The All-Star Marvel RPG: Season 1.5

[Eddie Brock]

"You're on in thirty seconds, Mr. Stark," the cute intern with glasses informs me backstage.

I take a swig of my scotch, setting it down on a table. "Hey, come here for a second?" She marches up to me with her clipboard. I take out a business card and scribble my phone number on the back. Slipping the card over her clipboard, I say, "That's my personal number. Give me a call after this, and we can grab a drink." I wink at her.

Smiling shyly, she checks her watch and - suddenly serious - announces in a whisper, "Five seconds."

The applause of the crowd drowns her out. "We have a very special guest tonight!"

"You may know him as the CEO of the newly-renamed Stark Enterprises, but you probably know him as the superhero Iron Man! With me tonight, in his first appearance since going public, is Mr. Tony Stark!"

I step out from behind the stage to the blaring guitar riffs of Black Sabbath's "Iron Man." Waving to the cheering audience, I approach Jon Stewart's desk and shake his hand. We've met before at a few charity events.

"What a reception," I announce as I take my seat. This coaxes the crowd to cheer even louder. I hope Sharon Carter's watching somewhere.

"You know, on this show, I have interviewed journalists, politicians, and movie stars, but I think I can safely say that you are my first superhero."

Smiling, I take a drink of water from the cup on the desk. "Please, Jon. When you say 'superhero' it makes it sound like something out of a comic book." I set the cup back down and lean back in my chair. "I like to think of myself primarily as a conscientious citizen."

Jon laughs. "Okay, well, call it what you may, the fact is that you're doing a lot to clean up the world. So how, exactly, did you stumble upon this idea of yours?"

"Well, as you probably know, I spent some time in the military prior to my father's death. And when I was overseas, I was appalled to see how easily the bad guys got their hands on Stark manufactured weaponry. So when my father died, I took a vested interest in the company. And I came up with this idea to take these weapons out of the wrong hands."

"Iron Man."

I nod. "Essentially, yes."

"But you've done more than just combat terrorism," Jon points out. "When the Hulk went on a rampage in the middle of New York, you were on the scene with Captain America and Thor."

"That's right."

"And then again when Times Square came under attack from an unknown hostile alien."

"Correct."

"So what's the deal? Life of a billionaire playboy not enough for you?"

I smile and let the crowd laugh. "Being Iron Man - as the world knows him today - just seemed to be a natural progression from my original goal. I soon realized that the proliferation of black market arms dealing is just one of the many problems which plague our world."

"So let me ask you this," Jon says with a smirk. "Just how legal is what you're doing?"

"I keep trying to get my lawyers to tell me the same thing," I laugh. "Listen, I'm more than willing to comply with the government and the military, but I have two conditions. One, I don't want to be part of the command structure. And two, I don't want to produce more Iron Man units."

"Okay, so tell me about this Avengers Project I keep hearing so much about. Captain America mentioned it a few weeks ago in his address to the nation."

I nod. Captain America's address. A bold move, but the right one. "The Avengers are nothing more than a coalition of people such as myself - call them 'superheroes' if it makes things easier - who are like-minded in our goals for the future of our nation and our world. We are here to protect life and liberty from threats that local police and the military are otherwise unable to defend against."

"And you have no outside affiliations with any group?"

"None. We're not seeking to do anything other than solidify our efforts."

"What about HAMMER's Ultimates? Any thoughts on them?"

"I really couldn't tell you. If they're here to help, then I welcome their efforts. But in my experience, HAMMER is more concerned with control than goodwill."

"Now, here's a question for the ladies in our audience."

I smile. "Okay."

"Is there a Mrs. Iron Man?"

The crowd erupts into laughter, and I join them. "No, Jon, there is not. Hope lives on."

"Fair enough." Jon spins in his chair, facing the camera and the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, Tony Stark - billionaire, superhero, and single! We'll be right back."

I glance over my shoulder and see the cute intern smiling at me.
​

 

[sabetoonth]

While on the jet looking at our numbers I can’t help but feel like we seemed to be getting members taken away from us every mission. Guess the only thing this means I’m going to have to work twice as hard. I know once we make contact with the Reavers Sab is going straight after Wolverine. That’s a battle I’ll keep away from, besides I have my own little nemesis to deal with. I owe the one named Daken a rematch from the last time we fought. Last time he had got the upper hand on me because he was more experienced than me but this time will be different.

When we encounter the Reaver we all are going to have to be on our A game. I know I’m going to have my hands full with Daken and Victor with Logan. So the others are going to have to hold there own.

I glance over at the other team members. I know I won’t have to worry about Sage she is more than capable of handling her own. I have seen her in action enough to know that for a fact. As for John he is a teleporter so he will have an advantage against most opponents. But there is something I have noticed about him when he is fighting that I should let him know about.

“Hey John.” I say to grab his attention.

He turns around in his seat and faces me. “What’cha need Calvin?”

“I was just thinking when we come across the Reavers and we are all fighting try not to teleport behind your opponent to much. I been thinking about just the few missions we did have and you tend to do that a lot. You’re starting to come predictable Johnny boy.”

For a moment he doesn’t say anything he only smiles. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He finally says.



After hearing the loud scream I ran into the apartments. While on the bottom floor I sniff the air trying to catch a recognizable scent and luck must be on my side because I do.

“It’s him.” I utter with a growl to fallow.

Wasting no more time I quickly take to the stairs running at full speed through the hallways heading to my destination. On the third floor I pick up on Logan’s and Sabertooth’s scent, didn’t really need to smell them since I can hear them brawling just a couple of doors down. Besides them two I caught a whiff of the other Reavers. But not just any Reaver would do it for me it had to be him. I use my senses to pinpoint his location. I end up at a door just across from Wolverine’s. Right as I was about to kick down the door he was first to go on the offensive. He burst through the door in inject his claws into my chest. While falling back I placed my foot on his chest and used the momentum to kick him off me. As his went through a wall I got back up on my feet and fallowed suit.

​

[FONT=&quot]Logan was definitely not going soft in his time with the mercenaries, his blows where direct, hard, most landing. Until Victor put them both through a window. They landed on an awning and rolled off the edge into the street below. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Victor had a dislocated shoulder. He relocated it with a muffled cry of pain as he clamped down on his own teeth. Where was Logan? He looked around, sniffed, and then took an elbow to the temple as he turned to the scent of Logan behind him. Victor’s head snapped to the side, if he was human, that might have killed him, but he wasn’t, he was better than human. He recovered in less than a second, balled his fist and sent it into Logan’s gut, soft tissue there only, no adamantium laced bone. Logan brought his knee up to connect with Creed’s midsection. Victor caught that and with Wolverine’s legs parted throw a punch for his groin before kicking with a boot kick, knocking Logan down. Victor springs to all fours as he chases down the fallen feral mutant and pounces, taking them both through a storefront window, glass shattered, people were already running around panicking because of the fight that had spilled into the streets, both their clothes were stained in blood, their own and their opponent’s[/FONT][FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]

​

[FONT=&quot]Victor went in with a cross, Logan put up a forearm to block and throw in a punch to the chest, and Victor chopped that down, and delivered a kick to Logan’s shin, knocking him off balance.[/FONT][FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Getting slow Logan; Reavers ain't made ya soft have they?” Logan popped right back up and sank his claws into Victor side, he let out a short cry of pain and then with his taloned hand put a vice grip on the throat of the Wolverine. Logan went to cut off Victor’s hand with his other set of claws. Victor instead spun, cutting him open but grabbed the other hand and put an elbow into the back of Logan’s head. They continued like this, off and on, one gaining the upper hand before the other took it for themselves for what might have seemed like hours but where only a few moments, they had moved through two stores, one courtyard and were currently duking it out behind the counter of some small fast food place near the courtyard. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
Victor threw Logan down a row of burners that were still on. Logan rolled off, hissing in pain as the burns healed. They ran at each other then leapt, like two wild animals on the savanna. They impact in the air. Fall to the ground. Beat the living crap out of each other, heal, get up, do it again.[/FONT]

​

[FONT=&quot]-Ten Minutes Of That Later-[/FONT][FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]They were still going at it. Victor making furious slashes with his claws, Logan cleaving through the air, stabbing into flesh. It was like a dance, a deadly one, but one both combatants were heavily skilled in. It'd been going on for some time when Victor laid into Logan with everything he had, pushed him through a window and into the street; they were both hit by a bus.[/FONT][FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Victor rose, but slowly, broken bones, he might have punctured a lung. He’d deal, and they’d heal. Logan did the same, he went under a tired, broken bones and ruptured insides a plenty. They just stand there as their bodies repair themselves, waiting until they are in the condition to fight. Just as they start towards each other they hear a faint “bamph” sound, followed instantly by:[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“Nighty night Logan.” John squeezed the trigger. There was a bang; The bullet entered Wolverine's brain. Logan fell to the floor, out cold. Victor looked from the runt to Kestrel.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]That’s it? Really, months, hell about a year, they have been playing cat and mouse with this man. And in the end Victor at best served a distraction to someone else to put Logan down? The look on his face soured. “Get him in the cuffs, get him in the truck. Mission complete. Weapon X disbanded.” Victor turned around and walked off. Haller wanted him to capture Logan. He captured Logan. Now he needed to go home, find the Brotherhood. This was going to be a long walk. As for Calvin Rankin, Mimic, Victor had a feeling they may meet again, or he could come find him.
[/FONT]

 

[Hound55]

Orson Randall - Lost Iron Fist of K'un L'un​

We pile into a vehicle behind KnightWing Restorations. It’s a dual-cab van. The woman in the afro still doesn’t trust me and she makes me sit in the rear of the van under the watchful eye of her silent “baby-doll” Colleen.

“Hell no, you can’t ride up front! Get your old ass in the back there! Colleen, watch him!” she says flamboyantly, over-annunciating her request to her white-clad, teammate. She’s on the job at the moment, that’s the only reason I can see for why she’s carrying that blade. It’s a samurai ken of impeccable craftsmanship. Legitimately… as in it was an actual samurai’s sword. Not one of those ken built “in the ways of the samurai”. This was the real deal. I’ve seen enough over the years to recognise the genuine article and its age made it even easier to spot. She kept it well though, a less keen eye may not have recognised the age.

“Least I don’ have ta worry ‘bout you tryin’ ta sweet-talk the girl…” she said, Colleen gave her a numb stare.

“And if you think about tryin’ anything with her you’ll find her just as fast with the blade as I am with the gun. Maybe even faster…”

This was unnecessary. I have no intention of going anywhere but where they want to take me. If Danny is indeed still alive it’s in my own best interests to lend aid, without him there’s little choice but to take on the role I long since chose to leave behind.

I sit in the back of the van, sitting opposite the white-clad Colleen. She gazes upon me with a blank stare. I return her gaze, then I squint and cock my head to the side. Something doesn’t fit. You don’t live as long as I have in this violent world, even with the powers bestowed upon the Iron Fists, without being able to spot something that’s out of place. My piercing squint turns to a smile before I break the silence, first checking that the woman with the ‘fro wouldn’t be able to hear me.

“Anata wa umaku eigo o hanasu. Anata wa dōdarou?*”
*In English: ”You speak English just fine. Don’t you?”

Colleen keeps on staring at me with that facial expression that screams of a lack of comprehension. I give a chuckle.

“Un… Furi watashi wa, anata ga shigoto ni iku sa rete inai Nipponda iu koto ga dekiru toki, nihongo o rikai suru.*”
*In English: ”Yeah… Pretending not to understand Japanese when I can tell you are Japanese isn’t going to work…”

The façade begins to crack. Then all of a sudden she can resist it no longer and a smile crosses her face.

“Watashi wa nagai ma no nin'i no nihongo o kiita koto ga nai. Mottomo watashi wa ōgoe de eigodesu kiita koto ga aru.*”
*In English: ”I haven’t heard any Japanese in a long time. The closest I’ve heard is loud English.”

I laugh loudly at this, muffling myself self consciously to prevent the driver from hearing.

“Watashi wa ikutsu ka no supein-do kiite inaiga... Watashi wa karera ga supein-go wa Nippon ni chikai kotoda to omoudarou ka yoku wakaranai.*”
*In English: ”Although I did hear some Spanish once. I'm not sure why they'd think that spanish would be close to Japanese.”

I’m barely able to keep it in any longer so I laugh and cough to cover it up. Living in solitude it’s become remarkable for me to hear of someone else’s witty observations and the repressed laughter and tears and damn-you-alls from decades and decades of what some might call life bursts free like someone blew a dam.

“So****e, kanojo wa wakatte inai? Naze anata wa kanojo ni tsutaete inaideshou ka?*”
*In English: ”And she doesn’t know? Why wouldn’t you ever tell her?”

“Kanojo wa hanasu no ga suki. Watashi wa kanojo o dekiru yō ni ****ai.*”
*In English: ”She likes to talk. I like to let her.”

“Kanojo no burei ni madowasa shinaide kudasai. Kanojo wa zenryōna kokoro o motte imasu.*”
*In English: ”Don’t let her rudeness fool you. She has a good heart.”

I smile warmly before giving my reply.

“Watashi wa, sō kangae tari, kanojo to issho ni hataraite inaideshou.*”
*In English: ”I assume so, or you wouldn’t work with her.”

She checked the driver before she responded slyly.

“She wasn’t lying, you try anything and I’ll slice you like a tomato.” She says behind a smile so sweet it could give you diabetes.

“Hey! Your English is great, I’d love to hear more of it when you’ve got more than threats to say to me.”

We feel the car pulling up to a complete stop and the grind of the hand brake somewhere beneath us.

“And don’t worry… I doubt anyone wants Danny to live more than me right now.”

 

[Andy C.]

[EDIT: Letting one more post in]

 

[Hound55]

Orson Randall - Lost Iron Fist of K'un L'un​

The three of us walked the halls of Lenox Hill Hospital. I put on a coat before we left, but the girls seem to have little issue with walking the halls in their red and white outfits respectively. The nursing staff seem familiar with them and surprisingly enough have no problem with Colleen’s blade or the other woman’s sidearm. I can only imagine the conversation the first time someone did have an issue with it…

I’m ushered into a room containing a single bed and a rare site that fills me with dread. An Iron Fist’s greatest nightmare.

An Iron Fist seeks honour in death, not an easy feat to comprehend for many. We understand just how small our role is and its importance. As human vessels of the chi of Shou Lao the Undying we have a term limit on our position, comparable to the shelf life of a wax paper cup next to a great river, but while on this mortal realm we seek to preserve the innocent from the tyrannical hordes of the aggressive and oppressive.

In order to tap into the chi we need to get our own inherent chi to align with that of Shou Lao. We do not control it; rather we allow its power to surge through us, its mystical power from a time before writing gradually learned and scribed down the generations. We still are not completely aware of all that it can do. The best analogy that I’ve found is the radio… The chi of Shou Lao is a multi-faceted power which can be put to numerous uses by aligning my own chi with that of Shou Lao, much like the radio can be set to various channels or stations by adjusting the frequency of the waveband. …and much like the radio in my own car I’m none too thrilled about the results of any of it. Often (mainly) it can take great concentration to feel the harmonious peace required to be in tune with the chi for certain desired results, at other (rare) times a fiery rage is necessary. It takes years of meditation to be able to master, and even I, with all my years on this mortal realm am still yet to master all of the techniques in the book… and the book doesn’t teach EVERYTHING that the chi can do.

So basically an Iron Fist seeks the ultimate peace that comes from an honourable death, in life he strives to use inner peace in conflict to create greater peace and order. That is why what lies in front of me is truly terrifying.

Danny Rand lays stretched out in a hospital bed. Comatose, not dead, kept “alive” by an assortment of tubes, wires and cables operating his bodily functions.

Not alive in conflict, not dead in peace. Who knows what inner demons and torments he may be facing deep within the shell of his body?
Danny had found another way to stave off the Iron Fist legacy… Unintentional as it was. Modern medicine was strong enough to keep him animated, well… relatively animated, long after the chi had left him. Unfortunately, how could there be peace when there was no death?

My way out lay in front of me limply, unable to respond to basic stimuli, capable only of dying and nothing more.

“S###...”

“That was what we said when we first saw him…”

“…well, that was what I said when I first saw him.”

I don’t even know if there’s anything I can do about this… or whether I should, or how exactly to try. I know several mystical healing techniques that the book taught, but this exact scenario isn’t exactly something which gets written about. Never before has the technology existed to keep an Iron Fist alive beyond the reach of the chi. I reflect on what I know, silent due to the depth of my thought, and I try to find the common traits which these techniques possess.

Serene tranquillity.

And right now I don’t know how serene I could be… I’ve not spent that much time trying to discover techniques and now two lives hang in the balance. I’m feeling anxious, not tranquil.

“Well… let’s see what I can do here.” I say, trying to sound far more cool, calm and collected than I’m really feeling. I think I’ve fooled them, I doubt I’d fool the chi…

I think of something pleasant that seems a lifetime ago… maybe even two, and smile before I flush that thought out after the rest of them. I feel a warmth from within, then I sense the warmth has begun to glow, focusing further the glow changes, re-forms and struggles to be free. Again the glow twists as my brow furrows quizzically “What have I got here..?” It’s no longer squirming and it has fully formed, whatever I’ve got seems stable. My inner voice echoes and the echo leaves ripples in the warm glow as if it were a pool of pure spring water. Focusing more I extend myself beyond, my hands are on Danny’s chest now. Later I was told that the symbol of Shou Lao on my shirt glowed a vibrant orange, before bursting forth with its own light. As I extend myself I let the glow surface, it diffuses through me slowly rather than rising quickly like an air bubble and I focus so that it moves towards and engulfs my hands. I feel like someone has cut my soul as the chi finds its exit point and it begins to cross to Danny’s chest. It burns while the life force of Shou Lao siphons into the fallen Fist. I feel like howling, but it’s not from my own pain. I’m experiencing a form of empathy I’ve never felt before, that no Iron Fist has ever felt before. The glow splashes itself over Danny in an unstructured way, before being absorbed and disappearing quickly from sight like juice poured into a sponge. It knows what to do. Where it’s needed.

Likewise it knows when to stop. Almost like skimming oil from water, it can recognise the chi which Danny held from my own and takes only what was previously his. Danny stirs and makes a strange gurgling sound behind the respirator and feeder tubes. I pull the tubes out to let him breath of his own accord. He stirs slightly, accidentally disconnecting wires with a clumsy, dreary sweep of his arm.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!

One of the machines bursts into life, believing Danny to be out of his own. Nurses race into the room, to see Danny Rand return from the undead. The woman with the afro is overcome and wraps her arms around his head, the bruising which was still around his eye sockets only minutes ago has already changed from a deep purple to a lighter shade. Danny is blinking fairly rapidy, he's discombobulated, I know the feeling. I'd effectively jump-started his body and now that the motor was running, the healing properties of the chi of Shou Lao were taking over as if he were a car with a flat battery.

With Danny getting the full attention of the girls in the room, the two who came with me and the nurses' who can barely believe their eyes, I decide to take the opportunity to slip away. My work here is done and I can go back into hiding.

Or that's what I thought until the full frame of the Yu-Ti, the ruler of K'un L'un and my former master, came into my vision just before I reached the door.

"Aww hell..."

 

[Andy C.]

Captain America sat anxiously in the bunker below the old Stark Mansion. Since his address to the nation, he had been tracking down potential allies, getting in contact with the heroes from the battle in Times Square. He knew he could rely on Iron Man to be on board with the team, and he believed he could trust Thor--if he could ever find him--but so many of the others had been much harder to locate again.

Fortunately, the communicators that he had been given by Nick Fury when this all began had proven a valuable asset. And a hypersonic jet that could be piloted remotely to locations all across the world certainly didn’t hurt.

The Mansion’s integrated computer system gave him notice of activity in the hangar bay, and he leapt from his seat in excitement. Scrambling down the corridors and into the large bay, he saw the massive doors open as the Quinjet swooped in gracefully. Not bad for an autopilot.

As the jet touched down, the loading ramp extended, and out came three individuals.

Miss Marvel, the former HAMMER agent that Bucky had rescued from the prison in Genosha Bay.

The Vision, the elusive android whom he had encountered on board the Helicarrier.

And, much to Bucky’s chagrin….Hawkeye, the insufferable crack-shot who had brought Cap to Fury in the first place.

As they stepped off of the ramp and took in the sight of the hangar, Captain America approached them.

“You’re the first ones to arrive,” he said, smiling. “Welcome to the team. Welcome to the Avengers.”

*****

Ben Grimm placed his rocky hand on Reed Richards' back and gave his best friend a reassuring pat. Reed turned and smiled. The two men shared a look before turning towards the front of the small chapel. Sue Storm was being led down the aisle by her brother Johnny.

General Lumpkin and Alicia Masters stood off to the side by the church pews while Johnny led the bride down the aisle. The young man handed his sister off to Reed, giving his soon to be brother-in-law a wink as he did so.

Hand in hand, Reed and Sue stood at the alter while the minister began the ceremony.

*****

“Professor, I….I don’t understand,” said Scott Summers, his mind awash in the psychic field generated by the Cerebro machine. “How is this possible?”

“You’ll learn that many things are possible, Scott,” answered the voice of the long-dead Charles Xavier, “far more than you can imagine. Unfortunately, much of that learning will be the hard way. I’ve brought you here to give you a warning of the days to come.”

“You can see the future?”

“In a way,” the Professor said. “I exist currently only in a state of consciousness, unbound by the limitations of space and time. While the events themselves are murky and uncertain, the days ahead will be ones of enormous difficulty, danger…and of loss. A great threat will emerge, one that will threaten all for which you have fought.”

“Who is it? Magneto? Colonel Haller?”

“They will return, yes, far more dangerous than before…but they will only be various facets of the war that hangs over us. This war must be prevented if you are to stop the Age that follows it.”

“What age?”

“The Age of Apocalypse…”

*****

Magneto stood over his daughter's body. He had cleaned the blood from her nose and the droplets from her ears. Her eyes lay peacefully shut and her breathing was slow and conditioned. His face seemed to be as cold as the iron he could manipulate, and his heart beated at a fast pace. He had contacted an ancient Oracle, known as Destiny. She promised her services would be useful to the man - but only in exchange for a position on his...'Brotherhood'. Magneto had accepted, and the ancient Oracle began to work away. She had elongated out her arms over Wanda's body, and her golden helmet eminated a soft, white, light.

"This witch...This mutant. She is a half-breed. Each heritage being very, very powerful. What a rare event...Very rare indeed. I have only come across a few of these in my lifetime, yet your one seems to be special...Her abilities to affect probability and the occult to affect the mystical realm...This is a very powerful fortune. May I ask...Do you have any other children?"

"I have one more...A son, named Pietro. He was adopted by Gypsies of the Maximoff famiky...I killed them and reclaimed my heir."

"Tut, tut, tut...You have not but one more, but two more. A young, green haired girl...Who, Wanda will soon discover. She will be the one who turns her...Be warned..."

Magneto clutched the Oracle's wrist, and tightened his grip. Various scraps of metal hovered around the two.

"My daughter! That incredible feat she performed...Killing Agatha, will she live!?"

Destiny chuckled, finishing her scan. She turned to the mutant and slowly un-masked herself. Her eyes slim and she tried to explore the man's eyes, but nothing seemed to appear. She bit her lip and looked away again, her eyes slowly glistening. "Of course she will live! Your daughter is perhaps one of the most powerful mutants to walk the earth...Her abilities will grow, and they will not stop. Eventually, her abilities shall eat her up whole...And along with her, the reality will go down too. I would keep a close eye on this one. And try not to keep her on the darker side of things for too long..."

The Oracle left. Magneto stood over Wanda, slowly removing his helmet. He touched her lips, before leaving the room, the witch left alone.

And as he did...She awakened.

*****

The car slowly pulled up at a large, lakeside house, decorated with large, cream pillars by its porch. The design itself was quite historic, but the features seemed to be slightly modern. Sharon admired the picturesque view of the calm still waters beside the house, her eyes squinting as she spotted a passing family of ducks.

She flashed a small smile, considering the streams of tears that flow down her cheek. Her slick car rested at a large pathway, which twisted and turned up into the beautiful lakeside house Sharon currently wished to visit. She snatched her keys out of the car and quickly exited through the passenger seat door. Her blonde hair was slicked back in to a high ponytail and her make-up had since been re-touched.

She walked towards the large front porch, a familiar face awaiting her arrival at the grand doors. It was her Aunt. A former SHIELD operative, and probably one of their best. She'd had a brief romantic time with Steve Rogers, which had quickly died out. She'd managed to seal herself off from all Government radars, something Nick Fury himself set up for her a while back. The two female's relationship had been strained for quite some time now. "My darling..."

Sharon wrapped her arms around the elderly woman, Peggy's tears soaking up on Sharon's bare shoulders. They stood there, perfectly still for a brief moment. They absorbed the sounds of the flock of geese which flew over the head, and Peggy's adopted daughter, Valentina, strutting down the hall way, with her voice as loud as ever. Valentina's raven dark hair was what plucked Sharon's attention at first, followed by her diva-esque type personality. "Hey, 'cousin' Shaz, I got your ream ready and everything..."

Ignorance is bliss, right?

Valentina disappeared up the large flight of stairs, leaving Sharon and Peggy to wander in the house alone. Peggy made a small cup of tea, before the two went through trivial chatter, smiling and laughing like two old women gossiping. "And the baby...Who's the father?" Peggy's words came out quickly, yet softly. Sharon shook her head, looking down at her piping hot cup of tea. She pursed her lips and then looked out in to the garden behind her.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you..." She muttered.

Peggy slowly reached out her creased hands, taking her daughter's arms and stroking them with the most careful touch. "You're not Sharon Carter anymore..."

*****

The tank commander barked out orders in Latverian from his perch on the top of the lead tank. On cue, all twelve tanks began rolling through the streets of the newly renamed Doomstadt. These tanks were not the old Soviet surplus relics the country had used for the past two decades, these were brand new with the latest technological upgrades. They rolled through the square in Doomstadt, two battalions of soldiers marched behind them in formation. All twelve tank commanders turned sharply and issued salutes to the figure high above them on the balcony. The soldiers followed suit, issuing crisp salutes to their leader.

From behind his metal mask, Victor Von Doom chuckled as he watched his troops and tanks head north to the Hungarian border. For far too long, Latveria had lacked the respect it deserved. It was time for them to demand a seat at the table with the other world powers. If they were not willing to give him that respect, he would take it.

By force.

*****

The Old Soldier sat quietly in his wheelchair as the highest echelon of SHIELD operatives lowered the casket of Nick Fury into the ground, discreetly buried at the dead of night in the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. The nuke had left nothing of the man to bury or cremate, so instead were interred his personal effects, those from his reign as Director of SHIELD, and those from the life he had before then.

As the Old Soldier watched the quiet ceremony, Dum-Dum Dugan approached him.

“Sawyer was a good soldier,” he said solemnly, “and one of the finest operatives the organization has ever seen. But in the end, he was no Nick Fury.”

The Old Soldier grunted. Nick Fury was a legend, a story told by rookies around campfires. The name was always inherited by the single most capable operative that SHIELD had, undergoing extensive reconstructive plastic surgeries so he would always resemble the man the way he looked before going underground in ‘62. There were seven more of them buried here, in this same tomb.

“Got some good news from the boys in the lab,” Dugan continued. “The blood samples we took of Captain America from the battle in San Francisco contained enough traces of the Super Soldier formula to use. Combined with the SSM-AF15 compound from OsCorp, and it actually halts and reverses the aging process by decades. The physical enhancements are diluted, so don’t expect super-powers….but you’ll be back to your old self again.”

As the SHIELD operatives gave a silenced 21-gun salute, Dugan stood at attention and saluted the withered old man in the wheelchair.

“It’ll be an honor serving under your command again……Director Fury.”

For the first time in decades, the Old Soldier smiled.

*****
NYPD Detective Sergeant Lester Poindexter poured over his case files. The man, Cage, was coping to all the open murders the Devils had committed. So far, he hadn't given up his fellow vigilantes. The NYPD brass and the DA's office were content to have him take all the open murders. Anyway to get the homicide clearance rate up, and the DA to help their conviction rate.

The papers were reporting on it, some of them were questioning if Cage should even be tried. The people he killed were either killers, or deserved something worse than death row. But that didn't matter to Poindexter. Cage had broken the law. He and his friends were operating with impunity, regardless of the scum they killed. In an ironic twist, Cage appeared to be as tight-lipped as the mobsters the Devils wiped out.

Even though Poindexter was not close to flipping Cage, he thought he had a lead. The building Stacy and SWAT had arrested Cage in was an abandoned shoe factory that had been closed for nearly twenty years. Poindexter had a hell of a time running down an owner, but he finally had the deed of sale from three years ago when a lawyer from the area had bought the land. Poindexter sighed and checked his watch. It was too late to call, but first thing in the morning he'd go to Nelson and Murdock and see what Matt Murdock had to do with the Devils, if anything.

*****

“…And after the dinosaur died, I hijacked an escape pod and wound up back here.”

“Damn. That’s some trippy ****.”

Ffffttttt.

“Indeed.”

Cough.

“So like…did you like…did you like learn anything about life, the universe, or anything up there? In space? In the space time? Any cosmic revelations come through your head...man?”

Ffffftttt….hhhhhhhffff.

“Yeah…’Hey, hey, hey…smoke weed e’rryday’.”

“PFFFFFHAHAHAHA!!!!”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Man, I'm depressed.”

*****

Dressed in his devil outfit, Matt Murdock perched on the edge of a rooftop overlooking Hell's Kitchen. The kingdom he had worked so hard to keep crime free for three years was beginning to crumble. His group had disbanded suddenly and violently. Crime had been dealt a serious blow thanks to the efforts of the Devils and New York's other masked heroes, but there would always be people waiting in the wings. That was always a certainty. But now, his numbers were gone. Two dead, one in jail, and the other three forcefully removed from the group. It was just him, now. Rebuilding, if he even wanted to go that route, would be hard. For now, it was him against the world.

From two blocks over, a gunshot pierced the night air. Turning towards the sound, Murdock leaped off the rooftop and swung off into the night to face the next crime and the next challenge.

*****

Peter Parker lay awake, gently running his fingers through the blonde hair of Gwen Stacy as she slept. He thought of all the things that had led him here--the spider-bite, losing his aunt and uncle, his battles in the streets with the mob and their various super villains--and all of the things that were ahead.

He knew there were incredible dangers to be dealt with, including the Kingpin taking over the city‘s underworld, including the villains broken out of Ryker’s by the mysterious Master Planner…..including the Green Goblin still on the loose. Pete was used to people trying to kill him at this point, but now the stakes had been raised so much higher, the danger greater than it had ever been. He wondered if he could handle it…

…then he felt Gwen nuzzle against him, and all that doubt went away.

The bad guys he fought and the dangers he faced may have gotten worse, but he was now better than ever. He wasn’t just some meek and timid kid anymore, or the angry vigilante he was when he started.

He was Spider-Man. He was a hero. More importantly, he was her hero.

And as long as they were together, he could do anything.

Peter finally allowed himself to sleep….and dream of the things to come.

*****

Across the nation and around the world, things are in motion.

A handful of idealistic mutants prepare to take on threats from all sides…as they also take on a new class of recruits.

A general inspects the lineup of the super-powered strike force he has assembled, and smirks, knowing they can strike at any threat like his namesake, a thunderbolt.

A brilliant inventor watches proudly as he tests the prototype of his line of massive robots, in the hopes that they will end the mutant problem once and for all.

A slayer of monsters journeys into the world, in search of another of his kind, the only other of his kind that can walk in the light of day.

A man known as a feral animal is brought to his captors in chains, a caged beast again after running free for once….already hungering for that freedom again.

A god of thunder walks among mortal men in the guise of one of them, ready at a moment’s notice to take up his hammer and wield it against greater evil.

A world-famous billionaire turned superhero enjoys the high life of celebrity and luxury, the drinks and easy women a poor substitute for what he really wants….and who he really wants to be with.

A gang of escaped super-criminals gathers beneath the sewers of Manhattan, while a paunchy man with lethal cybernetic arms tells them of his sinister master plan.

A would-be conqueror, his face a scarred red skull, licks his wounds after getting a tantalizing taste of omnipotence….and prepares his next move.

A madman in a goblin’s mask cleans the cuts and burns from the explosion that nearly killed him….already plotting with giddiness the next test to which he would submit the boy, his new favorite hobby.

A mutant feared the world over as a terrorist launches a campaign of conquest against a turbulent and unstable island, to fashion into a paradise for his kind….and the staging grounds for a war against all others.

Across the unfathomable gulfs of space, a point of silver races towards the Earth, heralding the doom that is to come.

Across the nation and around the world, things are in motion…..things that will define generations. Freedom fighters and masterminds slowly move towards inevitable collisions, great battles not even planned are inching closer. Events that will shake the world to its core loom just beyond the horizon.

As dawn breaks, it brings with it the promise of a new age

An age of heroes and of villains.

An age of triumphs and tragedies.

An age of the fantastic.

The uncanny.

The incredible.

The mighty.

The invincible.

The spectacular.

An age of Marvels.