “If you’re not getting rid of me, then why are you sending me back to England?”

“Your mystical arsenal—the sword, the shield, the armor, that flying horse—I want you to find out what happened to them,” said Bridge. “You told me you’ve locked up the Ebony Blade but that doesn’t explain what happened to all the stuff you got when that lake chick made you the new Arthur.”

“You mean when the Lady of the Lake named me the Pendragon of this age,” said Dane.

“Whatever. Point is, I want to know why you got that stripped.”

“I thought you were okay with me not having access to that stuff,” said Dane. “You certainly didn’t mind it when you asked me to join back in that pub.”

“Occurs to me that with the threats we’re going up against, a little extra firepower couldn’t hurt, especially of the mystical variety,” said Bridge. “Besides, if they vanished, there’s gotta be a reason, right? I want to make sure that reason doesn’t come back to bite us in the ass later. I want my unit to be reliable.”

“Doesn’t say much considering some of the people you’ve picked for this unit,” said Dane.

“We can teleport you within fairly close distance of England but you’ll have to make the rest of your trek from there,” said Bridge. “So take that little hoverbike of yours with you.”

“I’m calling it the Blade Runner.”

“I’m not interested in your Harrison Ford man-crush, just find out what happened,” said Bridge. “Consult a mystic, beat up a fairy, whatever you have to do. Just figure it out. And don’t take too long, if Truman’s mission goes south, I want the rest of the team to be ready to move—yourself included.”

“Understood,” said Dane.

The Black Widow sprung forward and landed on her knees, sliding towards the three AIM agents who opened fire on her. As she slid on the ground, she drew the two handguns fastened to her thighs and three well-placed shots sent bullets through the beekeeper-esque helmets they wore.

Deathlok’s right arm shifted into a plasma shotgun and he used that to fend off some of the oncoming AIM agents. In his free hand, he held an automatic gun, spraying bullets at them. “Keep moving, we have to reach a command terminal!”

The 3-D Man raced past his teammates, running up the wall, his speed and superhuman senses keeping him out of pace of the bullets. He sprung from the wall, landing behind a group of the AIM troops. Before they could turn and unleash their firepower on him, Delroy relied on his superhuman strength and speed to disable them as quickly as possible.

Delroy tried to ignore the way the Widow and Deathlok coldly cut a swath through the shock troops. Deathlok remained completely stone-faced with every kill he made. And as for the Widow, what chilled Delroy the most was he thought he saw the Widow smiling as she grabbed one of the agents from behind and broke his neck. He watched in horror as she spun on her heel and fired her Widow Line through the throat of another charging agent.

“GARRETT!”

The 3-D Man turned back to Deathlok when he heard his name.

“The hell are you waiting for?” asked Deathlok. “If you’re not helping with the troops, then find a goddamn terminal!”

“Yeah, sure thing boss,” muttered the 3-D Man. He broke off into a run, thinking to himself that he’d rather be anywhere than in the midst of that bloodbath. Especially with that psychotic bitch running roughshod over those agents. They may be AIM but Delroy had been taught by the Avengers that there is a line not to be crossed.

But for a soldier like Truman and an assassin like Belova, that line simply did not exist. Crossing it was simply part of the job and they did it without the slightest bit of hesitation. Delroy wondered if maybe Dane was right when he suggested they weren’t in the right place but they had to stay to keep Force Works honest.

By the time the 3-D Man had come out of his thoughts, he found a control room with several computer terminals. He transmitted a signal and his location back to Deathlok and the Black Widow. Within a few moments they would arrive. Meanwhile, Delroy attempted to break into the system himself but found that even being able to think three times as fast as humanly possible still didn’t mean anything if you didn’t have the knowledge to hack into a high-security computer system.

A gunshot rang out and Delroy spun, seeing an AIM agent fall to the ground. The Black Widow cooly walked up to the terminal, smoking gun in hand, and pulled the 3-D Man away from the computer.

“Idiot,” she spat. “Three times my sensesand you still can’t tell when someone sneaking up on you.”

“What are you doing?” asked the 3-D Man.

“Part of training include computer languages,” said the Black Widow. “While I break into system, do something useful. Like getting yourself killed.”

“Ease up, Widow,” said Deathlok, shutting the door behind him. “Figure we don’t have much time before they send reinforcements so let’s find out what we can, plant the charges and then get the hell out.”

“Intel not wrong, just outdated,” said the Widow.

“What do you mean?” asked Deathlok.

“This facility did close but recently open again. By new AIM commander.”

“And who would that be?” asked the 3-D Man.

Belova shook her head. “No name on record. Files behind heavy encryption. Will take time to crack.”

“Why don’t you handle this, Truman?” asked the 3-D Man. “Figure a guy with a computer for a brain could do it a lot faster than some frigid, Russian bitch.”

With one hand, Yelena drew a sidearm and pointed it over her shoulder, her other hand still working on the computer. “I can put bullet in your eye before you react.”

Truman sighed and grabbed her gun, setting it down on the table beside her. “When I say ease up, I mean just that. I’m in charge of this mission and the last thing I need is the two of you bickering like teenagers.”

“Fine,” she said. “Maybe Garrett has point. Would be faster if you access the—”

The computer suddenly blew as an alarm sounded. The Black Widow was knocked out of her chair by the force. The 3-D Man helped her back to her feet and she pulled away once she stood on her own.

“I could not get any more infor—”

“…shhh!”

“What?”

“Do you hear that?” asked the 3-D Man.

“Nyet, hear what?”

“Footsteps,” he said. “Heavy, metal footsteps.”

The door to the terminal room blasted open. Several guards entered the room, each of them armed and each of them training their weapons on the three Force Works members. Each of them was covered from head to toe with glowing red lights on their heads. The Widow huffed.

“MODOCs.”

“I thought MODOK was some big head in a floating chair,” said the 3-D Man.

“Not MODOK, MODOCs. With C—Military Operatives Designed Only for Combat.”

“So I’m guessing we’re in trouble.”

“No, Truman firepower should be enough for them. Right Truman? …Truman?”

“I think…we’ve got a problem,” said Deathlok, although his voice was different. A bit higher even. “The computer was fried by an EMP blast and that same EMP…it scrambled the Deathlok system.”

“Get to the point, Truman!” said the 3-D Man.

“That is my point,” said Deathlok. “I’m not Truman, my name is Adam Aaronson.”

“MOVE!” shouted the Widow as they dove for cover from the MODOCs. She went for her radio to call the Infiltrator for back-up but she quickly found that it was also shorted out by the EMP. She cursed to herself in Russian as she realized she was trapped miles underground, about to die and with only a man with an inferiority complex and a killing machine piloted by a child for back-up.

England

Dane sat across from an old friend, the two of them raising their beers in the pub. “Cheers, Dane,” said Brian Braddock.

“You too,” said Dane. They clinked their glasses together and both slowly sipped their drinks.

“I’m a little surprised to see you back in England so soon,” said Brian. “We haven’t seen each other in some time, but after what you pulled in Korea, I expected to never see you again except on wanted posters.”

“Guess we’ve both gone through some changes, eh Brian?” asked Dane. “There’s something…different about you these days.”

“A lot’s been happening. I’m no longer retired, for one.”

“Captain Britain flies again?”

“More than one, in fact.”

“What do you mean?” asked Dane. “The Corps?”

“…not quite,” said Brian. “Let’s just say there are things happening and leave it at that. Even been running around with a bloke who bares more than a passing resemblance to your look. Calls himself Knightraven.”

“Wish I’d thought of that,” said Dane.

“So what brings you here?”

“I’m trying to figure out why my mystic gear has vanished,” said Dane. “The Lady of the Lake named me as the Pendragon of this age but a few months ago, I found I couldn’t summon them anymore. The Sword of Light, the Shield of Night, the armor, Strider, all of it. Just gone. Even the necklace I wore to summon them wouldn’t work anymore.”

“And you think I can help you with that?” asked Brian.

“Well, you’re more up-to-date on the goings-on of Otherworld than I am,” said Dane. “Anything happen lately that might have affected my standing as the Pendragon?”

Brian considered that as he sipped his beer. When he finally set it down on the table again, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Dane. Otherworld does have its share of problems, I’m afraid. But nothing I know that could affect your Pendragon title.”

“What sort of problems?”

“More…fairy-tale related.”

“…oh.” Dane sipped his own beer. “…you seem to be in a very strange place, Brian.”

“You have no idea, mate. You have. No. Idea.”

“Right, well this is on me, thanks for the time,” said Dane. He stood and put down the money for the drinks.

“Leaving so soon?” asked Brian.

“I’m on something of a deadline,” said Dane. “My next step is to see if I can find the Lady of the Lake, I guess.”

“Take care, Dane. If I find anything, I’ll let you know. Or…try to let you know, that is.”

“Fair enough. And good luck with your thing…whatever it is,” said Dane.

Once he left the pub, the chill air caused Dane to pull his jacket tight over his body. Even with the chainmail shirt, the cold stung him. He walked over to the spot where he had hid the Blade Runner and removed his helmet from the seat compartment, setting it back upon his head.

Dane couldn’t help but think of the validity of this mission. Bridge had to have known it would take him some time. Did he not want him around in case Truman’s team didneed back-up? If Dane were there, he would try to stop some of the overzealous members from doing what Bridge probably would want done.

“Stop thinking like that, Whitman,” he told himself. “Bridge is a good man, just…misguided.”

Before he could fire up the Runner, something struck him like a ton of bricks and Dane found himself lying flat on his back.

“So this is supposed to be the great Pendragon? Really?”

Dane instantly got to his feet, drawing his photonic sword and flaring it to life. “Who’s there?” he asked. “Show yourself!”

“There’s no one else out here, Whitman. No one but you!”

Dane sensed the shift in the wind and ducked as a dark blade passed over him. He pivoted and brought up his photon blade to block another strike. The Black Knight slowly backed away and he could see two red lights glowing in the darkness.

A man emerged, with long brown hair and glowing red eyes. In his hand, he held a sword with a jet-black blade. “You’re just talking to yourself.”

“…Proctor,” muttered Dane. A twisted version of himself from another reality. One who went insane. One who Dane thought had been dead for some time.

Proctor lowered the Ebony Blade and held something out in front of him. Dangling from a chain was the pendant Dane once used to summon his Pendragon gear. Proctor released it and let it fall to the ground, then brought his blade back to the ready.

“What do you say, Dane? Shall we fight for it?”