[BLACKOUT]"Eh? Nothing to say, Banner? No remark about how you're going to put a stop to whatever it is I'm up to?"[/BLACKOUT] Sterns pauses for a moment, taking in his new suit that hooks him in to the systems of the base and he reaffirms that the Hulk is contained in the cylindrical transparent chamber. [BLACKOUT]"No, of course not. You're buried deep within the Hulk at the moment, Banner, and your muscle-bound brute is currently kept from accessing his full strength while he's breathing the gas in there with him. The "Incredible" Hulk won't be breaking out of there any time soon. Oh, yes, I do have plans for you, my big dumb friend,"[/BLACKOUT] chuckled the Leader as he folded his hands behind his back and turned away to begin his preparations.
"The mindless Hulk might not be able to break out."
The Leader stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of the voice coming from the chamber. It sounded like the Hulk's, but...
In a combination of rage and fear, Samuel Sterns slowly turned back around to face his captive, feeling a cold sweat hit his face.
"But the Professor Hulk might have a chance. Wouldn't you agree, Sam?"
[BLACKOUT]"Lockdown!"[/BLACKOUT] screamed the Leader. He did not anticipate this at all! The sudden shifting of personalities in Bruce Banner's subconscious mind must have somehow unlocked the old Smart Hulk persona from years ago, or perhaps this was some new variant. If it weren't for the immediacy of the threat in front of him, Leader would want to take great pleasure in studying Dr. Banner's current condition. [BLACKOUT]"Where the hell is the Red Hulk?!"[/BLACKOUT] he demanded as the lair's weapon systems all trained themselves on the containment chamber, waiting for the Hulk to emerge.
A moment later, the computer answered: "Subject: Red Hulk is not on the premises."
Apparently the crimson Hulk had inherited Banner's reckless streak and did not wish to follow the Leader's orders to stay in the base. No matter. Sterns would teleport to another hidden lair and set this one to self destruct. With Banner's intelligence, he now predicted that the Hulk would successfully emerge from the containment chamber, rather than mindlessly thrash at its inner walls for hours as the Leader had originally calculated he would. There was, after all, a control panel in there with Banner, which the Red Hulk had originally used to activate the equipment after stepping into the chamber in the first place. Sterns didn't doubt for one second that Banner had the skills to hack into the base's systems and unseal the chamber.
With a final sigh, the Leader resigned himself to defeat and initiated the teleport sequence while simultaneously beginning the 60 second countdown to the lair's destruction. That very moment was also when Bruce Banner, now with the power of the Hulk at his disposal, stepped out of the glass cylinder as it opened. Met with heavy gunfire and laser blasts from the base's inner defenses, Banner shielded his face and ran to the unconscious Leonard Samson, still lying in the rubble and dirt from his battle with the Red Hulk.
"10...9...8..."
"Alright, Samson, that's our cue to ska-doo!" Scooping up the green haired man under his arm, the Hulk then bent down and prepared for a massive leap, hopefully powerful enough to break through the ceiling of the base and then plow upward through the desert floor, all in one sudden burst.
**********
As the underground facility exploded with intense ferocity, way out here in the middle of Buttcrack, Nevada, I can feel Len coming back to the land of the living. He's understandably shocked to see heavy explosions taking place several hundred feet below us as we soar through the air. "Heh."
"Wha-?!" Samson tries to maneuver around and look at me while still being carried under my arm. "Hulk? What happened?"
"With a jump like this, Len, I could definitely make it over a tall building in a single bound. Don't you think?"
Upstate New York and the former Monti Estate that now serves as the Headquarters of Sabretooth's criminal organization-
I flip from one channel to another and a grin works its way on to my face as I realize that they're all reporting the same story.
Matt Murdock is Daredevil. Matt Murdock jailed. Matt Murdock sent to Rykers.
Kliking the television off I push myself out of my chair and start getting dressed.
As I do I can't help but think back to how I got here. A year ago I was living on the street. Now, after going through Wolverine, the Punisher, The Heroes For Hire, The Kingpin, The Hobgoblin, and Daredevil, the city was finally all mine.
I'm just finishing up by clipping on a pair of cuff links when Arclight glides into the room and gives me a hungry look.
"Well look at you Victor. Special night tonight?"
"You saw the news." I reply gruffly
"Tell the boys to get the car ready" as I throw on a jacket, completing my outfit. "Tell them the Kingpin feels like celebrating tonight."
Loki pushed himself to his feet, his legs trembling beneath him. The Odinforce was gone, expended on this most gargantuan of feats, what he had been planning for all this time: the restoration of the realm of Asgard, and all those who lived within it.
The damage of Ragnarok had been undone, and now they had escaped from its shadow for good. Loki had known that, like himself, the souls of all Asgard's children resided within mortal hosts. But unlike him, they had held no awareness. They would have to be awoken. And with the immense power the Odinforce gave him, he had not only rebuilt Asgard, but he had awakened those immortal souls, seperated them from their hosts and gave them corporeal form once more. And now he had brought them all to this place - Broxton, Oklahoma.
Already, Heimdall had found his place on the watchtower.
Thor's compatriots, Hogun, Fandral, Volstagg, the Warriors Three, had been quick to reunite with one another, and had arrived at the gates of their restored kingdom together.
From a dazzling haze of light, honest Balder emerged.
And here, walking through the dusty terrain of Broxton with her sword slung over her shoulder, was Sif, Warrior maiden, and Thor's true love. Thor must have missed her dearly. And though he sorely doubted the sentiment was mutual, Loki had missed her too.
All of these, and others made there way back home. But there was one notable exception: his father, Odin. His death had come before Ragnarok, and so his death was not part of that Ragnarok cycle it was within Loki's power to break. Odin remained lost to his children, his spirit residing in another place.
"Father.... I did it."
A tear ran down Loki's cheek.
"Please father... let this be enough to finally make amends all the wrong I have done."
For long, tense moments the Odinson said nothing. Then he abruptly turned towards his brother and loomed over him menacingly, his powerful frame casting a long shadow over the kneeling trickster.
"I would know why Loki." The Thunderer said sternly "As your brother, as your King, I would know why you deceived us, why you sided with the Manadarin, if your goal was simply to revive Asgard all along."
For long, tense moments the Odinson said nothing. Then he abruptly turned towards his brother and loomed over him menacingly, his powerful frame casting a long shadow over the kneeling trickster.
"I would know why Loki." The Thunderer said sternly "As your brother, as your King, I would know why you deceived us, why you sided with the Manadarin, if your goal was simply to revive Asgard all along."
"Let it be known, brother and King, that never did I side with The Mandarin. I took on the appearance of doing so, only for I was sure it was within your power to overcome his malicious invention, and within the power of The Avengers to defeat him."
Loki looked around at the gathering denizens of Asgard.
"It was not easy to act with deception in this case, but though trickery is still the primary tool at my disposal, my intentions were honest. If I had come clean, if I had told you all I knew about the Norns and let you restore Asgard and its people, then all would have been as it was. You would be the hero and saviour of Asgard once more, and once more would I be the outcast, the bastard son, the liesmith to be looked at through squinted eyes and gritted teeth."
The resurrected Asgardians were talking amongst themselves now, casting their gaze towards Thor and Loki. Perhaps they were speculating now on the nature of their return.
"Please, brother, understand. Only by doing something as monumental as this, by bringing every Asgardian back to the realm of the living, could I finally extinguish the last embers of the villain I once more. I do not wish to live as the penitant rogue, allowed to stand amongst decent folks only through the charity and patience of my superior brother. I want to live as you are, for once - viewed as a compatriot, an Avenger, amongst mortals, and treated with respect - even love - amongst our own kin."
Loki grabbed onto Thor's arm, a pleading look in his eyes.
"Thor, I beg of you. You have and will be the hero a thousand times more than I. But just this once, please... let me be the saviour. Let me be the hero."
Granted, ever since I was fifteen, my life has essentially boiled down to such moments of absolute weirdness and unexplained phenomena. Before that period kicked in, though, I considered myself somebody fixated on the ideals of science and, more importantly, absolute logic. So much so that I used to spend just as much time stuffed inside my own locker as I actually spent inside my own room. With the little time I used to get between the swirlies, I was studying off of the greatest minds that the world - and my High School library - had to offer me, on the theories of relative quantum physics and human physiology. I was literally obsessed with trying to figure out what made my fellow man tick, and unravel some of mankind's greatest mysteries.
One radioactive spider bite later, and I had to throw that mentality out the proverbial window.
Years of trying to become a mental prodigy had suddenly become wasted, and I found myself spending my free time trading in books for a pair of webbed tights, and making myself a clown on national television. It was not long after that I learned, the hard way, that whenever my life seems to be going on the clear road to a vast improvement that someone has to go out of their way to strike me down, right as I reach the climax of fulfilling the all-important dream of finding true happiness. Whether it's a nameless mugger that shot down my Uncle Ben, a six-armed lunatic trying to destroy the city with an oversized ball of god-like energy, or even something as simple as the landlord trying to collect the rent that I can't possibly pay in full, it's never seemed to fail. My life was meant to be the metaphorical kicking bag for all of the bullies of the world, ripened only when I was sure that I had finally figured out how to slip out of the grasp of my infallible bad luck.
Exhibit A. I began the year by finally balancing out the bills and settling some long overdue debt that had been threatening us with a mean ole' foreclosure on the house that I grew up in. My Aunt May had allowed me and MJ to live there after she decided to move out of Queens, and I had managed to return the favor by working overtime on two jobs a week, turning severely reduced pay into a moderate paycheck. Needless to say, I was pretty happy with myself, so much so that I had overlooked the small matter of housing insurance.
A week later, and a roaming Sentinel demolished half of the property. After they took the thing down following a lengthy battle that destroyed several other homes on the block, The X-Men offered to reimburse me for the damage, but I hesitantly declined, feeling it wouldn't have been fair to the dozens of other people that didn't have the luxury of superhero sized connections. So my wife and I had to relocate back into the city - the noisy, mean, often foul smelling city, and start paying a monthly rent for an apartment. In the middle of Manhattan, which meant that rent wasn't going to be anything but mind-boggling. All because I - in my infinite wisdom and unparalleled stress - made one simple mistake.
Exhibit B actually makes that story seem like little more than a bump in the road. A few weeks after my bout of buyer's remorse, given the apartment we found looked like the previous owner had been the Mole Man, I happened to run into an old friend of mine from The Daily Bugle. Nice guy, tall as ever. Had the faint musk of "dangerous alien symbiote ready to eat my face". Yeah, it was Eddie Brock, my not-so-handsome enemy of... gosh, how many years now? Five? Six? You tend to lose track after the six dozenth attempt to viciously murder me.
Anyway, whenever Venom enters my life, it's usually bad news. This time was no exception, because he had gotten it into his sludge filled head that I had killed an innocent and needed to be 'punished' for my apparent wrongdoing. Nevermind the fact that, for one thing, who he was referring to was an imposter that was easily apprehended after a three minute hostage crisis, and secondly, I was the one that apprehended him. Oh, and no one had actually gotten killed, so Eddie boy was wa-ha-ay off the mark on this one. Nevertheless, we exchanged words, had a falling out... with me threatening to commit him to an outer space asylum, and him lusting after my 'delicious, delicious brains', no less... and went at eachother with little provocation.
Now, normally, this would have been fine. Apart from the occasional appearance by a random nutjob that sounds like a villain from a 90's saturday morning cartoon, my recent spats with Venom had usually ended abruptly and comically. Somehow, Brock had began sustaining some brain damage from the way that the symbiote had been feeding off of his body, making him a bit dimmer and a heckuva alot duller. You'd think Mac Gargan was taking another joyride on Eddie's coattails. But no, this was definitely Brock, and he was as angry as usual. But I was prepared. We had done this song and dance before, and without the cunning mastermind that lurked beneath that slimey exterior from when he first bonded to the symbiote, he was a fairly simple opponent to take down.
What I didn't realize was that, the entire time, he was being baited for a trap. Y'see, Venom had managed to make some enemies during his time as a 'lethal protector', or whatever garbage excuse he came up with to avoid being hunted down by SHIELD and everyone's mother, and they came looking for him. In Venom's haste to catch up with me and right the wrongdoing that he had felt I committed, they had killed about thirty innocent people on the freeway in order to catch up with him, after causing a collision that resulted in an oil tanker truck's explosion. Thirty people, because of Venom's rush to judgement that I had gone bad. So in essence, because of me. Even though I took both Venom and the high-tech jerks that caused the accident down, I still haven't forgotten it, and I probably never will. I've been told that it's a silly thing to be guilty over, but that's me in a nutshell. I've stayed in bed for weeks over less. Thirty people is still thirty people. And if I had never existed, never been a thorn in Venom's side, then maybe, just maybe they wouldn't have been dead.
Well, when I think about it, that's really nothing, now. Not in comparison to Exhibit C. And this is the big one, the one so huge that I cannot even fathom how this chain of events could have possibly transpired, other than the stark realization that God must really hate my guts. A few days before our seventh anniversary, MJ and I had began planning a spur of the moment getaway to the Bahamas. We decided that, between my duties with The Avengers and her acting roles beginning to line up, we weren't going to get much time to ourselves for the foreseeable future. And we had it all planned out, down to the very last detail. After a mid-day stroll across the beach and a quick swim, where she was determined to teach me how to surf, we would have returned to the honeymoon suite we were going to rent out and tried for a new baby. Enough of the pain had subsided between us from the loss of our first child, a couple of years ago, that it allowed us to consider whether we truly wanted a family of our own to raise. And the answer was, we wanted nothing more. So we were finally going to get our wish, consequences be damned.
I had spoken too soon. Because the next day, while I was out and about with the likes of Iron Man and company, MJ had been kidnapped by The Green Goblin. A sore subject with me already, considering memories of Gwen always arose whenever that maniac tore his way back into my life, but this was even worse. Norman Osborn had been responsible for what happened to my first child, and the minute we decided it was safe to have another, he had ripped our chance away from us. Not this time, I thought to myself, as I put the mask on and swung my way back to the same bridge he had murdered my girlfriend on. This time, I was going to make Norman pay for the horror he had inflicted onto me and my wife, and the suffering I had lived with for the years after. I was finally going to take Osborn down for good, even if I had to spend my life webbing him to the ground to do it.
But it wasn't Norman that I was directing my anger towards. After all of that hatred... that pure, fathomless, instinctual creed of rage that I felt flowing through my body had reached it's absolute pinnacle, I discovered that The Green Goblin that I was fighting wasn't Norman Osborn at all. It was his son, and my one time best friend. A man who was supposed to be dead. Harry had managed to claw his way out from the grave, in what I suspected from the beginning was his father's doing, and reach back into the depths of madness. He had targeted MJ with some sort of mind control that nearly killed her, and I was helpless to stop him. I couldn't lay a hand on Harry without trembling, it had been so long since I saw him. Had it not been for some guy calling himself The Iron Patriot, I probably would have lost her, and Harry would have escaped rehabilitation and committed countless atrocities under his father's mantle.
Now, because of all of what happened, MJ can't even bear to look at me. She's just finished moving all of her things out of the apartment, and it looks like she's close to filing a notice for legal separation. In what should have been the happiest weekend of our lives, our marriage could be ending, if it's not already over. The woman I love now questions whether she ever loved me at all, and rather than convince her that she did, that we never once lied to eachother about the fact that I believe nothing in this world could ever separate us for good, I'm actually letting her leave... and by doing so, proving my own sentiment wrong. I've never felt more alone in my entire life, and looking down at New York now, I'd sooner leap from this building's ledge than safely crawl back down, or shoot out a webline to save myself from the last minute. It's simply the only decision that seems to end my suffering, and relieve the people I love of the burden of knowing me.
But I'm not that kind of guy. I'm not the one that takes the easy, irresponsible way out. Whenever I became Spider-Man, I subscribed to a single paradox. That with great power, there must also come great responsibility. And even with every facet of my life seemingly in shambles, because of everything that I've allowed to happen, I know that I can't find the part of myself that just wants to put it all to an end. Instead, I'll move ahead, and preserve the memories of fleeting happiness that I shared with Mary Jane. Whether she'll decide to return to me is anyone's guess. But I love her too much to pressure her into trying to make it work, if she truly feels it can't anymore. I just have to wait. And pray that this isn't my darkest hour.
Though with news like this, that's becoming harder for me to believe...
We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for an important news bulletin.
Earlier today, a series of bombings across Latveria and in New York City dealt a devastating blow to the international security force SHIELD. Believed to have been reprisals from Latverian loyalist sects for the capture of Victor Von Doom, the bombings have all but crippled the SHIELD Helicarrier fleet, killing hundreds if not thousands of soldiers, and more alarmingly, disabled SHIELD HQ in New York.
Upon the onset of the attacks, the armored hero known as the Iron Patriot assumed temporary command of the organization until a higher-ranking officer could be found. As he was the one who defeated and captured the infamous Doctor Doom, many are saying that these attacks are in some way his responsibility.
We now go live to Washington DC, where the Iron Patriot is preparing to speak.
"My fellow Americans," the Patriot began, "the events that have transpired today can be described as nothing short of an act of absolute evil, a cowardly gesture that has taken the lives of some of the bravest men and women the world has to offer. I ask that all of you join us in remembering those who were lost today, and to keep their families and friends in your thoughts in the days to come. As we speak, the Air Force is conducting a series of sweeping air raids across Latveria to destroy the last remaining outposts of the loyalist forces. The occupation of the country should be over by the end of this week."
"I have been in constant contact with the President and the Joint Chiefs of Staff about what our next course of action should be, and we have reached a decision. SHIELD can no longer continue its present course, as peacekeepers leaving themselves vulnerable to attack from all fronts. The organization was created to protect the free world from extraordinary circumstances, and that is precisely what it will do again."
"One must also wonder, if such an organization is going to exist in a world where the miraculous has become commonplace, then why does it still rely on assistance from outside sources so heavily? And more importantly, where are those sources when they are truly needed? Where were the Fantastic Four today, when SHIELD soldiers were fighting for their lives? Where were the X-Men? Where were the Avengers, of all people?"
"I'll tell you where the Avengers were: fighting among themselves. Traveling the world to collect magic rocks. They were prepared to leave all of Atlantis to the whims of Victor Von Doom had I not intervened. Had they finished what they started with Doom and not ran off to find another stone, then perhaps SHIELD's presence in Latveria would not have been needed at all. Hundreds of people lost their lives today because Earth's Mightiest were too busy being wrapped up in their own personal squabbles. And that is simply unacceptable."
"After communicating with the White House, we have reached a decision on how this force will conduct its business: we will re-organize SHIELD into a streamlined unit, capable of striking anywhere in the world, and disabling even the most powerful of targets. We will enforce any and all laws regarding the illegality of vigilante action, and hold heroes and villains alike accountable for the damage they cause and the people they hurt."
"I've heard it said that 'with great power comes great responsibility,' and I believe it is time that the irresponsible members of the super-hero community took that to heart. The new SHIELD will see to that. And as its new Director, I will see to that personally."
The crowd of press began to murmur uncomfortably, many wanting to ask questions but too afraid to speak up. "I know the vast majority of Americans won't approve of trusting their national security to a man who hides behind a mask, and so I believe the time has come to make my identity known. I have been hesitant to do this so far, because of the haunting stigma that comes with my name and the actions of my son, but the world deserves to know who it is that will be keeping them safe."
The Iron Patriot opened up his helmet and set it aside. The room buzzed with speculation over who it could be under that armor...then fell into a deathly silence when they realized who it was.
"My name is Norman Osborn, and until further notice, I am the new Director of SHIELD."
I think it was there, in that moment, that the 'nothing makes sense to me anymore' part truly reared it's ugly head. Exhibit D, ladies and gentlemen.
Norman Osborn, The Green Goblin, a man who I hate with such a passion that he's had the honor of being the one man I've nearly killed on several occasions, is now running the world's most covert spy organization. Their headquarters alone makes several small countries look insignificant. They have weapons of mass destruction for target practice. The files that they store contain some of the most vital secrets of our national security, and the identities of several costumed individuals whose lives are in a constant flux because such files exist. The only reason they ever agreed to let SHIELD keep them was because they trusted Nick Fury, and while he's not the most pleasant man in the world, I have to say that I trusted him, too.
But now Norman Osborn, who I consider to be the most dangerous individual on the planet, has the keys to everything that Fury had. He could flatten Latveria with a single killstrike order if he wanted to, not to mention the amount of leeway he could possibly possess with the government. He could have me hunted down and chained to the middle of Central Park, unmasked, for all the world to see and have everyone I care about arrested, if he hasn't already considered showing my face on national television anyway, outright telling the country who I am over Larry King Live. But beyond myself, if he controls SHIELD, he can have leverage over the asylum that Harry's been committed to. He could brainwash his son even further to use as a pawn against allied nations. He could...
Honestly, what can't he do now? He's running SHIELD. He might aswell have been handed the remote control to the entire world. And knowing how unpredictable he can get, there's no way to be sure of how he'll use this. I think I honestly preferred it when his most dangerous weapon was a pumpkin bomb and fashionably criminal purple briefs.
I don't even have any good jokes to make off of this. This is just too much. A nightmare come true doesn't do it justice. Norman Osborn has the keys to the world. He has the freaking country in his pocket. And there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I can't just go marching in to deck the leader of SHIELD. And I certainly can't speak out against him, for obvious reasons. He knows too many of my secrets, and more than that, my vulnerabilities. If I lift a finger to stop him, what's to say he won't just ruin my life even worse than he already has with little more than a phonecall and paperwork? He literally has that power now. The power of the most dangerous individual on the planet.
Like I said, I've never felt more alone in my entire life.
My wife is leaving me, probably for good.
My best friend is alive, but clinically ill and suffering a psychotic breakdown.
The Avengers have problems of their own to deal with, The Fantastic Four are off-planet, Daredevil's in jail, and I don't really have any other friends to talk to.
And my worst enemy has just been handed the single most devastating trump card imaginable.
I've dealt with some rough times before, and I've always tried to take the most responsible resolution. But this is honestly the first time I've ever had to stop, and ask myself the all-important question that's always lingered at the back of my mind. Because it's in that moment that I realize, I may have nothing left.
When you have been around as long as I have, you see all the trends and fashions amongst mortals come and go. One that seems to have fallen out of favour in recent centuries, but which I always had a certain fondness for, is the art of a good riddle. Heres a little one Ive been mulling over, let me know what you think.
I am neither gun nor blade, yet I am one of the most dangerous weapons in the world. I have destroyed king and farmer alike, and I have also been created and wielded by king and farmer alike, for as long as such people have existed. And I am a weapon each and every one of you has used at one point or another. What am I?
Am I not a secret?
For the longest time, this is what man and god had in common. We were beings that lived for our secrets. The art of concealment, of subterfuge, it was what set us apart from the animals. But that seems to have changed in modern times. Now, you mortals are sloppy, you allow your secrets to be splashed across the pages of your newspapers. And that is if you even bother trying to keep them. These days, everyone wants to talk about their feelings. They go onto this internet and tell the world the most intimate details of their lives in blogs. And then there is this craze for therapy, for paying somebody to unlock your little neuroses. I dont believe in any such nonsense. But out of curiosity, I would like to give it a try. Unburden myself I hold many secrets. Which is why I now speak with you, little human. I look at you, and it occurs to me that you have a trustworthy face. I think I can share my secrets with you, in confidence that you will not tell another soul. I can trust you, yes?
Very well, then. Here are the secrets of Loki.
I have just become a hero, it would seem. A hero of Asgard and Midgard alike. This is new to me, as even though I have been aligned with your worlds heroes since my resurrection, I was up until recently viewed as a reformed villain. But then I did what my brother Thor could not do. I brought back Asgard, and all its denizens, all thought lost forever in the depths of Ragnarok. I had to engage in some necessary deception to accomplish this, but Thor forgave me, and made sure that all of Asgard knew it was I who was responsible for their salvation. Oh, my friend, I cant describe it. The looks first of confusion in their eyes, then gratitude. All these Asgardians who have long despised and distrusted me, who always treated me as an outsider who didnt belong, now at last they see me not just as one of them, but as someone to place on a pedestal, someone to admire and idolize. They embraced me, they called me brother. Do you know what that made me feel, my honest friend?
Disgust.
All these dribbling, knuckle-dragging buffoons, they spend century upon century mocking and belittling me, calling me Liesmith, yet now because Thor gives his permission, they love me. But it is mouth-honour, breath. Words they do not mean. I have saved their lives, dragged their worthless little beings from the abyss of nothingness, yet still if something untoward were to happen, I would be the first to fall under suspicion. And even if that werent true, even if they simply embraced me as one of them, I would still be disgusted. I am not one of them. I never was, and never will be one of them. And that is not to say I am a Frost Giant of Jotunheim either. Lowly, stupid creatures that live and die in squalor, where they belong. I was always destined for something greater than the station of my birth, and cast aside my meagre Jotun origins like your butterflies cast off their caterpillar shell. I am a unique being, born giant, raised god, yet something far greater than either. No being, least of all a mere mortal such as yourself, can comprehend the true nature of what I am.
Indeed, your feeble little mind is still struggling with a simpler question. If I loathe all of Asgard so much, then why did I bring it back? A just question, my friend, and there are many answers I could provide for it. But I shall settle for the simplest answer: it is all part of my plan. What plan? Oh, I really should not share. But I trust you, we are friends, so in this spirit of openness, I shall confide.
I brought back Asgard, and it now exists within Midgard. But Asgard is not all that I brought back...
I could be more explicit, but you are intelligent fellow. You should be able to figure it out. And what of The Avengers? What of my brother? I have been allowed to remain part of an team, still an Avenger. How generous of them! Oh, I have plans for them. Such plans! There are things on the horizon that will make them suffer. This team will fall apart, with me perfectly positioned to drive the wedge right down the middle. And when Thor is at his most vulnerable, on the brink of despair, he will look to his trusted brother with no one else to turn to. It is then that the dagger will be ready for his heart.
But there is perhaps one admission I need to make. That riddle we discussed earlier? I gave you the wrong answer. I am not a secret.
I am a lie.
A lie has been used by each and every one of you. A lie has been created and wielded by kings and farmers alike. A lie has destroyed kings and farmers alike. A lie is one of the most dangerous weapons on earth. Particularly when the lie is coming from my mouth. For countless mortal lifetimes I have been crafting lies, making an artform out of deceit. For I am the God of Mischief, am I not? Indeed, I may have been lying to you. Maybe I really do want to change, maybe I want to be better and I have no intention of ever harming my fellow Asgardians, my Avengers teammates, or my brother Thor. Or maybe I dont. Maybe I really will do every vengeful thing I say I am going to do. What path will I choose? You will just have to wait and see like everyone else.
Ever since the time of the Vikings, people have asked the same tiresome question: am I good or evil? My friend, such a question demonstrates how primitive your human minds really are. You cannot understand, so you try to categorise something that is so much larger than you and your simplistic morals. I am neither good nor evil, hero nor villain. I am Loki. And that is all, and that is all.
The welder sparks and throws back sparks as I lay down a bead of molten metal on to the piece of metal.
"Tony!" Pepper shouts over the welding.
"What is it, Pep?" I ask as I shut down the welder.
"Couple of things. A reporter from the New York Times is on the phone, he wants a react quote from you on Norman Osborn taking over SHIELD."
I slide my welding glasses off and look into the air for a long moment.
"Osborn pins the Green Goblin on his son, copies my armor, and that entitles him to run the biggest peace keeping force on the planet? I had my chauffeur pretend to be Iron Man for years, does that make mean I get to be Secretary of Defense?"
"Is that all?" Pepper asks with an arched eyebrow as soon as she finishes writing the quote down.
"Yeah. What's wrong with it?"
"It seemed a bit.....snarky, is all."
"I'm worth a kajillion dollars. I can afford to be snarky. Besides, don't I own the Times?"
"No."
"Well, look into how much it'd cost to buy the paper. What else?"
"You missed your appointment with the people at Lockheed."
"When was it?"
"4 p.m."
"Then, I'm only two hours late. Call them up and-"
"4 p.m. yesterday."
"26 hours late. Okay, see if they're still in town and see if we can have a late dinner to discuss business. Is that all?"
"No, actually. I'll be gone this weekend."
"What? Why?"
"Happy and I...it's our anniversary."
"Congrats! Hey, take all next week off. You and Happy both, fly to Europe and do romantic things, all on the bosses ticket."
"But-"
"I'll be fine. Jarvis still knows how to make a sandwich.....or so I hope. Now leave me, I gotta get back to work."
I slide my goggles back on.
"What are you building, anyway?"
"A new suit," I reply as I strike the welder back on. "Old Shellhead is getting an upgrade."
Epilogue
Libya
The two dozen men sit around the packed conference table. Among the men gathered are oil-rich sheikhs, Chechnyan rebels, Islamic terrorists, Somalian pirates, American militia leaders, and international Neo-Nazis. The table, filled with chattering undertones, goes silence as a young man appears before them all.
"Good afternoon. I understand you are all busy men, so I will be brief."
The young man turns to the laptop computer on the table and activates the powerpoint presentation that illuminates on the screen. The picture on display is a high-powered missile.
"The Stark Jericho missile. In the world of weapons, there is no finer explosive device. Killing is its business, and business is good. The only problem? Since Tony Stark got a conscience, there are maybe a hundred made a year. And of those hundred, all of them go to the United States military. Is that fair to you fine gentlemen? No, of course not. This where my services come in."
The man clicks to the next slide, showing a bus blowing up in the Middle East.
"Two weeks ago in the West Bank. This IED blew up the bus and a city block. Pretty good for an IED, right? That's because it was a bomb I made. I took the prime components of the Stark Jericho and turned it from a smart bomb, into an IED with enough fire power to destroy an entire city block. The United States government actually has the balls to invade countries on belief that they have 'weapons of mass destruction' when that country is outfitted with nuclear missiles and works with mass murderers like Tony Stark to come up with new ways to kill people."
The man clicks to his final slide. Showing a massive stockpile of Stark weapons.
"Through my well placed sources, that stockpile has come into my reach. I have twenty-five Jericho missiles and hoards of any kind of Stark weapon still in production. I can outfit these weapons to make them more deadlier and, most important, more compact and easier to conceal."
Turning to the audience, the young man smiles.
"My name is Ezekiel Stane. It's time to even the playing field. I'll let the bidding for my weapons and services begin at twenty million dollars!"
Doctor Leonard Samson was the one to break the news to the world: Bruce Banner is now in control of the Incredible Hulk. Len made his rounds from one interview to another over the course of the next several weeks, describing the incident with the Leader and what the results were of Samuel Sterns' alterations to Banner's already fractured subconscious. Naturally, people remained skeptical about the Hulk's change and Dr. Samson's claims that this can only be a good thing for both the Hulk and the world. While accepting that the green behemoth is no longer mindless, many question whether having the mind of one of the smartest men in the world behind a gamma powered engine of mass destruction was a true blessing or not.
Samson, however, remained confident and continues to tell the world that Bruce Banner only has the best intentions at heart, and is undergoing regular therapy sessions to monitor his state of mind. "All signs are green right now (no pun intended) and there are no indications of any sort of breakdown happening any time soon with Dr. Banner," Leonard says into the camera during a his guest appearance on Oprah. "I want to reassure everyone out there that, as Bruce's friend and colleague, we're working together and you have nothing to worry about." As the audience applauds, Samson can't help but wonder what the Hulk is doing right now. Bruce had missed their last appointment.
**********
Bruce Banner, now being mindful not to bang his head on the ceiling, looks around the dark empty house. All of the furniture and personal items are gone and the floor has been marked in numerous places. She moved out in a hurry. This was the house that Bruce and his wife had their eyes on before Betty "died" years ago. Knowing that she had gone ahead and bought it after coming back, even though her husband was then on the run from some very shady organizations, made Banner smile when he first found out. Now, however, all he could do was try not to cry.
"As you can see, Betty's not here, Hulk."
Bruce turned around at the voice of the intruder, only to see General Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross standing in the living room archway.
"Just go away, General. I'm not in the mood to be scolded by my father-in-law. Not now."
"You misunderstand, Bruce. To say that you and I have had our disagreements over the years is an understatement, but I actually tried to get her to stay and at least say hi, now that you're back." Ross sighs and walks to the man he's hated and hunted for years.
"Where's my wife?"
"Betty heard the news about you, and then she left. I can easily find out where she went with just a phone call, but I think that she needs to sort this out for herself, son. She'll come to you when she's ready."
That's when Banner resigns himself to leave the matter alone and go out to find his way in the world. All the while, though, Bruce fights hard to silence the roaring voice faraway in the back of his mind.
LET HULK OUT!
And I heard as it were the noise of thunder
One of the four beasts saying come and see and I saw
And behold a white horse
The press had erupted into shock and outrage. News networks captured the horrified reactions of the country's most prominent analysts and pundits. Talk radio stations were flooded by thousands of angry callers. No one could believe something like this could happen in their lifetimes.
To many, it was baffling.
To some, it was a necessary evil.
To some, it was a nightmare come to life.
Norman Osborn was the new Director of SHIELD. The notoriously scandal-ridden CEO of Oscorp, still believed by some to be the infamous Green Goblin, now had the world's most powerful peace-keeping force at his command.
He strolled along the corridors of the recently-repaired Helicarrier, wearing a three-piece Armani suit rather than the red-white-and-blue armor he had hidden behind before, nodding at officers and enlisted men as he walked by them. Many of them made no attempt at all to hide their disgust at having to work for him. Many more had quit outright upon the revealing of his identity.
After all, everyone who had been in the loop for any period of time knew the truth about Norman Osborn.
Maniac.
Monster.
Murderer.
In all honesty, he was all of these things. But there was one more thing he was now: their superior officer.
There's a man going around taking names
And he decides who to free and who to blame
Everybody won't be treated all the same
There'll be a golden ladder reaching down
When the Man comes around
Peter Parker takes a deep breath, for what seems like the third time since he entered the office of Midtown High School's Principal Bagley. The elderly man that sits across from him removes his glasses while eying the paperwork sitting on his desk, then back at Parker, who seems to be feigning a smile. But whether it's one of gratefulness or embarrassment, Bagley isn't sure. Neither men are sure of what to say, but the words that follow seem to come naturally. Especially for Peter, who's wrestled with this decision for months.
"I don't understand you, Mr. Parker."
Peter shrugs, trying to play off of the fact that he desperately wants to get up and walk away. "Yeah, I get that alot."
"No, that's not what I meant. I do understand you, and I've always believed you to have the best of intentions. What I don't understand is how you go about trying to rectify them."
Parker clears his throat. He already knew it would come to this, but thankfully, he has been given plenty of practice to deflect himself from this very same scenario.
"Look, sir... with all due respect, if you're about to give me a lecture on responsibility, believe me when I say that I've heard it before. That doesn't change what I'm asking."
"While that may be true, son, I think I can vouch for the fact that I've seen plenty of people in the spot that you're in come through these halls. And every one of them, since, have told me exactly what I suspected to be true. They always end up regretting it."
Peter looks back at him, dead serious. With a fire in his eyes that's indescribable. "Not me, sir."
Bagley rubs the bridge of his nose. "And I don't suppose if I told you that we're always particularly shorthanded this time of year? Those kids need guidance, and I've seen how you interact with them. They need more people like you to teach them about hope, especially in times like these."
"That's exactly why I'm doing this."
Peter clasps his hands together, and leans forward. Suddenly, the Principal isn't even there, as far as he's concerned. He's essentially talking to himself. But right now, with what he's going through, he feels as if there's no better form of company to keep. He yearns for the chance to learn how to hear his own words, more than anyone else's. To become independent of the people that have brought him out of his darkest days, and learn how to become that very person himself.
Because that's responsibility. He just wishes he would have learned it sooner.
"When I came here to try and help, these kids were lost. And I think the reason I felt so strongly about teaching them was because I felt a certain... kinship. To that, being lost. And I thought that because I eventually grew up and got a life of my own, I was qualified to try and encourage them to do the same, but-..."
Peter pauses, then closes his eyes. Then opens them again, more confident in his decision. "Look, like you said, these kids need to be taught about hope. But the way my life has gone over the past few months, and the way I've dealt with it... which has been less than spectacular... I came to a realization. As much as they need to learn how vital such a concept as hope really is, I need to learn that lesson myself before I can properly give them that advice."
He looks back up. "Until then, I don't think I'll be ready to come back. But I will come back, sir. If you'll have me then."
Bagley sighs, silent. Contemplative. Before finally extending his hand to the young man before him. He doesn't realize the full extent of Peter Parker's troubles, but he knows that it's clearly something that needs to be addressed.
"They're going to miss you."
Peter grasps the hand, firmly, and shakes it in appreciation for his understanding.
"Not as much as I'll miss them."
Reaching into his jacket, Peter produces the final "form" that he needs, in order to make it official - his resignation letter, effectively ending three years of substitute teaching at Midtown High. Bagley accepts it, but declines to read it outright. He feels as thought he understands Parker's reasoning enough.
But as Peter leaves, Bagley notices something else sticking out of his jacket. Curiously, he clears his throat.
"If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Parker... what are those other forms you've got? Something I need to see?"
Peter looks down at his jacket, before casually stuffing the papers deeper into his lapel.
"Just a couple of other resignations, sir. This is just my first stop."
Bagley nods, as Peter finally exits. And in the silence, is left wondering a solumn question:
What kind of resignation letter would a substitute teacher from Queens possibly have to send to Tony Stark?
The hairs on your arm will stand up
At the terror in each sip and in each sup
Will you partake of that last offered cup?
Or disappear into the potter's ground
When the Man comes around
In his workshop, Tony Stark welds. His business suit is replaced by a white tank top and a pair of greasy jeans. Through his welding goggles, he sees the hunk of metal beginning to take shape. In 48 hours, the piece will be complete and the software, hardware, and firmware will all be installed.
Iron Man will be upgraded.
Hear the trumpets, hear the pipers
One hundred million angels singing
Multitudes are marching to the big kettledrum
Voices calling, voices crying
Some are born and some are dying
It's Alpha and Omega's kingdom come
Ten Years Ago
And now, it gives me great pleasure to announce the first new Avengers replacement in many months! I take great pride in presenting the man known as Hawkeye! Hawkeye has successfully passed our rigorous series of qualification tests, and has been thoroughly investigated and approved by the Federal Security Agency at our request.
So ya made it. Small fish in a big pond. Youre the no-name playing with the big boys. So what if Im never going to be one of them. I mean, its not like Im here to make some big name for myself or lead or anything. Stick with this a couple years, make amends for the past few months, and maybe redeem the Barton name before retiring to home. Cant be that hard, can it?
-
NOW
Oh boy.
Asgard appeared like a ghost from the clouds, its mighty aura mesmerizing all in its shadow. The air around them was charged with energy. In the distance, the crack of a sonic boom signaled the eminent arrival of Ms. Marvel.
Hawkeye scooped up his bow and a fist full of scattered arrows that had changed back as Loki expelled his power.
He checked around as the others gathered around him, waiting to make their next move.
Hawkeye gave the command.
AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!
And the whirlwind is in the thorn tree
The virgins are all trimming their wicks
The whirlwind is in the thorn tree
It's hard for thee to kick against the pricks
The halls of Olympus rang loud with his determined footsteps. All around him was the dusty aftermath of battle. Pillars had crumbled, blood stained pristine marble and corpses littered the ground. Ares blade remained sheathed though as he marched through carnage that was not of his making.
Entering the vast throne room, the scene of devastation was much the same as it was in the halls. Lain at the feet of the Skyfathers throne lay a familiar figure. Ares stepped to him and removed a dented helm from the mans bloodied head.
"Achilles. What has transpired here?"
The Greek Legend looked upon the God of War with grim dejection. "We fought like demons Ares. But we fought against demons. They sacked the pantheon and took a number of our own".
"Who did?" Ares growled, helping his champion to his feet. "I don't know Lord Ares. They were darkness come to life. Like lethal shadows and we were powerless to stop them".
Ares nodded and gripped the hilt of the sword at his waist. "Clean yourself up and ready yourself Achilles. I will have need of you, my champion".
"Where are we going?" he asked, wiping blood from his face.
"We're going to find whoever sullied these halls Achilles. We're going to find whoever kidnapped my son and we're going to kill every last one of them".
***********
Till Armageddon no shalam, no shalom
Then the father hen will call his chickens home
The wise man will bow down before the throne
And at His feet they'll cast their golden crowns
When the Man comes around
Once more, the great dining hall of Asgard were filled with food, wine, and celebration. For a time it seemed like never again would such festivities take place. But Asgard had returned. And now, stood at the head of the great oak table that stretched across this massive chamber, was Thor, King of Asgard. And sat at his right side was his brother, noble Loki.
"My friends!" shouted Thor, raising his glass, "You are all reborn to a new world, and there is much work to be done. But tonight, we celebrate. Raise your cups. A toast! To life! To friends! To family..."
Thor cast a respectful nod in the direction of Loki, who dutifully nodded in return.
"TO ASGARD!"
And Loki smiled.
Whoever is unjust let him be unjust still
Whoever is righteous let him be righteous still
Whoever is filthy let him be filthy still
Listen to the words long written down
When the Man comes around
SOMEWHERE IN JAPAN. <"And so it shall begin. I, Maki, leader of 'The Hand', hereby give you the start of a new age. This new age has crept upon us and with it, has brought along the new breed of assassin...">
<"Members of The Hand, here, I present to you... Silver Assassin.">
From the shadows of the cave, a silver glow emerged and stepped forward. "So glad you could join us, Ms Sablinova."
With a smirk creeping up on her face, the newly re-formed Silver Sablinova's pupils spread out to cover the whole eye. Her hands tightened into fists, her muscles bulging and her white teeth showing through her thin mouth. "Who's the first kill?"
Hear the trumpets, hear the pipers
One hundred million angels singing
Multitudes are marching to the big kettledrum
Voices calling and voices crying
Some are born and some are dying
It's Alpha and Omega's kingdom come
Matt Murdock stands in the lunch line at Ryker's Island, waiting his turn to be served the slop the cook calls food.
From behind him a prisoner chuckles and pushes him, taunting him with the nickname of Daredevil. The blind lawyer clamly turns around, denying the rumors that he is the masked fighter.
From behind him, a prisoner aims at his back with a shiv. With lightning fast speed, Murdock spins around and grabs the prisoner by the wrist, twisting it so hard the bone snaps and breaks the skin. The shiv falls to the floor with a clatter and the con follows his homemade weapon seconds later.
Inside the cafeteria, the only sound is the prisoner's blood-curdiling scream. Matt Murdock calmly steps over the injured man and continues waiting in line. All the prisoners give the blind man a wide berth.
And the whirlwind is in the thorn tree
The virgins are all trimming their wicks
The whirlwind is in the thorn tree
It's hard for thee to kick against the pricks
1941
Private Barnes! Stand at attention when in the presence of officers!
SIR, YES SIR!
Thats more like it. Now, Ive brought someone I want you to meet. This is Corporal Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America. If you can pass muster, youre going to be his partner.
-
NOW
He never treated me like just a partner. We were equals. Were best friends.
Bucky came to a crouch as the monolithic city appeared above the prairie.
I could count on him for anything, and he could always count on me.
His hand wrapped around the indestructible metal disc that had finally come to a rest on the dry, hard ground.
Hes counting on you now, more than ever.
Bucky rose, the weight of the shield and the responsibility that came with it suddenly less daunting.
I am [BLACKOUT]CAPTAINAMERICA[/BLACKOUT].
In measured hundred weight and penny pound
When the Man comes around.
Norman Osborn stepped onto the bridge of his new flagship, and addressed the crew.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "today is the start of a new era for this organization. Every one of you has served valiantly in Latveria and in other theaters around the world, so I don't think I have to tell you that the coming days are going to be dangerous ones. In the wake of the attack that incapacitated Director Hill, there are still plenty of organizations that will see SHIELD as weak and attempt to take advantage. HYDRA. AIM. The Brotherhood. The list goes on. These are difficult times, and in such difficult times, difficult decisions must be made. That is what I am here to do.
"I know many of you have your reservations about working for me," he said, acknowledging the extreme discomfort shared by so many in his presence. "I have no illusions about my reputation, what the world thinks of my actions in the past and in the present. But I am not here to be popular or well-liked; I am here to keep the world safe. I hope that you will have the same faith in me that I have in you. If not, I won't blame you if you see your way to the door."
There was a moment of heavy silence, before a handful of officers stood and left, not wanting their names associated with a suspected super-villain. Osborn marked their faces as they left, smirking inwardly.
"As for the rest of you, we will continue the duty of protecting the world from all threats, from without and within, with new methods, new equipment, new strategies. Today is the beginning of a new era, and a new SHIELD will be there to meet it. That will be all."
There was a bit of scattered applause, then Osborn took the helm.
He knew it wouldn't be long before the news pundits and protests in the street gave way to the real reaction. They wouldn't stand for it for long, the Avengers and the X-Men and the other superheroes of the world. They would come for him, hoping to end his reign and foil his plans, some one at a time, many all at once. Osborn was prepared for this.
In fact, he was counting on it.
In the meantime, he opened his agenda for the day and saw that he would be meeting Mayor Jameson for a photo-op in the afternoon. He sincerely hoped the Daily Bugle would send their favorite photographer for a picture; Norman couldn't wait to see the look on his face.
And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts
And I looked and behold, a pale horse
And his name that sat on him was Death
And Hell followed with him.
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