FORCED AGROUND

Part I

By Ben Hobson

“CC, this Unit B-045. My squad has found the unidentified aircraft. It’s landed about five miles out from the Needle; requesting permission to search and detain.”

The radio’s inside the pilot’s helmet go silent for a moment. Finally, a male voice comes back over the comm. “Unit B-045, you are green-lit. Any idea on the identity of the craft?”

“No idea, CC,” the pilot says, banding the Slash-ship into a downward dive. The thick Madripoorian air slides past the dagger-shaped ship, an array of shield-generators and comm-systems circling the cockpit. Three other Slash-ships bank with it, following the leader towards the ground. “Believe it or not, this thing looks like it flew outta a history book. I’ll send you the feed when the troops are on the ground.”

“Roger that UB,” CC replies. “Looking forward to it. Happy hunting.”

Underneath the helmet, the pilot smiles. “Roger.” Flicking a switch, the pilot contacts the small squad of soldiers in the back of the craft. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are dropping fast so that we can pick at the corpse of our UFO. Load your guns and empty your bladders; you’re going in.”

A woman’s voice comes back over the comm. unit. “Just make sure we’re the first.”

On the ground

Irene Cameron and Steven Rogers, two members of the five man crew of the Excelsior, sit in the dense jungle anxiously. Irene is sweating, although its more out of nervousness than out of the heat. Her black clothing clings tightly to her body; part clothing and part body armor. A thick belt wraps around her waist, with a large sword attached at the hip. Her white hair has fallen loose, wrapping around her face and neck. Pale eyes, nearly pupil-less, stare out at the crashed ship.

Next to her, the World War II demon Rogers sit impatiently. A man of action in any reality, Rogers is watching the strange aircraft that slowly lowers from the sky. He’s also dressed casually – a white t-shirt covered by a beaten leather jacket. Pockets line the chest, with two on either arm. Worn jeans, scavenged from Doom’s reality, cover his legs, and his dented, worn shield is slung on his back. Irene had warned him that sunlight could glint off of it easily; give away their position. Quite frankly, that would have been fine by him. Rogers was more accustomed to fighting than waiting – but he knew how important the wait could be. He would feel much more comfortable if he knew the rest of the crew was safe though.

Missing are the other three crew members. May Parker, Sorceress Supreme of her home reality, the mysteriously mad Doom, and their “captain”, Davis Cameron. The small band had really only known each for about a week – the time it took Doom to build their pan-reality ship and home, for as long as they considered it such. In that time, Doom had annoyed him, May had annoyed him, and Irene had largely ignored him (which annoyed him). Davis, however, was friendly, open, and a welcome distraction from the memories of war and the spirits that Roger’s was forced to listen to as a Spirit of Vengeance. If Davis was killed because of these people…Rogers would gladly transform into Geist and avenge his death.

As the craft lands, a small opening appears in the back of it. Six armored figures, all of them carrying strange rifles, exit the back and immediately begin to circle the Excelsior.

“We need to do something,” Rogers mutters. Irene holds up a finger, silencing him, as three members of the squad suddenly turn in their direction. The soldiers wait, listening for anything else, and then finally start to spread out. Gesturing at Steve, Irene starts to back away. The pair move as quietly through the jungle as they can. When she thinks they can talk, Irene crouches down and whispers.

“You need to be careful. Khan’s men are well-equipped. Advanced sensory arrays, body-armor, weaponry. These soldiers aren’t to be trifled with.”

“No enemy is.” Rogers nods, frustrated. “But we can’t let them take the others or that ship.”

“I know that.” Irene hisses back.

“Then we need to movie,” Rogers whispers as loudly as he dares. “The crash threw you and I into the jungle. We should spread out, fan the area, and find the others. It will take them time to – ”

Irene grabs Rogers jaw. “Listen to me.” When he fights back, she squeezes harder. “LISTEN. Those ships travel in squads of four, all of them carrying a squad of soldiers and a pilot. Ship One lands and investigates the target. Ships Two and Three land within a hundred meters and deploy. Ship Four continues to circle the area and scan for anything suspicious. A tow-craft is on the way NOW to pick up the Excelsior for processing. We do ANYTHING stupid here and you and I are captured at best and dead at worse.” She lets go of his jaw. “Thus, we need to play this smart.”

“I take you’re familiar with this…situation.” Rogers says with a glare.

”Vaguely,” Irene counters, scanning the jungle. “If anyone else survived the crash, they’ll be found and taken back there.” She turns, pointing to a whole in the canopy above. Towering the sky, even from this distance away, is a gigantic red tower. It is easily the tallest structure that Rogers has ever seen – it seems to scrape the very sky. “The Needle. Command center, military complex, science center, embassy, prison, and imperial palace of his majesty the grand Khan.”

“Huh,” Rogers says, examining the building. “Sounds like an asshole.”

“He is,” Irene says, standing again. “But if we’re going to rescue the others and get out of this place, it’s where we need to go.”

Rogers looks back in the direction of the crash site. “You really think it’s going to be easier to storm that thing than take six soldiers?”

“The Needle houses as many as one million people. Visitors, staff, dignitaries, allies. It’s easy to get lost, so long as you keep suspicion off yourself. We can get in there and sneak around a HELL of a lot easier than we can out here. I promise you that.”

Later, inside the Needle

Out of all the places that Davis’ newfound mutant ability – the power to move through Reality – had landed him, this was by FAR the nicest. The room is large and filled with plush couches and chairs. Decorative wallpaper lines each side of the room, while intricate tapestries are lain over the wooden floor. Beautiful paintings rest on the walls. The bed that he finds himself in is plush and comfortable, easily larger than a king-sized bed. There are two small bed tables on either side, both of them with silver trays bearing glasses and a crystal chamber of water.

At the foot of the bed, curled up in her blankets of clothing, is May Parker. The helmet she picked up in Rogers’ reality rests on one of the best posts, her assortment of necklaces hanging under it. Her blue tinted glasses – small and circular, are tucked into a piece of cloth that she died around the helmet.

Pushing himself up, Davis is surprised to find that his black-and-red clothing still covers him. A small device is attached to his chest by a suction cup, but it doesn’t seem to be doing anything. Brushing the blonde hair out of his eyes, Davis rests his arms on his knees and sighs.

Then the door bursts in.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Cameron!” The blue-furred creature says as it hops through the room, spinning and leaping until it lands next to the bed. To Davis’ surprise, “it” is actually a woman – a rather large woman, covered from head to toe in blue fur. A small pair of glasses rest on her nose. She’s dressed like a normal doctor otherwise, complete with an electronic clipboard. As she approaches him, the device on his chest relays information to the board, causing its interface to light up. “Glad to see you awake and conscious.” The woman pulls out a small flashlight and leans in. “How are you feeling?”

Stunned, it takes Davis a moment to answer. “Ah, uh, fine. I guess?”

“You sound so sure,” the woman replies with a smile. “Anyways, all of our scans say that physically you’re fine – no diseases we’re aware of, no physical problems, no psionic infections. Say ‘sassafras’ for me.”

Eying the doctor, Davis does.

“Excellent. Now ‘conundrum.’”

Utterly confused, Davis goes along. “Conundrum.”

“How about ‘phenomenon?’”

“Phenomenon?”

”Buhm-baah-buh-duh-dum!” she says loudly, laughing at her own joke. She doesn’t notice Davis slowly inch away from her.

“Henrietta,” a man’s voice says from the door. “I think you’re disturbing the young man.” In walks a tall man. He’s well built, although it’s hidden beneath the red clothing, opulent, well-made, and slightly militaristic. A thick white sash is tied around his waist, the same color as his hair. Thigh high boots of purest black make up his legs, and a long, thin sword is attached at the hip. As if his clothing wasn’t weird enough, the man is colored purple. He instantly puts off an authoritative air and Davis is immediately nervous as he walks up to the doctor.

“Just making sure everything is in working order your highness,” Dr. McCoy says, grabbing the medical device off Davis’ chest. “And I must say, for having been in a crash landing, he’s come through rather remarkably. They all have.”

“I’m relieved to hear it,” the man says, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for your time. You are excused.”

Dr. McCoy bows quickly, then bounds out of the room. “You will have to forgive the doctor,” the man says, turning to Davis. “She has a very odd sense of humor.”

“Yeah,” Davis says, trying not to stare at the man. “I’m, ah, wh-where am I?”

“My personal quarters,” the man says, gesturing at the room. “Or at least, one of my personal quarters. Most of the mid-levels are my personal space after all, so I have room to spare.” The man looks back at Davis. “Is there anything you need? After all, it was my men who shot down your odd little ship; I would be a terrible host if I didn’t make amends.”

“My ship – my friends!” A cold sweat breaks out under Davis’ uniform. “Is everyone okay?”

“We managed to recover you, the young lady there,” Davis’ host gestures at May. “And a man in armor who addresses himself as “Doom.” All of you are in perfect working order I’m pleased to say. According to my recovery teams, there were traces of magic all over your ship. It seems that the young lady managed to cast a spell of safekeeping before you all crashed. She’s quite the marvel.”

”Yeah,” Davis mutters, running a hand through his hair as panic settles in. Traveling from reality to reality was weird enough, you never knew just where you would end up. Never knew what the situation was or who was who or anything. Having their little group scattered scared the shit out of him, and the thought that they might be hurt scared him even more. “There should be two more.” Davis says, covering his eyes with one hand. “A woman and a man.”

“I see,” the man replies, tooling with a small circlet around his wrist. “CC, it seems that we are indeed missing some people. A male and a female, both of them from the unknown ship. Make sure our teams find them.”

A woman’s voice, tinted electronically, comes back over the band. “Of course sir.”

“There we are,” the man says folding his arms behind his back. “Don’t worry young man. We’ll find them. And if anything is wrong, I shall move heaven and earth to put it right.”

Davis muffles a thanks out through his hand. Then he looks up at the man. “Ah, I appreciate that. But, uh, why DID you shoot us down?”

The man’s face goes rather grim here. “While I’m sure you didn’t know, you flew into restricted air space young man. Any craft within a mile of the Needle are to be assumed dangerous and shot down immediately. It’s standard procedure.”

“The Needle?” Davis shifts, climbing out of the bed on the side opposite of his host. He pads over the smooth stone floors and looks out of the window.

Below them, the Earth stretches out for miles. A small strip of green and brown surrounds the area, but then it’s nothing but pure blue until it touches the sky. His eyes wide, Davis turns back. “What’s the Needle? And who’re you?”

The host crosses the room, a rather pleased smile on his face. Keeping his left arm tucked behind his back, the man offers up his gloved right hand. “I am Khan, ruler of the Many amongst the One. And I must say, I’m VERY pleased to meet you, Davis Cameron.”

Now THAT freaks Davis out.

“Please,” Khan says, waiting for Davis to shake his hand. “I mean you no harm. If I wished you dead, my men would have been more than capable when we recovered your ship.”

Still put off by Khan knowing his name, Davis shakes the hand warily. “So where are Doom and my ship?”

Khan smiles. “I was waiting for you to ask.”

The Sewing Room

An amazing set of elevators take Khan and Davis down a few levels. Rather than working with a set of cables and pulleys to move the elevators, a precise computer actually adjusts the gravity of the room according to the distance it needs to travel. Despite the fact that they moved nearly a mile down the Needle, neither men felt a shift in weight or motion and they arrived after only a moment had passed.

They exited into what Khan called the “Sewing Room.” A gigantic space, nearly a mile tall itself, the Sewing Room is a nearly hollow chamber. Work bays, repair spaces, garages, rooms, and other facilities are all built into the wall, allowing for the various flying craft to move relatively unobstructed. Slash-craft are everywhere, gliding through the Needle easily, some of the entering, some of them exiting.

Men and women and robots of all shapes and sizes fill the space. Many look humanoid, but there are dozens of things that look like fish, or insects, or gorillas, or any other number of shapes. A few flit about in rocket packs or anti-gravity units, while a few fly under their own power. Everyone seems to be moving with a purpose. Pilots exit or enter their ships, repair crews dash about, supplies are moved back and forth. Tremendous noise fills the air as all of this goes on. Khan taps Davis on the shoulder, then says loudly “We need to go down. Follow me.”

The pair move easily through the chaos. Everyone makes way for Khan, bowing their heads or saluting him. A few even grab his arm and joke with him for a moment. Everyone seems pleased to see him, which amazes Davis, and he easily lets the man keep the lead. After another two smaller elevators, they finally reach the bay containing the Excelsior.

The ancient-looking ship rests in the bay snuggly, hovering a foot of the ground. A few different crews are assembled around the ship, studying it and remarking about it’s strange design and properties. The back of the craft is burned and blacked – scorch marks from where the engine exploded. Davis can’t see the damage done from here, but it’s obvious that least one of the back engines was totally destroyed.

A Slash-craft lays on the ground, partially disassembled, and it’s from here that Doom pops up.

”DAVIS!” he shouts, waving quickly before returning to what he was doing. Davis looks at Khan, unsure of what to do, but the man just nods.

“It’s fine. I’ll give you a moment.” Khan states with a smile before turning towards one of his men. Trotting across the room, Davis meets with Doom.

“Everything okay?”

“Glad to see you’re up and about!” Doom replies happily as he continues to remove the wiring from a rather large piece of computer machinery. “My sensors alerted me as soon as you woke up; glad to have you back, old bean.” He winks at Davis.

“Any idea what the hell is going on here?” Davis asks. “Cuz I’m lost. That Khan dude seems to be in charge, but I just – “

Doom stops Davis here. “I’ve actually taken the liberty of scanning their files – what files I could. Their electronic defenses are particularly impressive I’m sad to say. You would think that I had programmed them, but there’s something else to them, something more robust. It’s annoying and puzzling and fascinating, but even more than that are these ships of theirs! They – “

“Hold up hold up.” Davis says, leaning on the shell of the craft. “Where are we?”

“In most realities, this country is called “Madripoor,” located in southeast Asia. We are currently in the Needle, which is basically the White House of Khan’s empire. The Needle covers the entire island and Khan’s rule covers the world.”

Davis’ eyes go wide. “He rules the WORLD? Like, Dr. Evil style?”

“I don’t understand the reference, but he’s quite the benevolent man it seems.” Doom replies, tapping on the machinery. “At least, once the initial conquest was over. Populations are up, food production is through the roof, environmentalism is at an all time high – I read almost no pollution in the atmosphere, AMAZING considering the size of this place and all of the people here, you’d think – “

“Okay, enough.” Davis counters. “What about Irene and Rogers? Is there anyway we can find them? Move on? Cuz this guy gives me the CREEPS.”

“First answer:” Doom says, holding up a finger. “I don’t know about them. I apparently was knocked out when we were shot down which I feel HORRIBLE about. Here I am, attempting to build a ship unlike ANY other in all of EXISTANCE and I don’t even think to build in shields or weaponry! What if we encounter pirates? I take total responsibility Davis, I – “

“What about answer number two? Can we find them?” Davis asks, looking over his shoulder at Khan. “And can we get out of here?”

Doom pauses for a second, rubbing a metal finger against his chin. “Assuming I’m able to hack and control a satellite, I think I should be able to cross-ref my own image-memories of them and at least cut down the search time. Of course, if they’re alive, they’ll most likely head here and we don’t really need to worry about them.” Doom then leans back, smiling behind his mask. “I’d much rather focus on my upgrades. Once they arrive we can all leave then.”

“Upgrades?”

”Of course!” Doom replies, finally yanking out the hunk of machinery. “Next time I’ll be prepared! They could fire the Hulk out of a CANNON and he wouldn’t breach our shields! His majesty said I can take whatever I need, and oh, I intend to. We’ll be able to storm a reality of Galactus’ when I’m done! It’ll be amazing! No reality-pirates will be a threat to us, I assure you.”

As Doom marches off towards the ship – his legs extending so that he can climb on top – Davis sighs. Running a hand through his hair, he says “Well, thank God for that. I was REALLY worried about the reality-pirates.” He rolls his eyes.

“Is everything alright?” Khan asks as he approaches.

“I do believe that there is nothing right about Doom,” Davis half-heartedly jokes. “But he’s just the same as he was BEFORE the crash, so I guess so.”

“My men are still searching for your comrades,” Khan says, looking over the Excelsior with interest. “But I was hoping that we could talk about…business.”

Davis’ starts a bit, but tries to keep his cool. “W-what business would that be?”

“You – and your crew and your ship – aren’t from this reality.” Khan states surprisingly. He smiles here. “And that business interests me greatly.”

Davis’ cool is gone as a hot wind of panic blows through his mind. “How do you – “

“You aren’t the only one to travel between realms young man.” Khan says, gesturing his hand towards the elevators again. “Again. Let me give you the tour.”

Below – at ground level

“This seems very risky,” Rogers whispers to Legacy. The pair of them are still outside the Needle. They had made their way through the jungles with some difficulty, but still managed to remain free. The troops that were looking for them were left behind a long while ago. They finally reached Legacy’s goal; an enormous road leading both in and out of the Needle.

The red tower dominates the sky, a red slash rising up into clear blue skies. Various crafts of all type surround it. Long lines of vehicles – some of them flying, others on the ground – stretch out in all directions. A few are parked on the outer edges of the road, their parties arguing or eating or re-checking their paperwork. Legacy and Rogers stand just short of the woods, behind a tall metal fence.

“Of course.” Legacy backs away from the wall, assuming it to be electrified. “I didn’t say the plan was foolproof Steven, only that I had a plan. Are you ready?”

Sighing, Rogers sighs. “I suppose so.” Closing his eyes, Roger’s concentrates, and suddenly his head bursts into flame! His appearance shifts instantly from beleaguered soldier to demon from Hell, all black leather and spikes. Slipping the shield off of his back, Rogers stabs it into the ground – it’s spikes keeping it upright. Fire encircles the shield, then extends, creating another shield of the same design. The flames continue to spread, creating a standing place, then they stretch out into chains, and then into the flaming bodies of a pair of horses. In seconds, a flaming chariot rests before the pair of them. “Good enough?”

“Will it burn me?” Irene asks, tentatively reaching out to touch it.

Geist’s empty sockets glare at her. His voice, all flickering shadows and screaming pain, answers her. “The flames of vengeance only burn the wicked.” Then he climbs on top.

Swallowing her nervousness, Irene braces herself for the pain and rests one hand on top of the chariot. Amazingly, she feels nothing – no heat, no pain. Sighing, Irene climbs up next to him. “Will the next part hurt?”

“Absolutely.” Geist says, reaching out to touch her head. “I would tell you to brace yourself – but you’ve never felt anything like this.”

Irene snaps her sword off of her belt and rests it against the chariot walls. Then she puts the belt in her mouth. With a grim face, she nods.

And as Geist touches her, she inwardly screams.

The entrance to the Needle

A few moments later, a chariot of fire led by two skeletal horses pulls up to one of the many guards. Standing atop the chariot are Geist, terrible in appearance, and a womanly version of himself. Dressed from head to toe in black, accented only with a belt of chains and spikes, she glares at the guard. A sword of obsidian and fire rests against one shoulder.

“Name and business,” the guard repeats the familiar mantra.

“I am the Geist,” Rogers says simply. “Fourth Duke of the Second of the Hells. I demand an audience with your Khan.”

“Well, you’ll have to settle for Master Magician Willis sir.” The guard replies. “Business?”

“Khan has managed to take the physical realm of this world, but the Hells are in an uproar. I seek an alliance for the benefit of us both.”

“Mm-hmm.” The guard says, filling out information on his e-board. “MM Willis is in a meeting with the Sorcerer Supreme for another hour, and then he has to meet with the Minoru Clan and the Robomages. I can schedule you in for 3:34 tomorrow at the earliest. Is that satisfactory?”

Geist looks at his companion, then turns back to the guard nodding. “This is agreeable.”

The guard prints a card from his e-board and hands it to Geist. “This is your Pass. This will be your guide to the Needle. If you need to know anything or find something, just ask it and it will lead the way. Any violence of any kind will be curtailed with extreme prejudice. When you go inside, please, head to the right and you can park your…” the guard looks at the chariot and the horses. “Vehicle. The Khan thanks you for your time and patience, and he hopes you enjoy your stay.” Stepping aside, the guard motions for them to enter.

As the chariot rolls over the dirt and onto the concrete of the parking structure, Geist whispers to Irene. “I can’t believe that worked.”

“When you’re conquering all of Creation, ANYONE can be someone important.” She whispers back. “From here on out is the hard part.”

Far above, in the Gallery

For the rest of their trip back up the Needle, Davis remained quiet. He was more than out of his element here – he didn’t even know what element was HIS. During the team’s downtime in Doom’s reality, he and Irene had a very long talk about his powers and the origins of their little group. The fact that they were from other realities was something that they agreed they should keep quiet – Irene was adamant about it in fact. If someone didn’t NEED to know, then they wouldn’t. But here was Khan and in a few hours – without even talking to them – he knew. Why did he care? Is that a good thing? A bad thing? Davis had no idea, and without Irene here to guide him, he didn’t know what to do.

“Here we are,” Khan says as the elevator comes to a stop. They exit into a large sitting room, circular in shaped. Several doors around the outer perimeter lead into other rooms. The center of the room is depressed, creating a circular sitting area. Some type of machine rests in the center of the circle, a glass dome rest on top of it.

“This,” Khan says, spreading his arms as they enter the room, “is my Gallery. Now, I know what you’re thinking – For a gallery it sure doesn’t have much art.” Chuckling to himself, Khan heads towards the machine. “And that’s true. My tastes in art are a bit more…refined than most.” Activating the machine, the entire room suddenly darkens. Circular windows spring to life above the machine and Khan shifts them casually with one hand. Smiling, he selects one.

Suddenly the entire room shifts.

Khan and Davis stand now above the Earth – entirely above the Earth. Davis’ head swims, but he freezes in place. He knows how to keep his balance – years on a surfboard taught him that.

Looking at the planet down below, Davis can tell that’s not the regular Earth. Yes, it’s still covered in blue and green and slashed all over with white clouds, but the proportions are off. There is much more green than the planet normally has. Nearly all the continents are covered with it.

“This world,” Khan says calmly, “was once a primitive, backwater, dangerous place. It was once dominated by the area known as the Savage Land, a realm of dinosaurs and jungle. The strange effect that allowed this ecosystem to survive was spreading – when we arrived, the Savage Land had just begun to reach Europe and Central America. Since I took the world, we have curbed its spread, brought civilization, technology, cures, and class to its people,” he reports. Altering the scene with his circlet, they zoom in until they are standing over a city.

Tall buildings built from living trees reach into the skies. There are humans everywhere, all of them going about their business. Dinosaurs are scattered throughout the landscape, some of them serving as transportation, others as pets. “It is one of the jewels of my empire.”

“And that’s what I want to talk to you about Davis,” Khan says, turning to face him. “I have made it my life’s work to bring peace to the multiverse and I believe your help would be invaluable.”

Davis looks at Khan. “You mean you rule…whole realities?”

“Indeed,” Khan says, deactivating the machine. The room snaps back to normal and Khan walks across the circle, up to the next level, and approaches a table that’s covered with fruit. “I am the current rule of nearly three dozen realities. My subjects receive the best in technology, in education, in medicine and art and culture. I find worlds that are plagued by the techno-virus or vampirism or the Skrulls or Mole Men or what have you and I save them. Rebuild them.

“But I won’t lie about it Davis.” Khan stops here as he grabs a fruit off the table. He starts to peel it. “It is a messy business. The initial invasion always takes time and lives. I have the best minds on many worlds working to improve our technology, our methods – but they are still slow. Hampered by the conventional ways of thinking. But you…” Khan separates the fruit, placing the pieces onto a small plate, and walks back down to Davis. “You cut through all of that. In all the worlds I rule, I have never met a man or woman or anything that can move so effortlessly through the Between. You are, literally, Davis Cameron, a one in a billion billion. And I could use your help.”

Davis laughs here, sitting down on the plush cushions that surround the circular projector. “You very clearly have some good information, and I’m flattered, but I’m not what you think. Your, ah, your majesty. I’m just a guy who got in over his head and wants to go home. That’s it. There really isn’t anything all that special about me.”

“I disagree,” Khan says simply as he sits down as well. He offers Davis a piece of fruit, but the surfer turns him down. “You are special Davis. You can move unencumbered through reality. Even with all my technology and influence, the process of moving from one realm to another is time consuming. Certain steps must be taken and power must be gathered before we can breach.

“To be honest, you wouldn’t need to do anything,” Khan says, sitting back. “Just allow my scientists to study you. Once they comprehend what you do, we can duplicate the process, improve on it, and then just imagine! Whole worlds could be taken in months rather than years if my men didn’t need to rely on the Needle being shifted into their specific reality. Shipments and troops and clothes and medical supplies could be moved through the empire with ease – no more waiting days or weeks. The amount of lives you could save would be – would be mind boggling!

“And in the meantime, you would be treated like a dignitary; you and your guests. You can have your pick of the worlds to stay in, choose whatever country or building and do whatever you like. All of you. A life without jobs or wars or sacrifice or pain – just kick back and relax. Life your lives and be happy.”

“Yeah, that sounds awesome, but like I said, I really just want to – “

“You want to go home,” Khan says, smiling. He nods his head sadly, wistfully, and looks away for a moment. “That I can understand.” Finally, the ruler does look back at him though. “And I can help with that. I have countless world cataloged in our datafiles, many of them that I haven’t approached yet. We can begin a search for yours, and when we find it, send you back home.”

Davis eyes Khan warily. “Just like that? Seriously?”

“Just like that.” Khan replies, snapping his fingers. “I want to help people Davis – and more than that, I reward those who help me. I’m not rushing you – I want you to feel comfortable in this. But think about it, won’t you?”

“Sure,” Davis says, standing when Khan does. “I won’t many promises for the rest of my crew, but this sounds…amazing. It sounds great. I know that I’m in, at least.”

“Excellent!” Khan says, patting Davis on the back. “I’m relieved to hear it, lad; you’re going to be a huge help. Now come, let’s get your companions and have something real to eat, yes? I’m sure you must be starving.”

Towards the bottom of the Needle

After making sure that they were somewhere private, both Geist and Legacy revert back to their human forms. They caused quite a stir in the bathrooms, but there were very few places in the Needle that weren’t monitored by guards, cameras, or telepaths of some sort. As she exits, Irene finds Rogers standing on a platform, looking up and down the enormous building.

To be honest, the Needle was impressive all on its own. Add in the fact that Rogers’ own reality hadn’t yet progressed past World War II, and his awe seems quite natural. There are dozens of people scattered about, some of them walking, some of them on various vehicular contraptions, a few even flying. There are works of art, fountains, small gardens, large arches, stores, benches, food stalls, everything and anything.

“It’s like someone built an entire city going up,” Rogers mutters to himself as he leans on a glass railing.

”More like a small country,” Irene comments as she comes to stand next to him. She looks at his back. “Where’s your shield?”

“I’ve hid it,” Rogers replies, straightening up. “If I’m really as famous as you say I am in these other worlds, I figure it would help to draw less attention. Don’t worry though, I can summon it at will.” He says somberly. “That shield is as much a part of the curse as my flaming skull is. When I need it, it will come.”

“Good.” Irene replies with a curt nod. “Because we will need it. Somewhere in this structure is our ship and our friends. I say we start with finding the Excelsior first – there are only so many shipyard levels. If we can find that, I think we can find the others.”

“Your powers are really coming in handy Irene.” Rogers says, watching the people around them with a guarded eye. “Makes me feel almost useless.”

“Well, don’t be,” Irene replies with a snap. “I’m not using my powers at all. When Cameron and I went on the run…we were running from this place,” she says, turning to look at Rogers. “We’ve been running from Khan since the start.”

Next Issue: In which there is much searching. In which there is much lying. In which there is a betrayal.