Not-at-all-Original-Publications presents: Avengers Assemble!

[bored]

So, here's the situation. Every now and then, I decide that my great dream in life is to be a writer. I haven't done too much of this in a while, and I'm looking to shake the rust off. I'm doing so by writing in the greatest and most prestigious of all genres: fan fiction. This is going to be a twist on the origin and early adventures of the Avengers, with some new ideas and some things based more strictly on their comic history. In short, I'm having fun being a fanboy, while getting into writing again. Enjoy it, leave comments as to what you like and what you don't, all that jazz.

-----------------------------------------------------------


Everywhere Bruce Banner ran, the colors seemed to follow. Primary, secondary, they flashed through the sky, and it was all a man of science could do to keep moving, and not try and analyze the phenomenon. There was a faint voice in his head deterring that sort of behavior, but given that it was him, it had more to do with a lack of instruments on hand than the imminent danger.

Danger was a concept that had taken on new meanings to Banner over the last two years. He was a lab rat, a man who had stayed indoors, with equipment, assistants, equations, the works for a physicist. The accident had introduced him to danger, and he was nearly numb to it at this point.

But today, as the sky seemed to be settling on new colors, bored of being asked why it was blue, he was seeing something new. Banner raced through the desert, assuming he was still somewhere in Arizona.

“C’mon,” he whispered to himself, diving behind a rock. “It’s just weird, but there’s a reason for this. You’re in no real danger.” Banner started to take deep breaths, hoping to get his heart rate down.

“Hiding isn’t really going to make a difference, is it?” he muttered to himself. Banner found that talking to himself helped to focus, and stay normal. As he was assuring himself, he started to notice the sound of footsteps.

“Hello?” No answer. The footsteps tapered off, and Banner went back to his impromptu meditation. He kept his eyes closed, ignoring the flashing sky as best as one could such a strange phenomenon. In the distance, there seemed to be a crashing sound, which jolted him back to his spot in the desert.

Banner’s mood changed from worry to curiosity, as he went to investigate. The closest structure he knew of was a train track about a half mile to the south, and that was the direction he’d heard the crash from. It was at this point that he realized that the sky was no longer flashing, having settled back on the usual shade for that time of evening.

Trekking on, keeping his pace steady in spite of his concern, Banner reached the train track, and found a length of it smashed. Footsteps, large ones, could be seen, pointing in all directions. Banner glanced around, and tried to listen carefully. It was, he realized, a little silly to believe that a train would be coming at this exact moment, right as he found the damaged length of track, but the whole day had been strange like that.

“Human!”

Banner wheeled around. The thing that addressed him was large, clad in some kind of animal skin, and wielding a spiked mace. And its skin was an olive green. Of course it was, Banner thought.

“Hi,” he answered, trying hard to be nonchalant.

“Human!”

“Yeah, that’s been established. Does that offend you?”

“Human!”

“Know what?” Banner said, slowly backing away. “I’m leaving this alone until you get some new words.” The creature could tell by his tone that it had been slighted.

“Kill!” It raised the mace, and started to advance. Banner cursed under his breath, took off his glasses, and placed them in his jacket pocket, which in turn he removed and laid on the ground. The monster didn’t run, but it strode confidently toward him, holding the mace high.

“Kill!”

“Since you’re clearly still learning,” Banner said, losing the attempt at humor and growing distressed, “I’ve got a better verb for you.” He clenched his fists. It was happening, but slowly, which was always a good sign. He wanted to remember where he’d left his glasses this time. In seconds, his clothes were a lost cause. His limbs started to change, increasing in size and color as the seams of his shirt ripped. The troll stopped for a moment, puzzled, though it kept the mace raised. Banner let the change take its course, and while he could still control his own thoughts for a moment, he taught the troll its new verb.

“SMASH!”

-------------------------------------------------------

"Tony?"

Anthony Stark snorted in response.

“Tony!”

“Heh? Oh, hey,” Stark moaned. “What time is it?”

“Tony, it’s 3 pm. I thought you were going to be here by now.”

“Yeah, sorry, got held up at the office. Oh, crap!” The man on the other end of the line groaned as his Stark paused for a moment. “Was it supposed to rain? Because I think I’m getting rained on. Hold on, I’m going to switch the auto pilot off. Okay. Pym, you there?”

“Yeah, Tony.”

“Okay, sorry. I had a long night. Set the coordinates you gave me into the Mark 3 suit and took off on auto. I put noise-cancel on, and just shut my eyes. This new suit’s super-comfortable, you know?”

“You’re in the damn armor?!”

“Hey! Hey! First of all, this armor is awesome,” Stark answered. “Second, I bet you’re talking through that goofy-ass helmet of yours.”

“No, Tony, I’m talking on my cell phone, as I thought you were doing.” Hank Pym stopped for a second to rub his temples before continuing. “Okay, so what’s your ETA?”

“Hold on,” Stark said, bringing up the GPS monitor in his helmet. “Okay, gimme half an hour. Sure thing this time. How’s Jan?”

“Janet’s not here yet, Tony. I’ve got to go.”

High in the air over a strangely cloudy Arizona desert, Tony Stark, or as he preferred the newspapers call him, Iron Man, soared in a suit of red and gold armor, flames shooting from his boots.

------------------------------------------------------------

In spite of Stark’s prediction, it was nearly five in the evening when he arrived at the camp set up a few miles outside of Phoenix. Hank Pym was waiting outside the largest tent in the camp when he arrived, arms folded across his chest.

“Fashionably late?” Pym asked.

“When you look like me,” Iron Man responded, landing slowly in front of him, “you’re ‘fashionably’ everything.” He removed his helmet. In spite of the armor’s improved cooling units, his hair was still matted down with sweat. Pym scowled for a moment longer, then smiled.

“My helmet’s still cooler,” Pym said. The pair exchanged a high-five, and entered the tent. It had been raised quickly, and several work stations were still being assembled. One in the middle had already been set up, and several men in fatigues were hovered around it. Behind them was a middle aged man with a thick mustache and all the decorations available to one of the most accomplished soldiers the United States Army had ever seen, General Thaddeus Ross.

“You’re late, Tin Man,” he growled, looking up.

“Gee, haven’t been called that before,” Stark muttered. He turned to Pym. “Did he come up with a new one for you, either?”

“Don’t need to,” General Ross said. “The little geek calls himself “Ant Man”. That does enough for me.” Letting the slight settle in, General Ross went back to attending the small crowd at the work station.

“So, since we’re here and all, mind telling us what’s going on?” Iron Man asked. “Like, has anyone actually seen Bruce Banner?”

“The Hulk,” General Ross snarled, “has made a few appearances over the last week. Come around here and take a look at his handiwork.”

Iron Man and Hank “Ant Man” Pym followed, and peered over the small crowd that was marveling at photos of the Hulk’s alleged path of destruction. Prominent on the computer screen was a Texaco station. At least one gas pump could be seen lying in the ground, and the convenience store had been torn apart.

“Only two people inside at the time,” Ross said. “One was a trucker. Paramedics found his body in a heap twenty feet out behind the store. Once the cashier could talk, he said a big green muscleman just stormed through, grunting and stealing food.”

“This isn’t like him,” Pym said. “He doesn’t just attack people unless he’s provoked, and he certainly isn’t a killer.”

“He’s put a lot of good men in the hospital,” Ross retorted. “And what about that thing he killed in DC?”

“The monster with two heads?” Iron Man asked. “What did it call itself, Bi-Beast? The monster that swings both ways. Anyway, it was attacking the White House. He saved the President’s life.”

“Still killed it,” Ross muttered.

“Got security footage?” Ant Man asked. He had removed his bulky cybernetic helmet now, having decided it wasn’t helping anything. General Ross, like most of the military brass he and Stark had interacted with in the last few years, was not terribly fond of the small but famous costumed adventurer set. The soldier at the computer queued up footage of something bursting into the convenience store. The attacker was huge, definitely Hulk-sized, Pym thought, but something seemed off. He asked for the shot to be frozen.

“No need,” said the soldier at the computer. “Only a few more seconds of this before the camera was taken out.”

“Not the point,” Ant Man said. “He’s holding something.”

“The hell’s your point?” General Ross asked. He wasn’t willing to mask his impatience with the two super heroes mucking around in his operation.

“Can I just see it enhanced?” The video was paused on what appeared to be the Hulk. It was enhanced slightly, but was still too grainy to be clear. “He’s got something in his hand. He’s carrying something.”

“Again, what the hell’s your point?”

“Hulk sort of travels lightly,” Iron Man jumped in. “I mean, it’s not too far-fetched that he’d be carrying something, I guess, but he’s not one for weapons.”

“Look, I don’t know how many other giant green marauders you know about,” Ross said, “but this is the kind of crap the Hulk does. He gets mad, he smashes things, people get hurt. Meanwhile, you two come in and tell me all about how Bruce Banner is your old frat brother, and he’s not a threat, and we’re just harassing him.” Ross paused to catch his breath, building up one of his trademark rants. “Meanwhile, he runs around, hurts more people, and you and your creepy spandex kind pretend that you’re actually protecting people.”

“You mean by not pissing off a giant green guy with a temper problem?” Iron Man snapped back. “Honestly, you haven’t gotten a damn thing done going after him.”

“Look Stark, if you’re going to help us find the Hulk, then do it, but if you’re just here to whine, you know the way out.”

Iron Man glared, and raised his helmet back to his head. Ant Man followed suit.

“Ross,” Stark growled, his voice coming through the helmet, taking on a hollow tone, “You know our stake here. Bruce Banner is our friend, first and foremost. We want to find him, and we want to help him. We’re not here to help you hurt him, or turn him into a weapon, or whatever the hell you’ve got in mind. Far as we care, you’re just helping us track him down.” With that, he turned and stormed out.

“And you, Ant Man,” Ross said. “He speaking for you? Is the damn United States Army your little search party for your old buddy?”

“Honestly, General,” Pym responded. Looking for a way to finish the retort, he took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. General Ross, and several soldiers gathered around the work station waited for him to finish. “This is pointless.“

“Huh?”

“N-never mind,” Pym sighed, and he turned to follow Iron Man.

“When’s the Wasp getting here?” the armor-clad hero asked, seeming to stare into space. Pym had known him long enough to know that he was looking at some sort of display inside his helmet, but it was still annoying.

“Sometime tonight,” Ant Man said. “She had this thing at a museum today, I don’t know.”

“’Kay.” Iron Man muttered something after that. Ant Man guessed he was talking to the suit, but didn’t pursue it. Much as he was teased for communicating with insects, he still couldn’t get over the rapport his friend had with that suit. “So then, do we wait for her?”

“Jan’s got an image to maintain,” Ant Man said. “She doesn’t like Ross much, but she’ll cooperate with him.”

“So you’re saying it’s on us to find Bruce?”

“Yep.”

“Cool.” Iron Man’s boots started to flare up. “I’ll take the high road, you take the… road with the bugs. Call if you find a lead.”

“Same to you, Tony,” Ant Man called after, as Iron Man was starting to move into the air. “Guess I’m going to have to find some colonies around here.”