The "Nuff Said" Marvel Universe RPG

[Rain Dog]

DOCTOR DOOM​

THE CLONE SAGA, PART II​

Castle Doom
Doomstadt, Latveria

The Jackal’s body laid face-down and sprawled out on the prison cell’s floor. The genetic monstrosity’s large, pink, spade-like ears began to twitch along with its long, clawed fingers and toes. His eyelids slowly parted and his yellow eyes, seemingly glowing in the darkened cell, began to lazily move about to take in their new surroundings. He pressed his green palms against the cold, stone floor and pushed himself up onto his knees.

“Doctor Doom?” he murmured, narrowing his eyes as he peered out into the darkness outside of his cell.

“Doctor Warren.”

“Where am I?” he said, finally rising to his feet. His fingers lightly pressed the recently treated wounds adorning his head.

“Latveria.”

“Why have you brought me h—“

He stopped as he apparently discovered the metal collar hugging his throat. He immediately grabbed it and began tugging at the contraption.

“What is this?!”

“I have work for you, Doctor Warren. That collar around your neck is to ensure your cooperation.”

The stupid monster has decided to ignore me and continued tugging at his collar.

“That is not wise.”

The collar emits a series of clicks—a warning—which is also ignored by the hideous creature. He gives one last tug before he is brought to his knees, shrieking in pain. After a few seconds, the shrieking ends and he is left panting on all fours like the animal he has made himself.

"That painful sound you just experienced is at a frequency inaudible to humans with unenhanced senses. Luckily, you are not among them. It is either emitted automatically each time you attempt to remove that collar or manually each time you disobey me. Should you continue to misbehave, the frequency will intensify and be coupled with an electric current that will range from extremely painful to fatal. You have chosen the form of a canine so I thought it fitting to treat you like one.”

“What is it you want from me?!”

“Clones. My robots encountered several of your own in their mission to locate you. Though many were shoddily produced, I did notice a few lacked the genetic degeneration that plagued your designs . Your newer creations, no doubt.”

“If they’re so shoddy why don’t you make your own?”

“Because, Doctor Warren, there are other matters that require my immediate attention. And while I tend to those matters, I expect you to complete the tasks that will be assigned to you in a timely and satisfactory manner. Do so and you will return safely to America with your health, life, and freedom. Fail, and I will locate and destroy every remaining clone and base of operation you have before ending your own life and legacy in this very cell.”

“…What do I have to work with?”

“A portion of my laboratory has been sectioned off for your usage. You will be given some lab aides as well as the counsel of head scientist Doctor Takacz. But be warned that you will be closely monitored at all times and if so much as one of my scientists suspects foul play you will be executed immediately.”

Warren sat silently for a moment before giving a slow nod.

“I’ll do it.”

"Of course you will,” I reply, turning away.

“Ya know, if you wanted clones that bad you could have just asked!” he calls out to the darkness.

“Doom does not plead.”

* * *​

Finding solitude in my private quarters, I stand before a mirror as I toss my cloak aside.

Every waking moment, it burns. I had quickly grown accustomed to the pain however, it continued to serve as a dreadful reminder of what approached.

I remove my tunic, exposing the silvery armor beneath.

My dreams are plagued with horrific visions. The enchantments placed on my armor do nothing to ward them away.

I enter the armor removal codes into my gauntlet and begin to unlock my chestplate. I pull off the front piece and expose my bare chest to the mirror.

Not since Mephisto held my mother’s soul have I felt such torment.

There it is. A hideous symbol burnt into my chest— flesh melted into a mock-Sonnenrad with curled, twisting spokes surrounding a large, monstrous eye at its center.

I shall be freed soon enough. And this world, with it.

 

[Byrd Man]

"Don't you play games, homeboy," Luke growls, delivering a sharp backhand to Bobbito's face. That one seems to rouse him fully. "Where'd you get this s***, Bobbito?"

"Pow-Powderkeg," Bobbito replies in his last fleeting moments of consciousness.

"You hear that?"

I nod. "Powderkeg." Nasty metahuman. I can't say I'm looking forward to this, but it has to be done. "We put the word out. Starting shaking down people from this neighborhood until someone gives us a lead to Powderkeg." I look down at Bobbito. "With any luck, we'll find Victor Alvarez, too."

Danny and I spend the next few hours in Washington Heights, ruffling feathers and laying down the smack. We get nothing but rumors, innuendo, and conjecture. With street leads drying up, we go a different path...


Queens


"It's my off day," Sergeant John Powell says as Danny and I stand in his kitchen. "Know what that means? Peace and quiet."

"We'll be out your hair soon, John. What'd you find out for us?"

"Here," Powell says, handing me a manilla folder. "My squad in Narco has been following the MGH trail over the past few months. Whoever's running the show is real quiet about it, none of the higher ups are known, outside a few footsoldiers the yo's deal with."

"Powderkeg's one of 'em?"

"Yep. He runs a club over in the Bronx. The Boom Boom Room."

"A mook with a taste for puns. I almost regret having to kick his ass. Almost."

"Look," Powell says with a sigh. "I know what you two are gonna do with the information I just gave you. We don't have squat on Powderkeg. Can't catch him riding dirty, handling MGH, or even carrying an illegal weapon."

"If you can sweat nitro, what the hell's the point of carrying a glock?"

"Point taken, but still. The fact is that I'm giving you this info for the reason that I know you'll go busting in. Cops get a call that two costumed ***holes started tearing up the Boom Boom Room, that gives me probable cause to search the place. Get what I'm saying?"

"See now, that's smart. No wonder you made sergeant."

"The street kids you and your squad been picking up, any of them named Victor Alvarez?"

"Can't say that they were. I remember a Vincent, but no Victors."

"Well, damn. Thanks for the info, John. We'll be sure to give you boys all the probable cause you need."

"And contact us if you do pick up a Victor Alvarez."


The Boom Boom Room
The Bronx

Danny and I walk towards the door, ignoring the line and the velvet rope. I crack my neck, the bones make a slight metallic ping as they crack. "Ready to do this, man?"

 

[bkhedr]

Moon Knight ducks and rolls out of the way of the flames being spat at him. His carbonadium armor can take the heat but its not like he's Iron Man, he doesn't have a built in cooling system and he can feel the heat washing over him even though the flames don't touch him.

Fortunately the length of the burst the fire breather can produce seems, appropriately enough, to be limited by the amount of air in his lungs and with that expended the flames die down. He immediately begins to suck in more air but the brief respite allows Moon Knight to get back to his feet and draw twin crescent guns from his hip holsters. He takes aim and is about to fire when the third thug makes his move.

This one is a speedster and while he's not blindingly fast, certainly no match for Quicksilver for example, he's plenty fast enough to get close enough to disarm Moon Knight before he can fire. The hero's eyes instinctively try to follow the speedster as he moves away and he is caught by surprise when the first punk, the one with the strength, roughly grabs his cloak and tugs, yanking him off his feet and pulling him to the ground.

"Big mistake." Moon Knight growls and an electrical surge shoots through the cloak, shocking the punk who screams and collapses.

Moon Knight then leaps to his feet and narrowly avoids being scorched by a plume of fire. The speedster is on him again, punching and kicking, but the armor takes the brunt of the blows and he is able to counter with a sudden head butt which sends the punk crumbling to the street.

Moon Knight then swivels his body towards the fire breather, who is in the process of sucking in more air, and in one smooth motion, pulls a truncheon from his belt and hurls it at the punk.

The club strikes the punk hard in the chest, knocking the wind out of him and he falls backwards with smoke trailing from his nostrils.

With all three punks downed the crowd erupts into excited cheers for the white clad warrior who ignores the applause, retrieves his guns and walks purposefully towards the downed fire breather.

"Who are you?" He growls as he grabs the punk by his shirt "What were you trying to accomplish here?"

"kaff-kaff-hurts...." The punk says weekly as his hands cover his chest where the truncheon struck him. He suddenly seems very young and very afraid.

Moon Knight's eye's narrow and he tightens his grip "It'll hurt a lot more if you don't tell me what I want to know."

"Hey" A police officer says from behind Moon Knight "Let him go now."

"Talk" Moon Knight says, ignoring the cop

"was just tryin to have some fun...test the powers....please, don't hit me again."

"I said let him go!" The cop says forcefully now. He and his fellow officers have formed a semi circle around Moon Knight and though they aren't pointing their weapons at him, they haven't holstered them and it looks like they could go either way.

"He's all yours." Moon Knight says as he lets the punk drop to the concrete.

He then fires one of his crescent guns, shooting a grappling line at a nearby rooftop, and pulling himself up and away from the scene.
​

The Deep End

Its already been a long day but Moon Knight is finally getting somewhere. The three punks he took down this morning were high on MGH, that much had been obvious. It was a shame that he hadn't had the chance to interrogate them, that would have saved him considerable time and effort. Still, its not like he didn't have any leads.

He had busted up an MGH shipment from supplier to mid level dealer on these docks two nights ago. It was probably unlikely that these dealers had anything to do with the punks in Midtown, but there couldn't be that many MGH suppliers in the New York area, especially not with so few mutants left.

So he'd returned to the Deep End and started banging heads. It had taken the better part of the day but he had finally gotten a line on a guy who was allegedly a lieutenant in the organization supplying MGH to the streets. Some punk calling himself Boar. Now with the last vestiges of the day's light rapidly disappearing to the west, the Moon Knight watches as the gangbanger who had spilled the beans on Boar creeps through the filthy back streets of the area to report to his boss.

Marc can't help but smile behind his mask. Stupid gangsters are so predictable. The punk, having been roughed up by Moon Knight, but in a high enough position in the organization to request a meeting with the lieutenant she just gave up, is doing just that. No doubt to demand that Boar and his men take the Moon Knight out. He won't mention anything about his having talked, just that the hero tried to make him and he wants payback.

"Boy are you in for a surprise." Moon Knight mutters as the gangbanger gives one last nervous look around before banging on a metal door leading into one of the apparently abandoned buildings, a four story brick structure that might have once served as someone's office. Its not long before the door is opened and the bruised and beaten gangster is ushered inside.

Moon Knight takes a moment to survey his surroundings, just to make sure he's not walking into a carefully laid trap, then fires a grappling line which carries his across the street to the roof of the building his prey just entered.

There are no guards on the roof and he quickly makes his way to the single door which he finds locked. Reaching into his belt, Moon Knight pulls out a lock pick and sets to work opening the door. It is not long before he is sneaking through the building's fourth floor with weapons drawn. The top two floors prove to be deserted but he hears voices below as he cautiously makes his way down to the second floor.

"I'm tellin' ya its the same guy who hit the shipment last night. Moon Man I think his name was."

Marc recognizes this as the voice of the punk who led him here.

"Moon Knight." Another voice corrects "He was a hero back in the day, then he went crazy, started killin' people. Looks like he's back now."

"Yeah well I don't care if he's Captain America." A third voice, full of confidence and authority says "He messed with us and now he's gotta die."

Moon Knight has been creeping closer as he listens and he now moves into a position where he can see the speakers. They stand in the center of a disorganized grouping of 11 men of various sizes and colors. All of them, save the punk he roughed up and disarmed, have weapons either on them or on tables or chairs near them. There's power here, electrical lighting and in the back, behind the man in charge, Marc can see a large table with stacks of money and vials of MGH on it.

"That's what I'm saying Boar." The gangster with the wounded pride says "That's why I came here. So we can go out in force and break that mother$*#($@" He makes a fist and slams it into his palm to illustrate the point.

So this is Boar Marc thinks as he focuses on the big latino man with the tall mohawk. He's not just physically big in stature, standing maybe 6'5, he's got bulging muscles to boot and Marc imagines he dresses the way he does, tight leather pants, no shirt, open vest with no sleeves, to show them off.

Boar takes a moment, seemingly to consider his next course of action, then pushes himself out of his chair.

"Alright Frankie, you're gonna get your wish." He says "Load up all of you. Its time we put this Moon Knight out of our misery."

The men barely have time to register their orders when a wave of throwing knives rains down on them from above, breaking skin and forcing men to drop their weapons. The goons start looking upward, scanning for their attacker, one man even fires wildly at nothing before a line with a crescent on either end hits him in the waist and knocks him off of his feet.

"Its him." Boar barks at his men "He's he-ungh."

Boar is knocked off his feet as Moon Knight rides a zip line down from above and kicks the big man in the jaw as he does. Boar falls backwards and Moon Knight lands smoothly on top of the table of money and MGH.

"You want me punks?" He growls "Then come and get me."

Guns are leveled at the hero but he stands his ground, knowing that the bullets won't penetrate his armor, but before anyone can fire Boar raises his arm.

"Hold it you morons." He says "You'll hit the money, or worse the product."

He rises to his full height and glares angrily at Moon Knight

"I'll take care of this." He says as he begins to grow and change into something not at all human.

Whoo boy


​

 

[TheCorpulent1]

Somewhere Over England

Strider tensed fretfully between Dane's legs, as if sensing his rider's distress. Dane hadn't formulated much of a plan; he simply jumped on the horse and took off, the pained look in Faiza's eyes playing over and over in his mind. The Ebony Blade and its copy still raged alongside those horrific images, the effects of Kas' spells still in play after the vampire himself had been slain. He didn't know how or why that could be. He didn't know what Kas had done in the first place. He didn't know anything, he realized as he thought about the recent events. A simple fact dawned on Dane Whitman:

He needed help.

Dane had told Kas that the one thing Kas needed to know about him was that he had friends. That was now and always had been true. The last time he'd made a go of it alone, he was still lugging around his Uncle Nathan's techno-lance and playing the villain opposite the Avengers. "And we know how well that turned out, don't we, boy?" He patted Strider's neck and the horse gave a pleased nicker in response.

Moments later, Strider alighted on a grassy field near a small lake. Dane dismounted and approached the lake.

"Lady of the Lake, I beseech your aid," Dane called on the edge of the lake to nothing in particular.

Ripples spontaneously appeared in the lake's calm waters, followed by the head of a beautiful woman. Her skin was alabaster white and she was clothed in brilliant white samite robes inlaid with silver. They appeared to meld and shift with the water itself. A veil covered her eyes but left her mouth bare. As she rose from the water, never disturbing the surface with more than a ripple, Dane bowed.

"Lady, your Pendragon thanks you for this audience."

"Be at ease, noble Knight." Her words were like the soft whispers of a brook. "But be warned as well: I know what has transpired this night and I fear I cannot offer you the aid you seek."

"You...?" The question caught in Dane's throat, choked on his disappointment. "My Lady, please. There must be something you can do!"

"Indeed there is, my Pendragon."

Dane's heart rose, but only for a moment:

"I can rescind that title and the gifts it brings, for as faithfully as you have served in that capacity thus far, the risk that my gifts may be abused in your current state has become too great. The Pendragon exists as a bulwark against the forces of dark magic in the world, yet now the darkness in both Merlin's star-forged Blade and Dracula's damnéd imitation threatens to drown you, Sir Dane, like a mighty river overflowing its banks."

"I know that. Believe me, I know. It's never been this strong before. But you are benevolent and powerful, my Lady. Surely with your help--"

The Lady of the Lake calmly raised a hand for silence. "In this, I am afraid I can be of no help. My powers are born of nature and, as Dracula and his ilk are unnatural creatures, I hold no sway over their vile works. As for Merlin: That wizard's magic is greater even than my own. It was for just this reason that I bestowed the Sword of Light and the Shield of Night upon you: to provide an alternative to the cursed Ebony Blade, that you might serve as my honorable warrior without fear of your acts' unleashing far greater evil than that which you fought. Tell me, my Pendragon, why did you forsake these gifts and return to Merlin's terrible Blade?"

"I didn't want to. I relished my time away from the Blade, serving you with the mighty weapons you gave me. But as you've said, the Blade's magic is powerful. It refuses to be lain aside; it craves a wielder, and its power is so great that it will inevitably find its way to one. When that wielder is unprepared or weak-willed it corrupts them, and the havoc it forces them to wreak can swallow whole countries if left unchecked.

"When I realized all of this--realized that its terrible burden could not be ignored--I decided that my personal piece of mind had to take a back seat to the greater good. If the Blade needed a wielder, so be it; I would wield it, as so many of my forebears have done since Merlin first placed it in Sir Percy's hand. It's my burden to bear--my birthright--and I'd be damned if I let it hurt anyone else if I had it in my power to prevent it."

"Indeed. I remember the days of Camelot and Sir Percy well, my Pendragon. I know he would be proud of the nobility you've shown in taking his terrible burden as your own for the sake of others, just as I am proud of you. But I too bear a terrible burden: I am charged with the protection of this great land from the dark forces that would seek to harm it, and on occasions such as these, that means I must sacrifice in service to the greater good as well.

"Your Blades pose nearly as much threat to me as they do you, my noble Knight. Thus, I must safeguard my own interests and find a champion who is pure and untainted. Alas, you may no longer be described thus. So it is with a heavy heart that I do what must be done. I hope you understand and, in time, find it within you to forgive me."

Dane dropped to one knee, wobbling only slightly due to the Blades' continued buzzing in his head. He bowed his head formally. "I do understand, my Lady, and I already forgive you. 'The needs of the many,' et cetera, et cetera." In his head, the Blades mocked Dane's earnestness.

The Lady of the Lake bowed her head in return, then raised her hand. An ethereal glow enveloped it as she spoke a single word: "Avalon." The glow surrounded Dane and moments later Dane's armor was gone. Dane knew that when he checked the armory back at Garrett Castle, the Sword of Light and the Shield of Night would be as well. Strider trotted into the lake but never broke the surface. He stood atop the water next to the Lady.

When the glow subsided, the amulet Dane used to call on the Lady's gifts rested in her palm and Dane arose in the burgundy shirt and gray cargo pants he'd been wearing before he left Garrett Castle earlier that night.

"Thank you for your service, Sir Dane Whitman of America. Know that your pleas have not fallen on deaf ears this night; if some way to aid you presents itself to me, I will return to you as sure as the tides."

"Thank you, my Lady." He patted Strider's face above the stallion's nose. "And thank you, boy. You've treated me well. I hope whoever is lucky enough to become your new rider does the same to you."

"I wish you luck in your struggle against the dark forces assailing you," the Lady said as she and Strider began to descend below the lake's surface.

"Thank you," Dane replied. Once the two figures had disappeared beneath the ripples, he added to himself: "I think I'm gonna need it." He turned from the lake, shook his head to momentarily quiet the Blades' screeching, and surveyed the grassy field. "Especially since it looks like I'll now be walking home..."

 

[bkhedr]

Staten Island

Two AIM technicians shuffle their feet idly as they lean by the side of a yellow van while a third peers out into the night with obvious impatience.

The AIMers had been waiting at this abandoned construction site for nearly an hour and they were starting to wonder if their client was ever going to show when the sound of heavy foot falls in the dirt brought them to alertness.

The three technicians swivel their heads as one in the direction of the sound to find that the Wrecker has finally arrived.

"You're late Mr. Garthwaite." One of them says.

"I'm a wanted man ya moron." He says with a scowl "What you think I can just walk in the open? In this city?"

The technician who spoke seems to consider this for a moment, then he nods "I suppose you're right."

"Damn right I am." The Wrecker hawks and spits in the dirt then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Besides your fellow beekeepers didn't have any problem makin' me wait in Arkansas and I wasn't about to go through that again."

"Ahem. No matter. We have what MODOK promised you." He says gesturing to a large metal case sitting in the back of the open truck "You've brought the payment?"

"Here" The Wrecker tosses a briefcase at the technician who catches it rather clumsily. "Now show me."

"Of course" The Technician says with a nod as his two fellows simultaneously enter a code which opens the metal case with a hiss.

The Wrecker approaches to take a look at what he's bought and can't help but be impressed by the look of it. Its no cosmic cube, but it looks like a hell of a lot more than some lame gravity belt. He reaches out and takes hold of the long handle.

"Its based on an alien design." The Technician says "We've modified and improved the original of course."

"What's it do?" The Wrecker asks as he eyes the weapon.

"Why, anything you want." The technician replies as the Wrecker lifts the Universal Weapon over his head to test its weight.

​

"Wow" Piledriver says after watching the side of a building simply disintegrate into nothingness "You weren't kidding Wrecker."

"Yeah" Bulldozer adds as he pats the Wrecker on the shoulder "That whatchamacallit you got from AIM sure packs a punch."

Only Thunderball, who leans against a tenement wall with his arms folded across his chest, remains unimpressed.

"I don't know Wrecker, this doesn't feel right." he says "I mean why would AIM just hand over something like that to us? Why not just use it for themselves?"

"Cause I paid 'em for it Elliot." The Wrecker retorts sharply "That's what AIM does, they sell weapons."

"That's only part of what AIM does." Thunderball replies, straightening up "Look we've still got some cash on hand, why don't we take your new toy to the Tinkerer, or even the Wizard, have them check it out before we try to do anything crazy."

"Awww cahman Thunderball." Piledriver says sourly "Can't you see how great that thing is?"

Behind him, the Wrecker, who's clearly enjoying his new toy, waves the universal weapon in a casual arc and the air in front of it freezes into a solid wall of ice, illustrating Piledriver's point.

"I just think we should be careful"

"Ha! I bet you were the kind of kid who was afraid to open his presents on Christmas morning, just in case." Bulldozer laughs

"And I'll bet you were the kind of kid who'd jump off a cliff just to see what would happen!" Thunderball says, agitated now.

"Hey!" Bulldozer raises his fists and lowers his head "That ain't funny Ball! I was a cute kid!"

"I didn't say you weren't moron!" Thunderball growls back as he hefts his wrecking ball, clearly willing to take his frustration at the Wrecker out on Bulldozer.

"Hey take it easy fellas." Piledriver says with open hands held up in front of him "We're all friends here."

But the two super villians are already closing in on each other, that is until a gesture from the Wrecker suddenly encapsulates them both of force bubbles of near impenetrable energy.

"That's enough you two. Piledriver's right, we're friends and more than that, we're a crew." He eyes Thunderball dangerously "Right?"

Thunderball grits his teeth in frustration and subtly tests the bubble's strength, but he's nothing if not level headed and the Wrecker is right, they're a crew and they have been for a long time. That was their lot, for better or worse.

"Right." He relents at last "Now let us out will ya."

The Wrecker does so then props the Universal Weapon over his shoulder as his crew gathers around him.

"So what now Wrecker?"

"Now we let everybody know that we're not to be messed with anymore." The Wrecker says with a toothy smile

"Startin' with the Avengers." He concludes as Piledriver and Bulldozer exchange grins while Thunderball slaps his forehead with his palm.


​

 

[Eddie Brock]

The Boom Boom Room
The Bronx

Danny and I walk towards the door, ignoring the line and the velvet rope. I crack my neck, the bones make a slight metallic ping as they crack. "Ready to do this, man?"

I adjust my mask slightly, making sure it's tight. "Hey, I led last time. After you, my friend."

The bouncer's one of those mean, ugly types. Face only a mother could love. As he sees us approaching, he turns his attention away from drunken sorority girls trying to cut in line. He turns to us and folds his arms. "Can I help you two?" he asks in an unfriendly tone.

"Yeah," Luke responds, equally unfriendly. His hands ball into fists. "You can move."

"Troublemaker type, huh?"

"Yep." Luke drops his chin and drives the top of his head into the bouncer's chest. The unsuspecting brute is knocked backwards through the doors to the Boom Boom Room. As Luke walks in, he plants his heel on the bouncer's stomach. "'Sup."

I'm half a step behind Luke. Well, you can't say we don't know how to make an entrance. "Party's over," I announce over the hushed music. "Everybody out." Obliging, the crowd rushes for the exits.

Club security descends on us quickly. As Luke goes to work his way, I begin mine. The moves and strikes flow gracefully, like a dance. Barbarian's Knee of Desolation. Cyclone of Fighting Scythes. Foot of Fierce Moons. Palm of the Shaman Hammer. Would-be thugs fall at my feet in order, each putting up less of a fight than the last. I'm only half-spent when the fighting ends. Luke's still standing, too.

"Gentlemen!" a booming voice rings out. Luke and I turn to see Frank Skorina, alias Powderkeg, standing on a balcony in a three-piece suit. He's even bit the mountain of a man that I remember him as, even without the costume. "I'll give you ten seconds to explain why you busted into my establishment and attacked my employees."

"Mutant growth hormone," I respond back. "Word on the street is that you're the guy pushing it."

"Your information is wrong, heroes," Powderkeg spits back. He holds out his massive hands and motions to the room around us. "I'm a legitimate businessman now."

"And my grandmama's white," Luke scoffs. "Cut the bulls***, Powderkeg."

"Gentlemen, I'm going to have to ask you to step outside."

"Or what? You'll call the cops?" I reply. "I promise they're already on their way."

Powderkeg snarls. "Doesn't give me much time to deal with you, then, does it?" He slams his palms together, generating an explosion which rocks the club to its foundations. The resulting shockwave slams me against a wall and throws Luke through the DJ's booth.

 

[Byrd Man]

​

Previously

Spoiler

Oakwood
London


Steve nodded at the agents on guard as he entered the house's foyer with his team behind him. "Who's in charge here?" He asked.

"I am," a gray-haired man said in a crisp English accent said as he came into the foyer. "Liam Hawthorn. MI:13."

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Commander Steven Rogers, this is my team. Did Wisdom tell you we were coming?"

"He did, indeed. I'm to show you to Mister Evans so you can brief him."

"Right," Steve said, turning to his team. "Ant-Man, I want you shrunk down and find every way to go to and from this house, no matter how small."

"You're the boss, boss," O'Grady said sarcastically, shrinking out of sight.

"Widow, check the perimeter with Hawthorn's men, make sure it's secure. Use your knowledge and expertise, find any vantage point a sniper could use."

"On my way,"Natahsa said, turning to leave the foyer.

"Valkyrie, you're with me."

The two followed Hawthorn through the many rooms and hallways of the mansion belonging to Franklin Evans, CFO of a Fortune 500 company and financier to HYDRA. In every room they went through, SHIELD and MI:13 agents were standing vigilant watch.

"Here we are," Hawthorn said, coming to a stop on the house's third floor landing. "This is where we're keeping Evans. We have a man inside with him, but he knows you're coming in. I'll go outside and help your people."

Hawthorn walked off as Steve and Valkyrie went into the room. Evans was sitting in a comfy leather chair, reading the paper. There was a table to his right that had a tea tray resting on it, empty tea cup were scatted on it. A young MI:13 agent was on the other side of the room, looking out the window for any sign of danger.

"Are you my protector?" Evans asked as he pulled the paper down. He was a middle aged man with a ruddy face and dark brown hair combed in a part. He eyed the two Avengers skeptically. "What are you, some sort of bloody clowns?"

"We're here to make sure an assassin doesn't put a bullet in your brain," Steve said, narrowing his eyes. "Valkyrie, what do you see?"

"I see no traces of the deathglow around this man," she said, turning toward the MI:13 agent shadowing Evan. "Nor him. Death may be coming for him, but it is not imminent."

"Right," Steve said, pulling up a chair and sitting in front of Evans. "Mr. Evans, who wants to kill you?"

"How the hell should I know?" Evans snapped. "You think I'm behind this."

"No, but you were a big wig at Montgomery Energy Solutions. You funneled billions of dollars into HYDRA funding."

"I was not awa-"

"Stop right there," Steve said, holding his hand up. "You will not lie to me. You will not say that you had no idea what was going on. You will not say that you were just following orders. I've had enough of that excuse to last two lifetimes. You gave evil men means to create destruction and murder. You're just like they are. Now, we want the intelligence you have on HYDRA, but you need our protection to live. You understand how that works? Want versus need. Now, tell me who is trying to kill you, or I will pull all these men from your home. I'm sure we can make do... can you say the same?"

"I don't know," Evans pleaded. "Honestly. All I know is that three months ago, a man came to see Aaron, our CEO, and tried to intimidate him into stop funding HYDRA."

"What kind of man? Who was he?"

"Steele! He called himself John Steele."

Steve suddenly stood up and quickly turned to Valkyrie. "Let's go."

Steve hurried through the mansion, Valkyrie walking behind him and trying to keep up. "I do not understand, who is John Steele?"

"A man I haven't seen in nearly 70 years. He's the first super soldier."

Mont Blanc
The Alps
July, 1944


Gunfire roared through the narrow castle corridor, bullets ricocheted off the walls and off his shield. With Bucky at his side, Captain America led the way through the hall towards two Nazi sentries with MP40s.

"Stay directly behind me!" He yelled to the men of the 82nd Airborne that were behind him."The shield will block the bullets."

Cap rushed forward and charged at the two soldiers. They went into the air with a smack of his shield. "Keep moving!" He shouted, leading the charge through the corridor and out into an open courtyard. A German troop opened fire from above. Sending Cap and his men back scrambling for cover. A single shot rang out, killing the Wehrmacht soldier with a headshot.

From the top of the courtyard wall, a half dozen men came over the wall and jumped down in front of Cap and the soldiers. One of the men, a large red-haired man with a thick mustache, had a sniper rifle in his hands.

"Excellent shot, Corporal Dugan."

Dugan nodded his appreciation. The squad's leader, a rugged man with brown hair looked around before turning to Cap. "Eastern side of the castle is cleared. We didn't see any signs of the Skull or his SS squad."

"Alright. Lieutenant Holmes?"

"Yes, sir?" One of the soldiers said from behind Cap.

"You and your men continue to make your way up to the top of the castle. Bucky and I are going with Sergeant Fury and the Howling Commandos. We'll go down and work our way to the catacombs underneath the castle."

"Yes, sir," Holmes said with a nod. He turned to his troops and moved out across the courtyard.

"Do they know what's beneath the castle?" Fury asked with an arched eyebrow.

"General Phillips said it was a need to know basis. So, I'm sticking to that. C'mon, let's go."

Cap, Bucky and the Howling Commandos made their way to the bottom of the castle without resistance. In the catacombs, they found a hastily abandoned laboratory.

"Spread out," Fury told his men. "Look out for booby traps."

"Where'd they go?" Bucky asked, inspecting a row of beakers.

"They probably high-tailed as soon as they heard the planes, Buck. Most of the important things they took with them."

"Lookit this," Rebel Ralston said in his Kentucky drawl. "They didn't take everythang."

The men gathered around a cylindrical tank laying horizontally on the ground, the glass in the tank frosted over. Through the frost-tinged glass, they could see the figure of a man.

"German writing all over this tank. Koenig, what's it say?"

"Let's see," Eric Koenig said, bending down to look at it "It says 'Property of German Empire Science Division.' And that's stamped over with swastikas and 'Property of German Third Reich.'"

"The German Empire. That's dating it back before the end of the Great War. At least twenty years old."

"There's a name here," Gabe Jones said, looking at the glass on the tank. "'First Lieutenant John Steele. US First Infantry Division. Captured September 28th, 1918."

"Gee whiz. This guy's been on ice for almost twenty-six years!"

"Yep," Dugan said. "And from the looks of it, he's about to wake up..."

Suddenly, the man in the water's eyes snapped open and his fist shattered the glass of the tank with a powerful punch.

*****
​

Now
London


The Quinjet flew over the city, its stealth drive making it invisible to the naked eye. Steve was in the pilot's seat while Black Widow sat in the co-pilot's chair. Valkyrie and Ant-Man were in the back.
"You think this John Steele is behind it?" Peter Wisdom, director of MI:13, said from the cockpit speakers.

"Evans' description matches the Steele I knew all those years ago."

"Still, that description can match a millions of different men. And the name Steele sounds like a perfect alias."

"If my reasoning is sound, then we'll know in a few minutes if Steele is behind it. That's why I'm calling. Giving you a heads up since we're operating in your backyard. I don't want to ruffle any feathers."

"Right. You want, I can send one of my agents over to the house and act as Evans' body double. He can shapeshift."

"I think my guys and yours will suffice. We shouldn't need your pet Skrull."

"He's a decent guy... er, alien. Person. Whatever's PC. And you should hear him play Imagine."

"Call me when he shapeshifts into the Andrews Sisters."

"I'll pretend I'm old enough to get that reference. Anyway, keep collateral damage as low as possible. And remember, you break it you buy it."

"Will do. Rogers out."

Steve pulled back on the yoke and the jet went higher into the sky. "Natasha, bring up a grid of London."

Widow hit a few button on the console and a holographic image of the city's street grids appeared on the screen. Rogers put the jet on autopilot and looked through the map of London.

"When you were with the KGB, you had different methods for picking safehouses and locations?"

"All the time. My back-up plans had back-up plans."

"Right. Well, back during the war we had a method of picking rendezvous and fallback points on our missions behind enemy lines."

Steve stood up and zoomed in on a portion of the city around the River Thames. "If the city had a river it was always no father than a mile away from that body of water. The river was an escape route that was close by."

Starting at the river, Steve counted the blocks and roads.

"The exact location was dependent on the vowels in the city's name. That way, potential Nazi spies could never find out exactly where we would be. Each cit was different.... London. Two vowels. Two blocks up, two blocks over."

His finger came to a stop at a location just a few blocks north of the Thames. "There."

"How can you be sure Steele is using this system?"

"Because," Steve said, sitting back down in the pilot's seat and disengaging the auto-pilot. "He's the one who created it."

*****

The side of the abandoned building exploded in a rain of wood and mortar. Valkyrie walked through the wreckage, her sword Dragonfang in her hands. The rest of the team brought up the rear.

"Spread out," Steve said, looking around. "See if there's any trace of Steele's whereabouts."

Suddenly, a large figure jumped from the shadows, knocking Steve to the ground with a powerful kick. The figure turned and headbutted Valkyrie to the floor, spun around and punched Ant-Man before he could shrink, and kicked Widow across the room with a kick to the chest.

"Well, well," John Steele said, looming over Steve. "Long time no see."
​

 

[Byrd Man]

"Gentlemen!" a booming voice rings out. Luke and I turn to see Frank Skorina, alias Powderkeg, standing on a balcony in a three-piece suit. He's even bit the mountain of a man that I remember him as, even without the costume. "I'll give you ten seconds to explain why you busted into my establishment and attacked my employees."

"Mutant growth hormone," I respond back. "Word on the street is that you're the guy pushing it."

"Your information is wrong, heroes," Powderkeg spits back. He holds out his massive hands and motions to the room around us. "I'm a legitimate businessman now."

"And my grandmama's white," Luke scoffs. "Cut the bulls***, Powderkeg."

"Gentlemen, I'm going to have to ask you to step outside."

"Or what? You'll call the cops?" I reply. "I promise they're already on their way."

Powderkeg snarls. "Doesn't give me much time to deal with you, then, does it?" He slams his palms together, generating an explosion which rocks the club to its foundations. The resulting shockwave slams me against a wall and throws Luke through the DJ's booth.

"No, mamma," I say under my breath, groaning in pain. "I don't wanna go to school. Let me stay home and bake cookies with you..."

An explosion, at least the sound of one, knocks some sense back into me. I look around, getting my bearings and see Danny dancing around Powderkeg, his fist ablaze with chi. Powderkeg rears back and punches the floor. The concrete cracks underneath his fist as a concussive blast knocks Danny off his feet and into the air.

Taking advantage, I get up and bull rush Powderkeg. Lowering my head and shoulder, I run into his side and slam into him with enough force to...

BOOOOM!!!

A dazzling burst of light fills my eyes as my body flies through open space. I float through the air for what feels like hours before my body strikes the wall, driving me through it and outside the club. My vision is still blurred as I look up and see the hole in the wall, and the destruction inside the club. Walls are charred, tables and chairs are toppled, some of them still burning. Powderkeg is in the middle of the dance floor, smoke coming off his semi-conscious body. Danny is off to the side, smoking and slightly dazed just like Powderkeg.

"Damn," I groan out, holding my side in pain. "Not the best idea to tackle a dude that sweats Nitro."

 

[bkhedr]

The Deep End

Its already been a long day but Moon Knight is finally getting somewhere. The three punks he took down this morning were high on MGH, that much had been obvious. It was a shame that he hadn't had the chance to interrogate them, that would have saved him considerable time and effort. Still, its not like he didn't have any leads.

He had busted up an MGH shipment from supplier to mid level dealer on these docks two nights ago. It was probably unlikely that these dealers had anything to do with the punks in Midtown, but there couldn't be that many MGH suppliers in the New York area, especially not with so few mutants left.

So he'd returned to the Deep End and started banging heads. It had taken the better part of the day but he had finally gotten a line on a guy who was allegedly a lieutenant in the organization supplying MGH to the streets. Some punk calling himself Boar. Now with the last vestiges of the day's light rapidly disappearing to the west, the Moon Knight watches as the gangbanger who had spilled the beans on Boar creeps through the filthy back streets of the area to report to his boss.

Marc can't help but smile behind his mask. Stupid gangsters are so predictable. The punk, having been roughed up by Moon Knight, but in a high enough position in the organization to request a meeting with the lieutenant she just gave up, is doing just that. No doubt to demand that Boar and his men take the Moon Knight out. He won't mention anything about his having talked, just that the hero tried to make him and he wants payback.

"Boy are you in for a surprise." Moon Knight mutters as the gangbanger gives one last nervous look around before banging on a metal door leading into one of the apparently abandoned buildings, a four story brick structure that might have once served as someone's office. Its not long before the door is opened and the bruised and beaten gangster is ushered inside.

Moon Knight takes a moment to survey his surroundings, just to make sure he's not walking into a carefully laid trap, then fires a grappling line which carries his across the street to the roof of the building his prey just entered.

There are no guards on the roof and he quickly makes his way to the single door which he finds locked. Reaching into his belt, Moon Knight pulls out a lock pick and sets to work opening the door. It is not long before he is sneaking through the building's fourth floor with weapons drawn. The top two floors prove to be deserted but he hears voices below as he cautiously makes his way down to the second floor.

"I'm tellin' ya its the same guy who hit the shipment last night. Moon Man I think his name was."

Marc recognizes this as the voice of the punk who led him here.

"Moon Knight." Another voice corrects "He was a hero back in the day, then he went crazy, started killin' people. Looks like he's back now."

"Yeah well I don't care if he's Captain America." A third voice, full of confidence and authority says "He messed with us and now he's gotta die."

Moon Knight has been creeping closer as he listens and he now moves into a position where he can see the speakers. They stand in the center of a disorganized grouping of 11 men of various sizes and colors. All of them, save the punk he roughed up and disarmed, have weapons either on them or on tables or chairs near them. There's power here, electrical lighting and in the back, behind the man in charge, Marc can see a large table with stacks of money and vials of MGH on it.

"That's what I'm saying Boar." The gangster with the wounded pride says "That's why I came here. So we can go out in force and break that mother$*#($@" He makes a fist and slams it into his palm to illustrate the point.

So this is Boar Marcthinks as he focuses on the big latino man with the tall mohawk. He's not just physically big in stature, standing maybe 6'5, he's got bulging muscles to boot and Marc imagines he dresses the way he does, tight leather pants, no shirt, open vest with no sleeves, to show them off.

Boar takes a moment, seemingly to consider his next course of action, then pushes himself out of his chair.

"Alright Frankie, you're gonna get your wish." He says "Load up all of you. Its time we put this Moon Knight out of our misery."

The men barely have time to register their orders when a wave of throwing knives rains down on them from above, breaking skin and forcing men to drop their weapons. The goons start looking upward, scanning for their attacker, one man even fires wildly at nothing before a line with a crescent on either end hits him in the waist and knocks him off of his feet.

"Its him." Boar barks at his men "He's he-ungh."

Boar is knocked off his feet as Moon Knight rides a zip line down from above and kicks the big man in the jaw as he does. Boar falls backwards and Moon Knight lands smoothly on top of the table of money and MGH.

"You want me punks?" He growls "Then come and get me."

Guns are leveled at the hero but he stands his ground, knowing that the bullets won't penetrate his armor, but before anyone can fire Boar raises his arm.

"Hold it you morons." He says "You'll hit the money, or worse the product."

He rises to his full height and glares angrily at Moon Knight

"I'll take care of this." He says as he begins to grow and change into something not at all human.

Whoo boy


​

"Coming through little man!!!" Boar declares as he charges towards Marc who, still shocked by the drug dealer's sudden transformation, fails to get out of the way in time.

"Ungh!" Marc grunts in pain as boar slams into him. The force of the blow lifts him up and into the air and he hits the ground with a thud a few feet away from the now overturned table that was once loaded up with drugs and cash.

"Pick this stuff up and move it to the Manor." Boar orders his subordinates without taking his eyes off of Marc. "I'll catch up when I'm done here."

The men quickly set to work while Boar lumbers towards Marc who is slowly climbing to his feet.

"Heck of shot you've got there pal." Marc says "Whatever happened to not getting high on your own supply?"

"You've got it wrong hero." Boar replies with a chuckle as he looms over Marc "What you see is all natural."

With that, Boars reaches out with a massive furry hand, only for a slashing crescent blade to open a deep gash in his palm. He lets out a shout and pulls his wounded hand back just as a handful of smaller throwing crescents find purchase in his hairy chest.

"I stand corrected." Moon Knight says before dodging under a wide right hook and somersaulting away from a rather amateurish attempt at a straight kick.

Boar isn't much of a fighter, thank heaven for that, but he doesn't need to be. Even with his armor Marc harbors no illusions that he can stand toe to toe with the behemoth and he keeps moving and getting his shots in where he can.

The problem is that he's not doing much damage and its only a matter of time before his opponent gets in a lucky shot or grabs him. Then the fight will be over. There was a time when he'd have just gone for a major artery, or worse, but those days are behind him and Marc has sworn never to kill again. An admirable oath, but one that is proving to be quite the obstacle at this exact moment.

Fortunately there are ways to bring a man like this down that aren't quite lethal and Marc chooses this moment to employ one of them by vaulting backwards and away from Boar then springing to his feet with both trip wire guns drawn.

The big man is almost on top of him when fires both guns, shooting out two high density lines anchored by a pair of crescents at 600 feet per second, aimed directly at Boar's throat. Its an attack that would kill any normal man but Marc gambles that Boar can take it and is relieved to find he's right as the twin wires find their Marc and Boar makes a surprised choking sound rather than doubling over as a corpse.

Moving quickly to press his temporary advantage, Marc drops his guns and leaps up and over Boar, pulling his truncheon in the process, then as he passes over the still struggling drug lord, he catches the twin wires on the baton and twirls, tightening the super strong wires around his foes' throat. He then allows his momentum to carry him forward and pulls with all his might.

Boar struggles mightily, thrashing and rolling madly, but Marc grits his teeth and holds on even though his arms feel as though they might be ripped from their sockets. But Boar's struggling slows and then ceases entirely as oxygen deprivation finally causes him to lose consciousnesses, leaving a relieved Marc to realize that the small time dealers and lieutenants have already made their getaway with the cash and the MGH.

***

When Boar awakens he's not sure how much time has passed. He looks around somewhat confused and discovers that he doesn't know where he is, then looks up and realizes that he's actually hanging upside down and looking down at the street far below.

"Hey? What the hell is this?" He asks nervously as he looks around. He's naked and back in his human form.

A kick to the fact answers his question and sends him swinging back and forth before a firm hand steadies the rope he's hanging from.

"You don't get to ask questions. And I wouldn't change if I were you, this rope can only hold so much weight" Moon Knight says threateningly. He then produces a crescent blade and places the cutting edge against the wire "We're 8 floors up by the way, and I'm betting a fall from this height will kill even you."

"You wouldn't..."

"I would." Moon Knight confirms as he begins moving the blade back and forth across the wire, which immediately begins to fray.

"Hey wait!" Boar shouts, suddenly terrified "Just wait!"

"Unless you tell me what I want to know." Moon Knight continues

"Anything man! Just don't drop me!" Boar pleads

"The Manor." Moon Knight growls, referring to the location he heard Boar tell the men to get the drugs and money to "Where is it?"

​

 

[Byrd Man]

​

Previously

Spoiler

Mont Blanc
The Alps
July, 1944


Gunfire roared through the narrow castle corridor, bullets ricocheted off the walls and off his shield. With Bucky at his side, Captain America led the way through the hall towards two Nazi sentries with MP40s.

"Stay directly behind me!" He yelled to the men of the 82nd Airborne that were behind him."The shield will block the bullets."

Cap rushed forward and charged at the two soldiers. They went into the air with a smack of his shield. "Keep moving!" He shouted, leading the charge through the corridor and out into an open courtyard. A German troop opened fire from above. Sending Cap and his men back scrambling for cover. A single shot rang out, killing the Wehrmacht soldier with a headshot.

From the top of the courtyard wall, a half dozen men came over the wall and jumped down in front of Cap and the soldiers. One of the men, a large red-haired man with a thick mustache, had a sniper rifle in his hands.

"Excellent shot, Corporal Dugan."

Dugan nodded his appreciation. The squad's leader, a rugged man with brown hair looked around before turning to Cap. "Eastern side of the castle is cleared. We didn't see any signs of the Skull or his SS squad."

"Alright. Lieutenant Holmes?"

"Yes, sir?" One of the soldiers said from behind Cap.

"You and your men continue to make your way up to the top of the castle. Bucky and I are going with Sergeant Fury and the Howling Commandos. We'll go down and work our way to the catacombs underneath the castle."

"Yes, sir," Holmes said with a nod. He turned to his troops and moved out across the courtyard.

"Do they know what's beneath the castle?" Fury asked with an arched eyebrow.

"General Phillips said it was a need to know basis. So, I'm sticking to that. C'mon, let's go."

Cap, Bucky and the Howling Commandos made their way to the bottom of the castle without resistance. In the catacombs, they found a hastily abandoned laboratory.

"Spread out," Fury told his men. "Look out for booby traps."

"Where'd they go?" Bucky asked, inspecting a row of beakers.

"They probably high-tailed as soon as they heard the planes, Buck. Most of the important things they took with them."

"Lookit this," Rebel Ralston said in his Kentucky drawl. "They didn't take everythang."

The men gathered around a cylindrical tank laying horizontally on the ground, the glass in the tank frosted over. Through the frost-tinged glass, they could see the figure of a man.

"German writing all over this tank. Koenig, what's it say?"

"Let's see," Eric Koenig said, bending down to look at it "It says 'Property of German Empire Science Division.' And that's stamped over with swastikas and 'Property of German Third Reich.'"

"The German Empire. That's dating it back before the end of the Great War. At least twenty years old."

"There's a name here," Gabe Jones said, looking at the glass on the tank. "'First Lieutenant John Steele. US First Infantry Division. Captured September 28th, 1918."

"Gee whiz. This guy's been on ice for almost twenty-six years!"

"Yep," Dugan said. "And from the looks of it, he's about to wake up..."

Suddenly, the man in the water's eyes snapped open and his fist shattered the glass of the tank with a powerful punch.

*****
​

Now
London


The Quinjet flew over the city, its stealth drive making it invisible to the naked eye. Steve was in the pilot's seat while Black Widow sat in the co-pilot's chair. Valkyrie and Ant-Man were in the back.
"You think this John Steele is behind it?" Peter Wisdom, director of MI:13, said from the cockpit speakers.

"Evans' description matches the Steele I knew all those years ago."

"Still, that description can match a millions of different men. And the name Steele sounds like a perfect alias."

"If my reasoning is sound, then we'll know in a few minutes if Steele is behind it. That's why I'm calling. Giving you a heads up since we're operating in your backyard. I don't want to ruffle any feathers."

"Right. You want, I can send one of my agents over to the house and act as Evans' body double. He can shapeshift."

"I think my guys and yours will suffice. We shouldn't need your pet Skrull."

"He's a decent guy... er, alien. Person. Whatever's PC. And you should hear him play Imagine."

"Call me when he shapeshifts into the Andrews Sisters."

"I'll pretend I'm old enough to get that reference. Anyway, keep collateral damage as low as possible. And remember, you break it you buy it."

"Will do. Rogers out."

Steve pulled back on the yoke and the jet went higher into the sky. "Natasha, bring up a grid of London."

Widow hit a few button on the console and a holographic image of the city's street grids appeared on the screen. Rogers put the jet on autopilot and looked through the map of London.

"When you were with the KGB, you had different methods for picking safehouses and locations?"

"All the time. My back-up plans had back-up plans."

"Right. Well, back during the war we had a method of picking rendezvous and fallback points on our missions behind enemy lines."

Steve stood up and zoomed in on a portion of the city around the River Thames. "If the city had a river it was always no father than a mile away from that body of water. The river was an escape route that was close by."

Starting at the river, Steve counted the blocks and roads.

"The exact location was dependent on the vowels in the city's name. That way, potential Nazi spies could never find out exactly where we would be. Each cit was different.... London. Two vowels. Two blocks up, two blocks over."

His finger came to a stop at a location just a few blocks north of the Thames. "There."

"How can you be sure Steele is using this system?"

"Because," Steve said, sitting back down in the pilot's seat and disengaging the auto-pilot. "He's the one who created it."

*****

The side of the abandoned building exploded in a rain of wood and mortar. Valkyrie walked through the wreckage, her sword Dragonfang in her hands. The rest of the team brought up the rear.

"Spread out," Steve said, looking around. "See if there's any trace of Steele's whereabouts."

Suddenly, a large figure jumped from the shadows, knocking Steve to the ground with a powerful kick. The figure turned and headbutted Valkyrie to the floor, spun around and punched Ant-Man before he could shrink, and kicked Widow across the room with a kick to the chest.

"Well, well," John Steele said, looming over Steve. "Long time no see."
​

The Netherlands
September, 1944

The two men stood on the hill overlooking a bridge. Squatting down with a pair of binoculars, surveying the land across the bridge, was Captain America. At his side was John Steele.

"Anything?" Steele asked.

"Nothing. No sign of any Jerries, SS or otherwise. Maybe the Resistance was off."

"Two days into Market Garden and they've been pretty reliable so far."

"Well, if Bucky sees anything across the bridge, he'll signal."

The two men looked out into the darkness in silence for several minutes. "So," Cap said, "How you been holding up? You pretty much hit the ground running ever since Italy."

"What do you mean?"

"Two months ago, you were in a tank in the Alps. Now, here you are in the middle of a war."

"Eh," Steele said with a shrug. "I was put under during a war, and I woke up during a war. Seems like I broke even."

"Yeah, but, twenty-six years passed by like it was nothing. So much changed while you were asleep."

"When I was captured, America, England, and France were at war with Germany. I wake up to a world where America, England, and France are at war with Germany. None of that horrible trench warfare, and your planes are better, but from where I'm standing, the world isn't that different."

"I guess... I just couldn't imagine going through that."

Off in the distance, a light went on and went off three times.

"That's the signal," Cap said as he stood. "Let's move out."

*****
​

London
Now


Steele grunted as he swung at Steve. A holographic shield popped from Rogers' gauntlet, blocking Steele's blow.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked, back flipping to avoid a sweeping kick. "John, this isn't you."

"It is now," Steele said, turning around and blocking a karate chop from Black Widow. "While you were sleeping, I got my eyes opened. Things changed, Cap. The world changed. I changed with it."

"They haven't changed that much," Steve said, striking out at Steele. Steele dodged his strike, stepping back to take on the approaching Valkyrie.

"There's a war going on, Steve. And if you're not with me, you're against me."

Valkyrie swung at Steele with her sword. Steele ducked to avoid the blade and came up, striking Valkyrie in the chin with an open palm.

"So, that's you're excuse for siding with HYDRA, AIM, or whoever? That's how you justify trying to kill a man?"

"I'm not trying to kill anyone," Steele said, reaching out and thumping Ant-Man away as he floated towards him. "I'm just here to distract you."

"Valkyrie," Steve shouted, standing and running at Steele. "Get back to Evans' house now!"

*****

Back at his mansion, Franklin Evans looked out at the dreary cityscape. Behind him, the MI:13 agent watched the man closely. A grandfather clock in the room began to chime three o'clock. At the sound of the third chime, the agent's eyes became glazed over and vacant. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a pistol.

Evans turned around just as Special Agent Roger Purefoy opened fire. The three shots went through Evans' chest and knocked the man to the ground. As life left the man's body, Purefoy turned the gun on himself and place the barrel of the pistol against his head.

WHAM!

The door to the study shattered as Valkyrie burst through. She pulled a knife from her belt and threw from the hip. The blade twirled through the air and hit Purefoy in the hand holding the pistol, knocking the gun out of his hand before it could be fired. Valkyrie charged, tackling Purefoy to the ground and restraining him.

"Commander Rogers to Valkyrie," Steve's voice said in her ear. "Steele got away. What's the status on Evans?"

"I am sorry to report, but Evans is gone. I have his assassin in hand and alive. What is your command?"

"Prep him for interrogation."
​

 

[Belvedere]

The Assassination of Hank Pym by the Coward David Cannon: Part One.​

​

Brooklyn, New York

David Cannon, the mutant super-villain formerly known as Whirlwind, sits alone in his studio apartment. It had been six weeks since Cannon had last contacted another human being and yet his phone had registered not a single missed call or text. His grief had overwhelmed him and every societal obligation he was privy to had fallen to the wayside as a result. It had been this way since Janet had died. He cared for nothing, he wanted nothing, he had nothing to live for. In the weeks after he had learned of her death he had covered the walls with his apartment with pictures of her, the other faces in them were angrily scratched out, in the hopes that it might bring him some comfort. It had brought him none.

On the coffee table in front of him lie a revolver and an individual bullet beside it. He reaches for the revolver and loads the bullet into one of the chambers, giving the cylinder a spin before placing the weapon in his mouth. He stares blankly at the ceiling for a moment, tears running down his face, before pulling on the trigger and flinching as the gun clicks harmlessly. Again Cannon spins the cylinder, this time with more conviction and once more he is met by an empty clicking noise and a sense of disappointment.

“Third time lucky,” he said with a grin.

Before he had a chance to pull the trigger he heard a familiar voice emanating from the pitifully small television set in the corner of the room. It was that of Hank Pym, Van Dyne’s husband, the man that had humiliated and broken Cannon so many times. David hesitated for a moment and placed the pistol on the coffee table atop a half-empty pizza box, the remains of which had long since molded.

“… Well, Avengers Academy has only been up and running for a couple of months now and I like to think it’s been a success. There have been a few hiccups along the way, but the potential of these young adults is undeniable. The future of our country is in great hands, ladies and gentleman.”

Cannon’s hands tightened into fists at the sound of his voice. His words were careful, as you would expect from a man used to dealing with the media, it was how he delivered them that irked David. There was no remorse in his voice; no loss in his eyes, not a single ounce of contrition from the man who ought to have been there to protect her.

“What do you think your late ex-wife, Janet Van Dyne, would have made of Avengers Academy, Dr. Pym?”

“I think she would have been very proud,” Pym said with an awkward smile. “Janet, more than anyone, understood the importance of youth. The different that youthful exuberance and enthusiasm can make, with proper direction. It’s just a shame she couldn’t be here to-”

There was a loud bang and the television screen caved in on itself as a bullet tore through it and lodged itself into the wall behind it. David, now seething with rage, stood up from the stained couch that had been his home these past weeks and threw the pistol aside.

“She loved you… Where were you when she needed you? You cowardly bastard...”

Cannon’s voice died out and, from the corner of the room, came a different voice altogether.

“… You sure told him.”

He had come here to taunt him. David did not stop to think why Pym was wearing his Yellowjacket costume or how, despite having seen him giving a live television interview in California seconds ago, he had got there. He leapt at him, eyes filled with rage. The man simply moved out of the way and allowed David to land with a heavy thud against the floor, bloodying his nose in doing so. Cannon swung his fists angrily in his direction but “Yellowjacket” grabbed a hold of his wrists tightly and impatiently spoke in his direction.

“Look, as much as I’m enjoying this… If you really want to get under Pym’s skin, I suggest you listen to me…”

“Who the hell are you?” Cannon spat as he wiped the blood away from his nose.

“Someone that hates Hank Pym just as much as you do.”

 

[Eddie Brock]

"No, mamma," I say under my breath, groaning in pain. "I don't wanna go to school. Let me stay home and bake cookies with you..."

An explosion, at least the sound of one, knocks some sense back into me. I look around, getting my bearings and see Danny dancing around Powderkeg, his fist ablaze with chi. Powderkeg rears back and punches the floor. The concrete cracks underneath his fist as a concussive blast knocks Danny off his feet and into the air.

Taking advantage, I get up and bull rush Powderkeg. Lowering my head and shoulder, I run into his side and slam into him with enough force to...

BOOOOM!!!

A dazzling burst of light fills my eyes as my body flies through open space. I float through the air for what feels like hours before my body strikes the wall, driving me through it and outside the club. My vision is still blurred as I look up and see the hole in the wall, and the destruction inside the club. Walls are charred, tables and chairs are toppled, some of them still burning. Powderkeg is in the middle of the dance floor, smoke coming off his semi-conscious body. Danny is off to the side, smoking and slightly dazed just like Powderkeg.

"Damn," I groan out, holding my side in pain. "Not the best idea to tackle a dude that sweats Nitro."

As I pull myself slowly to my feet, I try to shake the cobwebs from my head. A guy can only take so many explosions to the face before he gets loopy, y'know? I gain my bearings, seeing a hole in the wall where Luke once stood. Meanwhile, Powderkeg is still on his feet. Fortunately, he doesn't exactly look to be one-hundred percent himself. I consider bull-rushing him but pull back. He'll be expecting that, and I'll be playing right into his hands. Even in a weakened state, there's no point in trying the brute force method against a guy who can clap and blow you through a brick wall.

So it's time to switch tactics.

Despite the chaos surrounding me, I clear my mind and focus my thoughts inward. An odd sense of calmness washes over me, and I can feel the chi in my chest like a warm flame. I channel it, feeling the energy coalesce and move through my body like a wave. When I open my eyes, my hand is glowing with a bright green energy. It's a little trick that the last Iron Fist, Orson Randall, taught me. I only hope it works in practice.

"Powderkeg!" I call out, drawing the hulking man's attention. I wave my hand slowly from side-to-side. The chi almost appears like tiny bubbles of light. "Stand down," I say softly. Powderkeg's arms fall to his sides.

Luke is almost beside me now, watching the strange show I'm putting on. "Uhh... Danny?"

"Hypnotic fist," I explain. "Haven't had a chance to try it yet."

"Hypnotic--? Let's try leading with that one next time," Luke suggests. He then turns his attention back to the dazed Powderkeg. "Is he conscious?"

"Partially." Orson may have taught me how to channel the hypnotic fist, but he never explained how it would feel. From across the room, I can feel Powderkeg's chi in my hand. It squirms and struggles to get free like a caged animal, and it takes a considerable deal of my concentration to keep it under control.

"Can I talk to him?" Luke asks.

"You can certainly try..."

 

[Byrd Man]

​

Previously

Spoiler

The Netherlands
September, 1944

The two men stood on the hill overlooking a bridge. Squatting down with a pair of binoculars, surveying the land across the bridge, was Captain America. At his side was John Steele.

"Anything?" Steele asked.

"Nothing. No sign of any Jerries, SS or otherwise. Maybe the Resistance was off."

"Two days into Market Garden and they've been pretty reliable so far."

"Well, if Bucky sees anything across the bridge, he'll signal."

The two men looked out into the darkness in silence for several minutes. "So,"Cap said, "How you been holding up? You pretty much hit the ground running ever since Italy."

"What do you mean?"

"Two months ago, you were in a tank in the Alps. Now, here you are in the middle of a war."

"Eh," Steele said with a shrug. "I was put under during a war, and I woke up during a war. Seems like I broke even."

"Yeah, but, twenty-six years passed by like it was nothing. So much changed while you were asleep."

"When I was captured, America, England, and France were at war with Germany. I wake up to a world where America, England, and France are at war with Germany. None of that horrible trench warfare, and your planes are better, but from where I'm standing, the world isn't that different."

"I guess... I just couldn't imagine going through that."

Off in the distance, a light went on and went off three times.

"That's the signal," Cap said as he stood. "Let's move out."

*****
​

London
Now


Steele grunted as he swung at Steve. A holographic shield popped from Rogers' gauntlet, blocking Steele's blow.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked, back flipping to avoid a sweeping kick. "John, this isn't you."

"It is now," Steele said, turning around and blocking a karate chop from Black Widow. "While you were sleeping, I got my eyes opened. Things changed, Cap. The world changed. I changed with it."

"They haven't changed that much," Steve said, striking out at Steele. Steele dodged his strike, stepping back to take on the approaching Valkyrie.

"There's a war going on, Steve. And if you're not with me, you're against me."

Valkyrie swung at Steele with her sword. Steele ducked to avoid the blade and came up, striking Valkyrie in the chin with an open palm.

"So, that's you're excuse for siding with HYDRA, AIM, or whoever? That's how you justify trying to kill a man?"

"I'm not trying to kill anyone," Steele said, reaching out and thumping Ant-Man away as he floated towards him. "I'm just here to distract you."

"Valkyrie," Steve shouted, standing and running at Steele. "Get back to Evans' house now!"

*****

Back at his mansion, Franklin Evans looked out at the dreary cityscape. Behind him, the MI:13 agent watched the man closely. A grandfather clock in the room began to chime three o'clock. At the sound of the third chime, the agent's eyes became glazed over and vacant. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a pistol.

Evans turned around just as Special Agent Roger Purefoy opened fire. The three shots went through Evans' chest and knocked the man to the ground. As life left the man's body, Purefoy turned the gun on himself and place the barrel of the pistol against his head.

WHAM!

The door to the study shattered as Valkyrie burst through. She pulled a knife from her belt and threw from the hip. The blade twirled through the air and hit Purefoy in the hand holding the pistol, knocking the gun out of his hand before it could be fired. Valkyrie charged, tackling Purefoy to the ground and restraining him.

"Commander Rogers to Valkyrie," Steve's voice said in her ear. "Steele got away. What's the status on Evans?"

"I am sorry to report, but Evans is gone. I have his assassin in hand and alive. What is your command?"

"Prep him for interrogation."
​

MI:13 Safehouse
Codename: Abbey Road
London

"Well we bollocksed this mission right up," Pete Wisdom said with a sigh. He had a cigarette in his mouth whose tip was dangerously close to burning into the filter.

Wisdom stood with Steve. The two men looked through a two-way mirror at a man sitting a metal table inside the small interrogation room. He was hand-cuffed to the bolted metal chair in front of the table.

"What can you tell me about this man, Purefoy?" Steve asked, his arms crossed.

"Not much to tell, really," Wisdom said with a shrug. "Been with us going on six years. SIS before that, Royal Marines before that. Lives alone, only family member is a mum from Leeds. Six years in a row he's passed all his yearly polygraph tests, and been checked against any and all unusual financial activity."

"You and I both know ways to beat a polygraph. And if he's a fanatic committed to the cause, he won't be taking money."

"Right. Well, I sent in one of my mind readers. They gleamed his memory over the last 24 hours. Apparently, Steele approached him and then the rest is blank up until your girl smacked him out."

"Blanks in the memory? Could be a sign of brainwashing."

"It's what I thought. I had my people go in deeper. The blanks in his memory started four years ago. For four years, this wanker has been a sleeper agent in my own bloody department, just bidding his time."

Wisdom sighed, flicking his burnt out cigarette to the ground. He stomped on the butt and reached for a fresh one. "If he was brainwashed and had no memory of it, then how many more are there? How many are in the SIS, SHIELD, the CIA? Just waiting on a code word to become an enemy?"

"I don't know," Steve said, furrowing his brow. "But I plan to find out."

"I think I can help you with that," Wisdom said, reaching for a folder on the table beside them. "This is a transcript from our psi operative. When she was inside Purefoy's mind, she described the event in which he was first brainwashed four years ago. It was filled with confusing mental images of tools, film reels, words, and chemicals. One image stood out, though. He remembered a man. A one-eyed man with an eyepatch."

Steve and Wisdom shared a look. Wisdom arched an eyebrow as he took a drag off his cigarette. "Description sound like a cloak and dagger spymaster we both might know."

"Pete," Steve started. "Keep this under your hat for now. It's a personal favor. Let me do some digging on this."

"Sure," Wisdom said with a nod. "If this turns out to be true, you'll need some serious proof, though."

"I'm about to get all the proof I need," Steve said, activating the teleporter on his wrist. "I'm going straight to the Helicarrier."

In a flash of green light, he disappeared.

 

[Byrd Man]

"Partially." Orson may have taught me how to channel the hypnotic fist, but he never explained how it would feel. From across the room, I can feel Powderkeg's chi in my hand. It squirms and struggles to get free like a caged animal, and it takes a considerable deal of my concentration to keep it under control.

"Can I talk to him?" Luke asks.

"You can certainly try..."

"Alright, homie," I say, squatting next to Powderkeg. "I'll admit, we had ulterior motives for coming in here and busting your **** up. As fun as that was, we're looking for a boy. Name's Victor Alvarez."

"Sounds familiar," Powderkeg says, his voice faraway and dreamy. "Punk name Bobbito showed up here with him awhile back. Said Victor needed a job. I sent both of them to a place we got in Chinatown. Place where we process MGH.Last I saw of Victor, he was headed there."

"Chinatown," I say, looking up at Danny. "'Forget it, Jake, it's Chinatown.'"

"Let's go, then. Got places to go, people to beat and 'I'm your huckleberry.'"

"I go with a Chinatown quote, and you counter with a Tombstone quote?"

"Mine was more appropriate. Now, 'how about you make like a tree, and get outta here!'"

"Back to the Future. You win, good sir."

With police sirens growing louder, Danny and I make a hasty exit out the club, and head back towards Manhattan to Chinatown.

 

[Rain Dog]

DOCTOR DOOM​

THE CLONE SAGA, PART II​

Castle Doom
Doomstadt, Latveria

The Jackal’s body laid face-down and sprawled out on the prison cell’s floor. The genetic monstrosity’s large, pink, spade-like ears began to twitch along with its long, clawed fingers and toes. His eyelids slowly parted and his yellow eyes, seemingly glowing in the darkened cell, began to lazily move about to take in their new surroundings. He pressed his green palms against the cold, stone floor and pushed himself up onto his knees.

“Doctor Doom?” he murmured, narrowing his eyes as he peered out into the darkness outside of his cell.

“Doctor Warren.”

“Where am I?” he said, finally rising to his feet. His fingers lightly pressed the recently treated wounds adorning his head.

“Latveria.”

“Why have you brought me h—“

He stopped as he apparently discovered the metal collar hugging his throat. He immediately grabbed it and began tugging at the contraption.

“What is this?!”

“I have work for you, Doctor Warren. That collar around your neck is to ensure your cooperation.”

The stupid monster has decided to ignore me and continued tugging at his collar.

“That is not wise.”

The collar emits a series of clicks—a warning—which is also ignored by the hideous creature. He gives one last tug before he is brought to his knees, shrieking in pain. After a few seconds, the shrieking ends and he is left panting on all fours like the animal he has made himself.

"That painful sound you just experienced is at a frequency inaudible to humans with unenhanced senses. Luckily, you are not among them. It is either emitted automatically each time you attempt to remove that collar or manually each time you disobey me. Should you continue to misbehave, the frequency will intensify and be coupled with an electric current that will range from extremely painful to fatal. You have chosen the form of a canine so I thought it fitting to treat you like one.”

“What is it you want from me?!”

“Clones. My robots encountered several of your own in their mission to locate you. Though many were shoddily produced, I did notice a few lacked the genetic degeneration that plagued your designs . Your newer creations, no doubt.”

“If they’re so shoddy why don’t you make your own?”

“Because, Doctor Warren, there are other matters that require my immediate attention. And while I tend to those matters, I expect you to complete the tasks that will be assigned to you in a timely and satisfactory manner. Do so and you will return safely to America with your health, life, and freedom. Fail, and I will locate and destroy every remaining clone and base of operation you have before ending your own life and legacy in this very cell.”

“…What do I have to work with?”

“A portion of my laboratory has been sectioned off for your usage. You will be given some lab aides as well as the counsel of head scientist Doctor Takacz. But be warned that you will be closely monitored at all times and if so much as one of my scientists suspects foul play you will be executed immediately.”

Warren sat silently for a moment before giving a slow nod.

“I’ll do it.”

"Of course you will,” I reply, turning away.

“Ya know, if you wanted clones that bad you could have just asked!” he calls out to the darkness.

“Doom does not plead.”

* * *​

Finding solitude in my private quarters, I stand before a mirror as I toss my cloak aside.

Every waking moment, it burns. I had quickly grown accustomed to the pain however, it continued to serve as a dreadful reminder of what approached.

I remove my tunic, exposing the silvery armor beneath.

My dreams are plagued with horrific visions. The enchantments placed on my armor do nothing to ward them away.

I enter the armor removal codes into my gauntlet and begin to unlock my chestplate. I pull off the front piece and expose my bare chest to the mirror.

Not since Mephisto held my mother’s soul have I felt such torment.

There it is. A hideous symbol burnt into my chest— flesh melted into a mock-Sonnenrad with curled, twisting spokes surrounding a large, monstrous eye at its center.

I shall be freed soon enough. And this world, with it.

DOCTOR DOOM

​

THE CLONE SAGA, PART III​

Castle Doom Library
Doomstadt, Latveria

The Doppelgänger. A harbinger of doom. A victim will see the Double Walker whilst dreaming, in a trance, or occasionally, in the physical realm. If a victim sees their own Double Walker—and especially if the victim sees their double destroyed—it is an omen of their forthcoming death. The Double Walker is not a true duplicate of its victim but rather a twisted form of mockery from powers beyond this world with visions spanning throughout time. It is the netherworld taunting its victim—creating an effigy to burn before the original’s eyes for no reason beyond the petty amusement of “higher” entities.

The Vardøgr. A benign “spirit double” who’s actions mimic the original’s before the original has executed them—that is to say, a form of reverse déjà vu. But, like the doppelganger, this Norse spirit is not a true double, nor is it a spirit at all. It is the result of temporal anomalies causing brief glimpses into the future in isolated spaces throughout the universe. The spells used to summon the vardøgrs are merely spells that provide temporary, short-ranged precognition. As the future constantly shifts and infinite divergent timelines are formed, visions of the future viewed through these spells are subject to change with each passing second and are ultimately unreliable.

The etiäinen, the fæcce, the ikiriyo—all different forms of “spirit doubles”. Hundreds of spellbooks tucked away within the expansive shelves of my library contained spells for summoning, exorcising, or otherwise communing with these ethereal manifestations of the self. But none were true spirit doubles.

Through the sciences, man has already mastered duplication of the body. An entire, fully-functioning genetic duplicate of an organism can be engineered from a strand of hair or droplet of blood. But duplication of the soul—the life force, the unique living energy within sentient beings is a feat yet to be accomplished. Perhaps because so many of the so-called great minds are not even aware of or even deny its existence. But I am all too familiar with the living fire that dwells within us. And how it can be taken. Sold. Devoured. Extinguished.

But duplicated?

Many of those versed in the mystic arts deem it impossible. But those ignorant charlatans that dare call themselves sorcerers are not Doom.

I pluck a series of ancient Egyptian spellbooks from the shelves. These are where the answers lie, I am certain. The Egyptians believed the souls was comprised of five fragments: Ib, the heart, Ka, the life-force, Ba, the consciousness, Sheut, the power, and Ren, the destiny. Within these texts are the means of creating, extracting, and maintaining these fragments. The secret of soul duplication will soon be revealed to me.

And with it, the key to defeating the Lord of Chaos.

 

[Belvedere]

Spoiler

The Assassination of Hank Pym by the Coward David Cannon: Part One.​

​

Brooklyn, New York

David Cannon, the mutant super-villain formerly known as Whirlwind, sits alone in his studio apartment. It had been six weeks since Cannon had last contacted another human being and yet his phone had registered not a single missed call or text. His grief had overwhelmed him and every societal obligation he was privy to had fallen to the wayside as a result. It had been this way since Janet had died. He cared for nothing, he wanted nothing, he had nothing to live for. In the weeks after he had learned of her death he had covered the walls with his apartment with pictures of her, the other faces in them were angrily scratched out, in the hopes that it might bring him some comfort. It had brought him none.

On the coffee table in front of him lie a revolver and an individual bullet beside it. He reaches for the revolver and loads the bullet into one of the chambers, giving the cylinder a spin before placing the weapon in his mouth. He stares blankly at the ceiling for a moment, tears running down his face, before pulling on the trigger and flinching as the gun clicks harmlessly. Again Cannon spins the cylinder, this time with more conviction and once more he is met by an empty clicking noise and a sense of disappointment.

“Third time lucky,” he said with a grin.

Before he had a chance to pull the trigger he heard a familiar voice emanating from the pitifully small television set in the corner of the room. It was that of Hank Pym, Van Dyne’s husband, the man that had humiliated and broken Cannon so many times. David hesitated for a moment and placed the pistol on the coffee table atop a half-empty pizza box, the remains of which had long since molded.

“… Well, Avengers Academy has only been up and running for a couple of months now and I like to think it’s been a success. There have been a few hiccups along the way, but the potential of these young adults is undeniable. The future of our country is in great hands, ladies and gentleman.”

Cannon’s hands tightened into fists at the sound of his voice. His words were careful, as you would expect from a man used to dealing with the media, it was how he delivered them that irked David. There was no remorse in his voice; no loss in his eyes, not a single ounce of contrition from the man who ought to have been there to protect her.

“What do you think your late ex-wife, Janet Van Dyne, would have made of Avengers Academy, Dr. Pym?”

“I think she would have been very proud,” Pym said with an awkward smile. “Janet, more than anyone, understood the importance of youth. The different that youthful exuberance and enthusiasm can make, with proper direction. It’s just a shame she couldn’t be here to-”

There was a loud bang and the television screen caved in on itself as a bullet tore through it and lodged itself into the wall behind it. David, now seething with rage, stood up from the stained couch that had been his home these past weeks and threw the pistol aside.

“She loved you… Where were you when she needed you? You cowardly bastard...”

Cannon’s voice died out and, from the corner of the room, came a different voice altogether.

“… You sure told him.”

He had come here to taunt him. David did not stop to think why Pym was wearing his Yellowjacket costume or how, despite having seen him giving a live television interview in California seconds ago, he had got there. He leapt at him, eyes filled with rage. The man simply moved out of the way and allowed David to land with a heavy thud against the floor, bloodying his nose in doing so. Cannon swung his fists angrily in his direction but “Yellowjacket” grabbed a hold of his wrists tightly and impatiently spoke in his direction.

“Look, as much as I’m enjoying this… If you really want to get under Pym’s skin, I suggest you listen to me…”

“Who the hell are you?” Cannon spat as he wiped the blood away from his nose.

“Someone that hates Hank Pym just as much as you do.”

The Assassination of Hank Pym by the Coward David Cannon: Part Two.​

Avengers Compound, California

For the first time in weeks she wasn’t the first thing he had thought about upon waking up. Hank wasn’t sure whether this was a good thing or not, but he couldn’t help feel guilty about it either way. Slowly he wiped away the condensation from the mirrored door of the bathroom cupboard and smiled faintly at his reflection, before splashing warm water onto his face.

From the other room he could hear the sound of Greer Grant, “Tigra” to the rest of the world, thumbing her way through the morning’s copy of the Daily Bugle. She had been his rock in the months after Janet’s death and, given their history, it was only a matter of time before they fell into one another’s arms. What began as a casual arrangement had since transformed slowly into something more steady and secure. She smiled at Pym as he made his way back into the bedroom and laid out his Giant-Man costume at the end of the bed.

“The Governor of New York has resigned for accepting illegal campaign contributions from HYDRA. They’re saying criminal convictions might follow. Can you believe that?”

Hank smiled and put on a thick German accent, which was quite convincing given the time he had spent on the continent as a young man.

“This message is paid for by Baron Wolfgang Von Strucker.”

Greer laughed and slowly climbed her way out of bed, allowing the covers to slink free from her feline form and fall to the floor. As she reached Hank she lovingly placed a kiss on his lips, purring slightly as he pulled him closer towards him.

The other members of the faculty had remained, to the best of Hank and Greer’s knowledge, unaware of their relationship and the two of them intended to keep it that way. Although Hank was certain Janet would be glad they had found one another, neither he nor Grant were ready to test how their colleagues would look upon Hank moving on so quickly.

“… A girl could get used to t-”

There was a knock on the door to Pym’s quarters and both Greer and Hank froze. They looked at one another and then at the door, unsure as to what to do, before Hank gestured to Grant to hide in the bathroom and he hurriedly threw on his costume.

“Hank,” said a voice from the other side of the door. “It’s Vance.”

Pym turned the handle slowly after making sure Grant was out of sight, flattened down his hair and opened the door to Vance Astrovik, one of the senior instructors at Avengers Academy, whose grave look alerted him to that it wasn’t a social call. Vance momentarily stopped midsentence upon noticing the lower half of Tigra’s costume on Pym’s floor but thought better of mentioning it; Hank was a grown man, what he did was his own business as far as Astrovik was concerned. He lifted his thumb into the air and pointed it over his shoulder towards the Compound lobby.

“You’re going to want to see this,” he said solemnly and set off for the lobby.

A bemused look appeared on Hank’s face and he looked over his shoulder, noticing the lower half of the costume and gently tapped his fist against his head before following after Vance. When the pair arrived in the lobby they found the entire faculty of Avengers Academy assembled in front of a television screen. Speedball looked round at Hank nervously before shuffling out of the way in order to free up his line of sight; although, to little surprise, it would not be long before Hank would wish he hadn’t.

It was grainy footage of one of Pym’s oldest foes Whirlwind. The boy filming, in his late teens, was cowering behind a truck brandishing his smart phone in the super-villains direction. Whirlwind, unaware of his presence, continued towards the police barricade that had been erected on the Lower Manhattan road to stop him. Whirlwind began spinning menacingly and the dozen police officers that manned the barricade unleashed a wall of bullets in his direction. The bullets that made it past the spinning blades on his wrists deflected harmlessly off of his Whirlwind’s armor and, within seconds, he had breached the barricade and was amongst them. The boy gasped as Whirlwind began to run through police officers with ruthless efficiency, impaling and dismembering them one by one until only he was left standing.

“… My god,” Hank said, raising one of his hands to his mouth.

Whirlwind looked round, spotting the boy hidden behind the truck and the camera began to shake uncontrollably. The super-villain raised one of his hands into the air and waggled his finger from side to side, shaking his head with disapproval, before sending a gust of wind that sent the boy flying. There was a loud crashing noise as the boy, and the phone, landed with a crash and the screen turned to black.

 

[Eddie Brock]

"Alright, homie," I say, squatting next to Powderkeg. "I'll admit, we had ulterior motives for coming in here and busting your **** up. As fun as that was, we're looking for a boy. Name's Victor Alvarez."

"Sounds familiar," Powderkeg says, his voice faraway and dreamy. "Punk name Bobbito showed up here with him awhile back. Said Victor needed a job. I sent both of them to a place we got in Chinatown. Place where we process MGH.Last I saw of Victor, he was headed there."

"Chinatown," I say, looking up at Danny. "'Forget it, Jake, it's Chinatown.'"

"Let's go, then. Got places to go, people to beat and 'I'm your huckleberry.'"

"I go with a Chinatown quote, and you counter with a Tombstone quote?"

"Mine was more appropriate. Now, 'how about you make like a tree, and get outta here!'"

"Back to the Future. You win, good sir."

With police sirens growing louder, Danny and I make a hasty exit out the club, and head back towards Manhattan to Chinatown.

Chinatown

Some time later, Luke and I arrive at the location of Powderkeg's real business. On the outside, it simply looks like a Chinese restaurant. However, after a little bit of "reconnaissance" - street shakedowns, in other words - we've learned that the mutant growth hormone processing plant is in the basement. If we thought that busting up Powderkeg's club brought down a lot of heat, we're in for worse here.

Luke takes a step towards the place, and I hold out my hand and stop him. "Just so you know. That hypnotic fist technique? It took a lot out of me," I explain.

"So... what, you saying that you aren't ready to go?" Luke asks.

I smirk. "No. I'm just saying that you might have to handle the heavy-lifting this time."

"Oh, as opposed to all the other times," Luke laughs. "Let's go."

As we enter the restaurant, we're confronted by an unassuming Asian hostess. "Table for two?" she asks pleasantly enough, considering our outfits and general disposition.

"Take out, actually," I respond.

Luke cracks his neck. "Yeah, I was actually hoping to give my regards to the chef. Is he in?" Without waiting for an answer, Luke lumbers past the hostess and begins marching across the restaurant.

As I follow, the hostess shuffles to keep pace with us. "Please! You no go back here!" She motions frantically at the front door, though whether she's signaling for us to leave or simply wait to be seated, I can't really tell.

Luke throws open both of the double-sided doors leading to the kitchen. The staff looks up in surprise and bewilderment. "Don't mind us, boys. Just looking for a restroom." He nods to a trap door at the far end of the room, just by the storage freezer.

Despite loud protests from the kitchen staff, in both Chinese and English, I throw open the trap door. A set of dimly-lit stairs leads down to the basement. I go first, and Luke follows closely after. At the bottom of the stairs, there's a steel door. I knock firmly, and the sound reverberates loudly throughout the cramped space.

The man who answers the door receives a swift, open-palm strike to the face. His nose shatters under the force of it, and he falls bleeding to the floor. The assault rifle in his hands clatters uselessly. The room opens up off to the left, with tables upon tables littered with glassware and equipment. The guards reach for their weapons in a frenzy, and I give Luke a nod. We rush into the room just as the armed men begin to take their first shots.

 

[Byrd Man]

The man who answers the door receives a swift, open-palm strike to the face. His nose shatters under the force of it, and he falls bleeding to the floor. The assault rifle in his hands clatters uselessly. The room opens up off to the left, with tables upon tables littered with glassware and equipment. The guards reach for their weapons in a frenzy, and I give Luke a nod. We rush into the room just as the armed men begin to take their first shots.

Danny springs away, immediately engaging six men in combat with his speed and agility. Me? I go for the more direct approach. Like always. A thug pulls a pistol on me. Before he can pull back the hammer and set his sights on me, I'm charging him. My knee crashes into his chest and sends him flying across the room where he slams into a table filled with chemical equipment.

"Damn. Kind of overshot the landing on that one"

Gunfire whizzes around me. Ducking, I turn back to Danny, who's quickly dispatched the six guys he was taking on and has now moved on to four more. "Just a heads up, might want to go easy on these guys. I don't see any sign of Victor yet, but these mooks are gonna be the one to tell us where he is. Gotta leave them with enough gray matter to actually speak."

Another thug tries to hit me with the butt of his AK. I step back, avoiding the stock, and grab the gun's barrel, bending it with my bare hands. The guy looks at me flabbergasted. "Yeah. That's what's up," I say, headbutting him and knocking him unconscious. Danny backflips over me and spin-kicks two guys to the ground.

"What did you just say to me, Luke? Leave them conscious, right?"

"Do as I say, not as I do!"

On the other side of the basement, a fire roars to life. One of the mooks runs away from the fire as the chemicals strike it, feeding the flames and making them grow larger and stronger.

"Son of a--"

The fire engulfs a barrel of chemicals, heating up the pressurized metal container until.

BOOOM!

The explosion rocks through the small factory, setting half the basement ablaze. The shockwave throws me hard against a wall, leaving an imprint of my body on the brick.

 

[Belvedere]

Spoiler

The Assassination of Hank Pym by the Coward David Cannon: Part Two.​

Avengers Compound, California

For the first time in weeks she wasn’t the first thing he had thought about upon waking up. Hank wasn’t sure whether this was a good thing or not, but he couldn’t help feel guilty about it either way. Slowly he wiped away the condensation from the mirrored door of the bathroom cupboard and smiled faintly at his reflection, before splashing warm water onto his face.

From the other room he could hear the sound of Greer Grant, “Tigra” to the rest of the world, thumbing her way through the morning’s copy of the Daily Bugle. She had been his rock in the months after Janet’s death and, given their history, it was only a matter of time before they fell into one another’s arms. What began as a casual arrangement had since transformed slowly into something more steady and secure. She smiled at Pym as he made his way back into the bedroom and laid out his Giant-Man costume at the end of the bed.

“The Governor of New York has resigned for accepting illegal campaign contributions from HYDRA. They’re saying criminal convictions might follow. Can you believe that?”

Hank smiled and put on a thick German accent, which was quite convincing given the time he had spent on the continent as a young man.

“This message is paid for by Baron Wolfgang Von Strucker.”

Greer laughed and slowly climbed her way out of bed, allowing the covers to slink free from her feline form and fall to the floor. As she reached Hank she lovingly placed a kiss on his lips, purring slightly as he pulled him closer towards him.

The other members of the faculty had remained, to the best of Hank and Greer’s knowledge, unaware of their relationship and the two of them intended to keep it that way. Although Hank was certain Janet would be glad they had found one another, neither he nor Grant were ready to test how their colleagues would look upon Hank moving on so quickly.

“… A girl could get used to t-”

There was a knock on the door to Pym’s quarters and both Greer and Hank froze. They looked at one another and then at the door, unsure as to what to do, before Hank gestured to Grant to hide in the bathroom and he hurriedly threw on his costume.

“Hank,” said a voice from the other side of the door. “It’s Vance.”

Pym turned the handle slowly after making sure Grant was out of sight, flattened down his hair and opened the door to Vance Astrovik, one of the senior instructors at Avengers Academy, whose grave look alerted him to that it wasn’t a social call. Vance momentarily stopped midsentence upon noticing the lower half of Tigra’s costume on Pym’s floor but thought better of mentioning it; Hank was a grown man, what he did was his own business as far as Astrovik was concerned. He lifted his thumb into the air and pointed it over his shoulder towards the Compound lobby.

“You’re going to want to see this,” he said solemnly and set off for the lobby.

A bemused look appeared on Hank’s face and he looked over his shoulder, noticing the lower half of the costume and gently tapped his fist against his head before following after Vance. When the pair arrived in the lobby they found the entire faculty of Avengers Academy assembled in front of a television screen. Speedball looked round at Hank nervously before shuffling out of the way in order to free up his line of sight; although, to little surprise, it would not be long before Hank would wish he hadn’t.

It was grainy footage of one of Pym’s oldest foes Whirlwind. The boy filming, in his late teens, was cowering behind a truck brandishing his smart phone in the super-villains direction. Whirlwind, unaware of his presence, continued towards the police barricade that had been erected on the Lower Manhattan road to stop him. Whirlwind began spinning menacingly and the dozen police officers that manned the barricade unleashed a wall of bullets in his direction. The bullets that made it past the spinning blades on his wrists deflected harmlessly off of his Whirlwind’s armor and, within seconds, he had breached the barricade and was amongst them. The boy gasped as Whirlwind began to run through police officers with ruthless efficiency, impaling and dismembering them one by one until only he was left standing.

“… My god,” Hank said, raising one of his hands to his mouth.

Whirlwind looked round, spotting the boy hidden behind the truck and the camera began to shake uncontrollably. The super-villain raised one of his hands into the air and waggled his finger from side to side, shaking his head with disapproval, before sending a gust of wind that sent the boy flying. There was a loud crashing noise as the boy, and the phone, landed with a crash and the screen turned to black.

The Assassination of Hank Pym by the Coward David Cannon: Part Three.​

Brooklyn, New York

From his window David watched as the police helicopters swooped over his apartment building and headed towards the Brooklyn Bridge. They had been searching for Whirlwind all day and, more than likely, they would continue doing so until some other super-villain killed a couple of cops on the other side of town. The problem with the police, especially in a city as big as New York, was that they were too reactionary. It was bad enough dealing with normal criminals like that, next to impossible to handle super-criminals that way.

“… Not bad for an hour’s work.”

Cannon placed his hands on his helmet and slowly removed it from his head, throwing it to the floor and smiling as he admired the two large sacks of money he had acquired earlier in the day. It would take some days to successfully launder it all and clear out the marked bills, but he had more than enough money sitting in front of him to destroy Hank Pym with. He intended to upgrade his armor before the next met which meant a visit to Phineas Mason was in order, but until then he would have to sit tight and plan his next move.

“I have to admit, you always did know how to put on a show…”

Yellowjacket was back. Whoever it was under that mask had helped him plan the job he had pulled off this morning. The man wandered around the small apartment, stepping over discarded pieces of pizza and empty beer cans as he did so. He ran his finger along the walls of the apartment, touching the pictures of Janet Van Dyne affectionately as he passed each one.

“I take it you’re here for your cut,” Cannon said with a grin, as he reached into one of the bags. “Surprised it took you this long.”

“Why don’t you hold onto that for me? There’ll be plenty more where that came from. Let’s just hope Pym saw it…”

David shrugged his shoulders and sat himself on the couch. He kicked the pizza boxes away from the top of the coffee table and rested his feet on them nonchalantly, then placed his interlocking fingers behind his head. He thought for a moment that only one night ago he had sat in the same position ready to blow his own brains out; ready to leave this world whilst that coward, Henry Pym, still drew breath. Pym had let Janet die. He had failed her as a man and a husband, like Cannon had told her he would. Oh, how they held him up and revered Pym now, but Cannon was ready to expose him as the false prophet he was. The people would thank him, after he ended Pym’s sorry life. They would thank him of ridding the world of a cowardly, woman-beater like him.

“You really think that coward will come all the way across the country for little old me?”

Yellowjacket reached into his utility belt and removed several pictures, which he threw onto the coffee table next to David’s feet. The first was of a young black male that he did not recognize, David turned the picture over and read the name scrawled on the back, which brought a faint smile to his face. The second he recognized straight away as Tigra, having butted heads with the Avengers more than his fair share of times he was aware of her links with Pym. The last picture, even with the name scrawled on the back, was a mystery to him.

“I’m counting on it.”

 

[bkhedr]

"Wow" Piledriver says after watching the side of a building simply disintegrate into nothingness "You weren't kidding Wrecker."

"Yeah" Bulldozer adds as he pats the Wrecker on the shoulder "That whatchamacallit you got from AIM sure packs a punch."

Only Thunderball, who leans against a tenement wall with his arms folded across his chest, remains unimpressed.

"I don't know Wrecker, this doesn't feel right." he says "I mean why would AIM just hand over something like that to us? Why not just use it for themselves?"

"Cause I paid 'em for it Elliot." The Wrecker retorts sharply "That's what AIM does, they sell weapons."

"That's only part of what AIM does." Thunderball replies, straightening up "Look we've still got some cash on hand, why don't we take your new toy to the Tinkerer, or even the Wizard, have them check it out before we try to do anything crazy."

"Awww cahman Thunderball." Piledriver says sourly "Can't you see how great that thing is?"

Behind him, the Wrecker, who's clearly enjoying his new toy, waves the universal weapon in a casual arc and the air in front of it freezes into a solid wall of ice, illustrating Piledriver's point.

"I just think we should be careful"

"Ha! I bet you were the kind of kid who was afraid to open his presents on Christmas morning, just in case." Bulldozer laughs

"And I'll bet you were the kind of kid who'd jump off a cliff just to see what would happen!" Thunderball says, agitated now.

"Hey!" Bulldozer raises his fists and lowers his head "That ain't funny Ball! I was a cute kid!"

"I didn't say you weren't moron!" Thunderball growls back as he hefts his wrecking ball, clearly willing to take his frustration at the Wrecker out on Bulldozer.

"Hey take it easy fellas." Piledriver says with open hands held up in front of him "We're all friends here."

But the two super villians are already closing in on each other, that is until a gesture from the Wrecker suddenly encapsulates them both of force bubbles of near impenetrable energy.

"That's enough you two. Piledriver's right, we're friends and more than that, we're a crew." He eyes Thunderball dangerously "Right?"

Thunderball grits his teeth in frustration and subtly tests the bubble's strength, but he's nothing if not level headed and the Wrecker is right, they're a crew and they have been for a long time. That was their lot, for better or worse.

"Right." He relents at last "Now let us out will ya."

The Wrecker does so then props the Universal Weapon over his shoulder as his crew gathers around him.

"So what now Wrecker?"

"Now we let everybody know that we're not to be messed with anymore." The Wrecker says with a toothy smile

"Startin' with the Avengers." He concludes as Piledriver and Bulldozer exchange grins while Thunderball slaps his forehead with his palm.


​

The Triumphal Arch at the entrance of the Manhattan bridge is busy with mid morning traffic and none of the New Yorkers going about their business pay any mind to the four large men in trench coats who stand near the edge of the entrance murmuring amongst themselves.

"You sure this is a good idea Wrecker?" Cannonball questions as he eyes the crowd of vehicles and pedestrians. His eyes come to rest on a pair of cops across the street, sipping coffee in their parked cruiser.

"S'matter Cannonball?" Bulldozer asks "Scared?"

"Just cause I'm the only one smart enough to wonder if this is such a good idea doesn't mean I'm scared Dozer." He turns to face the crew "What we're about to do, we're asking for trouble."

"Damn right we are." The Wrecker confirms "We're going big time and this here's gonna be our statement. The heroes will come and try to stop us like they always do, and this time, we'll teach them a lesson they won't forget."

"I hope you're right." Cannonball replies with a sigh of resignation.

"Cahman." An excited Piledriver adds "Let's get this party started."

"Alright. Just remember to stay off the bridge." The Wrecker replies before the Wrecking Crew drop their trench coats and get to work destroying everything in sight.

​

 

[bkhedr]

Moon Knight crouches low, his white cape fluttering behind him, as he rides Angel Wing over a wooded area of an expensive residential section of upstate New York.

Despite appearances, this part of town was not exactly the home of the rich and famous, rather it had a reputation for being the area of choice for high level mobsters to make their homes, usually in the form of plush estates. It allowed them to maintain a distance from their crimes and served to insulate their families from the mob life. At least that what the rumors were. Guys who lived out here, they rarely got charged with anything.

Still, Moon Knight could not help but continue to wonder if Boar had lied to him, though the drug dealer's fear of him had been real enough. The kind of guys who lived up here tended to have city council men and bankers in their pockets, and he found it hard to believe that one of them would be peddling MGH. Still, he had had no better option than to follow up on the lead. Hence the late night flight.

With his target rapidly coming into view, Moon Knight slows Angel Wing and leaps from the small platform and onto a high wall.

Sprawled out before him is the Manor. Some quick research had informed him that it had, until recently, been known as the Monti Estate, home of a near legendary mobster who was alleged to have made his money in high level prostitution and gambling. Monti hadn't been seen in weeks and the underground had taken to calling this place the Manor. To Marc that could only mean one thing. Monti had been taken out.

A buzz inside his cowl demands his attention, a cowl from the tower. Samuels had terrible timing. Deactivating the buzz, Marc goes back to scanning the perimeter. If what Boar told him was true, he was going to be in for one hell of a night and that was under the best of circumstances. If he wasn't careful he probably wouldn't be leaving here in one piece, if at all.

Another buzz and Marc narrows his eyes in annoyance.

"What?" He growls into the phone built into his cowl

"Hey Moon Knight." A chill runs down Marc's spine. Only Samuels had this number but this wasn't him. This voice was rough, dangerous, almost feral.

"Who is this?"

"You know who this is." The voice replies "Stupid of you to think that I wouldn't be hunting you while you were hunting me."

"Samuels?"

"You're butler's alright, mostly. You want him to stay that way you best hurry home."

"If you hurt him!"

"Ah-ahh Moon Knight. You don't get to threaten me. I'm gonna have to take that out on your friend."

A muffled whimper that quickly turns into a scream of pain is heard before the line goes dead.

​

 

[Eddie Brock]

On the other side of the basement, a fire roars to life. One of the mooks runs away from the fire as the chemicals strike it, feeding the flames and making them grow larger and stronger.

"Son of a--"

The fire engulfs a barrel of chemicals, heating up the pressurized metal container until.

BOOOM!

The explosion rocks through the small factory, setting half the basement ablaze. The shockwave throws me hard against a wall, leaving an imprint of my body on the brick.

I throw up my arms, covering my face from the heat from the explosion. Shattered glass rains down upon me. In an instant, half the laboratory goes up in flames - and there are more chemicals yet to ignite. I start looking around for a fire extinguisher before deciding it's no use. The fire is growing much too quickly. We have to get out of here.

"Luke! We need to move before this place comes down around us!"

Luke pushes himself to his feet, shaking the mortar dust off his back. He looks around, appraising the situation, and quickly reaches the same conclusion I did. "Grab a goon. We can't just leave 'em here," he replies.

With a nod, I grab two semi-conscious gunmen by their collars. As I'm dragging them towards the stairs, I ask, "What about the restaurant?"

"If they heard the explosion," Luke replies, throwing an unconscious thug over his shoulder before picking up two more, "maybe they already evacuated. If not, we need to get them out of there."

Luke pushes open the door, and I drag my two goons to the relative safety of the stairwell. Luke drops his "passengers" like he was carrying around bags of flour. We both fight the wall of heat and head back into the lab to rescue more.

"Danny, watch out!"

A metal beam, loosened by the explosion, swings around and knocks me in the head. I fall to the floor, dazed and disoriented. Sweat rolls down my forehead as the fire grows stronger. I fight the urge to slip into unconsciousness, knowing that I can't afford to get trapped down here. Suddenly, I feel a large hand grab me by the shoulder. Must be Luke's. I feel myself get dragged away from the flames as my peripheral vision goes dark...

 

[Byrd Man]

Manhattan


Steve ran across a rooftop at full steam, his feet crunching the gravel underfoot as he ran. His shield was off his back and in his hand, ready to use.

"This is Captain America to any and all people in the area on the Avengers' frequencies, I've got a situation here in Lower Manhattan, could use some help."

He leaped from the roof, tucking his legs as he somersaulted through the air. He uncurled his body and landed perfectly on the bridge, looking up at the four men that were attacking innocent civilians.

"Gentlemen. Put down the weapons and surrender. Nobody else needs to get hurt."
​

 

[bkhedr]

The strength and authority in Captain America's voice causes the Wrecking Crew to literally free in their tracks as four pairs of eyes lock on him and countless civilians and police relax visibly for just having heard his words.

"Captain America?" The Wrecker snorts, having overcome his initial reaction to Cap's arrival "You think you're gonna stop us alone?"

"You know his type are never alone Wrecker" Cannonball warns "The rest of his Avenger buddies probably won't be too far behind."

"Then let's get with the program." The Wrecker says with some urgency as he turns his attention to Cannonball "You and me will start herdin' people on to the bridge like we talked about."

He turns and points at Piledriver and Bulldozer "You two, squash that star spangled jerk before his friends get here."

"You got it Wrecker." Bulldozer says as he lowers his head and lines Captain America up.

"Yeah." Piledriver adds as he cracks his knuckles "It'll be a pleasure."

 

[Byrd Man]

The strength and authority in Captain America's voice causes the Wrecking Crew to literally free in their tracks as four pairs of eyes lock on him and countless civilians and police relax visibly for just having heard his words.

"Captain America?" The Wrecker snorts, having overcome his initial reaction to Cap's arrival "You think you're gonna stop us alone?"

"You know his type are never alone Wrecker" Cannonball warns "The rest of his Avenger buddies probably won't be too far behind."

"Then let's get with the program." The Wrecker says with some urgency as he turns his attention to Cannonball "You and me will start herdin' people on to the bridge like we talked about."

He turns and points at Piledriver and Bulldozer "You two, squash that star spangled jerk before his friends get here."

"You got it Wrecker." Bulldozer says as he lowers his head and lines Captain America up.

"Yeah." Piledriver adds as he cracks his knuckles "It'll be a pleasure."

"Just remember," Cap said, narrowing his eyes at the two Wrecking Crew. "I gave you a chance to surrender."

Steve leaped into the air, landing on Bulldozer's back and springing off of him, his shield out and smacking Piledriver in the face. Cap spun around just in time to be slammed into by Bulldozer. Steve grunted as the Wrecking Crew member slammed him into a parked taxicab. The cab skidded across the road as Bulldozer kept on crushing Cap's ribs with force.

"Hey, buddy," a voice said behind Bulldozer. The man turned just as a repulsor blast struck him in the face.

"You rang?" Iron Man asked Cap.

"Yeah, thanks for the save, Tony."

"Don't mention it. I was in the neighborhood, well actually I wasn't, but I couldn't pass a chance to show off."

"You want to show off? The other two are further up the bridge. Take them on."

"What about Piledriver?" Stark asked, motioning over his shoulder at the recovering criminal.

"I'll take care of him," Cap said with a nod. Iron Man took to the air, flying towards the other two members of the Wrecking Crew as Cap raced forward to Piledriver.