The All-Star Marvel RPG: Season 2.0

[War.]

BRAM VELSING
Dreadknight
​

Castle Frankenstein. Not Long Ago.

Sunlight poured through the lightly tinted glass of the floor to ceiling length windows that lined the corridor. Two men, one in a crisp all-black Versace suit, the other attired far less exclusively in faded pants and a plaid shirt marched side by side. Paintings and various other works of art lined the walls, some of them priceless but neither men paid much attention to their surroundings.

""I have paid you handsomely for a service Mr Porter. A service I have not yet recieved..." The man in the Versace said, his hands clasped behind his back as he walked.

The man next to him, tall, slender and bald headed nodded nervously and rubbed at his chin. "Well, I ain't disagreeing with that pal, but the job has turned out to be a damn sight harder than any of us could have even realised. The mark is locked down tighter than anything I ever saw".

The suited man stopped and turned to Porter. "You assured me that there wasn't a place in the world that you could break into. You gave your word that this wouldn't be a problem. Am I to assume that your word means nothing, Telford?"

Porter swallowed hard and shook his head. "Not at all Mr Velsing. My word is my bond. It's just, my word ain't going to get me past laser grids, thermal imaging, DNA and retinal imprints. And some of those walls are so thick that I have idea where I need to teleport into. One wrong move and I'll be stuck in a wall ...or worse".

Velsing took a long deep breath and clasped a hand on the other mans shoulder. "Then it appears I have the wrong man for the job. Worry not Telford, I have many more like you in my employ, I am sure there will be someone who can do what you cannot. Simply return the money I advanced you and we shall part ways".

"Well, uhh... yeah" Telford muttered, "...I mean, I would but there may be a problem there too. Listen! I'll get the job done. Leave it to me Mr Velsing".

Bram Velsing smiled at the thief and released his shoulder. "Good. Next time I see you I expect to recieve what I have paid for, not more snivelling excuses. Am I understood?"

Porter stopped and nooded a bit too enthusiastically. "Sure thing chief. But uhh... Mr Velsing? This box you want so badly must be pretty important for all of the security surrounding it. What's in it?"

Velsing continued his stride, reaching the large oak doors that sat at the end of the long corridor. He pulled one open, turning back to the thief as the hinges groaned a loud creak. "It holds the future Mr Porter. A very bright future".

 

[Carnage27]

​

Previously...

"Mr. Stark!" he yells as he enters, holding some sort of stone. As he runs closer to me and the computer, a similar, but smaller flash is emitted, and the equipment, including my suit, goes haywire for an instant. After a pause, he continues, "We found this in the crater..."

"Get it wrapped up. Now," I respond angrily. "Whatever it is, it reacts when exposed to technology. I can't have it shutting me down. You," I say turning back to Pepper, who gives me a dirty look for calling her "you". "Sorry. Crisis mode. I need you to get checking on that employees background. Get Jarvis the results."

"What are you gonna do?" Pepper asks beside me.

"Find out whatever the hell it is," I respond after my faceplate closes.
​

Now

Grease drips on my forehead as I concentrate on fixing the blasted axle on the vintage Impala in my garage. It's been something I've been wanting to do since I bought the thing, and I've finally got the time. Well, I mean I don't have the time, but I decided I needed the time. After the attack on my plant, I've been on edge.

A beep rings out through the garage and Jarvis's voice rings through the large, open space, "Mr. Stark, the lab left you a message saying they would like to talk to you about the stone. Shall I prep the Iron Man armor?"

"No," I respond, wiping my brow and hopping into one of my many Lamborghinis, "I think I'll just drive.". Revving the engine, I speed out of the garage and towards the lab I sent the weapon that apparently killed my workforce. It doesn't take me long, and I meet the head researcher outside, "Doctor, good to see you. What do you have for me?"

"Well, Mr. Stark...in all honesty we have nothing," he sighs. "We ran every kind of test we could using non-electrical instruments, but they all came up negative for all types of radiation. As far as I can tell, there's nothing special about this object at all."

He hands me back the stone in it's protective casing, and I simply stare at it. What he's telling me has to be impossible. The stone obviously has been tampered with in some way.

Jumping back into my car, I head home, frustrated, angry, and confused on where to turn next.

 

[Mr. Majestic]

“How…many was… that?” I ask M barley able to get the words out due to the strain my body had just gone through.

“Well you held you own with three but once the forth came into the picture that’s when you began to break focus and started to lose it.” She answers.

So it appears that three is my limit. That’s not bad but also it’s not good at all. I have to push my body to endure more. In order for me to lead this team correctly I can’t let anything get in my way, not even my own weakness.

While sitting on the ground resting my back against the wall the door to the training room opens up and Sara comes walking in. I lift my head as much as I could as she heads my way.

“Calvin what happened in here?”

“I have been training. Trying to show everyone why I’m the leader of the team.” I reply jokingly.

“Well how long have you been in here training? Your sweating uncontrollably, you look like your about to die at any moment.”

“I probably was training for 15 minutes if that.”

“15 minutes?” She says shockingly after hearing the answer to her question. “Even with half of my powers your stamina should have lasted you way longer than 15 minutes. What kind of training is you doing that will leave you like this?”

As I build up the strength to answer I see M walking up beside Sara.

“It’s a training that only he can tolerate.” M says to Sara.

“And you are?”

“My name is Monet Yvette Clarisse Maria but you can just call me M for short.”

“I told her that her name was a mouth full so I’m start calling for M to make it easy on myself.”

“I see. So M what kind of training is he doing that leaves him looking like he has been to hell and back?”

“Well I can’t get into to much detail but what I can say is the training he is doing has nothing to do with his fatigue. The reason behind this training is to see how much Calvin’s body can withinstand.”

“Withstand, withstand what?”

I give M a look to stop her from continuing to answer Sara’s question.

“You don’t have to worry about that Sara, its nothing to special. I always like to test the limits of my powers.”

After that there was nothing else to be said so M looks and me and Sara and says her good bye as she walks away. While she is leaving I feel my strength return to me. I slowly get up to my feet and stand beside Sara.

“So what brought you to the training area?”

“Well Calvin I been in my quarters thinking and I was…”

“Yes the offer is still on the table and I’m glad to accept it.” I say interrupting her sentence before she could finish.

“How you know I was here to ask you about me joining your team?”

“Really you’re going to ask me that? I know how you think, its one of the perks of my powers when I copied yours when we first met.”

“That’s right I forgot you also gain the individual’s knowledge. Well since you know why I’m here when do we get started?”

“Right now, let me introduce you to the team.”

 

[Harlekin]

Created by Byrd Man and Harlekin​

New York City. Church Avenue. Last Man Riding Bike Shop.

In the garage next to the motorcycle shop, which was the headquarters (or ‘home&#8217 of The Crusaders’ Brooklyn chapter, AC/DC’s The Razor’s Edge was blasting out of the radio. It was standing on a work bench, flanked by tools and calendars depicting America’s most popular pin-up girls from the last decades, in various states of undress, and centrefolds ripped from Hustler and assorted magazines. Arthur Blackwood was standing by that bench, inspecting a new batch of high powered, automatic rifles.

He was dressed in a cut-off leather jacket. His arms were exposed, revealing an assortment of tattoos. They were mostly religious symbols, including one bloody Jesus with a prominent crown of thorns. It matched up nicely with the long white crucifix that adorned Blackwood’s jacket, the same all the other Crusaders wore. When out riding, they wore helmets with a similar cross on the front, running along their nose. There was a small spike on top.

“Looks decent,” Blackwood said gruffly and one of his companions smiled carefully in response. He was the one who had brought the guns in.
“Of course, we’ll have to test it.” Now, Blackwood smiled as he turned around and aimed the rifle at one of his chapter brothers, working on a motor cycle in the back of the garage. Everyone between him and Blackwood took a step backwards.
“Hey Eddie,” Blackwood called out and the man turned in response. His mouth dropped and his eyes widened as he saw the long black weapon in his leader’s hands. Without saying another word, Blackwood fired, shooting just a few inches away from the man’s head and following the outline of his curved bald head. The man screamed.
“This’ll do just fine,” Blackwood satisfactorily declared as he handed the weapon to his companion, who accepted the gun with shakings hands. “But Eddie, if you ever scream like that again, I won’t miss.”

Taking a cigar from his jacket, he walked over to another work bench. Here, the men were not working on motor cycles or guns, but on drugs. The Crusaders didn’t sell much of the kind you had to snort or inject, but their merchandise in pill form was quite popular. His men were dividing them in small plastic bags, four to each bag. Blackwood nodded approvingly, he could send his men out to start deliveries before noon.

Looking to the daylight that was creeping in from below the garage shutters, the gang leader thought to himself: “This is gonna be a good day.” That is, until he suddenly saw patches of shadows, silhouettes of boots. His mouth opened just as he heard someone shout ‘police!’. The door to his right – an entrance to the shop – was kicked in immediately.

“*&^%!” Blackwood yelled and the twenty men with him in the garage cursed along with him. Officers with guns and night sticks and wearing jackets that read DEA, ATF and whole host of acronyms came barging in. Fighting erupted immediately, as most of the Crusaders weren’t going to surrender easily. Neither was Blackwood. He slugged the first cop coming to him, sending him flying.

“Well, that just made our job easier,” said Sergeant Tork as he entered the garage with his shotgun. He was flanked by Daz and Gonzales. “That’s our man, boys.”
Detective DeWolff was covering the garage’s exit – under protest, of course.

Immediately, Daz and Gonzales charged towards Blackwood, Tork behind them. Daz threw the first punch, but the gang leader didn’t even flinch. Gonzales followed up with a punch to the criminal’s abdomen, but again there was no response. A backhand sent him to the floor while Blackwood head butted Daz, sending the cop staggering backwards.

“I’m getting real sick of these super strong mooks,” Tork said as he charged forward, hitting Blackwood in the face with the butt of his shotgun. It earned him a knee to the stomach. Meanwhile, around Blackwood and Tork’s team, cops were quickly winning their battles with the bikers and they were going down one by one. Blackwood wanted to move too, but found Gonzales ready for him.

He’d put a pair of handcuffs around his fingers and smashed his fist into Blackwood’s head. That actually caused the man’s lip to bleed. Rolling with the punching, he ended up in Daz’s arms, who delivered a vengeful headbutt before getting in two jabs to the criminal’s sides. They hit the villain in just the right spots, so he doubled over. By now, Tork was ready and he took a little run before kicking Blackwood in the face.

Blackwood could hear cops shouting out Miranda rights around him as he fell back to one of the work benches. His hand reached over, but unfortunately laying on the table were pills, not guns. Still, he managed to grasp a wrench, with which he defended himself as Daz charged him. The blow sent even the biggest member of Tork’s crew to the floor. Gonzales came in for a second run, but Blackwood managed to hold him off with a kick. The criminal’s eyes darted around for escape, but his eyes met only Tork’s.

He had levelled his shotgun, aiming it at Blackwood’s head.

“I’d like it better if you came in, but I wouldn’t have no trouble splattering your head all over those fancy drugs of yours,” Tork said. Blackwood grinned in response and in a lightning fast move, let himself fall backwards, rolling over the bench. It was fortunate Tork didn’t shoot, or he would’ve hit a colleague arresting one of the Crusaders.

His bluff had been called. “Damn it,” the sergeant muttered.

Blackwood had meanwhile set his eyes on a motor cycle. Its rightful owner was already detained.

“You might as well come up, Blackwood,” Tork said as he motioned for Daz and Gonzales to flank the bench.

Blackwood darted for the bike, Tork following him but unwilling to shoot. The criminal punched away Daz and Gonzales as he jumped onto the bike’s saddle and grabbed the helmet hanging from the handlebars. The key was still in and he revved the bike immediately.

“Stop that sonuva&^%$,” Tork called to two police officers standing near the garage shutters. “Or get your ass down.”

They weren’t able to do either as Blackwood drove forward, crashing through the shutters.

Outside, Detective DeWolff was waiting and she had her piece at the ready. She fired off two quick rounds as Blackwood sped past her. One missed, the other ricocheted off the helmet. Before she could fire again, Blackwood was speeding along Church Avenue and out of sight.

Tork came running out of the garage, Daz and Gonzales in tow. He raised his hands against the morning sunlight as he watched Blackwood ride away.

“Well, ain’t that a &^%$.”

 

[Carnage27]

"But why here, sir?" Andreas asks nervously as we walk down the dark and dank New York alleyway. "This place is barbaric."

I smile at my right hand man and agree, "Yes, indeed it is, my Swordsman. Which is why it is such a shame that our friend has been driven to such filth. This is where the metahumans and mutants are forced to flee to, Andreas. The filthy gutters and the wilds of the world, when they should be flourishing and at the forefront. And that my friend, is where we come in. HYDRA will usher in a new era...with me as its leader."

When we reach a dingy looking door, I slide it open and stroll confidently into the midst of twenty or so drug dealers, who immediately pull out their hand guns and point them at me. "Gentlemen...there's no need for that. I'm here to talk to your boss."

"Yea...well she's busy. Got that?" one of them spouts off at me. "She don't wanna be disturbed."

"Oh...but I'm sure she'll want to meet me..." I smile. "After all, why would someone with her power want to waste her time with lowlife scum like you, when I can offer her the world."

They don't like that. I can see their trigger fingers tensing, but before they can fire, a voice is heard from an intercom on the table, "Enough. Let him in."

I'm led into the adjacent room, where I find a beautiful blond woman sitting behind a desk with a white domino mask covering her face. I smile at her and take a seat across from her, "My dear, you're more beautiful than I could have ever imagined."

I can feel the power radiate from her as I gaze into her eyes. She was a god before HAMMER took her down a few years ago. She was sloppy then, though. She had stole the space rocks that gave her her powers, and couldn't control them then. but then again, no common cat burglar would have been able to. But her years in Genosha Bay have allowed her to hone her skills, and now she is the weapon I desire.

"Cut the crap," she responds. "Who are you, and why are you here?"

"My dear...I am Baron Helmut Zemo II and this is my associate Andreas von Strucker," I respond with a sly smile. "And I am here to give you the world."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I know what you are, Karla," I smile. "I know the powers you possess, and I know HAMMER locked you away in Genosha Bay for it. And I know how desperately you want revenge. And I can give it to you. Together, you and I can lead the world into a new super-human era. And together we will crush HAMMER, SHIELD, The Avengers, and all who stand in our way."

As my words hit her hard, I can tell she is interested. Anyone with her abilities would be. She knows she is meant for more than petty crime, all she needed was someone to open the door like I just have.

"What the hell is this dude talking about, Moonstone?" one of the men from the other room asks. Karla Sofen, more popularly known as the superhuman Moonstone, does not respond. Instead, she fires a beam of energy from her hand that incinerates the dealers in the other room.

Once she is finished, she turns to me and says, "Where do I sign up?"

"My dear, you already have," I laugh. "Welcome to the Dark Avengers."
​

 

[Andy C.]

"Am I......am I doing it right?"

"Almost.....if you could......yes, right there....."

"Is that better?"

"Just like that......right there....."

"Okay, I'm really hammering it hard now. I think I--"

"Keep it up, don't stop! Keep doing that, just like that!"

"Almost there.....almost there!"

"YES! YES! YES!"

"Oh my God, yes!"

"Wow, Peter, just........wow. I didn't think you could do that."


*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!*

"....so that's what you two are making such a racket about. Mind if I join in?"

"Oh, hey Harry. Sure, grab a controller."

"We just finished a really intense boss fight. We were getting our butts handed to us until Peter found its weak spot. We're probably gonna need a third player to get to the next level."

"All right, let's hook this sucker up then."

GobSon32 has signed into XBox LIVE.

Playing Castle Crashers on co-op really is the best way to spend an afternoon.

And honestly, I could use an afternoon off after yesterday's shenanigans. Pulling a few dozen people out of a burning building was bad enough, but then finding out that it was all an ambush laid out by the Green Goblin, who nearly killed me....AGAIN......really put the icing on that particular cake. I had to borrow some of Gwen's makeup to cover the cuts and bruises on my face. Fortunately, nobody at school noticed; the last thing I need is to give Flash Thompson more ammunition to blast me with.

Honestly, though, even Flash has backed off a bit, now that Mary Jane's keeping him on a tighter leash (....note to self: never ever picture MJ holding Flash on a leash again--the mental image is just scarring). Randall Roberts stopped hanging out with the jocks once he shacked up with Glory Grant, meaning there's one less person to shove me into a garbage can at this year's pep rally.

In fact, everyone at school seems to have chilled out, thanks to Senior-year-itis setting in and everyone getting all misty-eyed over the fact that we're in our last year of high school and most of us won't see each other again. Liz Alan finally ousted Sally Avril as the uncrowned Queen of Midtown, and she went flying into the arms of Kong McFarlane--I know this only because Kong now hounds me even worse than Flash. Blackie Drago has been in rather high spirits, too, partially because he and Deb Whitman seem to be hitting it off well, but I think it also has to do with the fact that his buddy Max Dillon was busted out of prison a few weeks back--I might have to check up on that, make sure I don't have to deal with some kind of team-up between Electro and the not-quite Vulture.

Honestly, the only person that hasn't gotten easier to deal with is Eddie. Granted, he hasn't actually said or done anything yet, but that kind of makes it worse. He's stopped hanging out with anyone, even the other meat-heads, just mopes around and gives me death-stares every chance he gets, with so much hostility it's actually triggered my Spider-Senses a couple of times. I'm worried he's going to do something stupid soon. Just wish I had any idea what that might be.

I wouldn't go as far as to say life is good, at least not until I've taken out the Green Goblin and Kingpin, graduated from Midtown and gotten away from the idiot-parade, and made enough money that I can afford to propose to Gwen. Then life will be good. But life is at the very least, significantly less bad than usual.

I'M SURE MY CRITICS WILL SAY
IT'S A GROTESQUE DISPLAY
WELL, THEY CAN BITE ME, BABY
I PERFOOOORM THIS WAY!
I MIGHT BE WEARIN' SWISS CHEESE,
OR MAYBE COVERED IN BEES,
IT DOESN'T MEAN I'M CRAZY
I PERFOOOORM THIS WAY!

.....so I have Weird Al Yankovic making fun of Lady GaGa set as my ringtone. What of it?

"Hello?"

"Peter, it's Captain Stacy," the familiar stern voice says from the other end of the line. "Where exactly are you?"

"Just.....hanging out at home, taking the afternoon off, playing X-Box with Gwen and Harry," I say, still unable to talk to Gwen's dad without immediately going on the offensive.

"Well, you picked a hell of a day for it," he says with an annoyed tone. "Meet me at my office and I'll fill you in on the whole thing."

Captain Stacy hangs up, and I sigh as I sign out of the game.

"I'm gonna have to pack it in, guys," I say. "Just got a call from work. The Bugle needs photos for something or other. Think you can handle the next level by yourself?"

"Eh, I'll save it and we can pick up when you're done," Gwen says. "Besides, Harry hogs all of the power-ups."

"Oh, I do not!" he says indignantly, before realizing he'd just grabbed a health potion that he didn't need while Gwen's health-bar was near zero.

"Anyway, I'll try to make it quick, and I'll tell you all about it when I get back," I say. I give Gwen a kiss and head out of the rec room, going out the front door of the penthouse onto the elevator so Harry doesn't get suspicious....

....then I stop the next floor down, and jump out the window in my full Spidey regalia.

Swinging across town, I see plumes of smoke rising in the distance from a few locations around the city. What the heck's going on out there?





------

"Knock knock," I say as I tap on the glass of the window of Captain Stacy's office. He pulls up the window and I climb in.

"Glad you're here, Spider-Man," he says, making a point to call me by my superhero identity--probably a good idea; don't want to accidentally spill my real name if there are people listening in. "Wasn't sure who else to call about this. HAMMER is en route, as well as Homeland Security and the FBI, but I figure this is more of your area of expertise. The scale of it, though, is something I've never seen before."

"I saw smoke coming from a bunch of places all over town," I say with concern. "I, um, was kind of trying to recuperate after the Goblin beat the crap out of me yesterday. What'd I miss?"

"What you missed was all hell breaking loose all over Manhattan," he says. "Five different heists in five different parts of the city, all pulled off at the exact same time. ESU, TriCorp, Horizon Labs, Hammer Industries, and Moroboshi International. Still working on the connection, but we know the identities of the attackers."

"You've already figured out who did it?"

"It would've been harder not to figure out who they were," he says, lighting a cigarette. "The ESU labs suffered a massive power outage right before the heist, and several people have been treated for severe burns normally associated with electrocution. TriCorp reported a man simply swooping down from the sky and dive-bombing their facility before making off with the equipment he wanted. Security guards at Hammer Industries were killed by poison darts and spears. Horizon Labs reported a monster about twelve feet tall just crashed his way through the facility and grabbed what he wanted, shrugging off the SWAT team that responded to him. And witnesses at Moroboshi claim a living sandstorm blew into their labs, then turned into a person before it stole what it came for."

"Holy crap," I say, the realization sinking in of who's doing all of this. "Electro, Vulture, Kraven, Rhino.....and Sandman--I could've sworn Marko was dead, though."

"Apparently not," he says as he takes a drag from his smoke. "You remember four of those men were sprung from Ryker's Island at once, thanks to someone called the 'Master Planner.' Whoever he is, I'm guessing he's behind it. Stealing parts to put together something big. I couldn't tell you for the life of me what it is, though--I don't know what any of it is."

"What'd they take?"

"Experimental fuel cells, cooling rods, some kind of next-generation particle accelerator, lenses made of some new kind of artificial diamond. I can't make heads or tails of most of it, but from what we've been told, pretty much all of it has to do with generating, storing, or focusing lots and lots of energy."

"Hmmm......well, if Master Planner's got a team of supervillains running around to put his contraption together, chances are it's not something they're going to give him the Nobel Peace Prize for," I say, not wanting to think about what else it could be. "Any idea where they went?"

"We were able to track Rhino pretty easily--someone like him isn't exactly sneaky," he says. "He was last seen going into an abandoned warehouse on the Lower West side."

"Again with the abandoned warehouses? I swear to God, every villain I ever fight hides out in an abandoned warehouse. Why can't bad guys ever live somewhere nice?"

Captain Stacy gives me a 'you need to take this seriously' glare, and I clam up.

"We've cordoned off the area to make sure civilians don't get caught up in this, but that's about all we can do. HAMMER's been contacted, but they're slow to respond as always. Besides, these are all villains you've encountered in the past--I'm hoping that will give you some kind of edge."

"Hmmmmm......I dunno," I say. "I mean, one-on-one I can hang with most of them, but five of them at once? That's something you might want to call the Avengers for."

"Maybe, but I don't have Iron Man on my speed-dial," Captain Stacy answers. "I don't want you going in there and trying to pick a fight with them--you'd probably get killed and the fight would probably wreck half the city. Just scout out the area, try and find out what they're up to, give us a better idea of what we're up against when HAMMER's troops arrive."

"All right, just poke my head in, look around, and get out of Dodge before the cavalry arrives. How hard could that be?"


----------


"Seriously, just once," I mutter to myself as I crawl up the side of the abandoned warehouse where Rhino was spotted, "Just once, I want to fight a villain who hides out at a nice hotel. Or maybe a country club. Or even a house in the suburbs. But noooo, always with the abandoned warehouses."

I climb up onto the rooftop....then quickly dive for cover as I see a figure swooping down from the skies. Scurrying behind an air-conditioning unit, I peer out to see Vulture landing on the roof. Doesn't look like he saw me, as he steps into the stairwell and heads inside.

"Guess this is the place," I say under my breath, then crawl towards the skylight, slipping into the building through a busted-out pane.

Looking in, I can see a massive jumble of machinery being erected on the floor of the warehouse, with the five super-powered thieves each watching as a sixth person assembles the whole thing. Electro's hooked himself up into some kind of power supply, pouring voltage into whatever this thing is. Vulture seems to be guiding Sandman with assembling some of the larger parts. Kraven and Rhino both pace up and down, neither of them seemingly interested in the device itself.

I finally get a good look at the sixth guy......


"Oh my God."

It's Doctor Octavius. From the Science Fair. The one who basically inspired me to use my experimental adhesive fluid as my now-indispensable web fluid.

Somehow, this Master Planner guy must have kidnapped Doctor Octavius, and he's got him setting up his.....whatever it is.

I clamber down the wall, ducking from cover to cover behind crates and racks while Rhino and Kraven patrol up and down the warehouse floor. I can't afford to be seen, but I also can't let kindly Doc Ock suffer at the hands of these psychos. At the very least, I can get him to safety and then hold off the bad guys long enough for HAMMER to show up.

"Psst!" I whisper as I get close enough to the machine for Doctor Octavius to hear me. "Pssst! Doctor Octavius!"

The doctor glances up from his work.

"Don't worry, I'm gonna get you outta here! Just stay quiet, and I'll WHAAAAAAAAA--?!"

Some kind of snake-like tendril lashes out at me, so fast my Spider Senses barely trigger in time to register it as a threat. As I try to jump over it, though, it twists upwards and snares my leg, then flings me across the room, and I go tumbling onto the floor......

.....right in front of Rhino.

"Oh, um.....hiya fellas," I say sheepishly as the five supervillains drop what they're doing as lock eyes on me. "I, er, I couldn't help but notice y'all are working on some big science project, and well, you know me, I just had to check it out."

The air begins to buzz as Electro courses voltage through his veins. Sandman shifts the bulk of his mass into a fist, turning it into a huge killing club. Kraven draws a pair of machetes from his belt. Vulture spreads his bladed wings. Rhino tenses up to charge. But none of them actually make the move to attack.

"Don't worry, Doctor Octavius," I call out to the captive scientist. "It may be five on one, but I've totally got this. I can--"

Again, my Spider-Senses tell me of an oncoming threat juuust a fraction of a second too late, as another tendril whips out and smashes into my face.

My vision explodes into stars and blurs, but once it finally focuses, I see Doctor Octavius standing over me.....those mechanical tendrils coming out of his back.

Not tendrils. Tentacles. The Octo-arms he had debuted at the Stark Expo.

"Five against one?" he says mockingly. "You seem to have miscounted, dear boy. There are six of us."

Oh, crap.

Octavius wasn't kidnapped by the Master Planner.

Octavius is the Master Planner.

"Now, then, Spider-Man......"

"Any last words?"

".......I think I'm gonna have to go with *gulp*"

 

[Byrd Man]

Created by Byrd Man and Harlekin​

Previously

Spoiler

New York City. Church Avenue. Last Man Riding Bike Shop.

In the garage next to the motorcycle shop, which was the headquarters (or ‘home’) of The Crusaders’ Brooklyn chapter, AC/DC’s The Razor’s Edge was blasting out of the radio. It was standing on a work bench, flanked by tools and calendars depicting America’s most popular pin-up girls from the last decades, in various states of undress, and centrefolds ripped from Hustler and assorted magazines. Arthur Blackwood was standing by that bench, inspecting a new batch of high powered, automatic rifles.

He was dressed in a cut-off leather jacket. His arms were exposed, revealing an assortment of tattoos. They were mostly religious symbols, including one bloody Jesus with a prominent crown of thorns. It matched up nicely with the long white crucifix that adorned Blackwood’s jacket, the same all the other Crusaders wore. When out riding, they wore helmets with a similar cross on the front, running along their nose. There was a small spike on top.

“Looks decent,” Blackwood said gruffly and one of his companions smiled carefully in response. He was the one who had brought the guns in.
“Of course, we’ll have to test it.” Now, Blackwood smiled as he turned around and aimed the rifle at one of his chapter brothers, working on a motor cycle in the back of the garage. Everyone between him and Blackwood took a step backwards.
“Hey Eddie,” Blackwood called out and the man turned in response. His mouth dropped and his eyes widened as he saw the long black weapon in his leader’s hands. Without saying another word, Blackwood fired, shooting just a few inches away from the man’s head and following the outline of his curved bald head. The man screamed.
“This’ll do just fine,” Blackwood satisfactorily declared as he handed the weapon to his companion, who accepted the gun with shakings hands. “But Eddie, if you ever scream like that again, I won’t miss.”

Taking a cigar from his jacket, he walked over to another work bench. Here, the men were not working on motor cycles or guns, but on drugs. The Crusaders didn’t sell much of the kind you had to snort or inject, but their merchandise in pill form was quite popular. His men were dividing them in small plastic bags, four to each bag. Blackwood nodded approvingly, he could send his men out to start deliveries before noon.

Looking to the daylight that was creeping in from below the garage shutters, the gang leader thought to himself: “This is gonna be a good day.” That is, until he suddenly saw patches of shadows, silhouettes of boots. His mouth opened just as he heard someone shout ‘police!’. The door to his right – an entrance to the shop – was kicked in immediately.

“*&^%!” Blackwood yelled and the twenty men with him in the garage cursed along with him. Officers with guns and night sticks and wearing jackets that read DEA, ATF and whole host of acronyms came barging in. Fighting erupted immediately, as most of the Crusaders weren’t going to surrender easily. Neither was Blackwood. He slugged the first cop coming to him, sending him flying.

“Well, that just made our job easier,” said Sergeant Tork as he entered the garage with his shotgun. He was flanked by Daz and Gonzales. “That’s our man, boys.”
Detective DeWolff was covering the garage’s exit – under protest, of course.

Immediately, Daz and Gonzales charged towards Blackwood, Tork behind them. Daz threw the first punch, but the gang leader didn’t even flinch. Gonzales followed up with a punch to the criminal’s abdomen, but again there was no response. A backhand sent him to the floor while Blackwood head butted Daz, sending the cop staggering backwards.

“I’m getting real sick of these super strong mooks,” Tork said as he charged forward, hitting Blackwood in the face with the butt of his shotgun. It earned him a knee to the stomach. Meanwhile, around Blackwood and Tork’s team, cops were quickly winning their battles with the bikers and they were going down one by one. Blackwood wanted to move too, but found Gonzales ready for him.

He’d put a pair of handcuffs around his fingers and smashed his fist into Blackwood’s head. That actually caused the man’s lip to bleed. Rolling with the punching, he ended up in Daz’s arms, who delivered a vengeful headbutt before getting in two jabs to the criminal’s sides. They hit the villain in just the right spots, so he doubled over. By now, Tork was ready and he took a little run before kicking Blackwood in the face.

Blackwood could hear cops shouting out Miranda rights around him as he fell back to one of the work benches. His hand reached over, but unfortunately laying on the table were pills, not guns. Still, he managed to grasp a wrench, with which he defended himself as Daz charged him. The blow sent even the biggest member of Tork’s crew to the floor. Gonzales came in for a second run, but Blackwood managed to hold him off with a kick. The criminal’s eyes darted around for escape, but his eyes met only Tork’s.

He had levelled his shotgun, aiming it at Blackwood’s head.

“I’d like it better if you came in, but I wouldn’t have no trouble splattering your head all over those fancy drugs of yours,” Tork said. Blackwood grinned in response and in a lightning fast move, let himself fall backwards, rolling over the bench. It was fortunate Tork didn’t shoot, or he would’ve hit a colleague arresting one of the Crusaders.

His bluff had been called. “Damn it,” the sergeant muttered.

Blackwood had meanwhile set his eyes on a motor cycle. Its rightful owner was already detained.

“You might as well come up, Blackwood,” Tork said as he motioned for Daz and Gonzales to flank the bench.

Blackwood darted for the bike, Tork following him but unwilling to shoot. The criminal punched away Daz and Gonzales as he jumped onto the bike’s saddle and grabbed the helmet hanging from the handlebars. The key was still in and he revved the bike immediately.

“Stop that sonuva&^%$,” Tork called to two police officers standing near the garage shutters. “Or get your ass down.”

They weren’t able to do either as Blackwood drove forward, crashing through the shutters.

Outside, Detective DeWolff was waiting and she had her piece at the ready. She fired off two quick rounds as Blackwood sped past her. One missed, the other ricocheted off the helmet. Before she could fire again, Blackwood was speeding along Church Avenue and out of sight.

Tork came running out of the garage, Daz and Gonzales in tow. He raised his hands against the morning sunlight as he watched Blackwood ride away.

“Well, ain’t that a &^%$.”

Eight Hours Later
One Police Plaza
New York City

"Goddammit, we were so close!" DEA Special Agent Frank Kelly growled. He paced around the Major Case Squad's annex room. The room had been set up as a command center for the day's raids. In the room with Kelly were Sergeants Tork and Cole, an ATF agent, and Cole's commanding officer Captain Robert Major "What are we doing about Blackwood?" Kelly asked.

"Me and my squad spent all day in Brooklyn," Tork said. "We chased down all our informants and leads. If Blackwood is still in the tri-state area, he's not in Brooklyn."

"Alright. Have they finished up taking inventory on what we got on the raid, Captain?"

"Yeah," Major said, pulling a note out of his jacket pocket. "This is just on the raid to the clubhouse, but we managed to nab a hundred grand in illegal weapons and two hundred grand in drugs. The guns were mostly assault rifles, there were some sawed-off shotguns and uzis. The drugs were interesting. The pills were the run of the mill opioids like oxycontin and hydrocodone, but we also found a stash of Mutant Growth Hormone."

Tork arched his eyebrow. "How much MGH did you find?"

"A pound and a half."

Tork crunched the numbers in his head. That was a whole pound more than the stash they found at the Candy Man's house. Tork turned to Kelly. "A few weeks back, my squad busted a guy selling MGH out of his house. My case got cut off at the knees before we could find out who he was getting it from. Do you have an idea on how much MGH the Crusaders were trafficking in and out every month?"

Kelly shook his head. "No idea, sergeant. All our undercovers have been copping pills from the Crusaders. If they're bumping up to MGH, then they must have just started it."

Before Tork could comment, Kelly threw his hands up. "We're getting sidetracked here. We need to go after Blackwood and we need to go after him now. The more time we spend here, the farther away he gets from us. Any ideas?"

"What about all his girlfriends?" Cole asked. "Reading his rap sheet, he has an old lady who lives in Jersey. She had him arrested a few years ago for not paying child support."

"The US Marshals are already watching the house," Major said. "Along with all the known associates of the Crusaders. An APB has also been sent out to all the law enforcement agencies in the tri-state area along with the Border Patrol upstate. If he's running for Canada, he should be there in an hour or two."

"Gentlemen," the ATF agent finally spoke up. "What if we let Blackwood come to us?"

"Go on," Kelly said.

"ATF has a confidential informant inside the Crusaders' Detroit chapter. He's told us that a member of the Detroit chapter is riding to New York to meet with Blackwood sometime tomorrow afternoon. They'll rendezvous somewhere outside the city and Blackwood will be smuggled backed to Michigan and out of the country into Canada. We intercept the biker before he gets to town, find out where the meeting is taking place and set up a trap for Blackwood."

"How certain are you of this informant?" Major asked. "Is he trusted?"

"Yeah," the ATF agent replied. "I can't say much, but he is a member deep within the chapter. That's all I can say."

"Blackwood could be waiting when we go to set up," Tork offered. "I think we need to get a cop undercover to meet with Blackwood and take him to the trap. Does anybody know if Blackwood's familiar with the Detroit chapter?"

"The informant said that Blackwood knows some of the members in Detroit, but he's not familiar with the guy they're sending."

"Alright," Kelly said. "Does anybody have an idea for who could be our undercover?"

"Somebody who looks the part," Major said.

"Yeah, you can't go into the meeting with a crew cut. Blackwood is going to smell a rat."

"Gotta be somebody who can handle the streets," Cole added. "Just in case something goes wrong."

Slowly, all the eyes on the room venture towards the shaggy haired sergeant.

"Wait," Tork said. "You don't.....ahh, damn."

 

[bkhedr]

Hubei Province, China

"The House wins" proclaims the rail thin dealer as he reaches out and collects the last of the young American's chips.

"Yeah, yeah." Mark mumbles as he leans back in his chair and stuffs his hands in his pockets. Though he's lost just under 5000 dollars in the last hour he wears an expression that is half boredom and half disinterest.

Behind Mark stands a tall and attractive hostess who take the opportunity to go from rubbing his muscular shoulders to bending over and wrapping her arms around him.

"Try your luck again baby." she coos in his ear with her sweet voice and heavy accent. "Maybe you get lucky in more ways than one."

"You think so huh?" Mark responds sarcastically before putting his hands on the table and pushing himself to his feet. At 6'4 he towers over everyone in the room, included the high heeled girl whom he then gently brushes away.

"No. I don't think you do." He says as he stuffs his hands in pockets once more and saunters towards the Casino exit leaving the girl with a look of mock dissapoint on her face that lasts just long enough for her to be sure that he won't turn around before she starts scanning the floor for some other patron on whom she can ply her trade.

Its not the girl's fault. She is very attractive and Mark imagines that most men would find her quite seductive, but a man like Mark? A man who can hear her heart beat and feel her body temperature spike? Well he knows when a woman is truly interested and when she's just trying to get him to spend more money.

Not that spending money is an issue. Mark knows he can always get more. Its not hard for a man who can do the things he does. The real problem, the one that has stuck with him since he left the X-men, the one that's always right there with him whether he's in Mexico, Paris, India or China, is the unshakeable feeling that he does not belong.

He thinks of home, of his father and his erstwhile teammates, and doubt very much that they are looking for him, or even care that he's gone. Its sad, but he has to admit that its the story of his life at least since his Mother died.

He shakes his head, trying to clear it of the memory. New York isn't home. It hasn't been home for years. Maybe it never was.

Finding himself at a river's edge Mark stops and looks up towards the night sky.

"What are you running from Mark?" He asks himself ...And why can't you stop having that dream?

"You can cease your worrying young one." a disembodied voice says from seemingly nowhere causing Mark to snap to and swivel his head around "Your days of running are at an end."

"Who's there?" Mark asks as he scans the area looking for, but not finding the speaker.

"Show yourself now if you don't want to get hurt." He had been caught by surprise and that fact alone had been enough to shock him, but had already gathered his wits and he now spoke with the confidence of a being who knew he could not be harmed and had plenty of experience taking care of himself.

He couldn't see the speaker but he didn't have to, focusing, he trained his ears on his immediate surroundings, sifting through the ambient noises, listening for a heart beat or breathing. Its already too late by the time he makes out the whooshing sound of displaced air, of something, or someone, shooting towards him at impossible speeds. He turns his head in the direction of the sound, his fists up, ready to defend himself.

"Whaouufff!!" Something strikes him hard in the back, knocking him off his feet and driving him to the ground on all fours.

"Ugh." He groans, half in pain and half in disbelief "The hell was tha-AAGHK!"

His head snaps back and his body follows suit so that he lands on his back in a heap, the ground cracking beneath him.

"Submit now terran." Came the voice again "I would rather not have you damaged."

The voice's tone was calm, caring, almost as if it was offering fatherly advice. It made Mark's blood boil and he roared to his feet, his eyes ablaze with power.

"I'll show you damage!" He growls. This time when the unseen force approaches he's ready, his ears guiding him.

He looses a wide beam of flash vision in its direction as is not surprised when the beam seems to warp around a caped object powering towards him.

Though he still can't see the attacker Mark does not hesitate to plant his feet and put everything he has into an overhand right which connects with something hard in the same instant that two sledge hammers strike him square in the chest.

The impact results in a deafening boom and Mark is sent hurtling backwards in pain, crashing through the tree line and back into the resort town he had just left.

"Nnggh" He grunts in pain as he pulls himself free of the twisted hunk of metal that had until a second ago been a car.

All around him people are screaming. He can hear police sirens in the distance but he knows they won't be much help. Across the river he can see the collapsed trees where his attacker had no doubt crashed. Good. At least he wasn't the only one getting hit anymore. But he had to move now, it was dumb luck that no innocent bystanders had been hurt or killed yet and he doubted very much that he'd be that luck twice. He had to put some distance between him and the city.

Launching himself upwards Mark takes to the sky, the city below rapidly shrinking away beneath him but no sooner has he cleared the cloud cover than does a beam of concentrated force strike him in the side, just beneath the rips. The impact burns and he grits his teeth against the pain and searches the sky, listening for his attacker.

Once more he manages to hone in on the sound of the approaching attacker and once more his eyes begin to glow but this time his burst of Flash vision explodes around him, as if reflected by some invisible force field concentrated around his eyes.

Mark screams in pain and reaches for his eyes only to find that some unseen force is keeping his hands from his face. What comes next feels like a flurry of incredibly fast and powerful punches that rock Mark out of the sky and send him crashing earthwards.

Barely conscious, Mark tries to right himself, and just manages to even out and start to rise again before he feels something plant itself in the small of his back and drive him earthwards once more.

Earth and rock shatter upon collision as Mark is driven down into the center of a rapidly formed impact crater.

He moans in agony and his body protests as he struggles to rise only to be punched hard on the jaw and collapse in a heap.

Then he is lifted up by the hair and his attacker fades into view.

The powerful figure slams a knee into his chin, making him see stars as another figure fades into view.

"Excellent work Gladiator." The Super Skrull says with satisfaction "Now hold him."

Gladiator moves, as if in a trance, following the Super Skrull's order without hesitation, and steps behind Mark, putting him in half nelson.

The still dazed youth, tries to struggle but finds that Gladiator's strength is every bit a match for his own.

"Who...are you?" He asks the Skrull "Why are you doing this?"

"I am your new master dung dog." The Skrull gloats "And you, like your friend here, whom I'll admit has made capturing you a much easier affair than capturing him was" he says gesturing to Gladiator who stands motionless "are going to help me bring this lowly planet to its knees."

"Guy..who looks like you....shouldn't call people names." Mark comments with a bitter chuckle. "Might as well kill me now." He adds all the defiance he can muster "Cause I don't know about mohawk, but there's no way I'm helping you."

"Is that so?" The Super Skrull says as he looks Mark in the eyes and his own pupils begin to shift and spin in clockwise circles.

 

[bkhedr]

Mark had been flying low over the Philippine Sea for the better part of three hours, the first of which had seen the most action, by comparison, the last forty minutes had been all but completely devoid of contact. Mark had begun to wonder if his mission was already successful, if perhaps there were none left to be found, when he heard it.

The submarine had been doing its best to remain silent and stealthy, but all the stealth protocols in the world weren’t enough to keep Mark from making out the steady hum of its twin nuclear reactors, or the constant, muted whirring of its powerful propellers.

“Got you” Mark declared in the instant before he dove, straight down through the pitch black, icy cold waters, until his fists struck the reinforced titanium of the submarine’s hull like twin thunderbolts.

The hull immediately gave way, caving in where it had been struck and allowing thousands of gallons of sea water to rush in through the nose of the submarine even as the rest of the frame groaned in protest and fought to maintain its integrity.

But the laws of physics were not to be denied. The ruined nose of the submarine listed forwards and downwards so that it impacted the sea floor even as the rear of the vessel was pulled upwards and forwards by the force of its still functioning propellers. It seemed, for the briefest of instants, that the submarine might somehow right itself, but the instant passed quickly and the once mighty vessel suddenly split in two. The sound of wrenching metal was deafening, even in the crushing deep, but it could not drown out the screams of the panicked and dying men within.

Mark heard them all. Every scream, every prayer, every desperate choking breath as lungs designed for air filled with water. It was the fourth Chinese sub Mark had sunk so far that night, and just as it had with the others, every fiber of his being screamed at him to help the men, to save whomever he could; and for the fourth time on this terrible night, Mark found himself ignoring those screams, ignoring his own desires.

He left the Chinese sailors to their fate and shot to the surface once more. Once there he continued his hunt, searching the sea between Madripoor and mainland China for any Chinese submarine still foolish enough to be patrolling the waters. He heard a thunderclap in the distance, over China. Gladiator had struck yet another Chinese airbase. At this rate Mark had no down that they would, between them, cripple China’s ability to fight Madripoor by air or sea. What he still didn’t know, what he couldn’t remember, was why they were doing it.

Mark didn’t even know who Gladiator was or how they ended up on the same side. He didn’t know why he was attacking the Chinese military on behalf of Madripoor, only that he knew he had to. He also knew that thinking about it too much made his head throb with pain and his bones and muscles ache. His skin shivered at the memory of that feeling and he promptly banished all thought of questions from his mind and refocused on the task at hand.

Though his heart ached at the thought, though his conscience screamed at him in vain, Mark knew he had a job to do and he knew many more Chinese sailors would be dead by his hand before the sun rose over Madripoor.

 

[bkhedr]

Kl’rt watched the satellite imagery with unabashed satisfaction. The Chinese navy was crippled. Their air force had been all but destroyed while still on the ground. What few craft had managed to scramble had been quickly hunted down and eliminated by Gladiator.

The Chinese would surely do everything in their power to keep the story from getting out but Kl’rt knew that was an impossibility. Before noon every global news agency on the planet would be reporting how ‘unknown forces’ had attacked China in the night and severely damaged her capacity to fight a conventional air or sea war. There was the possibility that the most astute of them might reason that Madripoor could have something to do with the attacks. China had made its hostility towards Madripoor’s economic expansion known for all the world to see. But there was nothing they could do to prove it, and without proof, none of the world’s powers would allow a move against Madripoor. Particularly with many of them now importing Madripoorian military hardware. All things considered Kl’rt was wagering that the world would blame Latveria for the attacks even if the Chinese were sure to suspect Madripooran involvement.

Regardless it was important that no evidence be left to support those suspicions and that was why Kl’rt had moved his operation here, to his secret base on a small uninhabited Pacific island a thousand miles from Madripoor. It was an island which appeared on few maps and had never had any relation or connection to his nation. It was to this island, rather than Madripoor, that Hyperion and Gladiator would return once recalled from their mission,. And with the sun now rising and the cover of darkness quickly being lifted from his operation, Kl’rt could delay no longer.

The Super Skrull rose from his command chair and walked over to a balcony where he then pressed a button on a small device attached to his belt. He did not have to wait long before Hyperion appeared in the distance with Gladiator following close behind him. As he watched them approach, apparently unscathed by the night’s work, Kl’rt silently congratulated himself for having selected and acquired such suitable thralls. They were his aces in the whole and so long as he controlled them no government, no band of heroes, would be able to stand in his way.

The pair landed smoothly, facing Kl’rt and said nothing. If they felt any weariness, or had any negative feelings about what they had done the previous night, it did not show.

This pleased Kl’rt almost as much as the success of their mission, but he had learned long ago never to take any chances that could be avoided and he though he could so no hint of rebellion in either being, he nonetheless reached into a pouch on his belt and drew two small circular control disks before he walked behind the pair and reached for the old disks on the backs of their necks. The disks had held up well enough, with only a few scrapes and some wearing showing along the edges, but hypnosis could only go so far and Kl’rt was not about to risk losing control of either of these thralls, so he plucked both disks and quickly replaced them with the new ones.

“Time to rest my warriors.” Kl’rt declared as he slapped his palms together and Hyperion and Gladiator dutifully moved into the small complex and took their places in one of two identical metal beds. As soon as they did so, adamantium restraints folded across their chests and legs, locking them in place.

After watching to make sure his thralls were properly secured, Kl’rt wandered back over to his command chair and smoothly sat down. Reports of the attacks on China’s military were already coming in over the news feeds. Kl’rt watched for a moment, a wicked grin upon his lips, before he turned his attention to a series of schematics. He eyed one particular component and rubbed his ridged chin. All was nearly in readiness. With the US millitary now relying on him for advanced weaponry and the Chinese crippled, it was finally time to acquire the last piece he needed to complete the device.

He pushed the schematics over to one side and activated a communicator on his control panel. There was a brief buzzing sound before the channel opened and a strong old voice with a heavy Russian accent offered a pleasantry which the Super Skrull ignored.

"It is time Red Ghost." Kl'rt said flatly. "Meet me outside the facility as agreed."

 

[Carnage27]

​

"Hold on! I'm taking her in fast and tight!" I yell as I put the Blackbird through a vicious roll to avoid a blast of anti-aircraft fire. Attempting to contact the Genoshan army to say we were friendlies obviously didn't go to well. After the roll, I almost skim the surface of the ocean with the Blackbird I'm flying so low.

"Jean, check the scanners for somewhere I can put her down," I say as I bank had to refrain from slamming into the side of a ship.

"I think I've got a spot on the far end of the island," she replies. "Most of the fighting seems to be where we are. Magneto and the Brotherhood are off the beach and a bit inland, and it doesn't seem like the Genoshans can do anything to stop him."

"Well, that's why we're here," Bobby Drake says from a few seats behind me.

After a few more moments and close calls, I manage to find a jungle clearing on the quiet side of the island to put the Blackbird down. I walk down the ramp with my team, and turn to them, "You know what to do. You know why we're here. Now let's get to it."

Angel takes off, and Nightcrawler, beast, and Storm scurry off into the jungle. I made them the distraction team, making sure the Brotherhood focuses on them. They're quicker than the rest of us, and Storm's powers are a huge attention getter.

"That leaves us to take care of Magneto," I say as I lead the other three towards our foe.

 

[Byrd Man]

Madripoor


"NEXT!"

Sue and I walk to the customs counter and hand the officer our passports, our fake passports with fakes nam
es. The fat man looks them over carefully in silence before looking at us.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kirby.....what is your purpose to come to Madripoor?"

"We're on our honeymoon."

The officer looks both of us over for a moment before stamping the passports.

"Welcome to the Republic of Madripoor, enjoy your stay...NEXT!"

******
​

Sue and I follow Lumpkin's instructions down to the last letter. We check in at the hotel that's holding our reservation, leave our bags in the room, and head out to a Chinese restaurant down the street. We find a table and order our food.

Before our meal can arrive, a gray-haired man approaches our table.

"Doctor, Doctor, give me the news."

Sue and I trade a glance and turn to the man.

"We've got a bad case of loving you..."

"Excellent. Follow me."

He walks away. Sue and I scowl at each other and take off after him. He leaves the restaurant and walks down the busy sidewalk, slowing down enough for us to catch him and walk side by side with him down the street.

"Sorry about that. Couldn't be sure someone is eavesdropping."

"So you're our contact?"

"Yes, ma'am. Mister Jones, at your service...."

"Nice to meet you. We-"

"Before you go to say another word, know that Jones isn't my real name. So, you better not tell me your real name."

"In that case, we're the Kirbys."

"That's the spirit! So, who's up for some kidnapping?"
​

 

[bkhedr]

The air was on fire. Mark could feel it all around him, lashing at him with blazing forks of flame so intense that he could barely stand to keep his eyes open.

He was standing in the center of what had once been a city. He could just barely make out the remains of once great towers and bridges, of what had once been a lake, now nothing more than a barren jagged crater, its water boiled away to nothing.

He could hear a baby crying in the distance. Its shrill screaming somehow clear and strong over the sounds of the raging flames. As always the cries go unanswered.

"Hello?" He called out as he always did at this point "Is anyone out there?"

The baby's cries grew louder, more urgent and Mark fought his way forward. His legs felt like lead, heavy and stiff and he had to keep his hand up to his face to keep from breathing in the flames that threatened to swallow him whole.

With every step the movement became more difficult until he found that he was unable to lift his feet and looked down to find that he was up to his waist in flowing molten lava so thick that he instantly knew that escape or movement were completely impossible.

Panic began to set in then, as it always did. The baby's cries grew louder still, the heat became more intense.

"Anybody?!" He shouted in growing desperation as the molten lava began to rise and it became increasingly harder to breath.

A boom on the horizon caught his attention despite his plight and he looked up, as he always did, and watched as something shot into the sky, leaving a vapor trail in its wake. As the small object ascended the baby's cries receded. Growing quiter and quieter and until all was silent save for the sounds of his own labored breathing and of the world that was dying around him.

There was a flash of light, more brighter than any star, so bright that it burned through his hands and his eye lids and Mark suddenly found himself floating free in space.

He watched in morbid silence as the planet cracked asunder, sending debris in all directions. He screamed a silent scream and tried to reach for this world he did not know, this world he had been seeing in his dream for weeks. But the dream was always the same and all Mark could do was remain suspended, silent, ghostly and watch a planet die.

Then the dream was over and Mark was sitting up, alert and awake. The dream as stark and and as vivid in his memory as it always was. There was a cold sweat upon his brow and his heart was beating urgently, violently, in his chest, but he had no time to think about the dream today. No time to wonder what it meant and why it continuined to haunt him.

No. Today the Super Skrull had an errand for him and while Mark still could not understand what made him so, he knew that the Super Skrull was now his master and that he could not keep him waiting.

 

[bkhedr]

North Eastern Russia

The facility was nestled between two sheer cliffs and surrounded by barbed wire and high chain link fence. Guards and dogs patrolled constantly while search lights illuminated the surrounding snow banks. Two KA-50 Black Shark attack helicopters idled on a stretch of black tarmac that was continuially cleared of snow by a sat of large, powerful dozers while their pilots huddled beside them, smoking cigarettes and trying to keep warm.

Every 20 meters or so an astute observor could make out the arctic camoflouge of tarps which failed to hide the distincitve shapes of heavy machine gun nests and SAM batteries. The now familiar roar of twin T-50 fighters filled the sky as they made yet another pass overhead.

The Red Ghost knew from from having observed the facility for several days that the fighters would circle around and come back overhead in about 15 minutes. They would do so 4 more times before they returned to their base and were replaced by two new planes with full fuel tanks and fresh pilots.

He had to hand it to his countrymen. As much as he had grown to despise them, he could not deny the fact that the men of Mother Russia still knew how to defend a vital installation. Then again, he mused, if they still knew how to keep secrets they wouldn't need all this security and he wouldn't have been able to find the facility to begin with.

He cursed inwardly, lamenting how far Russia had fallen. This new Russia was weak, corrupted, it did not deserve his loyalty. He had to keep telling himself that. If he didn't me might allow himself to consider turning back and abandoning this task. But the fact was that he needed what his new partner had to offer and he doubted very much that that partner would allow him to back out now in any case.

"Kragoff" He heard the familiar voice behind him and knew that the time for reconsideration, for doubt, was over.

"I told you to not to call me that." He snarled as he turned to face his 'partner'.

Bad enough that he was going to betray his homeland, to help this....creature....steal its greatest scientific advancement in decades. He didn't need the Skrull to call him by his old name and remind him of his shame. Better to forget Ivan Kragoff and to remain, now and forever the Red Ghost.

The Skrull must have picked up on this because his reply was tinged with a tone of cruelty and sarcasm. "Of course Red Ghost, how could I have forgotten."

"Be sure that you do not forget again." Kragoff warned with a scowl. The Skrull had not forgotten of course. He just enjoyed the fact that he could get under Kragoff's skin as much as he enjoyed the fact that he, not Ivan, was the controlling partner in their 'business relationship'. It was a fact that Ivan promised himself he would rectify at the very first opportunity.

"The facility is heavily guarded." Kl'rt observed, shaking the Red Ghost from his plotting and bringing him back to the present.

"Indeed." he replied. "It has been a long time since Russia developed a weapon with such potential. Even those criminals now residing in the Kremlin would not be so foolish as to leave it poorly guarded."

"You're certain its here then?" Kl'rt raised an eye brow inquisitively.

"As certain as you are that the serum you've promised to provide me with will have the desired effect." Kragoff snorted with obvious irritation.

"The serum will work as promised Ghost." The skrull said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "But you will never so much as see it if I don't get what I need first."

"Then take it and be done with it!" The Red Ghost growled, suddenly angry, as he shook a fist at his partner. "I tire of your boasting and of your insults."

"I have held up my end of the arrangement!" He added, venting his anger and pointing a finger at the facility far below. "So go! Use the great power you claim to possess and acquire what you came for. Or would you have me find it and bring it to you as well? Either way let us be done with it so that I may claim my prize!" He couldn't bring himself to call it payment.

"Careful Red Ghost." Kl'rt chided "Do not forget who you are dealing with."

The Red Ghost was about to reply when Kl'rt suddenly faded from view, leaving him alone on the ridge to nurse his frustrations.

It was only mere moments before alarms began to blare at the facility prompting Kragoff to lift his binoculars to his eyes and get a closer look at the chaos ensuing below.

What he saw sent a chill running down his spine. The base and its defenders were being taken apart at, in some cases literally, by the now invisible Super Skrull. Kragoff knew he had set this in motion, knew that it was the Super Skrull with whom he had just been conversing who was now killing and maiming indiscriminantly and the thought filled him not only with dread, but with a healthy jose of jealously as well.

He continuined to watch in awed silence as the twin helicopters exploded on the tarmac followed moments later by the facility's main fuel store. The store erupted in a magnificent ball of flame which no doubt contributed greatly to the panic apparent througout the base.

The Red Ghost did not have to wait long after that before Kl'rt faded back into view beside him. The Super Skrull looked completely unscathed and a sophisticated looking cylindrical capsule floated behind him, suspended by some unseen force while below the burned base continuied to be consumed by chaos punctuated by the occasional screams or sporadic bursts of gunfire. The poor fools did not even know that the attack was already over.

Kragoff took it all in and felt the fear swelling up inside the pit of his stomach. The long forgotten sensation filled him with self loathing and he fought it back down and forced himself to keep a steady hand and an even tone as he extended an open palm in the Super Skrull's direction even as the other hand moved threateningly to the high powered side arm holstered on his hip

"You have what you came for." He observed "Now give me what is mine."

Kl'rt eyed the Red Ghost's off hand as it hovered near his side arm and let out a mocking laugh. "No need for theatrics Kragoff." he said easily, taking pleasure in how the Red Ghost's eyes narrowed venomously at his deliberate usage of his real name. It was the least he could do to this dung dog who dared threaten to raise a weapon against him. "I have no intention of reneging on my part of our arrangement."

With that he reached into a pouch on his belt and retrieved a small vial filled with a thick green liquid.

"Here." he said as he stretched his arm and put the vial in the Red Ghost's open palm. "With this you will be able to create and army of Super Apes to do your bidding."

The Red Ghost closed his fist greedily and swiftly around the vial then brought it up to his face. He stared at its contents for a brief moment before moving his free hand from his holster to his own belt from which he retrieved a sophisticated scanning device.

He pointed the device at the vial and it emitted a pin point beam at the fluid within. He then turned the device and read the read out displayed on its side and as he did so a malicious grin made its way on to his lips.

"Finally." he said with satisfaction.

"Finally indeed." Kl'rt said. He could have easily betrayed the Red Ghost and he suspected that the Ghost knew as much, but the fact was that the Ghost could not hurt him and his own plans might well be aided by the old human fool running around, trying to accomplish his own goals and sowing chaos with an army of super powered primates at his back. That, and that alone was why he had held up his end of the bargain.

"I trust you will be able to synthesize more of the formula as needed Ghost." Kl'rt said. "Make good use of it and keep yourself available. I may have need of you again soon."

With that the Super Skrull faded from view without giving the Red Ghost a chance to reply to the last remark, but the Ghost was no longer listening, not to the Skrull or to the continuing explosions and alarms rising up from the battered base below. Instead he continued stare intently at the vial held tightly in his fist and visualize the fruition of his plans and ambitions. Let the Super Skrull think what he will of him, let the world do so. Soon he would have the power and the means to do whatever he wanted and no one, not even the awesome Super Skrull, would be able to stand in his way.

 

[Andy C.]

We now return to the single worst ass-kicking I've ever taken in my entire life......already in progress.

"Tell me, Spider-Man," Doctor Octavius asks quizzically as one of his cybernetic tendrils lashes out and wraps around my waist, pulling me down from the ceiling while I was in the middle of trying to escape, "When you broke into a building populated by five men with god-like powers, and who would like nothing more than to tear you to shreds......what did you honestly think would happen?"

"Oh, I was thinking we could have a big sit-down and get to the root of you guys' anger issues," I say, struggling to break free of the tentacle's grip. "You super-villain types are so repressed. Maybe it'd feel good to hug it out!"

"Perhaps you're right," Ock says with a sneer. "Tell me how much better you feel after some time in my embrace."

With that, a second tentacle wraps around me and the two begin to squeeze. Within seconds, there's a series of dull POPs as he crushes multiple ribs, and my world explodes in pain. The only reason I don't scream is that he's starting to crush my lungs.

"I could kill you right now, you know," Octavius muses for a moment, before his tentacles slacken and I fall to the floor, finally managing to scream at the impact in my broken bones. "But that particular bit of dirty business will not be mine to undertake."

"Why's--*rrgkh!*--why's that?" I grunt as I pick myself up off the floor. "Did....*ngh!*.....did my boyish good looks win you over?"

Apparently he doesn't appreciate my sense of humor, as a tentacle jabs out lightning-fast and bashes me in the face.

"I have more important matters to attend to than wasting my time and focus on a loud-mouthed arachnid," he says, turning his attention back to his machine. "However, my associates have all assured me that they will be more than happy to kill you themselves."

As he's talking, I notice the grit and dust on the floor shifting beneath my feet. Only......no, it's not dust.....it's sand.....crap.

My Spider-Senses warn me to leap out of the way a fraction of a second before a big sandy spike shoots out of the ground where I was standing. Unfortunately, as hurt as I am, I can't really stick the landing or even do any cool acrobatics, so I just awkwardly hop into the air......which makes me easy pickings for Vulture to nab as he swoops in.

"How dare you interfere in our business!" he hisses as the talons in his boots sink into my shoulder-blades.

"Oh yeah, how inconsiderate of me. Your 'business' last time was trying to kill your teenage protege," I say, wincing through the pain before swinging my legs forward, catching his head between my thighs, then webbing up to the ceiling to pull my body upwards and wrench him out of control, sending him tumbling into the wall. I saw Crusher Hogan do that to Bonesaw McGraw at the Garden once.

Before I can pull myself up, the web-line gets cut by a sharpened boomerang, and Kraven the Hunter pounces towards me, big nasty knives at the ready.

"Spiders are trappers in the wild," he says as he slashes at me with his knives. Thankfully he's normal--well, still crazy and evil, but not super-powered--so my Spider-Senses keep me well out of harm's way. "You should know the trap of larger predators when you see one."

"Oh God, enough with the wildlife schtick already," I say as I web his knives together, then clasp my hands together and club him across the jaw. "I mean, really, how do you--GAAAAAAAAAH!!!"

That last part would be my reaction to a few thousand unexpected volts of electricity surging through my body, thanks to Electro.

"You won't stop us, Spider-Man," he snarls as he charges up for another attack. "We're going to change the world with this machine, and you WILL NOT GET IN OUR WAY!!!"

"You mean that machine right there?" I say, bobbing and weaving so Electro can't get off a good shot at me. Unfortunately, I can't get too close to the machine, or else Doctor Octopus there might start snapping a few more sections of my skeleton with those tentacles of his.

I can, however, start mucking it up from a distance, and that's precisely what I begin to do, firing globs of webbing into the machinery. Maybe whatever it is, I can gum up the works.

Octavius spins around to face me, his face red with anger.

"You imbecile!" he snarls. "You'll ruin everything!"

"That's kind of the idea!" I yell, dodging Electro's lightning bolts, as well as sandy claws and hammers and all other sort of nasty stuff that Marko throws at me. "Whatever you guys are up to, it can't be---......whoah."

In one of Doc Ock's tentacles is a cylinder, suspended in which is a core of pure tritium.....a critical component in controlled nuclear fusion reactions.......

......which just happens to be Octavius' specialty, if I remember my all-star scientists correctly.

The distraction is enough that I don't notice the enormous gray mass rushing towards me until it's too late to get out of the way.

"KILL THE SPIDER!" Rhino roars as he charges towards me, his adamantium horn slicing a nasty gash across my side as I'm able to juuust barely avoid being impaled. Unfortunately, the bulk of him still slams into me with full force, and I can feel some of my vertebrae pop out of alignment as my spine bends with the impact.

I tumble across the floor, only to have Vulture rake across my back with his talons.

"You're out of your league now," Toomes says as he picks me up off the ground, throwing me into a wrecking-ball made of sand.

"This is too big for you to stop it," Marko says, his expression blank and cold.

As I crash back down to the ground, Kraven peppers me with darts, their poison doing its work almost immediately, as I start to feel sluggish and numb.

"You will be easy prey now," he sneers, satisfied with himself as Electro steps up to finish the job.

"You put us all away once," Dillon growls. "I think it's only fair we put you away this time!"

"That.....*hk!*....is.......*ngh*.......so.......laaaaame," I say right before an electrical blast causes every muscle in my body to spasm violently and I go flying across the room.......right into Octavius's tentacles.

"You have no idea what kind of forces you're dealing with, boy," he scowls, surveying the damage our battle has done to his machine. "Your best efforts have proven little more than an inconvenience and an annoyance. We will have to disassemble the device and relocate now that this place is no longer secure, but you will not stop us."

"That.....that fusion array," I say, gasping for breath after the vicious beating I've taken. "Like the last one you did......the radiation wave.....it'll wipe out this whole block!"

"My previous attempt would have wiped out a city block, yes," he responds. "This one will wipe out all of Manhattan. However, once the tragedy subsides, what remains will be a self-sustaining nuclear fusion reaction--infinite power in the form of a miniature star, right here on Earth. It will solve the world's energy problems forever."

"....the whole city?" I say, my head still in a fog. "Doc......you'll kill millions of people!"

"I recall a certain saying about omelettes and eggs," Octavius says coldly. "At any rate, you can take comfort in knowing that once I single-handedly solve humanity's struggles for energy, putting an end to needless wars over oil and resources, that you will be remembered as a catalyst for the event. After all, none of my associates would have helped me assemble the device if it weren't for their shared desire to kill you. Speaking of, Mister O'Hirn?"

Rhino lumbers over to me, ready for the kill.

"If you'd be so kind........finish him."

O'Hirn clenches his fist and rears back for a killing blow.

For a split-second I feel the impact against my skull........


.......then everything goes black.

 

[bkhedr]

Donnie Gill could hear the banging and the gunfire growing louder. He wasnt sure a few moments earlier but now he was certain tha whatever was happening out there it was defintely getting closer.

That got him excited enough that frost began to build up around his finger tips and the air temperature in his cell dropped a few degrees. It was all he could manage, what with the power dampening collar around his neck sapping his powers, but as the sounds of conflict continued to grow louder he had every confidence that he wouldn't be wearing the collar much longer.

Soon he'd be free, free to put the mask back on, stop being three time loser Donnie Gill, and go back to being Blizzard, master of cold.

The transformation had been short lived. He'd only just been given his Blizzard powers a few days before the Fantastic Four crashed the party, put him and his fellow Frightful Four behind bars. But Donnie hadn't given up hope. He'd relished the power he'd been given. The freedom that came with being Blizzard and he knew it would only be a matter of time before he would be free once again.

Donnie fidgeted with anticipation, walking back and forth in the cell as the sounds grew even louder then suddenly stopped, prompting him to free in place and stair at the hardened steel door to his cell.

The heavy door began to creak and moan as if on cue, and Donnie's eyes widened as it was ripped from its hinges and tossed aside by a tall powerfully built figure wearing a red costume emblazoned with bright white lines.

Donnie didn't recognize his liberator but that didn't stop him from approaching the young man with a wide grin.

"About time." he said as he noticed that the man was not alone and was flanked by the Constrictor, Molecule Man and Titania. "I knew Doom wouldn't abandon his Frightful Four."

"No." said the man as grabbed Donnie by the collar and apruptly spun him around.

"Hey!" Donnie protested "Hey what are you doing?"

"Not Doom." was Hyperion's only reply as he ripped off Donnie Gill's power dampening collar and replaced it with one of the Super Skrull's control discs as the rest of the Frightful Four watched in mute indifference

 

[Matt Murdock]

Danny Rand's father was an entrepreneur and adventurer.
One day, he took young Danny to the mountains of Tibet, where they discovered the ancient city of K'un L'un.
Living in the city were a race of ancient ninja, who had focused their chi to near-perfection.
There, Danny thrust his hand into the heart of the heart of the dragon Shou-Lao, and he, too, was granted power over his chi.
Soon, he became a great warrior for K'un L'un.
Soon, he became the...

​

This is not a job without its perks. What I do for a living is very much off the beaten path, very much... under the radar, as the saying goes. I don't make a monthly paycheck, I don't have dental coverage, and I don't have a 401k.

Danny Rand, dressed entirely in the yellow and green military uniform of HYDRA, ran a wrist across his damp brow. The mask of his HYDRA suit was pulled back, revealing his young face. His eyes narrowed as he fumbled with wires in the palm of his hand. The electrical cables snaked out from between his fingers and into the wall, where the face of a control panel was hanging limply by a single screw. Clenched tight in Danny's teeth was a screwdriver that, at just the right angle, would have coaxed the others out of the wall.

And, really, at 26 years old, I don't need much of that stuff. With my dad's fortune and the Rand Company behind me, I've got a literal wealth of resources to fall back on.

A spark snapped between the wires, and the control panel lit up. Next to the panel, a steel door slid open. Danny smirked smugly to himself, and heaved the HYDRA mask over his eyes.

In his ear, a communications signal sprang to life.

"Ha-ha! Nice work, Danny Boy!"

There's also the fact that currency isn't really used much in ancient mythological cities.

Beyond the door was a corridor, dimly lit and plated with the same steel as the door. Rand's HYDRA-issue boots echoed as he stepped lightly down the path before him.

"Thanks, Davos." He muttered into his communicator, mounted on the inside cheek of his mask.

"Nice and easy, now." Rand's handler, Davos said, back in the heart of K'un L'un. An older man, in his mid-forties, Davos sat in a comfortable, glass chair, in the heart of K'un L'un's intelligence division. The central nervous system of information throughout the world about the ancient city, Davos and a select few helped Danny complete his missions, and keep the city a secret from the language-speaking world. On the screen in front of him, Davos had a schematic of the HYDRA base Danny was snaking through. "Try to not go off half-cocked again, all right? We don't need another high-body count. The higher-ups are gettin' a bit >ahem< miffed."

Danny spotted a guard coming into view at the end of the hallway. He ducked into a recess in the corridor and held his breath.

"Single guard at the end of the hallway." He breathed, "Gimme a minute, here."

"Take your time." Davos said, glancing at the nails on his left hand.

Rand took a deep breath, a slow one. A breath that reached into his lungs and spread into every vein, every drop of blood, surging through his system. His presence grew less noticeable, shadows seemed to welcome him, and when he stepped out of the recess in the bulkhead, he didn't make a sound. His boots, making contact with the ground every few seconds as he grew closer to the lone HYDRA guard, had ceased to echo.

A foot away, and Danny's right hand surged forward. His elbow bent, and his forearm locked itself under the man's throat. With a heave, his free elbow drilled itself into the soldier's helmet, knocking him unconscious.

"Nice one." Davos said, still staring intently at his fingertips.

Danny, meanwhile, was heaving the goon's body into the same recess he had found solitude in just moments before.

"HNNNG" He groaned, pulling the thug by his shoulders. "Thanks."

The hallway ended in a fork, and Rand stared intently at both paths before him.

"All right. Now, before we continue --" Davos said, nonchalantly, "-- let's just make sure we've got everything covered."

"Make it quick."

Rand heard the sound of paper being flipped.

"To the right, here, you've got the soldiers' quarters. Pretty standard stuff, I think. And, to the left, you've got the command center for the entire facility. That's where you'll find one..." More flipping. "Lieutenant Saltz. Real nasty guy. Former Nazi sympathizer, believes in the occult, all-around pinhead."

"He's the one looking for the city?"

A third barrage of paper-flips, "You got it. Personally requested every soldier here, hoping to find the 'mythical city of the Dragon' as it's called locally."

"So I've gotta..."

"Go influence him into thinking the city doesn't exist, escape, get back here for debrief."

"Simple enough."

"And, as always, our fail-safes include..." Rand could hear Davos chewing on the end of his pencil. "Nothing."

"Sounds about right." Rand said, through gritted teeth.

He had already begun walking to the left, and soon, the sound of the commotion of a military operations room reached his ears. If he was being honest with himself, it sounded like K'un L'un.

Except K'un L'un wasn't quite as hell-bent on world domination. Or the slaughter of innocent people.

Rand entered the cavernous room. At the back wall were a series of windows, with a spectacular view of the Tibetan mountains. Rand saw a few peaks he recognized and was alarmed by just how close Hydra was getting to his home.

Realizing that standing and gawking wasn't doing much for his cover, Rand continued to walk towards the window. Around him were maps, cartographers, soldiers and guards, all busy running information back and forth, searching. Six or seven illuminated platforms housed maps of the region, some were even holographic, depicting the terrain in an eerie, blue glow.

At the end of the room was an elevated platform, leading to the windows. Rand stepped up, and, immediately recognized Saltz by his black trench coat and hat. Rand stepped just behind him, staring over his shoulder at the mountains.

"There you go, now. Not too obvious." Davos whispered.

Danny's eyes darted to the back of Saltz' head.

"You are here for something, aren't you?" Saltz said, slowly turning to face Danny. "You..."

"...Have a mission?"

Saltz now faced Danny completely. Rand felt his heart begin to race, and his breathing grow shallow. Something was drastically wrong.

With a shake of his head, he spoke up.

"Not exactly, sir, no." Rand said, extending a hand. "Roy Tuska. I wanted to introduce myself."

In the split-second it took for Saltz to extend his, Danny drew a breath, and focused all of his positive energy into his hand.

Their hands met, and Danny muttered, "What you search for is not beyond those mountains. It is in yourself."

And, like that, the moment had passed. Saltz' eyelids fluttered, and he stared at Rand for another second.

With a wave of his hand, the lieutenant muttered, "Y-You may go."

Danny turned and stepped quickly towards the exit.

"Nice work, Danny. Hopefully it'll stick. If not, we'll be back again in 48." Davos said.

"No, I am not sure that you will be." Saltz' voice echoed around the command center.

Danny stopped dead in his tracks.

"What? What'd he say?" Davos said hotly in Danny's ear.

Danny's breath grew short and rapid, and he turned slowly.

"You thought, did you" Saltz cooed in his accent, stepping towards Danny, "that it would be you to make a fool of HYDRA?"

Rand felt a snarl slip across his face. Their eyes met, and from behind the increasingly annoying HYDRA goggles, Rand felt his temperature rising.

"I'd hoped."

"In vain, it would seem."

"It would."

Saltz lifted his chin and opened his mouth a fraction before the next words slithered out of his tongue.

"Heil HYDRA."

"HEIL HYDRA." The room roared, as every soldier slowly drew their gun level with Rand.

"Kill him." Saltz ordered, a sneer on his face.

Uh-oh! Surely Danny's in over his head this time, True Believers!
Is this the day that HYDRA rules OVER the Iron Fist?
Find out next time!
TO BE CONTINUED!
​

 

[Rain Dog]

After being driven around town blindfolded for forty minutes, I find myself in a dim room. There are Chinese scrolls hanging off the walls, jade statues, dragons up the wazoo—typical Chinese mob setup, I guess. I mean—I’m not stereotyping or anything. I’m just assuming that this is a Chinese mob base, given the situation…I-I’m not a racist, I swear.

I know I’m surrounded but the only two people I can make out are the big thuggish guy and his tiny boss in front of me. The small one mumbles into the ear of the big one.

“Boss Liu has an assignment for you, duck. In return for its completion, we will let you live.”

“Oh…okay…what’s the assign—“

“Silence! You will speak when spoken to, duck.”

“B-but…but you just spoke to—“

“Silence! Should I have to say it again, we will cancel this assignment and take your life right here and now, do you understand?!”

I nod.

“Well?! SPEAK UP! ANSWER ME!”

“Y-yes?”

“Good, very good. Sir?” he said, turning to the little one. Boss Liu stepped forward and glared at me. And naturally, I trembled and let out a few whimpering squeals.

“Dis is your assignment, duck: We are having territory battle wit di Itarian mob…”

This is how the guy actually spoke. I’m not lampooning a stereotypical Chinese accent. The guy…the guy just talked that way. Honestly…I’m not a racist.

“You will travel to Rittle Itary and enta Romita’s Itarian Restaurant. There, you will request to meet wit da management and offa dis gift to the owna…”

Liu handed me a gift-wrapped box.

“…Don Romita. Encrosed is a bomb that will detonate when da box is opened. If I had sent one of my men, Romita would have expected foul pray. But, if I sent a duck, he will not be da srightest bit suspicious.”

I nod silently, ignoring the many flaws in this overly-simplistic plan that keep popping up in my head.

“Here,” the big, thuggish guy grunted as he tossed me some clothes.

“You will wear this. A bit more respectable.”

A dress shirt, black pants, and a casual, albeit heavy, jacket. I guess that is a bit more respectable than my wrinkled slacks and stained Led Zeppelin IV shirt. I nod again as a blindfold is pulled around my eyes.

“You will now be escorted out of the premises. We will be watching. If you stray from your path or contact authorities, your life will meet an untimely end. Remember that, duck.”

I nod again and am yanked out of my seat and led away.

Holy ****…I have to kill a mob boss…ok, calm down, Howard. You’ve been gone a while. Lester is probably looking for you right now. He’ll find you, get help, and this’ll all be over…

* * *​

Man. Where the **** is Howard? He’s been gone since, like, forever ago. Maybe I should close up shop and go look for him? He could be lost or in trouble or something…or he could be out drinking. Again. That’s probably what he’s doing. Man. What a *****e. Should I just go light up? I think I’ll just go light up…

LITTLE ITALY​

I waddle into Romita’s Italian Restaurant on Mott. My heart’s goin’ off like a jackhammer. The dress jacket the Chinese gave me is so heavy it’s causing me to slump forward and my hands are trembling so much that I can barely get a good hold on that “present” I’m carrying. I don’t think I could look anymore suspicious unless I drove through the front door in a Cadillac while firing a tommy gun into the air and wearing a t-shirt that said “I’M NOT HERE TO KILL YOU.”


“Table for one?” the maitre’d asks.

“N-no…I-I’m actually…I—err—I need to s-speak to Mr. Romita…”

“Regarding what?”

“Uh…”

Don’t say killing him. Don’t say killing him. Don’t say killing him.

“Killing him this present.”

“Excuse me?”

“Giving him this present.”

“I see. He’s busy at the moment but you could leave it with me and I can assure you it will get to him.”

I’m about to say “sure” before a terrifying thought flashes through my head:

“You WHAT?! We told you to PERSONALLY deliva da package to Don Romita!!!”

“I—he…”

“PING! GET OVA HERE AND SRIT DIS BIRD’S TROAT OPEN!!”

“Noooooo!”

“NOOOO! I mean—no, no, it-it’s, uh, important that I deliver this personally.”

“I see…well, I’m sorry, then. Perhaps you should return at a later time.”

Just then, a large Italian man in a slick grey suit comes out one of the back doors, smoking a cigar. He’s surrounded by an entourage of even bigger Italian men in track suits, all laughing about something. The entourage sits down at a table and a waiter brings them a bottle of wine. The cigar man is stills standin’, though, and goes from table to table chatting and laughin’ it up with the guests.

“How you doin’? Hey, Vinnie! How’s it goin’? Hey there, folks? How’s your meal? What’re we havin’?”

The maitre’d shifts his eyes back and forth between the cigar man and me, looking real uncomfortable—like he knows what I’m about to ask.

“Is that…”

“Yes. But as I said, he’s busy. Again, I could hold that gift for you and see to it that he receives it promptly.”

“Um…well…”

“You WHAT?! We told you to PERSONALLY deliva da package to Don Romita!!!”

“I—he…”

“PING! GET OVA HERE AND CRUSH DIS BIRD’S BALLS WIT DIS SREDGEHAMMA!! AND DEN SLIT HIS TROAT OPEN!!!”

“Noooooo!”

“NOO—er, no, please…c-could you please ask him if he can see me? Just for a second? Please?”

The maitre’d frowned and then gave a slow nod. He approached the table of track suits just as Romita was sitting down at it.

“Mr. Romita, there’s some midget in a duck suit here to see you.”

Sigh.

Romita peeks over one of his goons to get a glimpse at me. He raises an eyebrow, laughs, and then shakes his head. The maitre’d returns to the podium and tells me what I already know.

“He’s busy at the moment, sir. Perhaps another time.”

“I—er—I…ok,” I say, defeated. I turn around and start heading towards the front door.

Alright, I guess I’ll just have to try again some other time. Or they’ll need to think up a new plan. What else can I do? I mean, it’s totally out of my power. I’ll have to tell Boss Liu he just wouldn’t see me. He has to understand, right? ….

“You WHAT?! We told you to PERSONALLY deliva da package to Don Romita!!!”

“I—he…”

“PING! GET OVA HERE AND CRUSH DIS BIRD’S BALLS WIT DIS SREDGEHAMMA!! AND DEN SRIT HIS TROAT OPEN! AND DEN STUFF THE GAPING WOUND WIT FIREWORKS, SET THEM OFF, AND PARADE HIS COLORFUL, EXPRODING BODY THROUGHOUT THE STREETS SO THAT SMALL CHILDREN DANCE AND SING AROUND HIS JUBIRRISTIC CORPSE! ”

“Noooooo!”

I spin around and make a run for it. The maitre’d shouts something at me but I ignore him and keep running. I quickly weave through diners, waiters, and busboys before reaching Romita’s table. I take a seat at an empty chair and plop the gift-wrapped box down on the table. Romita and his thugs are speechless, half of them staring me in disbelief, the other half, judging by their faces, are presumably imagining repetitively stabbing me between the eyes with an icepick.

I suddenly regret this decision.

 

[Harlekin]

Created by Byrd Man and Harlekin​

Tork looked the part. They had outfitted him with a jeans vest that had the sleeves torn of. It was open at the front, baring his hairy chest and a slightly flabby belly. An expert on henna tattoos had worked on his arms, a part of his chest and even his back. They were your standard biker gang tattoos, ranging from naked women to names and dates. A few choice crucifixes adorned his right shoulder, marking him as a Crusaders member.

&#8220;This &^#$ better come off,&#8221; he scowled during the briefing.
Special Agent Frank Kelly, from the DEA, led the meeting in the conference room of the 17th precinct. The usual suspects were there from Tork&#8217;s flying squad (Daz, Gonzales and DeWolff), but also Kasper Cole from narcotics and some fellows from ATF.
&#8220;Thanks to our friends from Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, we&#8217;ve had word on the Detroit Crusader coming into town. He&#8217;s expected to hit the state somewhere in the next three hours. They&#8217;re meeting up in Albany at a safehouse.&#8221;
&#8220;We&#8217;ve got the address?&#8221; Cole asked.
&#8220;We do. All we need to do is make sure the boys at the state line pull over our target.&#8221;
&#8220;Pictures have been sent out?&#8221; DeWolff asked.
&#8220;Done. Now we just need to hope those boys don&#8217;t fall asleep out there.&#8221;
&#8220;What&#8217;s our move?&#8221; Gonzales asked and most of the men present looked at him, surprised.
&#8220;You knock the &^%$er out and put Tork on his bike.&#8221;

At the state line, Bolo Czarn wondered what was taking so long. The officer in the booth seemed to be scrutinizing every last inch of his driver&#8217;s license. Knowing how cops did, Bolo reckoned it was trouble. He could run. But then he&#8217;d be &^%$ deep in trouble for sure. Arthur Blackwood didn&#8217;t take kindly to waiting, not when he had the police on his ass himself. No way Czarn was going to *&^% it up for the Crusaders&#8217; main man.

The state troopers didn&#8217;t give him a choice. &#8220;Would you mind coming with me for a moment, mister Czarn?&#8221; the officer asked as he handed the biker back his license.
&#8220;Where to?&#8221;
The man pointed out the office to the side of the road. Through the window, Czarn could see some uniforms drinking coffee and eating pastries. They didn&#8217;t look too impressive; he could still probably make a run for it if it came to it. Heck, one of them was a woman. &#8220;Down to the canteen, just want to ask some questions. We had a report come in on a motorcycle like yours on a hit and run a few days back. Were you here then, as well?&#8221;
Czarn smiled wildly and shrugged. &#8220;Nope.&#8221;
&#8220;Well, come in anyway,&#8221; the trooper said, leading the way. &#8220;You can even get a coffee if you like.&#8221;
&#8220;I&#8217;ve tasted the cop coffee. I&#8217;ll pass.&#8221; They both laughed.

However, the trooper stopped laughed the moment he hit the canteen and so would Czarn. He looked into the room he had seen through the window. The lady had a gun under the table, which she was pointing at his junk. The man seated opposite was cracking his knuckles.
&#8220;What the &^%$ is this?&#8221; Czarn asked and he moved to turn around. He bumped straight into Daz&#8217;s chest.
&#8220;Follow me, squirt,&#8221; the cop said, pulling Czarn up by his leather jacket and taking him with him into a little side room. DeWolff and Gonzales followed. Inside, Czarn was put into a chair across a desk. Seated there was Sergeant Tork, grinning widely. He looked to his colleagues.
&#8220;Like twins, right?&#8221;

Well, the two didn&#8217;t quite match up in appearance, but Tork was able to imitate Czarn&#8217;s attitude afterwards quite quickly into the following interrogation. The stocky biker, who had his facial hair trimmed in stripes, had a temper that fit his size. At every insult, he&#8217;d rise up from his chair in fury, only to be forcefully set back by Daz. He was enjoying it as much as Gonzales, who was rapidly firing questions at the man.

&#8220;Where&#8217;s the meet?&#8221;, &#8220;What&#8217;s the code?&#8221; and so on.

Jean DeWolff was standing outside with Tork, smoking. She looked at her watch.

&#8220;They need to hurry up. Czarn could already be late,&#8221; she said.
&#8220;He&#8217;ll crack soon, once Daz gets another jab. Literally.&#8221;

DeWolff let her cigarette fall and ground it into the earth with her foot.

&#8220;Where&#8217;d you hide the wire?&#8221;
Tork looked downwards.
&#8220;Your shoes?&#8221; she asked.
He shook his head.
&#8220;Ah.&#8221;
&#8220;No way Blackwood will frisk me there.&#8221;
&#8220;Let&#8217;s hope not.&#8221;
Tork opened his mouth to talk, but the two were interrupted by Daz, who walked out of the office cleaning his bloodied knuckles.

&#8220;Albany. You&#8217;ve got two hours.&#8221;

 

[Andy C.]

"........I suck." I groan as I return to consciousness.

Seriously, how many times have I been knocked completely cold since I started doing this Spider-Man schtick? Kraven drugged me that one time, Shocker KO'ed me with a point-blank blast, the Green Goblin nearly beat me to death.....Electro and Rhino both managed to knock me out for a few seconds, too. I'm not a neurosurgeon, but I know that much time spent unconscious is really bad for your brain cells.

Now Doctor Octavius and his five flunkies beat me into a stain on the concrete. I don't even know where I am, how long I've been out, or how much of me is still attached. For all I know, I could be chained up in some underground lair so Octavius can torture me, or locked away in some HAMMER detention cell to be recruited into their government goon-squads.

I guess opening my eyes would help.

"Feeling better, Tiger?"

I blink repeatedly to make sure my eyes aren't deceiving me.

"....Mary Jane?"

"The one and only," she says, and I'm suddenly overcome with relief to find myself in my bed, back at the Osborn penthouse, most assuredly not dead......

....unfortunately, I can't seem to move any of my limbs without an almost blinding amount of pain. I glance down and see casts and braces over pretty much my entire body.

"They said you'd probably be out for another two days, Pete," Mary Jane says as she fluffs my pillow. "Good to see you're still tougher than people give you credit for, huh?"

"Yeah, heh," I say uneasily, unsure how to feel about the fact that my scorching hot ex-girlfriend is this close to me. "Ummm.....MJ? This might sound like a dumb question, but.......what happened?"

MJ raises an eyebrow.

"You don't remember? You got hit by a semi, Tiger," she says.

"A semi?"

Mary Jane nods.

"It was a hit and run, about five days ago. Captain Stacy took you to the emergency room, and once you were stabilized, Harry's dad had you brought back here. He's had private physicians taking care of you since, and Gwen and I have been taking turns looking after you when they're not here."

"Really," I say, remembering that Gwen didn't like MJ at all while we were together. "How's that working out?"

"Pretty great, actually," Mary Jane says with a smile. "We watch a lot of movies on your Netflix account--hope you don't mind. She's actually a lot of fun to hang out with. Speaking of, I should text her and let her know you're awake--she's out getting smoothies."

"Nice."

"Yeah. Y'know, you're really lucky you've got her, Tiger. She's perfect for you."

"Heh. Only took me my entire life to notice," I say, smiling weakly. "Ummm....this might sound weird, but why exactly are you doing this? I mean, I appreciate it and all, but.....you did kind of, y'know, kick me to the curb not too long ago."

Mary Jane bites her lip as if stopping herself from saying something, then says,

"You may not be my boyfriend anymore, Tiger, but you're still my friend. And let's be honest, even when you're unconscious, you're still better conversation than Flash."

I'm about to ask why exactly she dumped me for Flash if I was the better catch, when MJ's phone rings.

"Ah. Looks like Gwen got my text," she says as she looks at her phone. "I imagine she'll want to talk to you."

MJ holds the phone up to my ear.

"Umm.....hey Gwen,"

"Peter!" her voice practically explodes over the phone. "Oh, thank God you're awake! Are you okay? I mean, y'know, apart from...."

"Apart from having half of my skeleton broken into bits and pieces? Yeah, I'm good, heh," I say. On the other end of the line, Gwen laughs too, relieved. "Um, hey, when you get the chance, can you call your dad? I need to talk to him as soon as possible......y'know, to, um, get the details on what happened."

And to tell him that there's a psychopathic nuclear physicist on the loose with a weapon of mass destruction that'll kill a good seven million people when he turns it on, and I'm about five days behind on the chase.

"No problem, Peter--I know he'll want to hear your side of the story," she says. "Anyway, I'm actually stepping into the building right now, so I should be up there in just a couple of minutes. I just....y'know......wanted to hear your voice. Love you."

"Love you too. See you in a sec." I say before the call ends, then I look back up to MJ, who's grinning ear to ear.

"You'll be happy to know that she's not the only one who misses hearing your voice," she says, pointing to the big stack of cards and flowers on my desk.

"Wow, imagine how many there would be if I was actually popular."

MJ rolls her eyes, then starts showing me each card.

"Got one here signed by just about everyone at school.......another one here from one Doctor Curt Connors and Family.......one from the Daily Bugle, with a side note saying your boss wants you back to work ASAP...........hmm..........who's GG?"

"Huh?"

"This one here. I didn't notice it before today. It just says 'Get well soon, Peter. Thinking of you. Sincerely, GG.' And then there's a little drawing of a jack o' lantern."

My blood runs cold when she says that.

"Don't touch that!" I blurt out, panicked. Mary Jane looks at me like I just said the card was a bomb--which, for all I know, it could be. "It could be a, a.....I dunno, a prank or something. GG, he's, um.....he's just this guy. We really don't get along. Long story."

"Okayyy then," MJ says as she puts the card down gingerly. There's a knock on the door, before Gwen lets herself in, a big book-bag slung over her shoulder, a smoothie in each hand.

"I got you strawberry-banana," she says, handing one of the cups to Mary Jane. "I, um, I got mango-passion fruit for myself. Didn't know you had come to, Peter. You can have mine if you want."

I smile.

"Thanks, but I'm guessing I've been eating a lot of meals through a straw through the last couple of days."

"A straw would be a big step up, actually," she says. "They had you on a feeding tube, among a few of the other various apparatuses hooked up to your body. For a little while, I thought they might just cram all your different life-support systems together and just go ahead and turn you into Darth Vader."

"Now that would be something to see," I say with a laugh. "I'd like to think I'm a little less whiny than Anakin. But hey, if it means I get to strangle Eddie Brock with my mind...."

We both laugh, but we're interrupted by the electronic beeping of the alarm clock.

"Ah! Six o'clock. Time for, um.....y'know.....your sponge bath."

"Aaaaaaaand that's my cue to head out for the evening," Mary Jane says, heading for the door. "Good to see you're gonna pull through, Tiger. I'll leave you two to have your fun. G'night!"

With that, Mary Jane steps out of my room, and Gwen sorts through the medical equipment surrounding my bed before finding a plastic bin with a big yellow sponge inside.

"Hit by a semi," she says with a wink. "What really happened?"

"Rhino happened....and Vulture....and Kraven....and Electro.....and Sandman......and the Master Planner," I grimace, starting to notice the hundred aches and pains that course through my body even when I'm lying still. "And the craziest thing is, the Master Planner? That's Doctor Octavius, from the Science Fair. Guy must have blown a gasket, and now he's--"

"I know. Dad told me about that," she cuts me off. "He says that HAMMER, the FBI, and about half the NYPD are out looking for them. The Daily Bugle called them the 'Sinister Six.'"

"That's actually pretty catchy."

"Shame they didn't call Octavius 'Master Planner,' though-- they went with 'Doctor Octopus.'"

"That's........actually still pretty catchy," I admit. "Gwen, I've gotta get outta here as soon as I can. If they don't manage to stop Doc Ock--heh, it even has a catchy nickname to go with it-- but if they don't manage to stop him before he turns on his fusion device, he'll wipe out the whole city. I've got to--"

"Peter. Seriously." she cuts me off again, giving me an almost motherly twist on the dreaded Stacy Stink-Eye. "You're a mess right now; you've got multiple broken bones and internal injuries. It's amazing you haven't suffered any significant brain damage--or if you did, it's healed by now, which I'd say is impossible but you're, well, a superhuman. I know you heal quickly, but it's still going to be weeks before you're in any shape to fight them again. In the meantime, you need to rest up and get better."

"I know, it's just.....I'd feel a lot better if I knew there was some more superhuman firepower going after the Six. I wish I knew how to get in touch with the Avengers. Or maybe the Fantastic Four. Or the X-Men. Heck, even having Squirrel Girl on their trail would be nice."

"Well, until you're able to get back out there, you're not going to be doing yourself any favors getting worried about it."

She soaks the yellow sponge, then rubs it against my chest, sending a shiver up my spine.

"And I think I know a couple of ways to pass the time," she says with an impish grin, before rooting around in her book-bag with her free hand and pulling something out.

My eyes grow wide when I see what it is.

"Is......is that.......is that the DVD box-set of Farscape?"

Gwen smiles excitedly.

"You are way too good for me, you know that?"

Okay, so there's a madman on the loose, and if he isn't caught in time, the whole city goes up in a radioactive inferno. And he's got five of the deadliest people in the world doing his bidding. And I can't get out of bed because they beat me within an inch of my life.

But on the plus side, I'll be spending that time with the absolute love of my life......not to mention the hottest girl I know.

As soon as I'm able to walk, it's open season on octopi......

.....in the meantime, however, I think I'll manage to enjoy myself.

 

[bkhedr]

"Go on." The Premier said, bidding the man on the display screen to continue his report. Although the Super Skrull was still in his hidden island base far from Madripoor's shores he had shifted to his Premier persona for the purposes of this communication.

"The Chinese delegates were quite infuriated but I stood my ground and assured them that the Republic of Madripoor has neither the means, nor the motivation, to carry out the kind of attack that they now accuse us of." The Madripooran Ambassador to China replied over the view screen.

He was a career diplomat with decades of experience and unwavering national loyalty. The Kind of Madripooran who say the Premier's takeover of his country as the dawn of a new era of prosperity. It was because of that attitude that he had been assigned such a prestigious and delicate position.

"And the American Ambassador?" The Premier inquired

"As expected." The Ambassador replied "He was quite steadfast in his support for our position and hinted in no uncertain terms that any aggression against Madripoor would be condemned by his Government."

This obvously pleased the Premier who smiled broadly. "Good. You are to take every opportunity to reiterate our respect and support for the People's Republic of China and keep me appraised of any new developments."

"Of course excellency." The Ambassador replied with a slight bow in the instant before the Premier deactivated the view screen.

Events had proceeded exactly as he had anticipated and all was now in readiness for the next phase of his plan.

He turned to give his back to the monitor and began to shift his form as he approached a large, and complex looking, apparatus near the center of the room.

He had completed his transformation by the time he reached it and it was the Super Skrull, rather than the Premier, who ran his hand across the device in silent admiration of his own work.

The device had the appearance of a large circular computer console with a cylindrical housing in its center which was connected to a relay that joined with the ceiling and connected with a high powered transimtter on the roof of the complex.

The cylindrical housing was occupied by the container Kl'rt had "liberated" from the secret Russian facility. The container was actually a sort of biological battery which spawned and housed a unique virus the Russians had developed. The virus particles, which the Russians had dubbed Death Spores were intended to programmable biological weapons and had a mortality rate of 100%. Of course the Russians had been at least a decade away from properly weaponizing them but Kl'rt was not so limited.

Using the advanced equipment and knowledge at his disposal, Kl'rt had not only managed to weaponize the spores, but he had also realized the Russians' goal of developing a means to program the virus as needed and now, with his biological transmitter array in place, Kl'rt could literally beam the spores to any corner of the Earth.

Kl'rt took one more moment to look the device over, checking for any flaws, but also to savor his work then touched a panel to activate it.

The deadly apparatus hummed to life and the Super Skrull wasted no time in locking a target and programming a firing sequence. He moved his hands behind his back and watched excitedly as the sequence began.

 

[Harlekin]

Created by Byrd Man and Harlekin​

While driving to Albany, Tork contemplated the plan. The Chevy was a few cars behind him, his colleagues trying to follow him as inconspicuously as they could. A few unmarked cars would already be set up outside the rendezvous point, Tork having called in the location of the meet before hopping on Bolo Czarn&#8217;s bike. His job was to meet with Blackwood, exchange pleasantries and give a signal over the wire when they are leaving. The police would be waiting outside for them.

It didn&#8217;t feel right.

There was an uncomfortable feeling in Tork&#8217;s stomach. It wasn&#8217;t nervousness exactly &#8211; he didn&#8217;t tend to get the jitters &#8211; but it was a gut feeling that something was wrong. Sure, everything was going just as the ATF agents and Narcotics said they would, but they weren&#8217;t the ones who were to going to meet Blackwood. They hadn&#8217;t met him before.

Tork shook his head and banished the thoughts.

Everything would be fine.

&#8220;Is the big man up to this?&#8221; Daz asked in the backseat of the Chevy, his question echoing Tork&#8217;s concerns.
Daz cast him a glance. &#8220;He&#8217;s got this,&#8221; he replied confidently.

Tork, or rather Bolo Czarn, was meeting Blackwood in &#8211; what else? &#8211; a garage. It was owned by a retired Crusaders member, one of the few who didn&#8217;t have to pay his way out with his life. Tork rode up to the house to which the garage was attached and it was dark all over. Not a single light was on, not even on the porch. He rode around to the back, as per Bolo&#8217;s instructions. It was dark there too, the only light greeting him the small fire of a cigarette. There were two eyes accompanying it, meeting Tork&#8217;s immediately as he entered the lot.

&#8220;You Bolo?&#8221; Blackwood asked.
&#8220;Yep,&#8221; Tork replied as he stopped and killed the engine. He remained seated on the bike.
&#8220;Come on in, then,&#8221; Blackwood said as he turned and walked into the garage. Tork followed.

Inside, he was greeted immediately by an older man, who patted down his vest and jeans. If the ATF agent was right, this was &#8216;Kentucky&#8217; Joe, the retired Crusader.
&#8220;Pleased to meet you too,&#8221; Tork said sarcastically when the man was done searching him. Kentucky looked to Blackwood and the Crusaders leader nodded. The old man left the room.
&#8220;You been with the Crusaders long, Bolo?&#8221; Blackwood asked. He was standing by a work bench and while he talked, he weighed and played with the different tools there, throwing them from one hand into the other.
&#8220;Been a Crusader since I was born, even if I didn&#8217;t know it yet,&#8221; Tork said with a chuckle.
&#8220;Heh. So, what&#8217;s the plan you Detroit fellas came up with?&#8221;
&#8220;The easy one. Go through Michigan to the Canadian border,&#8221; Tork replied as he came up to stand a little closer to Blackwood. &#8220;Fellers will be waiting there, sneak ya across and away.&#8221;
&#8220;Hmhm,&#8221; Blackwood said as he started pacing through the garage, a wrench in his hand.

&#8220;How&#8217;s it going?&#8221; Detective DeWolff asked as she entered the van parked close by the garage. The conversation between Tork and Blackwood came crackling through a headset one of the cops was wearing.
&#8220;So far, so good.&#8221;
DeWolff nodded contently, looking out through the matted windows to the garage.

&#8220;When do we leave?&#8221; Blackwood asked.
&#8220;Whenever you want,&#8221; Tork replied.
&#8220;Well, let&#8217;s get going then. I want to get out of here.&#8221; Blackwood opened the door for Tork. Cautiously, the cop moved ahead of the Crusader into the dark.
&#8220;I&#8217;d rather die before they put me back in Ryker&#8217;s. You remember those days, Bolo?&#8221;
Tork&#8217;s eyes widened as he moved to turn around. The wrench hit him across the face.

 

[Carnage27]

​

Previously...

"Doctor, good to see you. What do you have for me?"

"Well, Mr. Stark...in all honesty we have nothing," he sighs. "We ran every kind of test we could using non-electrical instruments, but they all came up negative for all types of radiation. As far as I can tell, there's nothing special about this object at all."

He hands me back the stone in it's protective casing, and I simply stare at it. What he's telling me has to be impossible. The stone obviously has been tampered with in some way.

Jumping back into my car, I head home, frustrated, angry, and confused on where to turn next.

Now

"No clue as to what the stone is, sir?" Jarvis asks. I've been talking to him the past few days more than I can ever remember. I don't know if it comes from distancing myself from Pepper and Happy due to their relationship and not having any other companions at this point or what, but I don't think I ever realized how much I count on him.

I roll the box containing the stone in my hands, staring at the impossibility in front of me. Whatever this thing is, it's impossible that it's what caused the death of countless of my workers. I mean, it'd be impossible if I didn't see the damn thing do the deed. But how did it do it?

"None, whatsoever, Jarvis," I sigh and place the box down on a table. "What's on the docket tonight, buddy?"

"Nothing, sir," he responds. "Miss Potts and Mister Hogan are out together tonight, and they're your only two...normal acquaintances apart from Colonel Rhodes. And he is overseas."

I chuckle. He's right. I've never had many friends in my life, which can be easily attributed to my jack-ass personality I had for the vast majority of my time on earth. It's times like these that I wish I could call Captain America or Thor for a beer.

And then a lightbulb goes off, "Thor..."

"What's that sir?"

"Nothing," I say, shaking my head. Thor hasn't been seen in months. And even if he had, I don't have any idea where to find him. "I may just go to bed, Jarv-"

"Sir, I have just received an incripted message," the robot says as I head to leave. "Heavily incripted. I cannot determine where it was sent from at this time. Shall I patch it through to you?"

My interest piqued, I sit in front of one of my many high-tech webcams and say, "Go for it."

Instantly, the image of a man with a hood masking his face pops up on the giant screen in my garage. He begins to speak, and his voice is obviously masked, "Tony Stark. I bring you a message from the Ten Rings."

"The 'Ten Rings'?" I respond with a laugh. "Your evil organization sounds like something from a Christmas carol."

"Laugh all you want, Mr. Stark," the hooded figure responds. "But heed our warning. Your company has been integral in the poisoning of this world. You have detached the human race from nature with your technology and weapons, and as Iron Man, you have become the face of the technological age. For that you have become our order's number one enemy. Cease and desist your role as Iron Man, or the other day's attack will not be the last. We have already shown you that we have the ability to kill people en-mass. We will not hesitate to do it again."

So now I know who's behind the attack. I may not have anything else, but at least there's that.

"Funny that someone who seems to have serious problems with technology is currently threatening me via webcam," I respond, this time more serious. "Wouldn't smoke signals be more in character. Oh! No! A message spelled out with rocks on a beach. Yea, that's it. Listen, buddy, your tree hugger threats don't scare me. I've gone toe-to-toe with tougher then your kind. And I'll take you down just like I did them."

"Very well, Mr. Stark," the voice says. "Their blood will be on your hands."

"Then so will yours."

 

[Carnage27]

I smile as I move around my Manhattan penthouse. My plan is coming together more swimmingly than I could have anticipated. Moonstone joining the team seemed to be the hardest of those I chose to formulate my team. But now that she's on board, the others should be fairly simple.

While I know I won't be able to recruit someone as powerful as Thor, I can do my best with imitating the other so-called Avengers.

"So you really think this will work?" Kara asks from the couch as she looks over the dossiers of the other potential members. "I mean some of these guys don't seem comparable."

"They're not, my dear," I smile and sit in the chair across from her. "But they don't need to be. People are foolish. All we need to do is utilize their powers in...creative ways, and we'll have the general populace believing the Avengers are the ones to blame. And if we have the general populace is in a panic, then HAMMER will be forced to respond."

"Leaving us to clean up the scraps," Andreas smiles as he looks over America's greatest city.

"Tomorrow we set out to find our second recruit," I smile. "I think he'll jump at the chance I plan to offer him."
​

 

[bkhedr]

Hyperion was still over the Atlantic when he heard the first person cough. It took him only a few seconds to reach his destination but in that brief time the situation had advanced significantly and by the time he was hovering high above Disney World Resort and Park the invisble spores had already spread across its vast area.

Hundreds were already dead. Thousands more were dying. The sounds of their coughs, the gagging sounds of their throats closing, the desperate, confused cries for help as dying parents tried to save their dying children and dying children begged their already dead parents to rise. Emergency responsders had already arrived at the edge of the park grounds and they too succumbed to the deadly spores unleashed by the Super Skrull and added to the rising body count.

With his powerful hearing and telescopic vision, Mark was able to make out every desperate act. Though every fiber of his being screamed at him to help them, all he could do was bear witness as nearly 46 thousand people died horribly in a matter of minutes.

He knew that the same events were playing out at Euro Disney at this very moment and that Kallark, The Gladiator, was there watching just as he was.

It wasn't long after the last victim succumbed that Mark heard the voice of the Super Skrul through the communicator in his ear.

"Report slave." The Super Skrull's disembodied voice demanded

"Its exactly as you said sir." Mark replied after a brief silence "They're all dead. They didn't even have time to panic."

The words stung Mark as he spoke them. He could hardly stand the fact that he could comment so callouslly on the deaths of thousands of innocents, especially since so many of them were children. He knew they weren't his words. He was aware enough of what was happening to know that he was being coerced by the Super Skrull somehow. But that didn't make it any easier to stomach and it didn't do anything about the guilt he felt.

"Is that pity I hear in you voice slave?" The Super Skrull wondered accusingly over the comm. He had no doubt picked up on the edge in Mark's response.

"No." Mark lied.

He forced his voice to remain even and kept his answer short to avoid giving anything away. He wasn't sure whether the Super Skrull believed him or not but it hardly mattered. He wasn't going to disobey the Super Skrull regardless of how much he wanted to.

"Good" The Skrull replied. Mark thought he must have reached the same conclusion but he couldn't give it too much thought becuase the Super Skrull already had new orders for him.

"Take up position and prepare for the next phase of the plan slave. Its time these Terran dung dogs realized that they are at my mercy."

"Of course Super Skrull." Mark said with a nod before launching himself northwards towards Washington DC without taking another look at the dead sprawled on the ground far beneath him. They would haunt his dreams for a long time to come, he was sure, and he couldn't bear to look at them any longer.