One Earth: The Marvel/DC RPG

[OneUniverseRPG]

Welcome to the One Earth
The Marvel/DC RPG Season I

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Gamemasters: Carnage27, Byrd Man

RULES

• You may have two characters
• You may choose any character from both universes, but no custom or Amalgam characters such as Darkclaw or Super Soldier will be allowed.
• All characters can interact with each other, it is the same universe.
• No Killing. Unnamed, faceless NPC's may be killed, but not major characters, or taken characters. Someone else may want to take up the character, or they may be important to another story.
• You can go anywhere within the galaxy except planets already known to be destroyed, such as Krypton, although if you have the ability you may visit the ruins or asteroids.
• You are your character, so act like it. Talk like them, use their dialogue. Do not exaggerate your powers, or pop-up here and there without explanation. BE Your character.
• Several stories can be going at once, and you have the freedom to interact with other characters.
• You must post at least once every ten days, though it is preferred that you post more. If you go ten days without a post, your character is up for grabs.
• Be serious, no slander, or impractical actions from your character. Example; "I found a crystal and now I own the world! You're all my slaves!"
• If a major character is applied for, there will be a 24 hour period for other applicants. If there are multiple applications, the GM's will decide who gets the character. Less popular characters can be given out on a first come, first server basis.
• Due to inactivity and uncertainty, all players from the previous season will have to re-apply for their character(s). You may copy/paste posts from a prior Season to use as sample posts. However, you will still have to re-apply with the new applications.
• And of course, all regular rules of the Hype apply.
• Have fun.

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If you'd like to play, fill out the following application:


One Earth: The Marvel/DC RPG

[FONT=&quot]Character you would like to play:

Powers:

Brief history of the character:

List a few reasons why you have chosen that character:

What are your plans with this character? Do you have a story:

Color and font you plan on using for your character's speech:

How many times do you intend on posting a DAY IN the RPG:

Please provide a sample post with original content in the style that you plan to write your character in (must be at least 3 paragraphs long and contains at least 1 line of dialogue):

Post a picture of your character:



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For a complete Character Roster, please see the OOC Thread

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[Carnage27]

​

June 6, 1944

A grenade explodes in front of me, shrapnel slamming against my shield as I bring it in front of me. I keep it there, pushing up the beach as machine gun fire rips through the air, and soldiers fall left and right behind me. But we charge on, not caring what happens to the individual, only worried about the mission before us.

I reach a sand dune and throw myself behind it, my men doing the same for cover. The machinegun nest we’ve been tasked with taking out is only one hundred yards away, but it might as well be a mile. The fire coming from the enemy is heavy, and I know the majority of the men hunkered down beside me won’t be making it back to the women the love and the families they’ve left behind.

But I also know that if we don’t succeed, if this mission is a failure, their families’ very way off life will be threatened by the greatest evil this world has ever seen.

They all look to me for their next order, but the fear in their eyes betrays that they know what’s to come.

“Okay. You all know what’s coming. You all know what we have to do. It’s not gonna be pretty, and most of us probably won’t make it back. But remember this, after today, your names will be legend. Every man, woman, and child in America and around the world will thank you for their freedom and safety. Remember that as you go over this hill and you will live forever.”

I feel their confidence grow, and I don’t waste any more time. I push myself over the dune, my shield leading the way, gleaming like the flag on the beaches of Normandy.

Bullets immediately start bouncing off of it as the Nazi machine gunners spot my flamboyant dress. Good. That’s what it’s for. The more enemies firing at me, trying to bring down Captain America, the less of my men will die. And my shield takes up enough of my body to protect form the vast majority of any gunfire. The krauts will have to work hard to hit me. I’ll have to remember to tell Stark he earned his money today. He’ll love that.

As I rush the machine gun bunker in front of me, a green flash catches my eye to the left. Alan Scott fires a large ball and chain from his power ring, smashing into the concrete nest he was designated to take out. On my other side, I know Garrick has probably taken his out as well. And further down the line, the other Invaders will do their jobs as well, leading their men to victory.

I reach our bunker, not waiting to see how many men made it through the hail of bullets. I spring off the ground using my powerful legs, and roll into the nest. The gunners are completely taken by surprise, fumbling at their side arms. I toss my shield at the one, bouncing it off his forehead before striking the other and returning to me.

I toss down a ladder to the men below, and the first one up, his smiling face greeting me. The boy is young, but I’ll be damned if he isn’t a good soldier. I was apprehensive when Fury first brought up the idea of a “side-kick” to me, but the boy has proved himself time and time again. And he’s become a good friend, on top of a good soldier.

As Bucky begins to talk, his face dissolves into a cloud…

May 1, 1945

“I’m getting you out of there and we’re taking down Schmidt together!” I call down to Bucky, even though I don’t believe it. Bucky’s too far down in the fissure. There’s no way I’ll be able to get down there and get the two of us out.

“You never were any good at lying,” he smiles weakly up at me as the Red Skull’s death machine powers up behind me. And with that, Bucky lets go. As he disappears into the icy darkness, I let out a howl of desperation before slamming my fists into the ice.

The Skull’s plane begins to move, and I turn and race towards it. If I can’t save Bucky, I’m going to make Johan Schmidt pay the price for what he’s done.

Five Days Ago

Maxwell Lord smiles through the parka he’s wearing. After decades of searching, he had told Scott to give up on the project. But Lord wouldn’t. He knew the legend of Captain America. He know what the man meant. And he knew he wanted him for his team.

With Captain America, Checkmate would be unbeatable. It would be the most effective task force in the world, and no one would escape them. America would be safe, and the world with it. And everyone would chant with Lord along with Captain America.

And now, he finally had him.

​

1941

“Hey, I know this neighborhood,” I smile at Dr. Erskine. “I got beat up in that alley. And in front of that store. And I got shoved in that trashcan one time.”

Erskine smiles warmly, “Tell me, Steven. Do you have somezing against running away?”

“Once you start runnin’, they’ll never let ya stop, Doc,” I respond, looking out the window. New York has always been my home. No matter how people treat me, the city is the greatest on earth.

Three Days Ago

“My word,” Cliff Carmichael, codenamed “Thinker”, says as he evaluates the block of ice that contains the frozen body of Steve Rogers. “He’s still alive.”

“What?!” Alan Scott, the first Green Lantern and current White King of Checkmate blurts out in happy surprise. He feels betrayed that Lord continued a search the man had told Alan was hopeless. But the fact that Captain America, the man who Scott had fought alongside all those years ago, was still alive fills him with joy, hope, and elation. “How can you tell?”

“The readings are giving me a heartbeat. It’s very, very slow,” he says leaning back, obviously amazed. “But that’s to be expected considering he’s been frozen for almost seventy years. But I’m assuming his super-soldier physiology has kept him alive all this time.”

“Can you wake him up, Cliff?” Lord asks with a smile on his face.

“I don’t see why not,” Cliff says, spinning around on his chair to face the other two men. “Just give me a few days.”

1941

“Is it going to hurt?” I ask Howard Stark as he straps me into the machine which will pound me with some sort of radiation. He told me what it was called, but honestly, I can’t remember what it was. I’m not really into the whole science thing.

“Honestly? Probably. Yea,” Stark says with the trademark, cocky smile I’ve come to expect from him. He may not be the most humble person out there, but he’s a good man, and working hard for the army. He's my age, which is surprising. A 23 year old with the mind of Einstein. Maybe even smarter. “Good luck, kid.”

After he walks away, a woman in an army uniform approaches me. Saying she’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen would be an understatement. She smiles at me, and I feel my heart flutter. Girls never smile at me, unless they’re laughing at me. “Steve, I’m Peggy Carter. I’ll be serving with you once we get you into the fray. I just wanted to tell you how proud we all are of you, and how we’re counting on you.”

She gives me a reassuring pat on the shoulder before Dr. Erskine gives me a shot.

“That wasn’t so bad.”

“Zhat was penicillin, Steven,” he smiles before the pod I’m in closes around me.

Before long, the pod fills with a blinding light as the radiation begins. And Stark was right. It does hurt. A lot. And as he ups the dosage the pain and the light intensifies until…

Now

“He’s waking up!” I here someone yell, panicked as my body feels incredibly hot and cold at the same time. It’s like I have both fire and ice running through my veins. But I don’t remember the process being like this. And I barely remember being able to hear the people outside of the pod the last time.

I struggle against the restraints on my wrists and ankles, breaking them easily. I tumble off the gurney I was on, spilling onto the ground. I turn over onto my hands and knees, vomiting nothing but bile.

“Where…where am I?” I stutter, finding my tongue clumsy and thick in my mouth.

“You’re back, Cap,” I hear a familiar, yet alien voice say. “You’ve been asleep for a long, long time…”

I look up and can’t believe who I see.

“But you’re back. You’re back.”

 

[Carnage27]

A solar flare explodes from the sun, and the scream of a bird startles me out of sleep. It's the same dream I've been having for a few years, but it seems like it's been coming to me more often the past few months. Neither Professor X, J'onn, nor me have been able to decipher what it actually means. J'onn insists it's just a part of my subconscious, but I don't know how much I believe that. The Professor says it might be a side effect of my powers growing as he breaks down the limits he put in when I was a girl, which might make sense.

I roll over and find that Scott's already left to start his day. It's not surprising. For as long as I've known him Scott has been an early riser, starting off his day early to make sure he gets everything done. Which is an accomplishment considering all he has on his plate.

Being a teacher at a top tier boarding school is one thing, but being the leader of the X-Men as well adds so much on top of that. He has to constantly scout the younger students for potential members, as well as setting up training routines for the veteran members of the team.

I shower and dress myself before heading into the halls of the Xavier Mansion. The sprawling West Chester estate is picturesque, which is exactly what we want to give these kids. Many of them have been persecuted since their powers manifested, and we want this to be a safe place. Mutant kind is not universally loved in America, or the world, for that matter. And the Professor's dream was to give mutant children a place where they could grow up in safety.

Still, not all of them were driven out of their hometowns. For every mutant-hater out there, there's two to three people who see no difference between the mutants and heroes like Superman. They may secretly fear us or welcome us, but they certainly don't hate us.

As I turn a corner, I bump into Koriand'r. She looks flushed and quickly says, "Oh! Excuse me, Miss Grey. I don't want to be late."

"Kori," I smile at the girl warmly, "class doesn't start for another forty-five minutes. No need to rush."

She's a sweet girl, but still hasn't gotten over the ordeal of the past few months. She's not actually a mutant. According to her she's an alien princess stranded on Earth by some unknown reason. We saved her three months back from a mutant slave trader who came across her on the side of the road.

She was scared, and alone, unable to speak an earthly language when we found her. When we began talking, she kissed me, which was incredibly odd, but it turns out she absorbs languages that way. Ever since then she's taken to coming for me for help. I don't know if it's because I was her first true link to Earth or what, but she seems to be the most comfortable around me, although she has made friends here. Her and Kurt Wagner seem to be close.

I like having a little protege. Maybe it's because I was so much like her when I was young. I was scared and alone when my powers manifested themselves.

"Oh, yes," she nods politely. "But well...you never know! See you soon!"

I smile, shaking my head and go to the kitchen to have some breakfast before returning to my classroom. The class is empty save for Kori, but it quickly fills up with her classmates, and I begin my lesson.
​

 

[Batman]

"What do I think? I think you'd be outta your flippin' mind."

Professor Charles Xavier placed his hands together and readied himself for a reaction he had already anticipated. It had been just a little over seven weeks since the man, who's only given name was Logan, came back to the Academy for Gifted Youngsters after first stumbling upon the private school's grounds a long five years ago. And in the short time since his return, Xavier had already noticed the reaction to his stay under the mansion's roof was less than favorable by the students and faculty. Though Logan himself had never been met directly with any words or glances that suggested hostility, Xavier's status as headmaster of the school required him to observe the behaviors of his students. And when it came to Logan, their behavior seemed only to change.

Neither men were quite sure as to why. Logan's scruff and unkempt physical appearance was something that might have required getting used to, but given the high variety of mutant traits that included many unique qualities, it seemed unlikely that he would cause any discomfort by that merit alone. His behavioral patterns, such as the fact that he kept quietly to himself whenever he roamed the halls, and rarely ever left his room during the daytime - not to mention that he never even seemed to smile - may have been the root of it, but it was quite common for a new inhabitant of the mansion to act a little antisocial. With time, they would eventually allow themselves to gain acceptance among the other students.

But unknown to Xavier, Logan knew exactly why everyone stopped and stared whenever he entered a room, or whispered amongst themselves as he crossed the lawn to head out for an evening binge of drinking at the local bar and cruising along the coast.

They could sense the danger. That wild, untamed sense of ferocity that lurked just behind his eyes, telling a tale that none would want to know of even the most minimal details. Ever since Logan could remember - and that in itself wasn't as long of a period as one would think - he seemed to attract trouble wherever he roamed. He had been in more fights in the span of a few short years than most had been in their entire lives. Some had actually lived through the encounter. Others didn't. But whatever the circumstances, there would always be a clear winner, no matter who the unlucky opponent happened to be.

That didn't ever stop them from coming. So because of it, a long time ago, Logan had decided that he was better off as a drifter than someone who absolutely needed to stick around. He had seen the terrible things that happened to people for being around him, and he didn't want that to be a running theme in his life. Being stuck in this school for this long was already marking a target on it's students. Logan didn't know how or why it had to be that way, but deep down, he could feel it beginning all over again. If he didn't pack up his things and move on once again, something bad was bound to happen.

So to hear Xavier offer him an extended stay as an operative of something bigger, something way beyond anything that the headmaster of a school had any business to offer, was a bit surprising. But nevertheless, Logan's expression conveyed an immediate rejection. He wasn't going to be apart of anything that meant turning him back into a soldier.

"Logan, I certainly understand your hesitance. It is alot for one to comprehend, at first, even for someone as disillusioned to the world as yourself. I have made this offer to many before you, and recieved a variety of reactions. Some believed I was insane,"

Gesturing over to the wall, Xavier waited until Logan's eyes peered over at the photographs that aligned the top half of it. All of a graduating class that consisted of many of the current teachers and instructors of the Academy. A bispecled young man named Summers, a redheaded girl named Grey, a highly educated looking brute named McCoy, and a few others.

"Others saw an inherent wisdom in my plight. Whatever you believe me to be, I pass no judgement. But understand that I would not have offered this chance to merely anyone who came upon the steps of this school. I have been watching you, Logan, and I see a great potential."

With an eyebrow raised, Logan turned back to the Professor, failing to hide his clear skepticism.

"Then no offense, but you got somethin' wrong with your eyes, Prof. I ain't no beacon of goodwill, or whatever you called your group of boyscouts. Puttin' me in there would only be a mistake."

"How so?"

For a moment, Logan almost considered blinking.

"Do I really need to spell it out? You're a telepath, for cryin' out loud."

Xavier paused, readying his answer with delicate care.

"Yes, and from what our weekly sessions shown, you would be a prime candidate for this. Your only memories of your past convey a prior experience in field combat, meaning that you would not require the strict training regimine that the others have been given. Your mutant abilities have given you a penchant for tracking, and an expertise in surviving foreign environments. All things considered, from my estimation... you would be a valuable asset to the team."

Logan's eyes shifted, breaking away from Xavier's rather optimistic gaze.

"A team? Sure, I can see why someone'd want me to join up. Your team, though? I dunno. The way you're talkin', you're all out to change the world. That means you gotta win some folks over."

"That has been the struggle, thus far. Human and mutant relations have met a dangerous level of conflict, and I fear it would only escalate with the coming years. Especially since the rise of certain individuals, looking to pacify one side or the other."

"See, that's the thing."

Logan leaned in.

"Puttin' me on the team ain't gonna help that. It's just gonna hurt. And that's me talkin' from experience."

Xavier sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose.

"Logan, you have explained this to me, but you've yet to give any definite reason as to why you feel this way. Would it be so terrible to have you at their side? Say that I sent the group out tommorrow, on a mission of good will. To what disadvantage would your presence be giving them?"

With a snort, Logan crossed his arms.

"Bub, that ain't a road you wanna go down. Just trust me when I say it... I ain't your man."

With careful consideration of his answer, Xavier rolled out from under his desk and revealed himself in full, his automated wheelchair guiding him across the room. Logan stood up as the Professor approached, then passed and headed towards the door.

"I strongly disagree, but I suppose I will have to accept that. If it is how you truly feel, I cannot force you to reconsider."

Opening the door to the office, revealing the halls of the flourishing campus just beyond, Xavier indicated them as Logan approached.

"But if you're really looking for answers to your past, I would suggest giving it a try. Or at least, spending some time to think about it. My psychic link to your memories are scarce, at best, so I fear that I can learn nothing more about you until you learn more about yourself. Interacting with others - more importantly, allowing yourself to trust others - may be the key to unlocking more of those memories."

Without so much as an acknowledgement to that suggestion, Logan shifted his hands into his pockets and walked past, staring down at the halls ahead.

"Tryin' to entice me into coming back only worked the first time, Prof. Ain't gonna fall for it a second."

With that, he headed into the campus and ignored the stares that greeted him, freely lighting a cigar as he crossed the path leading to his temorary room.

Xavier was crazy. There was no way that Logan would ever belong on his little group of X-Men.

 

[Byrd Man]

​

Gotham City
11:25 PM

Alfred pulls the limo up to the front entrance of the nightclub. Inferno is one of the city's most popular clubs right now. A line of would-be club goers stretches from the entrance all the way down the block. Not even a fraction of them will get in tonight.

"Meet me around the back of the club in a half hour," I tel Alfred.

"That long? I thought you planned to just be seen."

"Well, I need to draw a little attention to myself first."

I step out of the limo to paparazzi cameras and catcalls from women.

"Bruce Wayne! Tell OMG News why you dumped Katarina!"

"What do you think about Charlie Sheen?!"

"Any comment on your drug habit?! Will you ever go to rehab?!"

I smile and wave for the cameras, ignoring all the talk and conjecture. The bouncer lets me in without a second thought and I'm transported into a dark underworld where up is down and black is white. On top of all that, there's horrible techno music.

I really hate techno.

But I play it up anyway, dancing with a few girls before I slip them my number. I buy the whole club a round of drinks and get some more attention thrown my way. That should be more than enough to establish a solid alibi for where I've been tonight. After that, I quietly make my way to the back of the club. When I exit into the alley, the car and Alfred are waiting for me. A neat little bundle of clothes rests in the backseat.

"Do I detect the hint of a smile on your face? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you had a good time."

"I think you're confusing me with Tony Stark."

"Well, at least he knows how to have a good time."

"So do I," I reach for the cape and cowl, taking my shirt off and sliding on the shirt. "It's just that my parties involve drug dealers and broken bones."

"That doesn't sound too different than the Stark-Wayne charity bash the two of you threw last year."

I smirk and reach for my cape and cowl.

"Now, if you'll excuse me..."

I swing across the city and land on top of one of the gargoyles that flank the city. One of the many influences of my ancestor, Alan Wayne. It's nearly midnight now, I have an appointment to make. It takes just a few minutes to get to the GCPD's headquarters. From across the street, I activate the audio surveillance I have planted in the various rooms.

Device 210434
Listening: 2nd floor break room
"So that's when the bear stops and looks at the hunter and he says 'You just don't come here for the hunting, do you'?"

Device 210437
Listening: Lt. A. Flass' Office
"Yeah, my shift ends in a few minutes. I'll be there. Just hope that sonofa***** Skeevers doesn't keep me too late."

Device 210440
Listening: Comm. G. Loeb's Office
"Come and knock on our door, we've been waiting for you!
Where the kisses are hers, and hers, and his. Three's Company, too!"

Device 210438
Listening: Capt. J. Gordon's Office
N/A No Activity

Good, that means he's waiting. I swing from the roof and swing across the street to the roof of Gotham Central. I make my way down to the basement and the morgue, where the only friend I have in this city is waiting.

"You're late," the dark haired man in the suit says before he lights up a cigarette.

Identified:
James W. Gordon
Captain, Gotham City Police Department

"Is it another OD?"

"Yep. This makes the sixth one in a month."

Junkies have been dropping like flies all over the city for the last two months. The heroin they've been shooting up has been purer than anything they've ever had and then some. Toxicology reports come back that the vials have an extra dose in them. Something I haven't been able to identify. Gordon and I are the only ones who seem to care at all. As far as most of the police are concerned, who cares if another junkie drops dead?

"Let's see."

Gordon leads me to the morgue slab where the latest victim is. It's a man, appearing to be in his mid to late 40's. There are track marks all up and down his arms and legs. A long time drug addict for sure. The medical examiner already has his chest cavity open and the organs are probably packed away in a freezer somewhere. The real action is on his face.

Like all the others, his face is contorted into a sick and twisted grin.

"It's the heroin, isn't it?"

"That's the only explanation. Someone's tainting Gotham's drug supply."

"I would put my money on a rival dealer. Last I heard, the Falcones were pushing most of the H through the city along with their front man, Jeff Skeevers. Someone must have got tired of them getting all the profit."

"That's a good theory. I'll look into it. You should get home, Captain. It's late. You're family will be worried about you."

Gordon flinches and digs his hands into his pocket. He's trying hide his missing wedding ring. I noticed it the last time we mat. That and the fact that his partner, Sergeant Essen, both disappeared about the same time.

"What are you going to do? I tried sweating some of the street dealers out there and see what they knew about it. They all clammed up in a hurry. Even when I threatened them with jail. They didn't flinch."

I turn away from Gordon and begin to walk out of the morgue.

"I'll make them flinch."
​

 

[Batman]

It can't rain all the time.

Nights like this remind me of the farm. Feeling the wet dirt between your toes as you go running through the endless fields, holding out your tongue to collect raindrops. The smell of wheat husks and corn just as they're beginning to bloom, knowing that the harvest months are ahead of you. Part of you dreads it because you know that there's alot of work ahead to shake up the flow of your early morning chores, but the other part tells you it'll be worth the labor just to be able to taste that first, warm homemade meal of the many to come. I remember those times, when your worries seemed like they were behind you. Instead of infront of you. For the first time, I find myself beginning to realize that the years have changed so much of that. Because even though it's been going on a year since I moved away, the city keeps finding ways to remind me of the past. I almost expect to wake up and realize I've never actually left Smallville, that I'm running late for school and Pa is gonna offer to drive me, even though he knows perfectly well that I can make it in time.

Then a taxi blows it's horn. And I'm suddenly thrust back to reality, keeping up the pace to stay ahead of the people on the sidewalk, shielding themselves with newspapers and briefcases to try and stay out of the rain. The hood of my jacket goes up as I make it to the corner, passing a large windowed diner in my stead. And for the briefest of moments, I manage to catch a glimpse of a family sitting down to their evening dinner, enjoying eachother's company as they laugh at eachother's jokes. Apart of me wishes I still had that, and regrets that I had to leave it behind. But here, in Metropolis - the city of tomorrow, as they keep calling it - I'm not Clark Kent to anyone. I'm a faceless, nameless stranger who's all alone with nothing to do. And for the time being, I'll just have to be content with that.

"Damn!"

A woman next to me drops her purse, it's contents spilling out all over the pavement and immediately drenched in the downpour. She bends down and struggles to put everything back in it's place, but the rain makes it difficult. Without a second's thought, I walk over and immediately begin to help her. I can tell that she's hesitant to accept the help, at first, and I can certainly understand why. Some people in a city like this would probably run up and snatch her belongings before she could even recover. But after a moment of shuffling them into my hand, I give her a smile and hand it all over.

"Here you go. You looked like you needed some of this."

"Oh. I... I mean, thank you. I didn't think..."

Collecting herself and her belongings, she gives me a grateful nod.

"Thank you. Have a nice evening."

"You too, m'aam."

Crossing the street, she's soon out of sight and I'm back on the path towards my apartment. I've been experiencing alot of odd moments like that since my arrival, actually. Helped an elderly woman across the street last week, and she looked at me like I had some sort of disease. Changed the tire off of some person's flat whenever their car broke down near my street, and they thought I was trying to carjack them when I offered to help. It's as if by coming to Metropolis, I've landed on an entirely different planet all over again. When you lived in Smallville, it was just commonplace to try and help others. But out of what I've noticed, it doesn't seem like many people here are willing to do the same thing. Most just seem to ignore eachother or turn a blind eye to anyone in need. Maybe it's just because Ma and Pa didn't raise me like that, but it all feels so... wrong.

"Keep your heads down and don't move! This is a robbery!"

Speaking of which.

Peering over to the source of the voice's trajectory, I glance at the nearest wall - then look through it and the walls that are aligned between the next few buildings. Three blocks to my left, a gang of armed thieves wearing masks begin to line up the customers of a nearby cashier's firm, three of them already beginning to swarm through the money being held in the back of the vault while the others keep the hostages floored. Judging from the way that their weapons look, that more state-of-the-art build that I've been seeing more of lately, these men aren't amatuers. They're working for the crime syndacite that The Daily Planet called "Intergang" a few weeks ago.

I have to do something. If no one stands up to these bullies while they're still making a name for themselves, they're only going to climb higher and step over more of the city's crimelords. Which means that the more crime there is to circulate, the more that alot of innocent people will probably get hurt in the process. Not today, Glenmorgan.

Not if I have anything to say about it.

 

[Byrd Man]

2nd Period US History
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, NY

"So, who wants to talk about the Cuban Missile Crisis?"

I lean against my desk and watch as seven attentive and sharp students all become self-conscious and wary. Nobody every wants to go first.

"Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? Fine, I'll select a volunteer. Kurt, what do you think caused it?"

"Cuba? Ze Bay of Pigs?" The furry blue student asks.

"That was one of the causes, yeah. Fact of the matter is that Bay of Pigs was the straw that broke the camels back. Tensions had been building for years between the two superpowers. Ever since the end of World War Two. Anyone know of any particular event that may have furthered tensions between the two?"

A few reluctant hands go up.

"Virgil?"

"The Berlin Airlift?"

"That was one. How about you tell us what the Berlin Airlift was and when it occurred."

"In the summer of 1948, the Soviets blockaded America and the other Western Allies from East Berlin and East Germany. With so many starving East Germans needing help, Truman authorized the Air Force to bypass the blockade by flying over it and disperse supplies to all the needy East Germans."

"Good. Does anyone know why the Soviets blockaded East Berlin? Pete, you ever learn anything about it in school over there?"

"No," the big Russian replies. "Much of the Soviet history was bypassed in school."

"Well, to make a long story short, Germany was facing rapid inflation in the post-war economy and the Western Allies were introducing economic reform to Germany's currency, the Deutsche Mark. The Soviets opposed the move, they viewed it as a threat from the Allies trying to take control of East Germany's economy. So they blockaded all Allied influence from East Germany."

The bell rings, announcing the next class.

"Alright, we'll get more into that tomorrow. Be sure to read up on the Missile Crisis some more. We'll do our review on years '46 to '63 and have the test on Friday. Now get out of here."

The students leave and head to their next class while I reach for the cup of coffee on my desk.

Scott,"a voice echoes in my head.Can you see me in private? Or are you expecting another class?

The owner of the voice is Charles Xavier, the man I will forever be indebted to. He took me in when I was just a scared kid who couldn't open my eyes in an orphanage in Alaska. He gave me sight, and then he gave me a life. Everything I have is due to him.

It's my free period right now.

Excellent. Meet me in the lower levels of the mansion. It's X-Men related.

On my way.

I down the rest of my coffee and leave the mug on the desk as I leave the room and navigate through the students going to and from class.

 

[SuperFerret]

I, J’onn J’onzz, was born roughly 1000 Earth years ago on Ma'aleca'andra, the planet you call “Mars”. I had a family there, my wife M'yri'ah and my beloved daughter, K’hym, and was well loved by the people I served as a Manhunter (roughly the equivalent of an Earth Federal Marshal). Then, the Curse struck. H’ronmeer’s Curse, named for the Martian God of Fire, Light, Life and Death, was a psionic plague, traveling like literal wildfire throughout the telepathic Martian community. It filled the mind with thoughts of fire, the greatest single fear of any Martian, to the point of causing physical combustion. In order to save myself, I had to close my mind to those around me, a decision forcing me to watch my wife and daughter die as they failed to do the same. For many a year afterwards, I wandered Mars alone, the sole undertaker of a planet wide graveyard.

I was brought to Earth in November of 1955 by accident when an experiment of Dr. Saul Erdel’s went awry. Dr. Erdel, shocked by my alien appearance, died from heart failure soon after, leaving me alone, a stranger in a strange land. My feelings on this were mixed. On one hand, I was terrified at my new surroundings, on the other, I was elated at the opportunity for interpersonal contact once more. Disguising myself as an Earthling, I spent years traveling this planet, using my abilities in secret to aid any I came across.

In September of 1995, my path crossed with that of Professor Charles Xavier. He was a mutant, a species that was considered the next stage in the evolution of Homo sapiens, and as such, he and his small group of protogés, were feared by “normal” humans. This fear by those who do not expect or understand them was what originally made me sympathetic to their cause. Actually meeting Charles is what made me see a kindred spirit in the man. Though not a mutant myself, I became an ally to him and his team, and eventually joined his “X-Men” and took a position as a teacher at his School for Gifted Youngsters.

Today, though my true family on Mars is long gone from this existence, I have found a new home, and a new family among these fellow outcasts.

I am J’onn J’onzz, Martian Manhunter, X-Man.

“You must look deep within yourself, Anna.” I say to the young woman seated across from me. I do not pry without permission, but nonetheless, I can sense the apprehension and fear radiating from her mind. “You must calm the voices in your mind. Do not pay them heed. Focus on yourself.”

“Ah… ah’m trying, Mr. J’onzz.” Anna Marie stutters, her eyes squeezed closed as she fights the myriad of mindscapes that clash with hers.

This is not the so-called “Danger Room” class that the students speak of in hushed whispers, but this private session is not without its peril. Anna Marie, otherwise known as “Rogue”, has a terrifying mutant ability. Skin to skin contact with her causes a reactionary response within her biology that absorbs the psyche and abilities of the other person. She discovered this when her first boyfriend attempted to kiss her. It nearly killed him, and almost destroyed her mind. Due to the way the transfer is both physiological and psionic, Charles, Henry and I all agreed that I would be the best to try and help her control the ability she sees as a curse.

The transfer happens unconsciously, as a reflex. Given her nervousness at the time of first manifestation, and the continued stress and worrying in subsequent accidental contacts, I am convinced that it is a defensive mechanism, triggered by her unknowing fear of herself and others. To eliminate such fear, we sit alone in a small, dimly lit room without furnishing, and I begin each session teaching her meditation and calming methods. This is our third such session.

“Anna, just relax. You are doing well, but you know you must relax. Open your eyes for a moment.” She complies, brushing her hair, auburn with a white streak, from her face. “Sit up straight, but not too rigidly. You must be comfortable and focused.”

“That’s hard t’ do.”

“I know.” I assume the posture myself, “Do as I do.” She mimics my position and closes her eyes gently as I do. “We are going to make mental contact again. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

I enter her mind, scanning her thoughts and finding where she is focusing. I join here in that portion of her mind. My scans of Rogue reinforce my hypothesis. Her psyche is a fearful place, a mindscape’s equivalent of a haunted house. Fragments of minds float here and there, literally moaning and wailing as they go. I marvel, not for the first time, at the girl’s mental strength. Lesser minds would have gone insane long ago. It makes me confident that she can eventually control her gift.

 

[Andy C.]

Night has fallen over the city, but while the millions of workaday men and women sleep, the streets are still wide awake. Street lights and neon signs light up the darkened alleyways, train cars rumble by in the distance, taxi cabs take their fares from bars to clubs to sleazy hotels, maybe even home at some point. By day, the city belongs to the citizens, the tourists, the shops and shows and businesses piled into skyscrapers that reach up into the clouds.

By night, though......this city is my city.

Somewhere in the dark, a woman screams; this time of night is when all of the worms in the Big Apple start to crawl out. My city cries out for help, and I'm there in a flash.

"Someone help me!" calls the woman, a terrified young blonde in a blue dress- a nice girl who was just out for a good time, who wandered into a bad neighborhood. The lowlife that looms over her can barely keep from drooling, one hand pawing at her, the other pointing a snub-nosed .38 against her belly. She offers him her purse, but it's not her money that he's after.

I leap down from the rooftop and land with barely a whisper.

"Leave the lady alone, creep," I say, and when the scumbag hears my voice, he all but wets his pants.

"Y-y-you!" he stammers. "B-b-but I didn't think you wuz even real!"

"Real enough to put you away, you slime," I growl, cracking my knuckles.

"Look out!" the woman warns me. "He's got a gun!"

The snarling thug brings his snub-nose revolver to bear and pulls back on the hammer, but it's already far too late. I'm a blur of motion, on him before he even realizes I've moved at all. A shot rings out, but the bullet hits nothing but air as I grab hold of his gun-hand and using my incredible strength, crush every bone in his fingers.

"GAAAAAH!" the dirtbag cries out, stumbling back as I wind up to deliver a spinning tornado kick to finish him off. My foot arcs through the air in perfect form, slamming into his forehead and knocking him cold.

The thug dispatched, the gorgeous young woman runs to me in relief.

"Oh, thank Heaven!" she says, "Whatever can I do to repay you?"

"No need for that," I say, looking up to the city skyline. "It's all in a night's work for--"

"Peter?"

An old man's voice rings through the darkened city, and suddenly the beautiful girl and the leering thug are nowhere to be found.

"Peter!"

The darkened city starts to blur together and then fall away, and I feel like I'm being pulled upwards, like I'm underwater and floating to the surface.....

....and my eyes open, my vision blurry and foggy without my glasses.

"Peter, you slept through your alarm again," says Uncle Ben from outside my bedroom door. "Hurry up and get dressed; you don't want to be late for school."

Squinting, I look at my alarm clock and see that I didn't, in fact, sleep through the alarm--I flat-out forgot to set it last night. I was up too late trying to level my Blood Elf Death Knight, and now I barely have time for a shower before catching the bus.

"I'm up....I'm up," I say, rubbing the drowsiness from my eyes and pulling myself out of bed. Looking for a set of clean clothes among the piles of laundry in my room, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror: a scrawny stick-figure, barely a hundred pounds, not an ounce of muscle on me. I'm not going to be punching out muggers any time soon in the real world.

A quick shower later, I throw some clothes on and head downstairs, my hair still wet and matted down. Aunt May is doing the dishes from where she and Uncle Ben had omelettes, but since I overslept, I head past her and grab a Pop-Tart from the pantry.

"Cutting it close, aren't we, Peter?" she says, scrubbing off a frying pan. "After all, you don't want to miss your big day."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Aunt May," I say, taking a bite out of the untoasted Pop-Tart. "I've been waiting for this field trip all year!"

Today's the day my class gets to go to Metropolis, to take a tour of the famous STAR Labs, and watch a demonstration of new experimental technology. I get to meet the famous Drs. Emil Hamilton and Curt Connors, who are conducting a joint venture between STAR LAbs and New York's Oscorp (the multi-billion-dollar technological firm run by my best friend Harry's dad Norman) in researching a theoretical bio-force called the 'morphogenic field.' It's going to be amazing, and since I'm with the school paper, I'm even allowed to take pictures (at approved times and locations, of course).

"Just make sure you be careful while you're there," Uncle Ben says. "Metropolis is a big city, and there are all sorts of crazy things happening there these days."

"I'll be fine," I assure him. "We're not even going to spend much time going around the city; we get there, we go straight to STAR Labs, we take the tour, break for lunch, watch the demonstration, and then we get back on.......the bus!!!!"

I jolt as I hear a rumbling diesel engine pass by the house. My eyes wide, I scarf down the last of the Pop-Tart and bolt out the door, my camera flailing around on its strap as I try to put my backpack on while running after the school bus.

"Wait! Stop the bus! Come on, wait for me!!!" I call out, running down the street after it, running panting and wheezing after barely ninety feet. It isn't until the bus reaches a stop sign that it finally comes to a halt, allowing me to catch up enough for the driver to see my chasing them and open the door for me.

Stepping onto the bus, I'm greeted by laughter, jeers, and a crumpled-up paper ball bouncing off my forehead, compliments of one Flash Thompson.

"Look at Puny Parker!" he chuckles. "Geek looks like he's gonna pass out!"

I hunch over and try to hide my face in the hood of my sweatshirt, trying in vain to go unnoticed as I make the walk of shame down the aisle between seats, looking for somewhere to sit. Not surprisingly, all the seats are taken, either by another person, or their backpacks accompanied with a "don't even think about it, loser" look. Public transportation does wonders for my self-esteem.

Fortunately, there's one person that I know is saving a seat for me: my Biology lab partner since freshman year, Gwen Stacy. She moves her book-bag over to let me sit down, and looks at me with what I hate to say looks like pity.

"Sleep in late?" she asks, seeing the dark circles around my eyes behind my thick-framed glasses.

"Yeah....lost track of time.....playing WoW...." I say, still trying to catch my breath. "Bus.....drove right past the house. Heck of a way to start the day, huh?"

"Well, hey, think of it this way: from here on, your day can only get better, right?"

"Heh, I guess," I say as the bus makes its way toward Midtown Manhattan Magnet High.

Okay, so today's not off to a good start. In fact, it's begun worse than normal, and in the life of Peter Parker, normal is pretty crappy. But hey, maybe Gwen's right-- it can only go uphill from here.

Today's a big day, and I ought to make the most of it.














"Aww, man! I forgot to bring my lunch!"

 

[Supergirl]

2nd Period US History
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, NY

"So, who wants to talk about the Cuban Missile Crisis? Anyone?

Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? Fine, I'll select a volunteer. Kurt, what do you think caused it?"

Oh thank god. He didn't call on me. Instead, he called on the blue demon guy. There are some creepy looking people here...

"Cuba? Ze Bay of Pigs?"

"That was one of the causes, yeah. Fact of the matter is that Bay of Pigs was the straw that broke the camels back. Tensions had been building for years between the two superpowers. Ever since the end of World War Two. Anyone know of any particular event that may have furthered tensions between the two?"

A few reluctant hands go up.

"Virgil?"

"The Berlin Airlift?"

"That was one. How about you tell us what the Berlin Airlift was and when it occurred."

"In the summer of 1948, the Soviets blockaded America and the other Western Allies from East Berlin and East Germany. With so many starving East Germans needing help, Truman authorized the Air Force to bypass the blockade by flying over it and disperse supplies to all the needy East Germans."

"Good. Does anyone know why the Soviets blockaded East Berlin? Pete, you ever learn anything about it in school over there?"

"No," the big Russian replies. "Much of the Soviet history was bypassed in school."

I glance over at Piotr. Even when not in his armored form, he's huge. Like All-State football player huge. And that accent. Oh my god that accent. And he's only a few dorm rooms down from me.

"Well, to make a long story short, Germany was facing rapid inflation in the post-war economy and the Western blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah"

I can't pay attention to boring Mr. Summers right now... I stare down at my notebook to the doodles that I subconsciously started scribbling of cartoon versions of me and Piotr... I quickly rip the page out, crumple it up and shove it in my pocket. Can't risk anyone seeing that. And then the bell rings. thank goodness. It's time for my favorite class. Advanced Computer Science with Dr. McCoy. I don't bother with the door, and just phase through the wall, not hearing what Mr. Summers is saying. Shucks, guess I'll just have to ask Piotr later. That's a shame. I find myself sheepishly grinning as I sit down in my desk in the front row.

"Ah. Miss Pryde. Prepunctual as per usual I see."

The other blue furry guy on campus, and my favorite teacher! The door opens and the only other student in this class comes in and sits beside me.

"Good, Mr. Drake has arrived as well. Then without further ado, let us commence."

Bobby sits beside me, and we spend the next hour learning about artificial intelligence, and in particular the Danger AI that Dr. McCoy designed for the school.

 

[Spike_x1]

"No, Dr. Michaels, you can't take the schematics home with you to work on. Nothing pertaining to the Accelerator leaves this room." Trying to look over Albert Michaels' shoulder at the display on my station's monitors is Sam Sterns. Again. I try to be a patient guy, I really do, but Sterns' is just a lab assistant and has a habit of getting in our way and distracting us more than actually assisting anyone in this lab.

"Sam," I say, trying to put Michaels out of my mind as the doctor slumps back to his equipment. "Go see if you can help Dr. Octavius with anything. We're on a deadline after all." I take Sterns by the arm and try to guide him away from my space. "Mr. Luthor said that General Eiling might be stopping in to see our developments before the end of the week. At our current rate of progress, however, the Accelerator can barely power a light bulb. Troubleshoot it."

I swear, it's a madhouse in here. I'm working with egomaniacs, incompetents, ambitious and conflicting personalities, and now I'm hearing word through the grapevine that there's been talk of putting my accelerator into bombs. Bombs, for God's sake! At first, I thought that that might just be a rumor going around, but it becomes more and more believable every day. And now an actual General is going to visiting specifically to see my damn work? What else am I supposed to think at this point?

Taking my glasses off to rub the bridge of my nose, I fall back in my chair with a sigh. This technology could potentially change our world as we know it, and Lex Luthor wants to sell it so that the military can blow people up with bigger and better explosions. Madness.

I pick up a datapad and start trying to get back to work, pushing thoughts of bombs out of my head. Just need to put it on the back burner. Don't focus on that kind of violence. It's not my responsibility. Just go over your schematics again, Bruce. Double check your notes with the files in the computer. Need to optimize power output.

I don't care what Leonard says. My work is my comfort zone and I'm not ready to leave it just yet.

 

[Harlekin]

“Nah, nah baby, it was no thing.”

Luke Cage was in his office in New York City's Harlem, on the phone to his girlfriend, Harmony. He had his feet propped up on his desk, balancing his chair on its two hind legs. It was a little rickety and looking to buckle under the weight of the strongman.

“He in there, doll?”

“Just a little bodyguard stuff. Yeah, of course I got to talk to her,” Luke was saying, smiling. “Well, what are you gonna do for me?”
Harmony Young's reply was laced with profanities; Luke Cage's smile grew wider.
“Sweet Christmas, girl, you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“We don't need an appointment.”

Luke Cage looked up as he heard some rumbling outside his office's door. But before he could get up to see what was going on, his girlfriend caught his attention again, whispering things into his ear unfit to reprint here.

“What I think my friend is trying to say, miss, is that Mr. Cage will want to hear us out. It really is of the utmost importance.”

There was more rumbling from outside and now Luke Cage looked to the door with more concern. “Baby, I think I gotta go,” he said into the phone, “I think my new job is about to come in any second. Yeah, I'll come by tonight.”

Just as Luke Cage put the phone on the hook, the door burst open. Tumbling into the office was the hero's secretary, Jennie Royce, falling face first to the floor. Stepping over her shapely behind were seven kids. The average age between them was eleven.

Luke Cage laughed as he looked at the motley crew. In front was a stocky ginger kid with a cap on his head. He was flanked by a buck-toothed kid with an aviator cap and a girl dressed in a pinkish sweater a size too big. Behind them were a gangly, bespectacled lad and a young black boy wearing a plastic diving mask with a snorkel, whose jaw had nearly dropped to the floor. In the centre stood a similarly wide-eyed, but smiling kid, who was the best dressed and the first to speak up.

“Mr. Cage,” he started, but he was interrupted by secretary Jennie, who had gotten up and was rubbing the dirt from her face and clothes.
“I'm sorry, Mr. Cage, I couldn't stop them.”
“That's all right, Ms. Royce,” Luke Cage responded, leaning back and propping his feet back up on the table. He turned to the kids. “I don't do bullies, kids, much as I'd want to. Got a lot of parents on my neck when I tried that. I could give you some tips though in self defence.”
“What, youse think we can't handle ourselves?” the stocky kid asked, raising his fists. Luke Cage laughed.
“Yeah, I'm not worried.”
“We're here for something a lot more important than bullies, Mr. Cage,” the kid wearing a tie and jacket said. The others, showing their agreement (and seriousness), nodded furiously.
“What you got, kid?” Luke Cage put his hands behind his head. “I can handle anything.”
The kids looked to each other, before the leader in the centre finally said: “That's why we came to you, Mr. Cage. We need you to save the world.”

The chair buckled.

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Luthor looks over the Online Editions of The Gotham Globe, The Daily Planet, The Daily Bugle, and every other major newspaper he could find. The LexCorp Charity Ball was pushed off to a corner of the front page and not front center. In most cases this would bother Lex to no end but this morning not so much. Since the banner headline was basically the same in all of the newspapers:

SENATOR LAYDEN FAVORS MUTANT REG. ACT

He lights a Cuban cigar and looks out upon the Metropolis Skyline as the sunrises.

My doctor would be having a fit if he found out I was smoking a cigar this early in the day, but following in the footsteps of Red Auerbach lighting up a victory cigar is good any time. With Layden seeing things from my point of view the Mutant Registration Act is as good as don, and it's always good to have another Senator on a short leash! I think I actually might be able to take it easy today. Doesn't sound like a bad idea.


Lex presses a button on his phone and calls for his assistant Mercy Graves and has her cancel all his appointments for the day. He then has her call and conference in Charles Barkley, Tiger Woods, and Donald Trump.

He says, "Gentlemen I'm looking at my schedule and I see I've got some downtime today, and I was wondering if you would be up for a round of Golf at the Excelsior Club today around 10am, and dinner at the Crouching Lion last place has to buy."

The other three enthusiastically agree to Lex's idea of Golf and dinner.

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Oliver Queen arrives at Senator Layden's Office with a crumbled up newspaper in his clinched hand.

He blows by the Secretary who says, "Sir, you can't go in there the Senator isn't seeing visitors at this time. If you want to make an appointment you may do so otherwise I will be forced to call building security."

Oliver stops and the Senator's door and removes his sunglasses.

Boy did you pick the wrong thing to say at the wrong time.

He puts them away as he turns back to the Secretary and walks over to her.

Oliver says, "Lady last time I checked this was a Democracy. You know a Government for the people and by the people. You know We The People. Well I happen to be one of the people that means that guy in there works for me! So don't look at me as a visitor think of me as his boss, and I'm about to go tell my employee that he has mildly annoyed me!"

With that Oliver turns back to the door and notices that the door is locked.

Okay Patrick you asked for this one.

Oliver kicks the door down and the Secretary his immediately on the phone yelling, "Security to Senator Layden's office!"

Oliver enters and sees Layden looking out the window. Layden says, "You always did know how to make an entrance Ollie."

Security arrives with Guns drawn and one of them says, "On the ground now!"

Oliver looks at him as if to say, "You're kidding me right?"

Layden says, "It's all right. It's all right. Stand down Gentlemen I've been expecting Mr. Queen the door jammed up and he over-reacted. Go on back to your stations thank you."

Layden says to his secretary, "Violet call facilities tell them about the door and have it replaced. Any further interruptions call security."

He looks at Oliver and motions to a room next door and says, "Let's go."

The two enter the conference room next door and Layden closes the door.

Oliver throws the paper on the table and says, "Explain yourself!"

Layden says, "Why should I explain myself to you?"

Oliver says, "Do I have to give you the same civics lesson I just gave Violet? For the people by the people? Sound familiar!"

Layden replies, "It's there and black and white and I gave my reasons in my statement."

Oliver growls, "Bull! I know you Patrick you gave your blood, sweat, and tears in the name of Mutants and now this? Come on! These reasons anyone watching the jackasses on the Cable News Channels and reading op-eds could come up with those reasons. These aren't yours Patrick! What happened?"

Patrick replies, "My real reasons are mine and mine alone. I don't have to answer to you Oliver!"

Oliver says, "What happened to you? Did someone get to you? To your family? Tell me I can help you Patrick. If you have to fight then fight you know those who believe in you will back you no matter what."

Patrick finally looks at Oliver and says, "Not this time Ollie. This time I really got into it. It's something I did one stupid mistake, and now not only do I have to live with it but so do the Mutants that I fought for and I am so sorry. I gotta do damage control to protect my family."

Oliver says, "Patrick when you were the D-A you took on Intergang and you helped take 'em down. You are the first Senator in history to take on OSCORP head on. You went toe to toe against Norman Osborn and destroyed him. I'm asking you to fight one more time for those who can't fight for themselves. Just one more time I can help you and I can protect you, but you've gotta be willing to fight for that to happen. Please Patrick we need your support. If you fight with us we will win. I know it!."

Patrick thinks for a moment and says, "There are somedays that the bad guys win a battle here and there because they have better weapons than you do, and no matter what we say or do it'll never be enough to change that and this is one of those times."

Oliver says, "Lex! Luthor is the one who's behind all this. Isn't he?"

Patrick replies while nodding, "For the record I will neither confirm or deny that statement."

Oliver gets a fire in his eye and says, "Gimme 24 hours I'll get Luthor off your back. 24 hours that's all I ask. If you don't hear from me by then than you can go ahead and follow through on your support of the bill."

Patrick looks at Oliver for a moment and closes his eyes.

He finally looks at him and says, "You got until noon tomorrow. After that I have to do what I have to do for my family."

Oliver says, "Deal."

Oliver leaves the conference room and says to Violet as he walks by, "I'm done with my evaluation of my employee. He's gonna be all-right."

As he walks down the hall Oliver begins planning his break in of LexCorp towers.

 

[Byrd Man]

​

Previously

Spoiler

​

Gotham City
11:25 PM

Alfred pulls the limo up to the front entrance of the nightclub. Inferno is one of the city's most popular clubs right now. A line of would-be club goers stretches from the entrance all the way down the block. Not even a fraction of them will get in tonight.

"Meet me around the back of the club in a half hour," I tel Alfred.

"That long? I thought you planned to just be seen."

"Well, I need to draw a little attention to myself first."

I step out of the limo to paparazzi cameras and catcalls from women.

"Bruce Wayne! Tell OMG News why you dumped Katarina!"

"What do you think about Charlie Sheen?!"

"Any comment on your drug habit?! Will you ever go to rehab?!"

I smile and wave for the cameras, ignoring all the talk and conjecture. The bouncer lets me in without a second thought and I'm transported into a dark underworld where up is down and black is white. On top of all that, there's horrible techno music.

I really hate techno.

But I play it up anyway, dancing with a few girls before I slip them my number. I buy the whole club a round of drinks and get some more attention thrown my way. That should be more than enough to establish a solid alibi for where I've been tonight. After that, I quietly make my way to the back of the club. When I exit into the alley, the car and Alfred are waiting for me. A neat little bundle of clothes rests in the backseat.

"Do I detect the hint of a smile on your face? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you had a good time."

"I think you're confusing me with Tony Stark."

"Well, at least he knows how to have a good time."

"So do I," I reach for the cape and cowl, taking my shirt off and sliding on the shirt. "It's just that my parties involve drug dealers and broken bones."

"That doesn't sound too different than the Stark-Wayne charity bash the two of you threw last year."

I smirk and reach for my cape and cowl.

"Now, if you'll excuse me..."

I swing across the city and land on top of one of the gargoyles that flank the city. One of the many influences of my ancestor, Alan Wayne. It's nearly midnight now, I have an appointment to make. It takes just a few minutes to get to the GCPD's headquarters. From across the street, I activate the audio surveillance I have planted in the various rooms.

Device 210434
Listening: 2nd floor break room
"So that's when the bear stops and looks at the hunter and he says 'You just don't come here for the hunting, do you'?"

Device 210437
Listening: Lt. A. Flass' Office
"Yeah, my shift ends in a few minutes. I'll be there. Just hope that sonofa***** Skeevers doesn't keep me too late."

Device 210440
Listening: Comm. G. Loeb's Office
"Come and knock on our door, we've been waiting for you!
Where the kisses are hers, and hers, and his. Three's Company, too!"

Device 210438
Listening: Capt. J. Gordon's Office
N/A No Activity

Good, that means he's waiting. I swing from the roof and swing across the street to the roof of Gotham Central. I make my way down to the basement and the morgue, where the only friend I have in this city is waiting.

"You're late," the dark haired man in the suit says before he lights up a cigarette.

Identified:
James W. Gordon
Captain, Gotham City Police Department

"Is it another OD?"

"Yep. This makes the sixth one in a month."

Junkies have been dropping like flies all over the city for the last two months. The heroin they've been shooting up has been purer than anything they've ever had and then some. Toxicology reports come back that the vials have an extra dose in them. Something I haven't been able to identify. Gordon and I are the only ones who seem to care at all. As far as most of the police are concerned, who cares if another junkie drops dead?

"Let's see."

Gordon leads me to the morgue slab where the latest victim is. It's a man, appearing to be in his mid to late 40's. There are track marks all up and down his arms and legs. A long time drug addict for sure. The medical examiner already has his chest cavity open and the organs are probably packed away in a freezer somewhere. The real action is on his face.

Like all the others, his face is contorted into a sick and twisted grin.

"It's the heroin, isn't it?"

"That's the only explanation. Someone's tainting Gotham's drug supply."

"I would put my money on a rival dealer. Last I heard, the Falcones were pushing most of the H through the city along with their front man, Jeff Skeevers. Someone must have got tired of them getting all the profit."

"That's a good theory. I'll look into it. You should get home, Captain. It's late. You're family will be worried about you."

Gordon flinches and digs his hands into his pocket. He's trying hide his missing wedding ring. I noticed it the last time we mat. That and the fact that his partner, Sergeant Essen, both disappeared about the same time.

"What are you going to do? I tried sweating some of the street dealers out there and see what they knew about it. They all clammed up in a hurry. Even when I threatened them with jail. They didn't flinch."

I turn away from Gordon and begin to walk out of the morgue.

"I'll make them flinch."
​

The Bowery
1:43 AM

The reluctant snitch I'm driving into the wall is Anton Petrus. A mid-level dealer for the Falcones, he's second only to Jefferson Skeevers when it comes to handling the organization's drug dealing. The mob has their twisted codes of honor, drugs are supposed to be off-limits to true mafiosos. So they created loopholes, letting people like Skeevers, who is black, and Petrus, a Ukrainian, actually handle the business while they reap the benefits.

"Please, let me go!" He begs. I keep applying pressure, pressing him harder and harder against the wall.

"Tell me why your poisoned heroin is killing junkies all over the city."

"It..it ain't ours! I swear to God! We had a shipment of horse that got hijacked a few months ago! It was our whole supply for the rest of the year!"

I pull Petrus from the wall and sling him across the alley into the other wall. He bumps into it and falls down on the ground.

"You're lying. If a shipment that big had been robbed, I would have heard about it."

"No, its the truth! Falcone and Skeevers...they...they covered it up. All the guys who were part of the crew bringing it in were whacked. They thought one of them was an inside man, so they killed them all off."

It's logical for them to keep it quiet. A robbery of that scale would be seen as a major sign of weakness. With people like Maroni and Hammerhead nipping at Falcone's for the top spot, finding out about something like this would have given both of them enough confidence to make their move.

"If your people are not involved, how are the drugs still being distributed?"

"We don't know. None of our dealers are involved, but there's plenty of independents out there on the corners who'd want a quality package like that."

"Who robbed your shipment?"

"One...one of the guys who was part of the crew that got robbed said it was four guys. There was a big man, a cowboy, a little guy in a suit, and a clown leading them..."

I approach Petrus and pick him up, slamming him into the wall.

"I'm not in the mood for games!"

"That's the truth! Swear to God! I was in the room when he said it! It's the truth! A big man, cowboy, a guy in a suit, and a clown!"

I narrow my eyes at Petrus and drop him. He falls flat on the ground and grabs his neck.

"Stay out of trouble, Petrus. Next time, be more forthcoming when I ask you something. It'll save us both a lot of trouble."

I walk away from Petrus, but turn as soon as I hear the rustling behind me. A knife cuts through the air by my shoulder. Petrus' switchblade slashes at my neck. I thrust my hand up and catch his arm, twisting it and causing a loud pop to echo through the alley. He falls to the ground and screams in pain. I tune out his screams and turn back around, walking out of the alley and back into the night.

 

[Byrd Man]

Sub-Level Two
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, NY

The elevator doors slide open and I walk down the long and empty corridors of the sub-level. This is a side of the school only a few people ever see. While we teach students how to use and control their abilities, we do so much more than that.

Professor Xavier is waiting for me in the control room by the time I enter. There's a world map on the giant view screen, there are points marked all over it indicating mutant incidents all over the world.

"What's going on, Professor?"

"The Brotherhood agents are now in the country, Scott. I felt them cross the Canadian border an hour ago."

Four days ago, the Professor caught the psychic impressions of four members of Magneto's Brotherhood. They ventured out of Magneto's protective field, although their identities were still blocked to the Professor. Somehow, Magneto's anti-psychic measures have gotten stronger.

"Do you have an idea where they're headed?"

"I believe I do. They're heading south from Buffalo right now to Washington. Tonight there's a congressman, Peter Ross, giving an address to the public on the Mutant Registration Act. Ross helped author the bill, so this would be a prime target to strike fear into the rest of congress with the rest of the world watching."

"Are you sure that makes sense? Them killing Ross would show how dangerous mutants really are."

"I don't believe Erik sees it that way. He has a plan, rest assured, Scott. Like a chess grandmaster, he's plotted a dozen steps ahead of where his pawns are right now."

There's a tinge of sadness in his voice. Once upon a time, Magneto was Erik and a teacher here. He's the one who created my visor, showed me how to use it and harness my abilities. Something happened between him and Xavier. I've never known the full extent of it, I was younger than the rest and a little afraid to know the real truth, whatever it was it ended with Xavier in a wheelchair and Erik leaving with another student to create his fanatical Mutant Brotherhood.

"I'll get the team ready to dispatch to Washington as soon as possible. Who should we bring along?"

"J'onn and Jean for sure. Two telepaths on the ground will help, and J'onn's shapeshifting ability will come in handy. He can blend in well."

"So that means Rex and Hank are off-limits. I'd also like to bring Kitty along. She proved her worth when we busted up that slave ring and found Kori."

"One more addition, though. Logan."

I arch my eyebrow at the Professor.

"Are you sure? This seems like a rather important mission, I'd prefer to give him a softball for him to cut his teeth on. Also, he's not exactly a team player."

"Scott, do you trust me? Trust my judgment?"

"Of course. I always have."

"Then trust me and my trust in Logan. If you'll prepare the briefing, I'll call everyone down to the control center."

 

[Andy C.]

"This was a bad idea," said the big man, shifting nervously as he leaned against a wall inside the old Krank Co. toy factory. "We shoulda never crossed Falcone."

"Falcone's got nothin' on us," answered his partner, a man in a flawless three-piece suit, anxiously sucking down a cigarette. "He doesn't know it was us, and even if he does, we can take whatever trash he throws at us. We don't have to worry about Falcone."

".....'s not Falcone I'm worried about," the large man grumbled.

Up in the manager's office, a shrieking wail let out, somewhere between a man screaming for his life and laughing hysterically.

"Goddamn clown gives me the creeps," grunted their leader with a thick Western accent, his Italian suit offset by a bolo tie and Stetson. "But don't let 'im git to ya. Money on this job's better'n we've had in years workin' fer Falcone. 'sides, it ain't like we're gonna be workin' fer this freak much longer, Fancy Dan."

The screaming laughter grew louder, more violent, a scratching noise developing in the man's voice as his vocal cords began to tear.

"Got a plan, Montana?"

"We milk this operation fer everythin' it's worth, then we kill the clown and haul ass outta Gotham. I know folks workin' fer Silvermane in New York, an' a couple workin' fer Manheim in Metropolis if that don't pan out."

"Sooner we're done here the better," muttered the big man again.

"Not just yet Ox," said the faux cowboy. "We keep the clown alive til the money runs out."

Finally, the blood-curdling laughter stopped with an abrupt gurgling noise, and out from the manager's office stepped a deathly thin man in a tattered purple suit. His skin was bone white, with a shock of bright green hair, darkened circles around his eyes, a smear of bright red lipstick curling up far past the corners of his mouth, his lips peeled back to reveal a row of yellowed teeth.

"Good news, boys!" he shouted excitedly to the men below. "I think I've just about got it down pat! Which means we'll be ready to start selling the next batch by tomorrow night!"

The Enforcers stared back up at him with equal parts disgust and unease. The smile on the clown's face faded just a bit.

"Not as excited about this job anymore, are we?" he said, scrambling down the rusted old staircase to talk to his henchmen at eye level. "Tell me, boys....what's got you down?"

"Well, boss, me an' the boys were talkin', and.....we don' git it," said Montana. "I git stealin' the shipments from Falcone an' sellin' it fer ourselves, but.....why the other stuff? Why put all that stuff into the smack?"

The thin pale man rolled his eyes as if it was the most obvious question in the world.

"Well, think about it! Where else am I going to get such a huge supply of guinea pigs willing to inject themselves with all kinds of dangerous chemicals? The junkie population is a gold mine for little chemistry projects like this! Frankly, I'm amazed nobody's tried it before."

"Okay, but.....why kill them?" Fancy Dan spoke up. "They buy from us once and they die. That's not good for business."

"Oh, I'm sure it isn't. At least, it's not good for the kind of business you're used to. For my kind of business, though, it's fantastic."

"What the hell are you talkin' about?"

The sickly white clown sighed.

"Y'know, you're not supposed to explain a joke to someone; either they get it or they don't," he said, "But since I currently need your services and can't afford to just kill you for your malfunctioning sense of humor, I could at least tell it to you...."

Montana and the others stared levelly at the clown, waiting for some kind of explanation for all of this.

"A guy walks into a bar with a pet monkey on his shoulder. As he sits down to have a drink, the monkey jumps off his shoulder and starts eating everything in sight. He eats the bowl of peanuts, he eats cigarette butts from the ash trays, he eats the olives out of the martini bar, he even jumps on one of the pool tables and swallows the cue ball whole!

"The man apologizes, saying 'I'm sorry; he just eats anything he can get his hands on.' He gets up, pays for his drink and all of the things the monkey ate, and leaves with his pet in tow."

Before Montana could interrupt to ask what the point of this is, the clown silenced him with a bony finger over his lips.

"The next night, the man comes back with the monkey, and as he sits down to have a drink, it's the same story. The monkey jumps off his shoulder and starts grabbing peanuts and olives and cherries, but before eating them, he sticks each one up his ass.

"The bartender asks why the monkey's doing that, and the man says 'Oh, he still wants to eat everything in sight, but after crapping out that cue ball, he has to measure everything first! HAAAA-HAHAHAHAHA-HAAAAA!!!!'"

As the clown howled in laughter, the Enforcers all shared looks of confusion.

".....I don't get it," Ox said finally.

"Oh, don't worry, you will," said the clown, holding his sides. "One of these days, everyone will get the joke. In the meantime, you've got work to do."

As he walked back towards the stairs to the manager's office, the Joker looked back over his shoulder at Montana and his crew.

"Oh, and boys?" he said. "You all really need to lighten up. After all, a few laughs won't kill you...."

 

[Batman]

"Hey, Logan number two! Over here!"

The voice that spoke out to him belonged to Gar Logan, otherwise known as Beast Boy, one of the many students staying at the mansion. It was the lunch period for all classes, and whenever that time arrived on a daily basis, Xavier allowed the students free reign over the mansion's vast collection of supplied food, beverages, sports equipment on the grounds, and the many forms of electronic entertainment - provided they all shared and behaved themselves, of course. But for Logan, all that it meant was a chance to get away for awhile while nobody noticed his abscence. So to be called out before he could make it to the garage by Beast Boy, who wasn't a particularly popular kid even among his classmates, was more than a little annoying. Deciding not to make eye contact even as Gar waved him over, Logan continued on, muttering to himself as he realized that the kid would inevitably leave his spot in the game room to catch up. For some reason, Gar had taken a shine to Logan. He seemed to be the only one that did.

"Logan! Logan? Where are you going? Hey, did you see me?"

Logan furrowed his brow, throwing on his leather jacket.

"What is it, squirt? Catch yourself another fly out back?"

Gar proudly smirked. "Nah, I scared 'em off. Turning into a giant tarantula and pretending to feast on one of their relatives' brains would do that."

"Good for you. Now leave me the hell alone, I'm headin' out."

"You're heading out? Cool! Can I come? Where are you heading out to?"

"Kid, you know the Professor's rules. No unsupervised students can head off the grounds."

"But... you're leaving the grounds. Is that allowed?"

"Yeah,"

Tossing his now burnt out cigar in a nearby trashcan, Logan brought the jacket's collar up to his neck pushed the door leading to the garage ahead of him, leaving Gar to stay in the mansion with a disappointed expression.

"Cause I ain't no student."

What Logan didn't notice, as he was leaving, was the watchful eye of one of the teachers at the school rest upon him. They belonged to Ororo Munroe, a beautiful and starkly white haired young member of the faculty that had helped supervise Logan's transition from the outside world into the ruled and regulated dorm of the grounds. In some ways, Xavier's dream of a shelter for young mutants was it's own little society, and it required some time for all to adjust. And even though he technically wasn't there to learn, Logan was one of the few in the school that still hadn't.

Resting upon the seat of his motorcycle, Logan adjusted the straps on his gloves and placed his hands on the waiting yellow-and-black striped helmet. It was a garish thing that he had plucked out of storage, but it suited it's purpose. Just as he placed it over his head, he heard the door swing open again, and openly sighed in frustration.

"Look, kid, I told you that I ain't..."

Turning, he was momentarily surprised to realize that it was Ororo, giving him somewhat of a perplexed expression.

"And where did you think you were going, Logan?"

"Ah. Just you,"

Putting the helmet in place, he immediately kicked the stand back and engaged the gas, revving the engine.

"Look, I appreciate your help and all, darlin'. But I'm not one of your other pets, so you don't need to worry about me anymore."

Crossing her arms, knowing that anything she'd say would likely be drowned out by the loud noise of the cycle's engine, Ororo nevertheless continued on with the conversation - as difficult as it was to do so.

"I realize that, but I nevertheless do. The Professor informed me of your decision not to join the group, but he failed to state any reason as to why. Does something still trouble you about what we do?"

Logan grunted. "Trouble me? What's there to be troubled about? A psychic runnin' a school for mutants, secretly preppin' them to be sent out to do his dirty work. Seems pretty straightforward, to me."

"And how does trying to save this world classify as "dirty work", as you've so eloquently put it? We are sharing a common cause. Human beings will never be able to accept us as long as mutants like The Brotherhood continue to cause harm. We are simply trying to keep both worlds united."

"Right. United,"

Looking back at her through the visor opening of his helmet, Logan shot back a sneer.

"Let's not kid ourselves. I've got metal runnin' all throughout my body, and you give me so much as a papercut, I'll be healed in seconds. You can create winds, lightnin'... hell, hurricaines with a wave of your hand. That Summers prick can level this entire buildin' just by takin' off his glasses. Far as the human agenda's concerned, we ain't never gonna be united."

"Even if that's true, and believe me - I very much doubt that, it doesn't mean that we shouldn't try."

Placing the visor down over his eyes, Logan turned back towards the path ahead as the outside glare of the sun greeted them both.

"You do whatever you want. I'm not about to join up with another group lookin' to change the status quo. Mutants and humans wanna kill eachother? They'll kill eachother. Ain't nothin' I can do to stop that."

"Or nothing you will do, apparently."

Just as Logan was prepared to retort, Ororo was suddenly interrupted by a beacon coming from a bluetooth headset communicator in her ear. All of Xavier's staff had them, aside from the Professor himself, the Grey woman, and their green-skinned Martian friend. When one was one of the most powerful telepaths in the world, after all, the need for such things seemed trivial.

"Yes, Scott, I'm here."

There was a pause.

"Of course, I would be happy to assist. Tell the others I shall be there momentarily."

Logan waited for her to explain, even though he had already lost interest in the conversation.

"Scott and the others need me downstairs. Some of us have something of value to do with our lives."

As she abruptly exited, Logan turned back towards the path.

Then stopped.

Ah, hell. Just leave already. Don't listen to her.

A few minutes passed before he eventually removed his helmet, killed the engine, and headed back inside, regreting every minute of it as he caught up with Ororo before she could descend into the hidden chambers beneath the mansion. The truth is, even though Logan didn't want to join the Professor's group of freedom fighters, he realized something. She was right. There was quite literally nothing better for him to do with his time.

Grumbling as he entered the elevator lift with Ororo, noticing that she began to smile as he positioned himself at her side, Logan shot her a look of evident disapproval.

"This once, and that's it. Just to get you people off my ass."

 

[Carnage27]

I can't believe what I'm hearing from my old friend. Well, in reality I can't believe I'm alive. I was sure I was dead, reliving my sins over and over in the afterlife. But that isn't the case. I've been laying dormant, frozen in the Arctic for almost seven decades. It's the year 2011, I've just time traveled here from 1945 unknowingly, and my mind is trying its best to keep up.

It's at this moment that I realize the vast majority of the people I've ever known or cared about are dead. Bucky...mom...the Howling Commandos...

And Peggy. Peggy, the one woman who ever gave me the time of day and really meant it. Sure, after I became Captain America, women swooned over me. But when I talked to Peggy, I could tell she really cared. That she wanted to understand me. To get to know me.

I slam my head on the wall behind me, the slight pain bringing me back into the moment. I look over at Alan, who's taken a seat on the floor across from me, the only person left in the room. He cleared everyone out when I came to. "How are you still so young? You don't look a day over 50."

He chuckles lightly, holding up his hand with the ring, "Turns out this thing slows down my aging quite a bit. But it looks like I should try freezing myself for a few years at a time, huh?"

I laugh back, allowing the stress and shock to melt away for a moment, "It wouldn't matter. Jay and me were always the good looking ones. But I mean you'll always look better than Ted."

"Actually... Ted hasn't aged a bit," Alan responds, trailing off slightly. "Says he's got nine lives. Dunno how. He's never told us about it. I haven't had time to contact him and Jay about...well you yet. I'll need to do that."

Ted Grant is still alive. The news shouldn't surprise me. He was always a tough son of a gun. I'll never forget him and Dum Dum Dugan boxing at the Invaders camp. No matter how hard they hit each other, neither would fall. More often than not Fury would have to break them up before they killed each other. But five minutes later both of them would be singing some stupid song in the mess tent.

I smile sadly thinking about the Howling Commandos. They always say the men you go to war with become your brothers...but you don't know how true it is until you go through it, "Are all the Commandos...?"

"Dead," Scott nods. "Fury's been missing in action for decades, so at this point it's a good bet he's dead. But everyone that survived the war has passed. There's a joint monument in the city for them and the Invaders. I'll take you to see it once you've been acclimatized."

"So we're in DC?" I ask, allowing myself to try and accept my current situation. "Some government facility?"

"Yea. Checkmate headquarters. We're a special task force set up to defend America against terrorism and metahuman threats. Which, surprisingly have increased since our day. But we'll fill you in about that later."

"Sounds like something that could use a dose of Captain America," I smile as I stand. "If I'm going to be a man in a new time, I might as well give it what I do best. And what I do best is defend the old red, white, and blue."

"We were hoping you'd say that, Captain Rogers," an unfamiliar voice says. I look up to see a man in his mid 30's, handsome and obviously sure of himself. "I apologize for interrupting, but my name is Maxwell Lord and I've been dying to meet you."
​

 

[SuperFerret]

~Very good, Rogue. Very good.~

The girl "stood" beside me, in a manner of speaking, clearing the "sky" of her mindscape of the ghostly fragments of minds she's absorbed one by one. My "hand" was on her "shoulder", a way of psychically lending her some of my mental strength. She'll need it, as the last ghost was one of great power.

His name was Cody.

He was her first boyfriend, and the first person to feel the wrath of her subconscious defensive ability. One seemingly innocent kiss left him in a coma for years before he finally succumbed, and his spectre still haunts the girl's psyche. Each time we've done this exercise, his is the last we face. He has yet to be exorcised.

~I thought you loved me, Anna.~ It spoke, the voice haunting and sorrowful while at the same time accusatory and hostile. ~Why did you kill me?~

~Ah.. Ah'm sorry Cody.~ she cried, tears forming in her eyes, ~Ah do love ya. Ah always will. Ah promise.~

Her resolve was beginning to crack. I squeezed her shoulder slightly, reminding her of my presence. ~Do not let your regret get the best of you. Do not blame yourself for what happened, Anna. Remember that it was an accident.~

~But it wasn't an accident. I would still be alive if it wasn't for you, Anna! You killed me!~

~It's...~ she faltered even more, ~it's true. Ah did it. It's my fault.~

~No. It's not.~

Anna lifted her head at the second hand on her shoulder, looking back at the smiling face of Charles Xavier. Returning his smile, she turned back at the floating remnant of the broken mind, feeling rejuvenated by the support of the two men standing behind her. I gave a short nod to Charles in acknowledgement.

~Ah was wrong.~ she said. ~It was an accident.~

~The only accident was you! If you never were born, I'd still be alive!~

~NO!~ she yelled, her voice echoing over the mindscape, ~Ah loved ya so much Cody, and I never wanted t' hurt ya. It was an accident. Not a day goes by that ah don't regret what happened, but it did. It wasn't my fault, but ah promise ya, ah will learn t' control it. Ah will be careful around people. Ah promise, Cody, nobody will ever have t' go through what you did again.~

She sunk to her knees, weeping openly now, not knowing that the transparent ghost of her first love had dissipated.

~Please forgive me, Cody.~

We exited her mind, awaking in the real world now. Drawing her into a hug, I held her for a few moments as she cried.

~As much as I regret it, J'onn, I need you in the sub-basement now. We have a situation brewing.~

~Understood, Charles.~ I released the embrace, looking at the girl with sorrow and pride. For a brief moment, she reminds me of my own daughter. "I must leave now, Anna. The professor requires my presence."

She nodded as I stood to leave, but was prevented when she reached out and grabbed my cape. I turned to see her smiling through her tears.

"Thank ya, Mr. J'onzz."

I smiled, both from pride in her success, and from the knowledge that even though my Kh'ym was gone, I could honor her memory by being a teacher to young people who need me.

"You are very welcome, Anna. I'm proud of you.

 

[Carnage27]

I reach the basement after the majority of the rest of the team, and I'm shocked to see Logan there. He's more animal than man, and the way he looks at me...I'd be lying if I said it didn't make me uncomfortable. I don't know what the Professor sees in him. Why he's so keen on keeping him around and on the team. But after all these years I've learned to wait and see what the plan with him is.

I take a seat next to Hank and give him a smile, "Any idea what this is about?"

"No, I'm afraid I do not," Hank responds. It's funny how proper the man we call Beast is. So unlike his codename for the vast majority of the time, but during the heat of battle he's as ferocious as anyone on the planet.

I sit back in my chair an wait for whatever the Professor has to talk to us about.
​

 

[wiegeabo]

"We find the defendant...guilty on all counts."

There's an audible gasp from half the court room. The other half errupts in cheers. But despite all the commotion, and the judge's constant hammering and shouts for order, all I can hear is the sobs from the family sitting behind me, and of the man standing to my side.

"But I didn't do it..." he says softly.

"I know." I put my hand on his shoulder. "We'll appeal. We'll appeal."

I can hear the bailiffs put the cuffs on my client's wrists as the pull him away from me. "I didn't do it."

"We'll appeal. Tonight!" I shout to him. "Foggy-"

"On it, Matt." I can hear Foggy consoling the family. Repeating what I said about filing an appear, and being with them every step of the way. That we'll never give up the fight.

"I'm innocent!!!" ho shouts as they drag him away.

"I know..." I say to myself.

I only defend the innocent...

 

[Franklin Richards]

United Nations
New York

"Lucia Von Barda. Security clearance. Verified."

The woman raced past the security checkpoint as a crowd of reporters bombarded her with questions.

"Have you spoken with Atlantean representatives?"
"Has Hungary officially asked for assistance?"
"Why haven't you responded to Prince Namor's denial?"
"Do you suspect the involvement of the exile, Arthur Curry?"
"The Daily Planet has all but implicated Victor Von Doom in this tragedy."

Von Barda stops and turns around immediately upon hearing the last statement.

"The Daily Planet is nothing but a propaganda delivery system for the corrupt politicians and special interests that run this plutocracy called America. The sovereign nation of Latveria will not sit idly by while the Atlantean Empire commits global acts of terrorism. The only reason to attack Hungary in this fashion is to try and destabilize Eastern Europe. Specifically Latveria. I will be speaking with the ambassadors from Wakanda, Khandaq, and Gorilla City today. There will be more details revealed when I address the General Assembly. I must go now. Thank you."

"Miss Barda ---"
"Prime Minister!"
"Prime Minister Barda!"

 

[Supergirl]

Yech. The school's macaroni. This stuff is like rocket glue. It was probably developed by some government agency and then deemed edible. It's not. I jab my fork in it and throw it in the trash as I start to head towards my next class, Geology with Professor Markov. His sister's in that class too, and she's like the teacher's pet.

~Katherine, would you like to go on a field trip?~

I may never get used to Professor Xavier's telepathic summons. It's so weird having him talk in your head.

~Would I? When? Where? Why? With who?~

~Now, the rest of the team is meeting in the basement awaiting details. I would appreciate your presence promptly~

~On my way!~

The field trips are the best part of being a top student at Professor Xavier's School. I've only been on a couple, but they're where we really learn to focus our abilities.

As I stand over the top of the meeting room, I phase out and drop quickly into the middle of the room, taking an empty seat. I recognize most of the people, mostly professors: Dr. McCoy, Ms. Monroe, Ms. Grey, Mr. Summers, Mr. J'onnz but there's one really hairy guy, who I don't recognize. He smells kinda funny too. And he's really dirty. When did the X-Men start recruiting the homeless people from 14th street?

 

[Byrd Man]

As I stand over the top of the meeting room, I phase out and drop quickly into the middle of the room, taking an empty seat. I recognize most of the people, mostly professors: Dr. McCoy, Ms. Monroe, Ms. Grey, Mr. Summers, Mr. J'onnz but there's one really hairy guy, who I don't recognize. He smells kinda funny too. And he's really dirty. When did the X-Men start recruiting the homeless people from 14th street?

Kitty's the last one to arrive. Once she's set, I turn to the Professor with a raised eyebrow.

"As team leader, I yield the floor to you."

"Alright. Here's the situation, people: Professor Xavier caught the psychic impression of four Brotherhood in Cerebro. They just appeared on a cargo ship headed across the Atlantic to America. No idea where they came from or who they are. Magneto's anti-psychic measures have improved. We are unable to tell who they are, but there is a good indication on what their target is."

The view screen behind me changes from a map of the world to a shot of a politician on CSPAN addressing the House of Representatives.

"Representative Peter Ross from Kansas. He's one of the authors of the Mutant Registration Act. He's addressing reporters and the national media tonight, giving a press conference on the act. Earlier today, the Brotherhood agents crossed the Canadian border into America. At last check, they were an hour away from the capital."

The screen changes again. This time there are five mugshots on the screen in front of us.

"These are the only identified Brotherhood members we know so far: Magneto, Dr. Light, Mystique, Killer Frost, and Toad. Anyone of them could be on the team headed to Washington. Or it could be an all new threat. We won't know until we get in the field. J'onn, Jean, Kitty, Logan, and I will be the field team with Storm and Beast as support. Questions?"