The "Rise Of Marvels" RPG, Year One

Ben turned at the sound of Johnny's voice and stood still, waiting for him to find him. His little pal emerged from the forage, his modelish face still as handsome as it had always been. Lucky schmuck. Ben had not been too bad of a looker himself; modeling just wasn't for him. Why stand around being blinded when you can go out and bump heads with the roughest guys out there?

Then again, perhaps now he couldn't if he wanted to. He wondered just what he looked like. He knew his body was big, orange, and very rock-like, but did his face look like his face in orange stone, or was it morphed?
Johnny approached with an understanding expression, and Ben looked into the sky, concentrating on a flock of birds high in the cloudless sky.

"You're real lucky, Johnny. There are lotsa guys out there who don't escape a fire with their face intact. But, you look... unscathed. Then again, I don't know what day it is. How long have I been out? Where are we?"

As these questions emerged from Ben's rough lips, it dawned on him that he had not been asking the important questions.

"What exactly was Reed doin', hotshot? Why do y'all look fine, and I'm so drastically different? Why did... Sue... turn invisible? Who's my doc? Have I been given any medicine? Y'know I'm allergic to penicillin. And... well..."

Ben met Johnny's eyes and held his gaze. He had to ask.

"Tell me the truth, Johnny... is this for real?"
 
Ben turned at the sound of Johnny's voice and stood still, waiting for him to find him. His little pal emerged from the forage, his modelish face still as handsome as it had always been. Lucky schmuck. Ben had not been too bad of a looker himself; modeling just wasn't for him. Why stand around being blinded when you can go out and bump heads with the roughest guys out there?

Then again, perhaps now he couldn't if he wanted to. He wondered just what he looked like. He knew his body was big, orange, and very rock-like, but did his face look like his face in orange stone, or was it morphed?
Johnny approached with an understanding expression, and Ben looked into the sky, concentrating on a flock of birds high in the cloudless sky.

"You're real lucky, Johnny. There are lotsa guys out there who don't escape a fire with their face intact. But, you look... unscathed. Then again, I don't know what day it is. How long have I been out? Where are we?"

As these questions emerged from Ben's rough lips, it dawned on him that he had not been asking the important questions.

"What exactly was Reed doin', hotshot? Why do y'all look fine, and I'm so drastically different? Why did... Sue... turn invisible? Who's my doc? Have I been given any medicine? Y'know I'm allergic to penicillin. And... well..."

Ben met Johnny's eyes and held his gaze. He had to ask.

"Tell me the truth, Johnny... is this for real?"
Shortly after finding Ben, I'm flooded with questions. I try my best to single them all out, but - hey - I'm a model. I just have a pretty face - or so the media would lead you to believe. Nonetheless, it is a little hard keeping up. Then again, I don't blame Ben for freaking out. It's not like Reed or I have displayed anything unusual...yet.

"Unfortunately, it is real," I reply, addressing the most pertinent issue first. "As for what happened, it was another one of Reed's experiments. All of it went way over my head, but you get the idea. Those machines of his weren't meant to explode, and I think we were all exposed to some serious stuff."

I put my hands in my pockets and lean against the nearest tree.

"For some reason, you and Sue have displayed the most sensitivity to the radiation," I continue, "But Reed and I might have changed, too. The important thing is that we figure it out together."

I look Ben in the eyes. They're still the same shade of blue.

"Reed won't let you stay like this forever, man. After all, we didn't think you could get uglier."

I smirk. It may not be the best time for jokes, but if anyone could use a laugh, it was Ben.
 
It was a joke. They both knew it was a joke. The kid was just trying to lighten the mood. But Ben just didn't feel like laughing at the moment.

"You're right, kid."

Ben sat down and leaned back against the tree. It didn't feel like rough bark scratching his back and irritating him... it felt like... like a dry sponge, not too rough, but not so soft. Ben plucked a handful of grass and rubbed them between his large, mishapen fingers. He could barely tell what they felt like... but he decided that they felt most like flat, softened twigs, like the kind off of a Christmas tree.

"Everything feels so different, Johnny."

Ben brought the grass up to his nose and took a deep whiff. Yup. They still smelled the same. He put the grass up to the side of his head and rustled it. Sounded the same. Of course they looked the same. What was left was to taste them. He took a brief look at the grass in his hand and looked away in disgust. He'd save the taste results for food.

"Even though everything looks, sounds, and smells the same, it all feels different. I feel different. It don't feel right, Johnny. It just don't feel right."

The Thing fought back tears that abruptly threatened to blurry his vision. With resolve, though, he managed not to cry. This couldn't be temporary. Certainly his immune system would kick in, and his skin would heal from whatever these effects were, and he'd turn back to normal. Of course, it would be impossible for him to stay this way forever.

"This thing's only for temp, kid, 'til my body does its job and kicks out all the bad germs that are clumping up this orange crud on my skin. I'm sure of it."
 
"His brain activity is through the roof", shouted the doctor to the two nurses in the room with him and Max.

"Linda, bring me some meds, quickly!"

"I'm on it", replied Linda as she ran out to get the medication.

"What the hell is going on in there, Max", asked the doctor as he looked down to the unconscious Maxwell Dillon as he began to twitch and shake...

--------------------

Max blinked hard and shook his head, trying to knock out the cobwebs that remained from the night before.
He reached up to scratch his chin, his fingers itching the course stubble as he hadn't shaved in a couple days.

"You look like Hell, Max", said Bernie McManus, one of his co-workers at OsCorp.
"You all right?"

"I'm fine", replied Max, "just didn't sleep well last night."

More like at all, thought Max to himself as his mind wandered back to the past night. At least to what he could remember.

Whiskey, pills, and blow make for one hell of a cocktail.

"Why don't you get a cup of coffee or something first", asked Bernie with a slight look of concern.

"I said I'm fine", snapped Max.

"I'm sorry", Dillon quickly apologized with a sigh.
"It's just been a ruff week is all. I appreciate your concern, Bernie, but I'm fine. Let's get to work."

Max walked across the lab floor towards the large device, the prototype energy generator by OsCorp Industries. Max let out a deep sigh as he took off the side panel of the device.

Where did it all go wrong, he thought to himself?

He had a good job, a loving family...everything was perfect for him. Then came Norman Osborn with the deal of a lifetime. Finally Max would have the money to give his wife and son the life they deserved. The life he never had. But it had all spiraled down since that day he signed the contract agreement. Now Max was alone, not counting his friends Jack and Jose, and all he had left to him was his work. Before meeting Laura, Max would spend hours upon hours messing around with wiring and electrical equipment. It was relaxing to him. It eased his mind.

But now it just seemed like a chore to him. And that change in attitude showed in his work as the quality began to slip. Max knew he was walking a dangerous line. Osborn wanted perfection, and the slightest slip-up could land Max into unemployment and deeper into depression.
As Max pulled out a pair of wire cutters and began to carefully strip the plastic coating from the wires, he thought of what he decided earlier this morning. This project would be his last with OsCorp. He would walk into Norman's office tomorrow and throw in his resignation. He would go and start a new company, smaller than the first one. And he would do everything he could to win Laura back, and to see his son, Jay, again.

Max smiled as the image of his boy entered his mind. It was a pleasant distraction, but a distraction none-the-less. And Max cut too deep into the wiring, slicing into the wire itself. A surge of energy rushed into Max's body. His every nerve felt like it was on fire. Max tried to scream, but nothing came out...

--------------------

"He's going into convulsions! Hold him down", shouted the doctor to the nurse.

The nurse moved to grab him, but as soon as she laid a hand on him volts of electrical energy flowed into her body. Her hair burned and sizzled and her gums blackened and her lips peeled back.

Her scream was deafening, but it was drowned out by the shout of the man she was there to help. Max's eyes shot open for the first time in a month.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

As he screamed and shot up from the table, an electrical firestorm erupted in the room. Machines blew apart as energy tore through the entire area. A bolt of pure power blew through the doctor's chest, leaving him nothing more than a bloody smear on the ground.
The nurse, dead before his outburst, was thrown across the room, a charred thing slumped against the wall.

Max's scream grew louder and louder, and the electrical maelstrom grew with it. Soon Max's body was lost in the currents of energy tearing through the room. And, in an instant, all went calm once more.

Linda Carter came rushing back into the room followed by other doctors and security guards. All were horrified at the scene of death and destruction they witnessed.
Linda looked on in shock and horror at the two dead bodies in the room, her mouth agap but unable to process any words.

And then a look of confusion appeared plainly on Linda's face as she looked towards the bed to see that Maxwell Dillon had disappeared...
 
"I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips
n*igga im from new york
i got a semi-automatic that spits next time that you talk" - Ja Rule, New York

The Kingpin, quite frankly, was not amused. The Taskmaster was attempting to make an impression on Wilson, but this impression was not good. Still, he could ill afford to have a shootout in his own office. The feds would surely jump all over that.

Fisk sat down in his chair, squashing the butt of his cigar into the ashtray on his desk. Folding his hands across his stomach and leaning back, Wilson grinned slyly. "Impressive. But I must say, your reputation preceeds you. There is no need for theatrics. I have brought you here because I am need of your... services. "

Wilson took a seconds pause, to see if the Taskmaster would respond. Nope. He continued to firmly hold the gun against his guards head, ready to pull the trigger at a seconds notice. Fisk nodded. The Taskmaster was definitely the man for the job.

On his desk was a small glass with 3 fingers of Glenlivet, of which Wilson took a small sip. He motioned to the man with the gun, "Drink?" The Taskmaster shook his head sternly. Fisk shrugged.

"I'll be frank, as time is short," Wilson said. "Over my years in this city, I have acquired a certain reputation. This reputation has, unfortunately, caught the attention and scrutiny of many law enforcement authorities, both municipal and federal. However, recently, my activities and reputation have caught the attention of another so-called authority, who has grown to become an increasingly large thorn in my side."

Wilson scowled, his voice dropping to a growl, allowing the menace in his tone and his heart to be heard. "Daredevil. Take out Daredevil and I promise you, this will be the first of many very, very lucrative assignments for you."

Daredevil? Didn't expect Kingpin to launch me into something of that league. Not that I can't do it of course, there ain't no task I can't do. I push the guard out in front of me and holster his weapon. "I'll be needing this." I turn to leave. "You got yourself a deal Mr. Kingpin, consider Daredevil outta the picture, expect to hear from me soon."

I stand back in the elevator and take a bow. "Oh and one more thing Mr. Kingpin. I want a bloody costume."
 
Diamondback found himself sitting in a chair sorrounded by computers and other forms of technology. He wasn't tied up, and the chair was extremely comfortable. As Diamondback looked around, he noticed that he was in an abandoned storage depot at the docks. Moments later Big Brother stepped into the room, with a grin stretched arcoss his face.

"How long has it been since our little stand still in Detroit? I was hoping that you and I could reconstruct a little of the alliance we once had. How about it Stryker?"

Willis looked out the near by window, and returned a gaze to Big Brother, "Pleeeeaaseee! Look at this place. You don't have any other talents besides computers, and that don't interest me. The last time we teamed up we almost killed each other, and Gadjet got pinched. No way, chump. I ain't never hookin up with you sorry ass again."

Big Brother's grin quickly turned to a frown, "I advise you to watch what you say, Willis. No matter how much disgust you have for me, I am still your better."

""My better", s***! You must have forgotten the outcome of our fight last time."

Willis stood up, and Big Brother stood in front of him, "Listen, Willis, all other matters aside we can still work together. I realize after observing you that you no longer have profit as your high priority. Now, I can respect that, but you must understand our position at this conjuction. Join me and I can help you as you help me, and because its just the two of us now we slpit all things fifty - fifty. How about it?"

Diamondback looked over to the window, and stared for a good minute. When he finally came to an answer he turned back to Big Brother.

"Alright, but listen when I tell you this ain't a partnership. I do things solo now. So you call me when you need something takein care of, and I don't mean no bull**** task either. I mean a real job; assassination, business deals, you know, things like that. But no double crossing. If I think for one minute you crossin me up it's over. I'll take you out myself."

"Willis, you crossed me last time, and don't worry I said fifty - fifty."

Diamondback smirked as he knew two things as of now. First, Big Brother must be desperate if he's willing so bad to work with me, and second, as soon as we get on top of the world this lousy mutha is going to cross me.
 
It was a joke. They both knew it was a joke. The kid was just trying to lighten the mood. But Ben just didn't feel like laughing at the moment.

"You're right, kid."

Ben sat down and leaned back against the tree. It didn't feel like rough bark scratching his back and irritating him... it felt like... like a dry sponge, not too rough, but not so soft. Ben plucked a handful of grass and rubbed them between his large, mishapen fingers. He could barely tell what they felt like... but he decided that they felt most like flat, softened twigs, like the kind off of a Christmas tree.

"Everything feels so different, Johnny."

Ben brought the grass up to his nose and took a deep whiff. Yup. They still smelled the same. He put the grass up to the side of his head and rustled it. Sounded the same. Of course they looked the same. What was left was to taste them. He took a brief look at the grass in his hand and looked away in disgust. He'd save the taste results for food.

"Even though everything looks, sounds, and smells the same, it all feels different. I feel different. It don't feel right, Johnny. It just don't feel right."

The Thing fought back tears that abruptly threatened to blurry his vision. With resolve, though, he managed not to cry. This couldn't be temporary. Certainly his immune system would kick in, and his skin would heal from whatever these effects were, and he'd turn back to normal. Of course, it would be impossible for him to stay this way forever.

"This thing's only for temp, kid, 'til my body does its job and kicks out all the bad germs that are clumping up this orange crud on my skin. I'm sure of it."
I just look him in the eyes. I can't say anything because I don't know what to say. I'm not sure Reed even knows what's going on, and he's the super-smart one of the bunch. All of this is way beyond my comprehension level, and I'm really making it up as I go along.

"Yeah, well, let's see what Reed has to say," I announce with a hint of doubt in my tone. I've seen people recover from amazing things, but look at Ben. If his immune system is powerful enough to fight off this, then the guy is a champ.

Unfortunately, that's not what I picture happening.

I turn and begin to walk up the path to the hospital. I stop once and look back to see if Ben is following.
 
"Yeah, well, let's see what Reed has to say."

Gee, thanks for the confidence, kid. Sheesh, teenage punks these days.

Ben watched him start to walk away. Ben did not want to head back just yet. It was easy for Johnny to accept things, he wasn't the big, orange thing. Figuring on taking some peace and quiet time, Ben laid his head back against the spongey bark and looked up at the branches. He could see a flycatcher pearched on a branch looking around for a bit to eat.

"Hey, look, a little b--"

SPLORT!

"Awww, nuts!"

Ben scrubbed at the poop on his chin with his big fingers. The bird had flown away, but Ben still pumped his fist at the empty branch.

"Yo, hotshot, wait up!"
 
DOOM

"Lieutenant von Bardas, your squad is to attack the factory’s western wing and secure the vehicle manufacturing facilities."

"Yes, sir."

"Velsing your squad is with me. We’re attacking the factory head-on and diverting attention towards ourselves to assist Lieutenant Bardas."

"Very well, sir."

"Should they begin to use explosives or heavy fire, stay near me--within 2.5 meters. My shields should hold them off."

This attack should require a bit more strategy than the last. In Szoke, I used brute force to overpower them. Here, however, I want the factory in tact and fully functional after we rid it of soldiers.

"Only neutralize military and security personnel– spare the factory workers but do not let them leave."

"Yes, sir," said Lucia. She looked back at her now anxious and impatient squad.

"Move out!"

The soldiers immediately sprang into action and began charging towards the factory with Lucia close behind. Bram and I take a different route and head towards the front of the arsenal. As we neared the main gates we can hear the loud rattle of machine guns and the thunderous booms of grenades and other explosives–most likely Lucia’s attempt at destroying the western gate. When he got there, we were greeted with a spray of bullets from the soldiers standing guard. Bram and his men quickly went for cover while I continued marching forward. The block is lit up with the bright flashes from my energy beams. I blast away at the gates and punish the soldiers for their insolence. After the smoke clears, I call Velsing and he and his soldiers come rushing out of cover and through the now clear path.

Gunshots echo throughout the air and a few of Bram’s men collapse as they run towards the factory entrance. Special lenses built into my mask drop down over my eyes and scan the area. Just as I thought–snipers. My scanners target the snipers which I proceed to blast away with my beams. Their charred bodies tumble out of the factory windows and rain down on Bram’s squad as the enter the factory. Using the boosters on my boots and waist, I’m able to quickly jet towards the entrance. I’m pleased to see Bram’s troops finishing off a squadron of enemy soldiers inside the factory.

We continue to navigate through the many rooms of the arsenal. We pass by montionless conveyer belts topped with shells and warheads. We hear a loud ‘BANG’ and another one of our men goes down. I quickly activate my force field to shield us until the shooter could be found. My scanners search the room and find the culprits–four gunners hiding behind some crates. I notify Bram and tell the troops to watch their fire. The force field is lowered and Bram’s soldiers begin to shoot in quick, controlled bursts. Two of the gunners are shot dead, the other two try to flee. Bram is able to get one in the back of the head but the other manages to escape by running up a nearby staircase. We sprint towards the staircase and as we go up, more soldiers come running down. I use my force fields to block their first few shots but quickly lower it to allow my squad to return fire. We continue pushing upwards as we exchange bullets. Occasionally, a corpse or two will come tumbling down the stairs. We come closer and closer to the top of the staircase as the enemy’s numbers begin wearing thin. After I blast away the remaining soldiers, we reach the top. Inside the room are several factory workers, huddled together in a corner. Bram and his squad point their guns at them and they immediately raise their arms in surrender.

I begin to hear a crackling hiss on the inside of my helmet–I was being contacted by Lucia.

"Western wing secured, sir," she said as the static began to clear, "Awaiting orders."

I activated my radio communicator located in the forearm of my gauntlet.

"Good work, Lieutenant. Round up all workers in the area and await further instruction. We will take care of the remaining soldiers."

* * *​

After about an hour or two, we had successfully cleared out the building. General Vargo’s forces made sure that no reinforcements were sent into the factory. The only ones who remained in the arsenal were me, my soldiers, and hundreds of factory workers that were now being held captive. I had instructed Lucia to bring all the workers her squad had captured into the main assembly room. There, they waited, closely monitored by our troops. I entered the room and every head immediately turned towards me and stare in awe.

"Greetings. For the few of you who do not know me, I am Victor von Doom. For the remainder of this war, you shall be under my employment."

The workers stood and stared quietly, eyes wide with fear and mouths ajar.

"Here is what you shall be constructing."

I slide open the forearm of my gauntlet, revealing a small keypad. After punching in a sequence, the gauntlet opens itself and reveals several tiny devices hidden within. I draw two disc-like objects from the compartment and throw them to the floor. The two discs beep a few times and then display two large and vivid holograms. One hologram illustrated several different parts and schematics with intricate assembly instructions while the other displayed a large and ominous-looking automaton.

"I want at least twenty-five of these built by this time tomorrow. If demand is not met, there will be serious repercussions."
 
IC: The Amazing Spider-Man!

"So, what do you want ME to do?" Peter asked the bearded, well-dressed man standing in front of him.

"All YOU need to do is show up."

"So you REALLY want me to be on the 'Tonight Show'? I mean, you're serious?"

The other man shrugged.

"What can I say? Ya got talent, man. Talent that you can use to make LOTS of money... WITH the right agent, of course."

Peter was beginning to understand.

"And, let me guess, that'd be you, right?"

The talent agent nodded, a big grin on his face.

"But first I'm gonna have to see who I'm working with. Can't write a check to 'The Masked Marvel', can I?"

Peter thought for a moment, then shook his head.

"No can do. The Marvel rolls incog, baby," he replied while smirking under his mask.

The talent agent, however, no longer seemed to be amused.

"Listen, buddy, I can't just start promoting some guy in a mask who refuses to tell anyone who he really is."

Peter shrugged.

"Sure ya can. Celebs do it all the time."

"Not to their agents," the other man retorted.

He sighed and pulled a card from his back pocket, then handed it to the masked figure.

"Call me when Halloween's over," and he turned and walked away.

Peter stared at the card for a while. This wouldn't do. He ripped it up.

If Aunt May and Uncle Ben knew what I was doing, what I'm capable of... he thought.

It could seriously hurt our relationship as a family... Nope... I'm gonna have to figure out a way for me to make money off of these freak-powers and STILL remain annonymous. But how?
 
PREVIOUSLY:

Sabretooth - The Beast Within: Part Three

He'd taken passage on a boat from Venezuela to the Mexican Gulf, paying his way through labour and the fact that no one was brave enough to say no to the big man. From there he took passage on a train to New York State. He had no idea where he was going, or why he had to come here... but something inside him... deep and locked away was driving him towards the city. After over a week of travelling he found himself on the verge of reaching his destination. But as he neared the heavy populace and the excesses of city life, his mutation stirred within, excited by the heady cocktail of sensory delicacies.

***

"GET OUTTA MY HEAD!"

Yellowed eyes darted from side to side as the hulking man looked for an exit. All around him were crowds of commuters. Men and women in suits, newspapers tucked under their arms and latte's sloshing in polythene cups. Mothers and their children hurrying past beggars and hobo's. A typical scene on the mid afternoon New York subway platform.

The hustle and bustle teased his senses and the stirring animalistic sensation within hungered for violence. He had to find an exit, and some breathing space to fight down the beast. Creed staggered to his left and hit a wall, pushing his way through the milling crowd, knocking people over and out of the way. He caught the whisper of an insult and spun with a snarl, grasping a small spectacled man by the collar. "Got somethin' to say pal?" he snarled through gritted teeth. The man shook his head rapidly, his eyes widening in fear and Creed dropped him, balling his hands into fists as he resisted the impulses. Reaching the stairs, he scaled them and burst out into the open air of New York city.

With a roar of fury and agony he headed for a nearby alley and collapsed in between a tower of boxes and trash. His hands gripped at his head, shaking and clawing and grunting, trying to control the animal within.

~You cannot resist... embrace me. Feel my power~

He cried out as it took him, his senses flaring like never before, his eyesight sharper, his hearing clearer and his muscles swelling. The monstrous rage within him latched in and fed on his pain. His memories... his childhood... his father... it all fuelled the mutant with fresh aggression.

He was raw, primal, uncontrollable fury and he liked it. He noticed a paper lying in the trash, smiling at the headline before throwing it to the ground and leaping to a fire-escape. As he scaled to the rooftops of the nearest building, the paper landed in a puddle, distorting the headline.

[E.S.U SCIENTIST GRANTED MUTAGENICS FUNDING]

Creed sniffed the air and grinned, his canines glistening in the sunlight. "Those university nuts will help me figure this out... Whether they like it or not".


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Sabretooth - The Beast Within: Part Four

Empire State University was a big place. Not knowing where to start looking, and impatient to find out, Creed marched up to the nearest spectacle sporting student and grabbed him by the collar. "Where's the science department kid?"

"Uh... uh..."


"Come on! the science department! Curt Connors! Where is he?!"

"O-over t-t-there!" the kid squeaked, his eyes fearful behind the thick black rims. Sabretooth followed the direction the kid was pointing towards and noticed a one-armed man, in a cheap grey suit strolling toward the main building.

"The nerd with one-arm?"

"Y-yessir!"

Sabretooth flung the kid to the ground and marched towards the Doctor. "CONNORS?!" He roared, aggressively.

Surprisingly, Connors turned, seemingly unfazed by the huge animalistic man striding towards him.

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"Yes? Can I help you?"


"You better be able to help me Connors, for everyone's sake..." Creed growled, as his hulking frame towered over the smaller man.

"Okay", the Doctor nodded, "What exactly do you want me to help you with?"

"You know mutant stuff right? Genetics an' all that?"

"Yes. I specialise in biology and mutagenics. But how does this pertain to helping you?"

"I'm... I was changed... there's somethin' inside me.. somethin' nasty... and it's tryin' to get out!"

Curt nodded and rubbed his chin, seemingly lost in thought. "And have you sought any other help? Perhaps mental help or counselling?"

Sabretooth glared at the little man and snarled, grabbing him by the throat. "LISTEN TO ME YOU WORM!" he roared, his yellowed eyes glowing with unbridled fury. "DO I LOOK LIKE I NEED TO SEE A SHRINK! YOU'RE GONNA HELP ME OR I'LL RIP YOUR OTHER ARM OFF! THEN YOUR LEGS... THEN YOUR HEAD! GOT IT?!"

As Connors grasped at the huge palm stifling his ability to breathe, he nodded furiously, desperate to escape the vice-like grip.
"Let the Doctor go... Then step back and put your hands in the air!"

Sabretooth turned his gaze to the newcomer and found himself staring at two Campus security guards, with tazers levelled at him.

"You gonna make me?!"
Sabretooth roared.

The two guards advanced cautiously but Sabretooth dropped Connors and leapt at them, Swiping a clawed hand at one and shearing a series of deep gashes down his torso. The second security guard received a blow straight to the head, snapping his head back violently. He was dead before he hit the ground.

All around him bystanders were screaming and running, trying to put distance between themselves and the mad-man. The noise and hysteria fed Creed senses and his impulses raged within. He lusted for violence and blood and death. He pounced upon a man nearby and ripped the man's jugular out, his claws dripping with blood and gore.

Sabretooth raised his head and let out a primal roar...


Before he lay his sights on a young woman carrying a baby...
 
Ben and I get back to the medical facility, and we reenter through the hole in the wall. Ben looks a little sheepish as he examines the damage he made in his initial outburst of shock and horror. I can't blame him, though. I can only imagine the damage I would cause if I suddenly got powers. Then again, who's to say that I won't? It suddenly becomes hard to swallow with that revelation. Reed and I may appear fine, but we were both blasted with the same crap.

"Johnny, over here!" Sue calls out when she sees Ben and I approaching. She then walks back into the lab where I assume Reed is waiting. I take a deep breath as I enter.

Reed is already hard at work on his microscope.

"What's the diagnosis, Reed?"

Reed looks up from the microscope. "It's still too early to tell," he admits. He makes a motion to Sue. "I took a sample of her DNA, and I'm analyzing it now. I would analyze a sample from Ben, but..."

"We're not sure how to get a sample," Sue finishes. We all look at Ben, who I would imagine - if he still could - is blushing right now.

"Reed, what are the odds that you and I are...different?" I ask. I have a bad feeling that I don't want to know the answer, but the question is weighing too heavily on my mind.

Reed sighs while pushing the microscope aside. I fear that he's given this some thought as well. "Well, Johnny, it's not unlikely," he replies half-heartedly. "Sue's abilities came without any warning. It could be a matter of time."

"So, Ben, how are you feeling?" Sue inquires, breaking up the tense mood. Well, she's trying to, anyway.
 
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As Johnny walked back toward the facility with Ben behind him, the big thing watched his footsteps. He noticed how Johnny's steps crunched the twigs and leaves while his own created a soft thud each time and smashed any branch he stepped on. They came upon the facility. Ben stopped for a moment, scrutinizing the hole he had left on the third floor. He observed the gap, then immediately grabbed Johnny, tossing him to the hole. Ben grinned, surprised by how much lighter Johnny seemed. After seeing his friend make it, Ben took a mighty jump with a grunt, making it to the hole with some effort.

It was apparent: Ben was much stronger.

Inside the building, Johnny led the thing to Reed, who was characteristically studying some specimen, which turned out to be a sample of Sue's DNA. Then he brought up the curious fact of attaining a sample of Ben. When they all looked at him, Ben nervously turned his attention on an empty, glass vial; however, when he picked it up, the glass shattered between his fingers.

"Uh, sorry, I can clean that up. Ya got a broom somewhere?"

Ben spun around scanning the room when his shoulder bumped a shelf, knocking over some beakers. Ben scrambled to catch what he could, but his bulky fingers just swatted them into the wall, showering glass on a rack of test tubes. Ben instinctively pulled the rack away, but he pinched off the edge of it, and it fell to the floor.

Flustered, Ben backed away from his mess straight into a lab table. Seeing glass and liquids spilling all over the table and the floor, Ben grew frustrated, punching the table, uprooting it from the floor and sending it into another table. Ben took a step back, shocked by his devestation.

"I'm outta here! You can clean it up yourselves!"

Avoiding eye contact, Ben rushed out of the room, knocking over a stand along the way.

It was apparent: Ben was much clumsier.
 
DOOM

The workers continued to toil away at their assignment. I will admit that I gave them a difficult task but not an impossible one. Also, I have not left them with all of the work. I had left a great deal for myself. As the factory workers built the bodies of these automatons, I was busy programming making the very advanced computer systems that would serve as their "brains". As advanced as they were, these robots would only serve as prototypes. My resources were limited to what can be found in this factory and I took that into account when I designed them.

The idea for these machines came to me in Szoke as I saw the city’s military and police forces be torn apart by enraged civilians. I began to dwell upon their many flaws and wondered: is it possible to have a perfect solider? A perfect police force? Free of corruption, insubordination, and vulnerability? The answer was yes--but not a human one. In all actuality, most human beings cannot be trusted with the task of law enforcement. They are far too susceptible to corruption. I realize this is not true for all humans but there are too few of those who are truly honest, just, and strong enough for such a task.


If I could police an entire nation–if I could police the entire planet by myself, I would. It would ensure safety for all. But because this would be impossible, I decided to do the next best thing: use machines. A machine will not disobey or question orders. A machine cannot be corrupted–well...not in the way a man can. They do not need food, water, air, sleep, or payment. They cannot be hurt, they cannot be killed, they seemed vastly superior to a human soldier or police officer in every way possible. Why then, has this never been done before? Why has there never been a mechanical soldier or an automated police officer? Because no one has ever had the intellect or integrity to properly design, build, and program such a thing. But that has changed now.

I had been finishing up a microprocessor when I heard the familiar crackling hiss of my radio communicator. It was Vargo.

"Victor? Are do you read me?"

"Yes, General. Has the western district been secured?"

"Almost but that is not why I have contacted you."

"What is it, then? I’m quite busy. This had better be important."

"I have good news from Haasenstadt. Almost all of the military forces in there have been subdued! The citizens are taking the city by themselves! The only forces that remain are guarding Fortunov’s office. They say he’s locked himself in his office out of fear."

"This is most excellent news, Vargo."

"That it is. They say your name is being chanted in the streets, you know. They say people are beginning to don iron masks to show their support."

I feel a grin creep across my face.

"Wonderful. Keep me posted on your operations, General."

"Of course. Vargo out."

The hissing of the radio comes to a halt and I continue working on the microprocessor. Suddenly, Bram barges into the office with a radio in his hand.

"Mr. Von Doom, you must hear this!"

"Yes, yes, Vargo has informed me about Haasenstadt already. Go now, I’m very busy."

"No, it's not that, it's--"

"Then it’s not worth my time. Leave now, Velsing, I’m busy."

Bram frowned and set down his radio before walking out and shutting the door. Just before I return to my microprocessor, his radio starts up.


"The Baxter Building - home to renowned scientist Reed Richards and teen sensation Johnny Storm - was destroyed today in a freak explosion. Police are still investigating the cause of the explosion, but it is believed to be a result of one of Reed Richard's experiments. However, they still have not ruled out the possibility of sabotage from competitor scientists. Reed, Johnny, Johnny's sister Susan, and Johnny's bodyguard Ben were the only people present in the building at the time of the explosion. All four were rushed to a nearby Midtown hospital to be treated for the injuries. No word has been received yet of their condition."

My eyes widen. My heart stops.

* * *​

I had thought Mr. Von Doom would be anxious to hear of what I had found but it seems I was wrong. I had taken but two steps away from the door when, all of a sudden, I hear a loud and unfamiliar sound coming from his office. After stopping and trying discern the strange, repetitive noise, I turn around and open the door again. I peak inside to see Victor with is masked face buried in his palm and his sides shaking. I still hear the noise but it had suddenly grown much quieter as I entered, almost as if it was trying to hide from me.

"Mr. Von Doom? Are you...laughing?"
 
As Ben storms out, Reed turns to Sue desperately. "Sue..."

Sue nods before assuring, "I know." She gives me a weak smile as she chases off after Ben. I almost turn to follow her, but Reed stops me.

"No, Johnny, I need you to stay," he explains. Reed motions to a stool, and I take a seat. "We're going to have to run some tests to see if you've experienced any genetic changes."

I audibly gulp. This is the moment of truth. I'm going to find out if I'm going to be...different. Well, it might not be that bad. I mean, I'm not a big, hulking thing, so I can't have it as bad as Ben. Who knows? Maybe I have a cool ability.

"Here, we're going to get a baseline for you," Reed continues as he hands me a thermometer. I stick it under my tongue and watch him scramble around frantically as he examines Sue's DNA sample. Reed's expression grows more dire with each passing second. A couple of times, he shakes his head and mutters something. I can only imagine what's going on in his head.

My train of thought is interrupted by a beeping noise coming from my mouth. I remove the thermometer and examine it. "Are you sure this thing works, Reed?" I ask. There's no way that these numbers can be right.

"Of course it does. Why do you ask?"

"Apparently, I have a fever - a big fever," I explain vaguely.

Reed walks over and takes the thermometer. "174 degrees?!" he announces incredulously. He places a hand to my forehead and pulls it away sharply. "Ow! You're burning up!"

I touch my forehead, but I feel nothing. "Am I?"

"Johnny, look!" Reed exclaims as he points to my hand. I look down to see small puffs of smoke coming from my fingertips. "You don't feel that?!"

I shake my head. Why don't I feel that? My hand is smoking!

"Can you consciously cool off?" he inquires.

I shrug. "I could try," I admit. I then close my eyes and focus on cooling down. I try to picture ice cream, water, snow...

"JOHNNY!"

I open my eyes to see that my hand is now on fire. "That's the opposite of what I want, right?!" I ask. How am I completely unphased by this?!

"Johnny, find out how to stop it!" Reed commands urgently.

Come on, Johnny, pull it together. Focus on extinguishing the flames. Focus on a cold glass of soda with ice cubes floating in it. Feel how cool it is as you take a big gulp on that hot summer day on Coney Island. Focus on Mom and Dad...

"There," Reed sighs. I look to see that my hand is normal again.

"Reed, what does all of this mean?" I ask nervously.

Reed is silent for a few moments before explaining, "It means that I'm next."
 
A subway train stops at a station in the city of Manhattan, and a figure with a green snake skin suit gets off. He makes his way out of the sub way and the street lights show the man to be Willis Stryker A.K.A. Diamondback!

Willis makes his move to a building that reads "Daniel's Steak & Wings", and as he goes in the door locks behind him. Diamondback is surrounded by a mob of gangster's who belonged originally to a boss named Morgan, but since a run in with Cage, have been out of work.

"Oh snap! Willis Stryker! We heard you was dead, man. Heard you was dead alooonng time ago. So what's the deal?"

"Listen, Murphy. I ain't here for old times, and you can clearly see I ain't dead. I'm here to talk business, man. Nothing but business."

"Yeah alright. Go ahead and talk, my man."

"O.K. it's like this. My partner and I are settin up a gang and need volunteers. You guys in or what?"

"Hmm, you did always have a fair set up before. Yeah count us in."

"That was easy. Ok, all of you work for me than. Go to this address and kick back until I call."

Willis leaves the restaurant and makes his way back across town, and thinks to himself while riding the bus. All good, all good.
 
As Willis made it back to the hide out of Big Brother, he often had to smile at his situation. The smile was soon turned to an insidious grin as Big Brother asked of him a very interesting task.

"Willis, I've got a task for you, I mean if your up to it that is."

Willis chuckled and answered, "Heh, what is it? And like I said before this had better be a real job. I mean something that will be of value to our plans, not some money job."

"Now how can we do business if we don't follow each other's stipulations. No, this task is of extreme value. You see just yesterday I was reading in the paper about The Fantastic Four stopping some low-life's plans. The guy capitulated to them with out even putting up a decent struggle."

"I'm waiting to hear my role, man."

"Getting to it, hold on. I was thinking of a more than interesting plan spawned from the idea of influence. I'll tell you the whole plan later, but for now I need you to antagonize the Fantastic Four. Fight each member one on one and please don't tell them who you are. That would put a serious damper on our inner workings, and I'm afraid it might even dissolve our partnership."

"Heh, what ever man. How about this. I'll do it, and I'll even show out a little. This will give a great opportunity for me to test my skills. Check you later, Big Brother."

As Diamondback made his way to the Baxter building he soon recognized one of the FF members, but instead of out right attacking him, he just followed them around lurking in the shadows.
 
The barking of a dog brought Max back to reality.
He opened his eyes to see a small terrier standing in front of him yipping away.

"Ah, my ****ing head", Max said as he squinted and rubbed his temples.
"Knock it off", Max yelled as he shooed the dog away. But the dog came right back and continued to bark.

What the hell", Max exclaimed as he took in his surroundings.
He was sitting, still in his hospital gown, in the back of an alley. The sounds of cars and the bustling people not far away.
His mind began to race, trying to piece together the puzzle.

"Last thing I remember", Max whispered to himself, "is working on that damn machine."

"But...something happened. An accident."

"That's it"
, Max continued as it came to him, "I was getting electrocuted! By Osborn's God damn machine!"

"But how the hell did I wind up in this thing", he asked aloud as he looked down and touched the hospital gown he wore.

"Dammit", Max exclaimed through gritted teeth as his headache was getting worse thanks to the dog's constant barking.

"I said shut the **** up", Max shouted at the dog. And as he did so, a bolt of electricity lanced out of Max's body and blasted the dog into a charred ball of flesh and fur.

"What the hell", Max gasped, wide-eyed as he scrambled to back away from the smoldering mess.

"What the hell is happening to me", he shouted, a mix of fear and frustration, as he rose to his feet.
"I need...I need to sort this **** out. Clear my head and think."

"Christ, I need a drink"
, he stated with a deep sigh as he slowly walked off towards the street.
 
Da Spidah-Man!

"OUWCH!" Peter yelped after pricking himself in the finger with the needle he was using to make his costume.

"I didn't think it would be THIS hard to sew a friggin' costume. Why couldn't I just hire a professional to do this for me? Why couldn't I just wear a Halloween costume? Why am I talking to myself?"

Upon completion, Peter excitedly put on his newly made costume and rushed to the mirror. It was red and blue with big, white lenses for eyes.

"Damn, this looks cool!"

He did a few poses and flexed.

"Now all I need is a name.... Howzabout... The Archnid?! No. The Spider? No."

Peter Parker paced around his room, trying to think of a good name for his new masked persona.

"This is gonna be harder than I thought."
 
Ben Grimm sighed as he slowed down, finally slumping against the wall of the corridor. He looked back at the toppled carts and nurses before placing his head in his huge, rough hands. A lone orderly aided the nurses and picked up the cart, questioning them and furious about the rude, orange giant, but the experienced nurses calmed him down, having to explain that there were many special situations that exist in this topsy-turvy world.

Topsy-turvy is right, Ben thought.

He brought his hands away from his face and studied them through nonchalant eyes. He expected to concentrate on the rock appearance, the orange color, the size, the obvious unevenness of the structures, even the cracks that replaced his palm lines; instead, he was transfixed on his bulky fingers, specifically the number he had: four—three fingers and a thumb—or was it four fingers and no thumb? They were all just as fat. Ultimately, he was missing a digit.

“Um… excuse me?”

It was one of the nurses.

“Yeah?”

“Would you like a robe?”

Ben looked down, and his eyes widened as it dawned on him that he was wearing… nothing. This whole time, he had been completely and totally and utterly… naked.

Dang. Being transformed really distracts ya.

As he kept staring for a couple of seconds longer, Ben fought with two simultaneous realizations. The first being that he was—well—naked (which we have already established) and really needed a robe (that was the important part), which instigated a reaction of panic and the hands shooting down to cover himself while he rushed the nurse off with earnestness to find him something quickly. The second realization was that he was actually lacking… certain anatomy. This only distressed him further and caused his urges to the nurse to sound more like threats. As the nurse hurriedly rounded a corner, Ben started talking to himself, taking glances behind his hands.

“It’s okay, big guy, settle down before you scare the ‘spit’ out of ‘hospital.’ Just because Big John is gone doesn’t mean the world is over… it just means that a part of my humanity has been taken away by this stupid disease! Gone is my pride! Gone is my joy! Gone is my peeing! Wait… does… does this mean… does this mean that… that I’m not a man anymore?”

“Of course you are, Ben, don’t be ridiculous. Just because you look different does not make you any less of a human.”

Ben again covered himself with his bulky hands, muttering, “Where’s that darn nurse?”

“Lissen, it ain’t that simple, Suzie. It’s, uh… Y’know, the thing is… well… uh… um… Well, it just ain’t that simple!”

Susan Storm, Reed’s girlfriend, a quaint, pretty girl, gave Ben a knowing smile. Of course she still thought Ben was calling his big, orange appearance a monstrosity; however, though Ben couldn’t be too sure about how he could live life with this appearance, he was worried about Big John’s disappearance for the moment.

Susan stood closer to Ben and rested her back against the wall.

“You know, your situation could have been a lot worse. Could’ve been a lot worse for all of us. We could all be dead right now.”

My situation is a lot worse!

“Somehow we’ve been changed. It seems just you and me… now. But what if even stranger things happen to Johnny or Reed?”

“Lissen, Susan, I understand you’re just tryin’ ta talk me through it, but you ain’t old enough to be eternally wise, m’kay? You ain’t been through the things I been through.”

“Do you think I like being invisible all of a sudden?”

“At least it wears off! This crap ain’t even chippin’ offa my body! You’re pretty, and you get to stay pretty. I wasn’t such a bad looker, myself, I should know… Now I look like a freak made up by ILM, ‘cept much more realistic. It’s easy for you to get over havin’ invisibility—it’s like some kinda superpower—but I still got things surprising me…”

“Ben, we don’t know if—“

“Awright, stop right there. It’s still the same day, barely been two hours, and already I’m tired of this ‘if’ stuff. I’ve been asking myself that crap every ten minutes. But right now I need to know if this is permanent, ‘cause I’m really starting to miss some things... If you could be so kind as to coax Reed into workin’ his wonder-brain into some kind of cure, I’d really appreciate it. Right now I ain’t got no clothes on, and I’d really like for you to gimme a minute to find some. Thanks.”

Susan frowned, studying Ben’s deformed face, before nodding and taking her leave.

“Ah, finally!”

A nurse ran up with a large hospital robe, and Ben slipped his arms into them. However, as the nurse tried to button it in the back, all Ben heard was grunting.

“Awright, please tell me this ain’t your biggest size.”

“Tell you what… give me ten minutes and I’ll find something suitable.”

Ben looked at his orange wrist.

“Time’s a-wastin’!”
 
DOOM

"Nineteen..."

"We made as many as we could–"

"I believe I asked for twenty-five."

"These were not like anything we’ve ever built before! These machines of yours were very complex. Making one was no easy feat. Besides, you had us work hours on end without food or sleep! It’s a miracle we even got this many constructed."

I scowled at the old worker sternly as I crossed my arms. The solider standing to my left and Velsing, standing to my right, mimicked my glare and stance.

"I believe I also said there would be dire repercussion for not meeting quota."

"And what is it you plan on doing, Doom?" the worker shouted angrily. It was clear that the old man was not intimidated.

"You rebels are always going on about freedom and justice and here you have as locked up and toiling away like slaves while you watch over us and hurl your threats around.! You’re a bunch of damned hypocrites and bullies, just like our godforsaken government!"

"This," I say as I gesture toward the row of completed automatons, "Is all for the greater good! You must realize that by constructing these machines you are bringing us one step closer to finishing this war and one step closer to a better Latveria!"

"And do you mind telling me how? Do you mind telling me how a bunch of machines are going to end a war and revolutionize a country? You’re an idiot or a madman, Doom–I don’t know which. But I will not follow the word of either!"

The old man had struck my last nerve. And as he continued to rant and scream, I noticed the look of fear on the other workers begin to fade. The few of them who had still been working stopped altogether. The workers gradually moved closer and closer to the old one. A crowd was beginning to form. I had had enough.

"Shoot him," I muttered to the soldier to my left, my eyes still fixated on the fiery old worker. His eyes widened a look of surprise overtook his face.

"Is...is that necessary, sir?"

I turned and glared at him.

"Do it."

"But, sir, that would only prove his point--"

"Do not quest–"

The BANG of a gunshot echoed throughout the factory. I quickly turned to see the old man drop dead. A few shrieks of terror were uttered and the crowd quickly dissipated. I looked back at the soldier who still carried a look of shock and confusion on his face. He did not fire the shot. I turn to my right to see Velsing, his arm stretched out and holding a pistol with a smoking barrel.

The clamoring of the workers and soldiers alike came to a halt and the factory fell deftly quiet.

"Very well, then..." I said to the workers, effectively breaking the silence, "I had considered being a bit more forgiving over your...inadequacy."

The workers stared at me, wide-eyed and silent.

"But you can thank that man," I said, pointing to the corpse, "For helping me realize I would have been too lenient! Continue working until you have thirty more of these machines prepared. You will be fed and allowed to rest when I feel you’ve earned it."

After a few murmurs, the workers went back to their assignment while I headed toward the completed machines to marvel at my brilliant creations.
 

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