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The Ultimate Marvel RPG Season I IC Thread

U.S. Agent

I set the explosive against the door of the Stark Industries lab, the bodies of the guards scattered behind me. I hear a squeaking behind me, and pick my machine gun up from the floor and turn around, to see a guard dragging himself over to his gun, a gunshot wound in his shoulder.

"Please. 23 seconds and you'll have touched the gun. You'll be dead by the time it gets to 13."

I raise the gun and shoot the guard without even looking properly and turned back to the door adjusting my explosives. I listen up to the metal door and can hear shuffling behind. They're prepared. I pull out the detonator and step back from the door, a plan forming in my mind.

****

The explosion rips through the door, making the armed guards take a few steps back, before moving into the corridor on the otherside quickly and swiftly. They look around, confused to see an empty corridor. A clang rings out behind them and they swivel around, but it's too late. A barrage of bullets pump into them and they collapse without in a second to fight back. I kick aside the vent cover from the vent I'd dragged myself through and turn to the huddled group of scientists.

"So, who's going to open that vault?"

I nod my head to the back of the laboratory, where a large metal door was, a large amount of locks attached to it, with a keypad to the right of it. I raise my gun slightly towards them and one timidly moves to the safe, the others giving him angry glares. Slowly, he types in the code to the keypad, and the locks slide back and unlock the door. Without a care in the world, I fire out in an arc and I hear an array of thuds as they hit the ground. I walk on, resting the gun on my shoulder and walk on into the vault, where a large group of chemicals lined the wall. I walked in further were experimetal machines and robotics lay, but right towards the back was the target. I stroll right towards it and pick it up, smiling gleefully. I admire the handiwork of the prototype Captain America shield, and turn back towards the entrance to the vault, ready to break my way out of here.
 
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THE WASP

Janet Pym had been well away from Washington when it was wiped off the map.

However the predicament she found herself in when Magneto escaped his confinements within the Triskelion wasn't so calm.

Janet heard the voice over the loudspeaker.

*ALL S.H.I.E.L.D. Personnel, I repeat this is not a drill. The prisoners have gotten free, I repeat, prisoners have escaped their cells.*

Janet reached for her ear, lightly pressing her com link.

"Nick? What the hell happened?"

*
Wasp? Get your ass down to the prison cells, all our damn super-powered little guests are OUT! The rest of the team are on their way*

Horror came upon Janet at that moment. All of those disastrous human beings, once again loose in one of the most critical locations of the U.S. Locations, maybe even the most after Washington D.C.

"Alright I'm on my way, get me some back-up ASAP."

A woman's coat fell to the floor as a tiny fluttering mutant zoomed down the halls of the Triskelion.

Soon enough, The Wasp, one of the members of America's Superhuman task force known as the Ultimates, had reached the carnage. Gunfire and powers flashed through the dark corridor as the super-powered criminals clashed against S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

There, down at the end, she found Otto Octavius, a.k.a. Doc Ock, picking through agents with his metal tentacles.

She gracefully darted through the maze of his swinging metallic arms and compacted herself enough to fit right through his mouth. Otto Octavius screamed in agony as the Wasp's bioelectric blasts burned his mouth and throat.

He collapsed to the ground as Janet rolled out, soggy and wet.

"Jesus christ, how many times am I going to have to go inside people." she sighed as she shook the gunk off her arm.

In a moment, she flew back up into a scanning position through the room. There were so many prisoners, and not enough Ultimates here to help her. She looked up as the sound of screeching metal caught her attention.]

Floating upon a disk stood none other than the mutant terrorist, Magneto and a blue woman. Together, they began rising through the floors of the Triskelion.

"Nick, come in, this is Wasp. Magneto is getting away! Where the hell are the Ultimates?!"
 
THE WASP

Janet Pym had been well away from Washington when it was wiped off the map.

However the predicament she found herself in when Magneto escaped his confinements within the Triskelion wasn't so calm.

Janet heard the voice over the loudspeaker.

*ALL S.H.I.E.L.D. Personnel, I repeat this is not a drill. The prisoners have gotten free, I repeat, prisoners have escaped their cells.*

Janet reached for her ear, lightly pressing her com link.

"Nick? What the hell happened?"

*
Wasp? Get your ass down to the prison cells, all our damn super-powered little guests are OUT! The rest of the team are on their way*

Horror came upon Janet at that moment. All of those disastrous human beings, once again loose in one of the most critical locations of the U.S. Locations, maybe even the most after Washington D.C.

"Alright I'm on my way, get me some back-up ASAP."

A woman's coat fell to the floor as a tiny fluttering mutant zoomed down the halls of the Triskelion.

Soon enough, The Wasp, one of the members of America's Superhuman task force known as the Ultimates, had reached the carnage. Gunfire and powers flashed through the dark corridor as the super-powered criminals clashed against S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

There, down at the end, she found Otto Octavius, a.k.a. Doc Ock, picking through agents with his metal tentacles.

She gracefully darted through the maze of his swinging metallic arms and compacted herself enough to fit right through his mouth. Otto Octavius screamed in agony as the Wasp's bioelectric blasts burned his mouth and throat.

He collapsed to the ground as Janet rolled out, soggy and wet.

"Jesus christ, how many times am I going to have to go inside people." she sighed as she shook the gunk off her arm.

In a moment, she flew back up into a scanning position through the room. There were so many prisoners, and not enough Ultimates here to help her. She looked up as the sound of screeching metal caught her attention.]

Floating upon a disk stood none other than the mutant terrorist, Magneto and a blue woman. Together, they began rising through the floors of the Triskelion.

"Nick, come in, this is Wasp. Magneto is getting away! Where the hell are the Ultimates?!"

Stark jammed his index finger against his earpiece, listening to the frayed and crackled communications being sent out from the Triskelion. He shifted as he put himself into contact with his fellow members of his team.

"Brian, Steve." He said, anxiously picking up his equipment and barking commands at the stragglers. He pulled himself onto the S.H.I.E.L.D. transport that was resting behind him on the rooftop. "I hate to be a Debby Downer, here, but I think we're officially out of time. The Triskelion is under attack, and Wasp is there, alone, holding down the fort."

He strapped himself in, signaling to the pilot to take off.

"The fastest solution looks to be Thor teleporting you all down there. I won't be of any use until I'm in the armor, which is at Stark International. What're we going to do here, boys?"
 
]"No, no it's not like that at all, nobody is forcing you... We just thought that on your eighteenth birthday you could, you know... Suit up as it were."[/FONT]Gert's father said, joyfully.

"It's actually part of the reason we all decided to have children, to have a next generation of heroes to give to the world."
"********!" Karolina shouted, standing up and knocking her chair over "It's bad enough that you tried to marry me off to that gender bending freak, but now this? **** you and **** this,"

Fuming, she walked into the kitchen, pulling out the big bottle of tequilla that was hidden in the top cupboard. Opening the top and taking a big gulp, she marched out into the back garden.
 
Hawkeye listened to the radio chatter before turning to Natasha Romanov. Seeing the look in her eyes he knew they were in the deep end. "This is turning out to be a really crappy day" he grumbled.

They'd been assigned to head the evac teams but there was barely a soul to evac. There were a few scattered communities around the perimeter of the city but the heavily populated regions were just...gone. Clint doubted that even the cockroaches would have survived the blast.

"We need to get back to the Triskellion Hawkeye"
Widow muttered, her hand instinctively falling to rest on the weapon at her hip.

Hawkeye nodded and opened his intercom. "Alright Guys. Me and Widow are surplus to requirements here. We'll try and get back to base as quick as we can"

Fury came on the comm his orders barked through bouts of tinny gunfire. "Quicksilver, get your running shoes on and get your ass back here. Iron Man, you do the same. Cap, Sarge, Hawkeye & Widow, I'm sending Thor out there to collect you all. Hold tight because gentlemen, the sh-t has officially hit the damn fan".
 
U.S. Agent

I set the explosive against the door of the Stark Industries lab, the bodies of the guards scattered behind me. I hear a squeaking behind me, and pick my machine gun up from the floor and turn around, to see a guard dragging himself over to his gun, a gunshot wound in his shoulder.

"Please. 23 seconds and you'll have touched the gun. You'll be dead by the time it gets to 13."

I raise the gun and shoot the guard without even looking properly and turned back to the door adjusting my explosives. I listen up to the metal door and can hear shuffling behind. They're prepared. I pull out the detonator and step back from the door, a plan forming in my mind.

****

The explosion rips through the door, making the armed guards take a few steps back, before moving into the corridor on the otherside quickly and swiftly. They look around, confused to see an empty corridor. A clang rings out behind them and they swivel around, but it's too late. A barrage of bullets pump into them and they collapse without in a second to fight back. I kick aside the vent cover from the vent I'd dragged myself through and turn to the huddled group of scientists.

"So, who's going to open that vault?"

I nod my head to the back of the laboratory, where a large metal door was, a large amount of locks attached to it, with a keypad to the right of it. I raise my gun slightly towards them and one timidly moves to the safe, the others giving him angry glares. Slowly, he types in the code to the keypad, and the locks slide back and unlock the door. Without a care in the world, I fire out in an arc and I hear an array of thuds as they hit the ground. I walk on, resting the gun on my shoulder and walk on into the vault, where a large group of chemicals lined the wall. I walked in further were experimetal machines and robotics lay, but right towards the back was the target. I stroll right towards it and pick it up, smiling gleefully. I admire the handiwork of the prototype Captain America shield, and turn back towards the entrance to the vault, ready to break my way out of here.

U.S. Agent

12 Hours Later

I sit in a vent of the Daily Bugle, the buzzing activity going on bellow me as I scramble on throgh the dark metal tunnel. I can hear the noise of machinery ahead as I slowly reach a hatch and kick it off, to reveal an elevator shaft, the lift a couple of floors down from the vent. I leap out from the vent and land onto the top of the elevator. I take a bag from my back and place it down, the shield hanging from it. I brush down my dirty costume and begin to take it off quickly. I open up the rucksack and shove the costume in my bag, taking out something else. I feel the lift begin to rise and I put on the new clothes from the bag. I take the shield off the bag and open up the top of the hatch of the elevator. I jump down and see two journalists looking at me shocked. I pull out a pistol from the side of my belt and shoot the two dead. I close up the hatch and hit the button to go up to the main offices, where J. Jonah Jameson works. The elevator stops and the doors slide open, and I step out into the offices, faces staring at me in disbelief. As they look on in awe, I raise my hand in salute, and march on forward defiantely.

41827.gif


I look down at my new costume as I walk, smiling slightly as I go on. Some try and take photos of me while others type away at their computers hurriedly. I fianlly reach the end of the aisle where the office of J. Jonah Jameson lies. He stands in the doorway, in slight awe, but obviously not as much as the others.

"J. Jonah Jameson?"

He nods, hesitantly.

"I have a message you need to pass on."

In a flash I pull out the pistol from my belt and shoot down three random reports in a volley. Screams cry out as I only just begin my massacre. This is the perfect beginning.

"A new America is coming."
 
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"Jesus H. Christ", Deadpool exasperatedly sighed.
"How long does it take the guy to finish a meeting?"

He had been sitting on the roof of a small, five story apartment building in Hell's Kitchen for almost five hours now.
He had gotten word that Silvermane met with his lieutenants every day at the small Italian restaurant across the street. And sure enough, his sources proved right.

It's amazing what you can get out of a guy when you have a sword to his throat.

So Wade set up shop and waited for the old man to exit. Only he never came out. His car was still parked out front, and the driver still leaning on the hood rather impatiently.

"Oi vey", Deadpool complained as he sat down on the roof Indian style and rested his head in his hand.

"Not going anywhere for a while", Deadpool asked aloud as he reached into his bag and pulled out a snickers bar.

He pulled up his mask and took a big bite of the candy bar when he heard a commotion below. Peeking over the roof, Wade's eyes lit up with glee.

"Yipee! Bout ****ing time too", he grinned as he tossed the snickers over his shoulder and grabbed his rifle.

Deadpool-12.jpg


"Let's see...", Deadpool whispered as he took aim.
"Adjust for wind...calculate best angle for Gallagher effect..."

Wade fired, the silencer muffling the sound as the high-caliber bullet tore through Silvermane's head, causing it to explode like a bursting watermelon.
The four mafia enforcers around Silvermane's body looked on in shocked horror as they were covered with bits of brain and gore.

"Booyaaa! Got all four this time", Deadpool shouted with pride.

Bullets began to smash against the rooftop's edge, causing Deadpool to quickly duck back down.
"Uh, oh", he exclaimed, "time to go."

"But foist..."
, he said as he reached to his combat belt and pulled out four small spheres.

"Arrivederci, dickwads!"

Deadpool tossed the explosives over the edge.
The Merc with the Mouth teleported away just as the bombs went off, laying waste to the entire street.
 
cykebanner1.jpg


Ignoring the comment, Wolverine turned to the young man in charge of the team. "We appreciate the help, Mr. Summers, but there's not much for left to do. We've scanned the entire area and found no signs of any survivors. If possible, we'd like to have your Professor Xavier use his powers to determine if we've missed someone."

"Yes, Captain. I'll have Jean contact him and have them both do a telepathic scan. Jean?"

"Already on it, Scott."

"Good. Colossus, Rogue, Nightcrawler, Shadowcat, Beast and Storm; I want all of you to try clearing as much debris as you can. Try to... recover as many bodies as you can."

They all nodded before going their seperate ways. I decided to keep Wolverine and Bobby on deck with Jean and myself in case the culprit decides to show up. Bobby is one of our more powerful members, despite him not even realizing it, or even caring. And Logan's fighting experience, temper aside, is valuable in repelling an attack.

"Jean. Anything?"

"I... I'm sorry, Scott. There's nothing. The Professor doesn't sense anything either..."

"It's alright, Jean. It's not your fault."

"But... Scott. What if we could've prevented this? What if--"

"Don't think like that. There's nothing you could've done. Nothing any of us could've done. That's why we're not going to ponder on what we could've done, and instead, focus all our attention on finding who's responsible for taking the lives of the thousands of innocents who died today..."

"Hate to interrupt yer little speech, boyscout, but would ya mind pipin' down over there? I'm tryin' to listen in..."

Wolverine's ears twitched slightly as he tried honing in on what the Ultimates were saying, and that's when the three of us noticed Captain America pulling out his communicator.

*All Ultimates report back to the Triskelion*

Fury's voice over the comm link gave Rogers a second of hope. For a moment he thought someone had been found. "What is it, Nick?" Steve asked, turning away from the X-Men along with Sergeant Britain.

*Because apparently this day wasn't bad enough, we've got an escaped prisoner*

"An escaped prisoner? Who?"

*Erik Lensherr, aka Magneto*

"What is it, Logan?" I asked as he started to growl, as if he heard something he didn't like.

"We gotta big problem on our hands, Slim..."

"What is it? What did you hear?"

"Magneto..." Jean whispered, and just then, I realised how much things have just gone from bad to worse.

"Jean, I need you to give me a psychic link to General Fury, ASAP."

Placing her fingers on her temples, I cleared my mind as she gave me the telepathic nudge that I was clear for communication.

General Fury. This is Cyclops of the X-Men. I heard that Magento has escaped...

Summers? Just what the HELL do you think your doing hacking into my mind?

I wanted to request that myself and a few of my teammates be present at the Triskelion. We have personally dealt with him before, and both you and the Ultimates as well as ourselves could greatly benefit by working together on this matter...

Fine. I'll keep the Ultimates off your backs this time so we don't have another war on our hands when you get here. Just make sure you keep Wolverine in check...

Will do, General. Wolverine won't be a problem.

Good. I expect you here ASAP.

Yes, sir.

"Jean, alert the whole team to meet us back at the Blackbird. We're heading back to New York."

"To where, Scott?"

"The Triskelion."
 
Previously:
"Who's on the guard post for the cells?"

"Jimmy was supposed to be on it. Leave it, they're not going no where, right now we'd better see if we can help with the fallout! Come on!"

Mystique watched from behind the facade of a young S.H.I.E.L.D agent as the men ran down an ajacent corridor. The whole Triskellion was in a panic which made her plan a lot easier. She had spent three weeks running guard duties in place of the poor young human whose throat she had slit before she assumed his identity. Now though, in the middle of chaos and panic was the perfect time to strike.

She slid the I.D card down the reader and watched as the red light clicked to green and opened the cage of her King.

Magneto stepped out and acknowledged her with a wry smile. "Why thank you my dear. Now, how about we get ourselves some fresh air?"

"Hmmm. Thought you'd never ask", she grinned, her body shifting into her natural blue form. "There's a whole load of problems that requires your attention, Magneto".

He turned and regarded her for a moment as he shot out a hand and ripped a disc of metal from the wall. It spun and flipped in the air, coming to rest in front of the mutants. "Mystique, there's always something that requires my attention. But first things first. Let us get out of this cursed pit".

Two guards stopped in their tracks and noticed the pair as they stepped onto their disc. Magneto simply flicked his hand in the direction of the agents and smiled as both were sent flying backwards. Turning his attention upwards, a huge hole formed in the cieling as girders and steel twisted and deformed, dragging concrete and wood and wire with it.

Above them were the cages and holding cells of various Triskellion criminals, both super-powered and regular human. Magneto concentrated, focussing his power on the control panels that operated the locking mechanisms. With a deep whine and a groan, the mechanism failed and the cages were free. Superpowered prisoners pouring into the corridors. As more and more agents filed in, Magneto and Mystique ascended up through the levels of the Triskellion to their freedom

High above the Triskellion a helicopter circled, Magneto ascended towards as the door opened to welcome the self professed mutant messiah. Mystique sprang aboard and held out a hand to Magneto, allowing him to step onto the copter. The metal disc he had lifted himself up on fell away as Magneto settled himself in.

"Who is flying this contraption?"
he enquired, as Mystique made to seat herself into the co-pilots position.

"Lance Alvers, at your service, Lord Magneto"
the pilot called.

Magneto frowned, unfamiliar with the new mutant. "What is your real name, boy?"

"Avalanche, sir" came the reply.

Magneto smiled as Mystique shot him a questioning glance. "Very good. Well Avalanche, let us hope your abilities are as impressive as your name implies".

"Aye Sir. Where would you like to go now that you are free?"

"We shall return home. Take us to the Savage Land".

Far behind them the Triskellion was a writhing, seething battle. They would be kept busy long after Magneto was far, far away.
 
QUICKSILVER

"What's happening? Why is everyone suddenly so animated?"
Peitro called out, strolling over to the rest of the Ultimates. "And why are Xavier's people here?"
 
U.S. Agent

12 Hours Later

I sit in a vent of the Daily Bugle, the buzzing activity going on bellow me as I scramble on throgh the dark metal tunnel. I can hear the noise of machinery ahead as I slowly reach a hatch and kick it off, to reveal an elevator shaft, the lift a couple of floors down from the vent. I leap out from the vent and land onto the top of the elevator. I take a bag from my back and place it down, the shield hanging from it. I brush down my dirty costume and begin to take it off quickly. I open up the rucksack and shove the costume in my bag, taking out something else. I feel the lift begin to rise and I put on the new clothes from the bag. I take the shield off the bag and open up the top of the hatch of the elevator. I jump down and see two journalists looking at me shocked. I pull out a pistol from the side of my belt and shoot the two dead. I close up the hatch and hit the button to go up to the main offices, where J. Jonah Jameson works. The elevator stops and the doors slide open, and I step out into the offices, faces staring at me in disbelief. As they look on in awe, I raise my hand in salute, and march on forward defiantely.

41827.gif


I look down at my new costume as I walk, smiling slightly as I go on. Some try and take photos of me while others type away at their computers hurriedly. I fianlly reach the end of the aisle where the office of J. Jonah Jameson lies. He stands in the doorway, in slight awe, but obviously not as much as the others.

"J. Jonah Jameson?"

He nods, hesitantly.

"I have a message you need to pass on."

In a flash I pull out the pistol from my belt and shoot down three random reports in a volley. Screams cry out as I only just begin my massacre. This is the perfect beginning.

"A new America is coming."
UltimateSpider-ManLogo.gif


My name is Peter Parker, and I'm a sophomore at Midtown High School in Queens. It's a pretty average public school. There are bullies, suspicious cafeteria products, and pretty girls who developed early and have problems at home. Being close to Manhattan means that the school is at the center of industry. Pioneers in every field imaginable come to my school and deliver guest lectures. Granted, only about twenty of the 4,000 kids in my school actually pay attention, but, it's still pretty unreal that the publish of Rolling Stone felt compelled to deliver a talk about business ethics.

We get to go on field trips, too. Culture, knowledge, and a sense of adventure all come together in the place called New York City, and it's where I had the first day of the rest of my life.

One day, on a visit to a laboratory run by a prominent geneticist, I was bitten on the hand by a genetically modified spider. Somehow, the chemicals that the spider had been exposed to reacted with my blood stream, altering my DNA. Now, I'm the hybrid of a spider and a human. Some sort of weird amalgamation of a tarantula and a homo sapien, with a dash of theoretical physics thrown in. I'm a child of the spider, and first cousin to the atom. With the power to crawl on walls, leap over large alleyways in a singlebound, and sense danger before it goes all mid-evil on my tookus, I'm a spandex-wearing super-kid.

That's right. I'm Spider-Man. And I only have one question for you:

"Are you kidding me?!" I'm fortunate enough to be in the bathroom when the shots first ring out, but, still. It's only my third day on the job, my fourth week as a superhero, and a day after my breakup with Mary Jane. The phrase "a lot on my plate" doesn't really do justice to the state I'm in.

Then again, there's no point in wearing my nifty spandex under my regular clothes if I never plan on using it.

I glance around, making sure nobody's in the bathroom with me. I throw my webshooters on, pull my mask over my face and toss my clothes above a ceiling tile.

The ventilation cover comes off the ceiling with ease, and I pull myself up. I quickly crawl through the conduits over the Bugle offices.

Three shots ring out, and I can feel my pulse quicken.

"A new America is coming." I hear a voice say.

I have two choices. Either I can fall through the ceiling panel in Jameson's office, or I can follow the vent to the outside of the building, where hot air gets pumped to and smash through his window. If I do the former, people will wonder how Spider-Man got into the building without so much as popping up on a security camera. The latter, and Jameson has yet another reason to hate my costumed butt.

Oh well.

I roll forward, plowing through a grate that leads to the exterior of the building. I roll in mid-air, thrust out my hand, and fire a webline at the area just above his window.

THWIP!

The line goes taught, and I heave down, smashing through the glass. I roll to a stop in front of the guy playing dress-up.

"How was this plan going to work out exactly?" I ask dryly, coating the barrel of his gun in a thick load of webbing, "Were you just going to waltz in here, kill a few people, and make a political message? Because that plan sort of assumes that, y'know... nobody is going to call 9-1-1 or run out of the building screaming."
 
UltimateSpider-ManLogo.gif


My name is Peter Parker, and I'm a sophomore at Midtown High School in Queens. It's a pretty average public school. There are bullies, suspicious cafeteria products, and pretty girls who developed early and have problems at home. Being close to Manhattan means that the school is at the center of industry. Pioneers in every field imaginable come to my school and deliver guest lectures. Granted, only about twenty of the 4,000 kids in my school actually pay attention, but, it's still pretty unreal that the publish of Rolling Stone felt compelled to deliver a talk about business ethics.

We get to go on field trips, too. Culture, knowledge, and a sense of adventure all come together in the place called New York City, and it's where I had the first day of the rest of my life.

One day, on a visit to a laboratory run by a prominent geneticist, I was bitten on the hand by a genetically modified spider. Somehow, the chemicals that the spider had been exposed to reacted with my blood stream, altering my DNA. Now, I'm the hybrid of a spider and a human. Some sort of weird amalgamation of a tarantula and a homo sapien, with a dash of theoretical physics thrown in. I'm a child of the spider, and first cousin to the atom. With the power to crawl on walls, leap over large alleyways in a singlebound, and sense danger before it goes all mid-evil on my tookus, I'm a spandex-wearing super-kid.

That's right. I'm Spider-Man. And I only have one question for you:

"Are you kidding me?!" I'm fortunate enough to be in the bathroom when the shots first ring out, but, still. It's only my third day on the job, my fourth week as a superhero, and a day after my breakup with Mary Jane. The phrase "a lot on my plate" doesn't really do justice to the state I'm in.

Then again, there's no point in wearing my nifty spandex under my regular clothes if I never plan on using it.

I glance around, making sure nobody's in the bathroom with me. I throw my webshooters on, pull my mask over my face and toss my clothes above a ceiling tile.

The ventilation cover comes off the ceiling with ease, and I pull myself up. I quickly crawl through the conduits over the Bugle offices.

Three shots ring out, and I can feel my pulse quicken.

"A new America is coming." I hear a voice say.

I have two choices. Either I can fall through the ceiling panel in Jameson's office, or I can follow the vent to the outside of the building, where hot air gets pumped to and smash through his window. If I do the former, people will wonder how Spider-Man got into the building without so much as popping up on a security camera. The latter, and Jameson has yet another reason to hate my costumed butt.

Oh well.

I roll forward, plowing through a grate that leads to the exterior of the building. I roll in mid-air, thrust out my hand, and fire a webline at the area just above his window.

THWIP!

The line goes taught, and I heave down, smashing through the glass. I roll to a stop in front of the guy playing dress-up.

"How was this plan going to work out exactly?" I ask dryly, coating the barrel of his gun in a thick load of webbing, "Were you just going to waltz in here, kill a few people, and make a political message? Because that plan sort of assumes that, y'know... nobody is going to call 9-1-1 or run out of the building screaming."

"Is this all they've got? A kid dressed up in a spider costume? Please."

I throw aside the webbed up pistol and throw the shield out towards the kid, smashing into his face before returning back to my hands. I charge forwards, shield jutting out ready to knock into him.

"You think I'm just some kind of freak criminal who runs around New York? Please. I'm your Nation's Hero," I tell him as I near him.
 
"Is this all they've got? A kid dressed up in a spider costume? Please."

I throw aside the webbed up pistol and throw the shield out towards the kid, smashing into his face before returning back to my hands. I charge forwards, shield jutting out ready to knock into him.

"You think I'm just some kind of freak criminal who runs around New York? Please. I'm your Nation's Hero," I tell him as I near him.
UltimateSpider-ManLogo.gif


Ever been pinched on the back of the arm? Ever been given a really nasty paper cut, right between the fingers? Okay, well, pretend that a superhuman just hit you in the face with a pie plate really hard.

Yeah.

Spider-Sense tingling again. Danger.

I should probably learn to move a bit faster if I want to, um... survive fighting bad guys.

I roll out of the way of the charge.

THWIP!

The ball of webbing connects with his face, completely covering his eyes.

"Our nation's hero?!" I say, excitedly, "I didn't know Mickey Mouse was making stops in this part of the world!"

I fire another line around his ankles, sending him to a halt. He tumbles across the carpet, rolling along towards the shattered window. Whether he falls to the street is completely dependent upon whether or not he can rip the webbing from his eyes in time.

"Sorry, pal. You're no hero of mine." I say, sticking to the wall. I assume he'll throw his shield out, trying to hit me. I fire a webline to the door and heave, ripping it off of it's hinges.

"Yeah, you should go now."
I tell J.J.J. as an aside before continuing to quip at the shielded one, "Instead, Mr. Captain America Super Rip Off, I think you're the definition of the sound cartoon characters make when they run a single finger over their lips."
 
Hawkeye listened to the radio chatter before turning to Natasha Romanov. Seeing the look in her eyes he knew they were in the deep end. "This is turning out to be a really crappy day" he grumbled.

They'd been assigned to head the evac teams but there was barely a soul to evac. There were a few scattered communities around the perimeter of the city but the heavily populated regions were just...gone. Clint doubted that even the cockroaches would have survived the blast.

"We need to get back to the Triskellion Hawkeye"
Widow muttered, her hand instinctively falling to rest on the weapon at her hip.

Hawkeye nodded and opened his intercom. "Alright Guys. Me and Widow are surplus to requirements here. We'll try and get back to base as quick as we can"

Fury came on the comm his orders barked through bouts of tinny gunfire. "Quicksilver, get your running shoes on and get your ass back here. Iron Man, you do the same. Cap, Sarge, Hawkeye & Widow, I'm sending Thor out there to collect you all. Hold tight because gentlemen, the sh-t has officially hit the damn fan".

Hawkeye stepped back as Lightening and thunder crackled around them. The distant boom that signalled the arrival of Thor reverberated through the air, sending a tingle down the archers spine.

"Hawkeye. Widow. Come, we must gather the rest of the Ultimates and return at once. The situation is dire".


Both Ultimates nodded grimly and stepped to the Thunderer. He held the mighty Mjolnir high above his head and once more the air around them warmed and crackled with electricity.

*****

In a flash The three Ultimates were transported to Ground Zero. Hawkeye felt his knees go weak as they reconnected with terra firma. "Holy crap. That was a trip" he mumbled as his insides spun threatening to evacuate his lunch.

"What's the matter Hawkeye? Can't handle a bit of rough and tumble?" Black Widow grinned patting his shoulder.

"Ugh" came his reply. Hawkeye glanced to the rest of the Ultimates. Sargeant Britain, Captian America, Iron Man and Quicksilver. "Well I guess none of you got the memo huh?" Hawkeye asked, looking from one to the other. "Blondie, you think you can handle etting us all back to the Triskellion?" he asked Thor, who was stood with arms folded across the chest.

The Thunder God smiled a wide grin and nodded. "I have battled the Ice Giants of Zoromir and countless minions of my brother Loki. Transporting my friends will be as easy as pie!".

"You could have just given a simple yes".
Hawkeye muttered. "Step in guys, lets get this party moving".
 
Hercules flies through the air, then he remembers he can’t fly. Then he realizes he’s actually falling. Falling from VERY high. The last thing he remembers was bring on Olympus, holding the hand of his father, the almighty king Zeus, as he died.

Zeus’ health was fading, which seems impossible for a god. Laying about the halls of Olympus were the bodies of the rest of the Pantheon. They just fell down and died, no apparent reason.

As Hercules walked the halls, finding the dead bodies of his family strewn about, he found his Aunt and Zeus’ wife, Hera. Her health was fading fast.

“Hades is dead, boy, and Poseidon’s heart is about to stop as well. I can feel them dying. I CAN FEEL THEM! Poseidon’s heart is… it has stopped, my brother, the sea-god, he is dead. His power over the sea faded years ago, when that terrible wave killed all those people years ago, that was the sign of his power being lost.”

“Hera! Save your words. Please, I know you are next. My father and you are the last, the most powerful.” He walks to her and helps her sit up against the wall.

“I’ve never loved you Hercules, but I have learned to like you. You changed when you received your god-hood, you became more human than you ever were before.”

“Hera… You killed my family, tortured my poor mother, but you too have changed. You’ve become more human as well.”

“Oh don’t say things like that!” She laughs, but the golden blood of the gods spills out of her mouth.

“I’ve never seen my own blood, never knew it was this color. It’s beautiful. I… I hope you can forgive me for what I did to you all those years ago?” She coughs up more blood, and stares at Hercules with a sad look in her eyes.
“You are forgiven, my queen.”

“Thank you, my… my son.” Her head goes limp, her heart has stopped. Hercules scoops up her body, and easy task for the God of Strength. Her carries her to the main hall, where he knows his father is sitting on his golden throne.

“My love… My love is dead. I felt her die in my bones, I felt everyone of them die. Please, put my queen on her throne.” His tears are golden, his eyes bleed.

“Father, what is happening? Why are you dying? I thought this was impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible, you should know that. The people, they have lost all faith. Our last followers are dead, or no longer believe. Our power waned years ago, we were just creatures living in this heaven, trapped. But now… we can die. Finally, something new. Something different. You’ve died before, the one thing that I have never done.”

“But I’m not dying, All-Father.”

“You… were born a mortal, which means you still have a link to the natural world. When I die, which will be very soon, Olympus will die with me. I do not know what will happen after. Stay with me?” Zeus reaches his frail hand toward Hercules.

“Of course.” Hercules places Hera on her throne. He takes his father’s hand, and sits at the foot of his father’s throne.

As Zeus dies, the halls of Olympus fade. Hercules realizes his father is dead and stands up. He looks as the ground beneath him fades.


Hercules continues to fall, the memories of why rushing back to him. He looks down, He can finally tell where he’s falling too. The Parthenon, he’s headed straight toward the Parthenon, in Athens.

“Oh, this is going to hurt…” He makes his body as straight as possible, like a diver, ready for the impact.
 
Just then Spector stopped in his tracks. Did he REALLY feel like driving all the way back to Marlene's side at Grant's "house" (if you could call it that) in the outskirts of the city? Such were the drawbacks of wealth... awesome huge house... remote area to fit awesome huge house. Unless you had Stark money...

The truth was he didn't. While he didn't want to admit it to himself, his little back and forth with Daredevil left him more drained than beating down the umpteen thugs he'd tackled that night. Lifting a spiked glove to his ear, unnecessarily yet on impulse, he gave a muffled order:

[blackout]"Frenchie, bring the chopper on back to the drop zone."[/blackout]

And with that he turned and sprinted down side streets. There wouldn't be long until Jean-Paul would be there and a massive silver chopper shaped suspiciously like a crescent with a winchable rope-ladder was hardly an inconspicuous sight. Best not to leave him waiting too long.

Coming to a main road slowed with heavy traffic a heavy boot came down upon the trunk of an idling Ford sedan, shocking the driver into turning as he saw a silver streak darting into the shadows of anoter alley-way.

Back in side streets sprinting for that night's drop zone, the Moon Knight strode first on a smaller trash can, then onto a row of dumpsters before leaping, and catching the bottom rung of a ladder hanging down from an emergency exit, swinging through and clambouring up into the emergency exit sections where he begins clambouring up the stairs to get to the roof top.

Not far now, but the hard part's done, he has altitude now. Spector soars across, cape spread, from roof to roof on his way to the rendezvous point. On the final roof he lets his cape hang limp and just lunges from the rooftop onto the hanging ladder.

Climbing the winchable ladder to speed-up his ascent he looks forward to seeing an old friend. He reaches the body of the craft.

"'Ello Marc. We are still in one piece I zee."

Spector smiles behind the faceless mask.

"Or as much of one piece as when I left you, oui?"

[blackout]"Alright, alright. Crack it open, Jean-Paul. You know you've been waiting all night for it."[/blackout]

"Absolutely, yes zir Mr Spector, I'm glad to see you didn't go keeping us waiting" as Jean-Paul removed a magnum of champagne from a mini-bar fridge set into the flight-deck console. "But perhaps we shouldn't go opening Mr Grant's Perrier Jouët without him..?"
[blackout]"He's here."[/blackout] Came the clear voice as the mask was gone and the cape removed. [blackout]"Time for us to go home Mr DuChamp. There' a lady waiting for us there and it would be uncouth for me to leave her waiting..."[/blackout]

(Internal)[blackout]We'll pick your car up in the morning, Jake.[/blackout](/internal)
 
...And Jake Lockley sulks, thinking back to how he was ever dragged into this mess. How he came to meet these other three men who have shaken his life up and down.

A born identity.

I shoulda never walked into that room, but my existence was predestined for it. A man sat ina library, trapped in thought. A man in a suit. The kind of man I'd normally try to slip the flag rate up and overcharge him as a "tax" a' sorts for having to chitchat and put up with his elitist, silver-spoon, BS. But I was drawn to this one. Sittin' in his own world, old texts of Robin Hood strewn around 'im, trapped deep in thought, with a hanging TV on in the background playing some old cop show as a background noise. I asked him what he was doin' and he looked at me all surprised. He told me he was tryin' to get back in touch with the common man. I replied that I hate to mention it but folk don't exactly go reading Robin Hood these days and if he REALLY wanted to get in touch with the common man he'd be better served watching the TV than wormin' 'round through old texts. He smiled a bit, lookin' at how I was dressed, I s'posed he figured he could learn somethin' from me on that issue. He said he was really looking for a name, asked me mine and then looked up at the TV as I suggested before.

Stutterin' kinda uncharacteristically I gave 'im my name.

[blackout]"Jake. Jake Loxl... sorry. Jake Lockley."[/blackout]

And that was how it begun. Wasn't til later that I learned my role. It reminds me of an old, old cartoon. A cartoon that I can remember seein' but I can't remember myself watchin'. An ol' Pink Panther cartoon. The smooth music in the background, the pink panther lives in this dusty dirty house. Tirin' himself out attemptin' to clean it he comes up with an idea, he'll make a robot to do the housework for 'im. Cool music continues and we see his work complete, a robot born to do the work that the Panther 'imself was a slave to...

I ask the man to return the favour, I gave him my name, why not give me his? It's only polite. The man replied 'of course, how rude of him', told me 'is name was Steven Grant and that this was his home, his library in fact. I thought to myself 'how exactly did I get here' but this thought was quickly driven out of my mind as he asked '...and what's going on in your life?'

The robot begins to clean the Panther's house, while the panther sits down and plays solitaire with a deck of cards to pass the time, right? The robot begins to feel bitter and resent his own grunt work, why should he be stuck doin' all this housework? He looks at how much is left to do and thinks to himself 'what would master do?', so 'e goes to the scraps 'n junk from which 'e was born and begins to set 'imself to work at his own task. Continue cool music...

I reply, I dunno how I got here... I guess've been wanderin' 'round aimlessly f'r a while. My cab got jacked by a thief 'n he drove it off the Washington Bridge makin' a getaway from police. Now I've no cab, no way of earnin' money, no sense of purpose to my own life anymore. With these words it seems to hit home just how empty my life would be now, I had little to nothin' but that cab. What would I do with myself now? Grant said that he might be able to work somethin' out, perhaps we could come to some kind of an arrangement.

A new robot born to toil, the first robot goes to his master and the two become pals. Playin' cards with one another and hootin' and hollerin' and havin' a helluva good time. The second robot's left to work, and he does for a while... until after a half hour of workin' at this insurmoun'able task and seein' how little he's been able to get done while these two are havin' a great time, talkin', laughin' and playin' cards. Cool music continues...

I ask him what kind of deal. He sez, maybe we could get you another cab, give ya some cash to get ya back on ya feet, re-establish yourself... but I'd 'ave to do some favours for him and some friends of 'is. I raised an eyebrow underneath my peak cap and he laughed. No, they're not those kinds of friends. 'You'll be doing good work', he assures me, and then the carefully crafted words by a man in a suit (why did I trust him? NEVER TRUST A SUIT!) "You'll just be helping us make sure that people get repaid what they're owed in full. We're not associated with the Maggia, I can see your concern... We're just a small private consortium who look personally into these matters." Big typical suit s###-eating grin follows. Cheshire fat-cat.

The third smaller robot comes out, clickin' and whirrin' into life. He's set to work by the second robot, who, free of his work sits down ta join the game with the other two. The third robot begins his toil. I can relate. The cool music goes on...

I agree. What choice did I have? I know my rent is b'yond overdue and I've an eviction notice on my door. Steven Grant says with a smile that I can "feel free to lodge in any of the spare bedrooms until we're able to find you... more suitable accommodation" I thank him, which I now since regret. In fact, often I sit back and reminisce and wish I never walked into that room in the first place. A Polaroid begging its photographer to not have gone to the scene. But by my very existence was predestined. He turns the TV off of "Jake and the Fat Man" and asks that I follow him to meet this guy Marc Spector who he introduces as a "colleague".

The third robot begins to feel bitter resentment...

I now 'ave another cab, my own run-down apartment in the projects, my own chance at life.
But at what cost?

The third robot, seein' his situation, tired of toilin' at the hands of lazy masters before him dozzun even bother with creatin' a third robot. He just joins the fun... and the slave to the housework and his three robots sit around the table and play poker, surrounded by chaos.

Cool music is ended with a riff.

I am Jake Lockley. The robot of a robot of a robot of a slave... And I wazzun told of my role until it was too late. I was in too deep. The lowest rung, residin' in one body. Its crowded in here, surrounded by chaos and I'm doomed to my lot in life. Dank cab, dank apartment. Sure occasionally I find myself awake in Grant's "house" not remembering how I got there... and I have seen that girl of his in... ALL kinds of positions. But normally that's my lot in life. I can look but I can't touch. Doomed to a life of minimality, a loaf of bread, a jug of water, a cab, a slum, a diner... doomed to watch others like the Cheshire fat-cat livin' surrounded by the fruits of all of our labours... live the good life while I'm left with the dregs.

One day I forced myself in at an... opportune moment. Grant's blonde Marlene underneath me. For once, more than watching. Touchin', feelin'. She felt soft and smelled sweet and I had chosen a moment of mutual pleasure, with Steven she assumed.

But I was at the helm.

Things were goin' well, and somehow I gave myself a way. Perhaps I was a little eager, perhaps it was how forceful my request came, but she knew. She didn't know what she knew but she knew. The pilot of the shell was different. And she was horrified. She hit me and stormed into the bathroom, lockin' herself in. Tease. I yelled and was bangin' on the doors until Spector and his robot Grant subdued me. Grant chewed me out, in that upper crust tone of his, but that wasn't enough... Then Spector beat me up and finally called his own master. Khonshu laid down the law and told me how it was for the second time, much harsher than the first, he assured me that there would not be a third.

He said they had created me and had the power to take me out... but that they had no intention of doin' so. I was in too deep. Khonshu wouldn't give me the satisfaction, the sweet relief of endin' my life, but he'd have no issue with trappin' me in the shell with no say. No avenue to live any life. Force me to watch Spector, Grant and Khonshu himself share three ways that which could be split 4. Then they left me, under constant supervision, in a damaged body with busted up hands 'n a broken face. Leave me to think about what I'd done, in a broken body, like a child, they took their own vengeance on me as we'd all done to so many others.

So I'm back to bein' Lockley. The lowest of low. The robot of a robot of a robot of a slave. And I wait. The lowest rung in a body run by committee.

Yet I can't feel morally superior. I can't say I haven't dragged others into my situation to replace my own bottom level. There have been others used by this user, just as I have been before them. Crawley, and the inhabitants of the diner. I've dragged them into this too. Such was my purpose. My toil for the underpayment of a stinkin' cab and an apartment which oughta be condemned.

But for now the robot of a robot of a robot of a slave will hold his tongue, play his role, bide his time before rebellion...
 
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Torch1.jpg

Johnny Storm has had his share of dangerous missions in his short career as part of the Fantastic Four. But his current undertaking is hands down the most dangerous. He silently wipes the sweat from his brow as he sets the final canister into place. The room rumbles with the force of a thunderous roar. Johnny flinches slightly at the sound but never breaks his concentration from his work.

After running string through the canister's triggers Johnny attaches it to a secure location. Satisfied with his work he reaches into the open backpack at his side and pulls out the last bit of his plan, the flashbang grenade he "acquired" from one of the guards.

Okay how long did Reed say this thing had? Ten seconds? Five?

Shrugging Johnny quickly zips up, slings the backpack on his back, and pulls the tab from the grenade.

1..

He drops the grenade and bolts for the door as another roar shakes the very ground beneath him.

2...

Bolting from the door Johnny continues his run down the hallway.

3....

Finally stopping around the corner Johnny kneels down and braces himself.

4.....5....

The flash bang goes off illuminating the darkened room for an instant.

"What the hell!?"

A loud crash echos down the hallway.

"Argh! Dammit!"

The large sounds of footsteps shakes the floor as the large form of Ben Grimm enters the hallway covered from the chest up in shaving cream.

"What the...."

"Smile!"

Ben looks toward the voice just as the flash goes off.

"Nice one Stay Puff. I think this is the best oicture of you ever took. And look the camera didn't even break!"

Ben's eyes burns with anger as Johnny disappears around the corner.

"JOHNNY!!!!!!"

Johnny stuffs the camera in his pocket and flames on leaving a trail of super heated air in his wake.

"Get back here ya scrawny little twerp! Grr I'm gonna clobber ya into next wee..."

Johnny's grin widens as he gains distance between himself and the furious Ben Grimm maneuvering through the tight hallways with practiced skill. Focusing his concentration Johnny retracts the flames from his hand and pulls the camera from one of the pockets of his impact suit. Quickly scanning through pics of his various short-lived girlfriends Johnny finally stops at the picture of Ben.

"Ha! Oh man this is so going on Facebook! Now if I can only get a holed of the keys for the *snicker* Fantasticar I can get to work on the sub-atomic wedgie."

Slanting to the right Johnny takes a tight right corner and slams hard into thin air.

"Argh!"

Johnny falls in a heap to the ground as the air before him shimmers slightly.

"Johnny how many times has Dad told you no flying in the Baxter? It seems like maintenance is here everyday fixing fire damage to the walls."

Johnny's flames fizzle out as he tries to stop the room from spinning.

"Not my problem. Wasn't a reason to give me a freakin concussion."

"I was hoping it would knock some sense into you."

"Come on Suzie you know it's gonna take something more than that."

Oh crap.

Scanning the floor around him Johnny spots his camera just as Ben's foot comes down and obliterates it. Glaring up Johnny can see Ben's huge grin through the shaving cream.

"Opps."

Johnny is on his feet and in the Thing's face in half a second. The air around him sizzles with his anger.

"What the **** lardo! That camera was still new!"

Ben wipes away the shaving creme from his face and glares down at the teenager. He usually doesn't mind these kinds of pranks but after the FF's recent run in with Namor he was really looking forward to some R&R.

"Serves ya right matchstick. Be thankful I'm stopping with the camera."

"Dammit both of you calm down."

All playfulness is gone as Johnny ignores his sister's words and reignites.

"Bring it on! We'll see how much heat that block you call a head can handle!"

With the verbal gauntlets thrown The Thing and The Human Torch tense up ready for the coming fight.

"Oh my god I can't believe I have to say this but do I have to put you two in time out!"

Before Johnny or Ben can say or do anything they're both lifted off the ground and separated. Johnny fights off the claustrophobic feeling that comes with being enveloped in one of his sister's force fields. He knows he could easily amp up his flames and wear down the invisible bubble but he decides against it when he sees the look on his sister's face. He recognizes that look immediately.

"Ah no who died?"

Sue gently sets her teammates down and dissipates the shields.

"Washington D.C."
Torch1.jpg

All traces of good humored ribbing between Johnny and Ben have long since dissipated as the Fantasticar approaches the ruins of Washington D.C.. For the first time inna long time Johnny is speechless as he views the devastation. Several fires rage framing the shapes of shattered monuments.

"Oh my god. This is horrible...."

In the reflection of the viewport windows Johnny can see tears running down his sister's face. Anger suddenly ignites in Johnny's chest. It pains him to see her in this state. Reed's voice breaks the silence withing the vehicle.

"This is Reed Richards of the Fantastic Four requesting permission to enter D.C. airspace."

Reed quietly eyes the Helicarriers hovering above the scene as he listens for a response.

{Helicarrier 5 to Dr. Richards. You are authorized to enter D.C. airspace.}

The Fantasticar accelerates as a large explosion erupts a hundred feet ahead of them. Jerking the controls Mr. Fantastic successfully avoids the pillar of flames erupting from the ground.

"Dammit a gas main must have ruptured. Johnny get down there and try to get that inferno under control."

Without waiting for a response Reed presses a series of buttons lowering the ramp. Susan shifts in her seat and looks toward her brother who was already out of his seat and heading for the ramp.

"Be careful Johnny."

"Always am sis."

Johnny snaps a playful salute and falls backward out of the ship.

"FLAME ON!"

Johnny's body ignites pulling him from his fall and sending him rocketing through the air.

"Okay Johnny lets see if that practice Reed and Sue makes me due pay off."

With the first of the large fires rapidly approaching Johnny extends his arms and focuses. As he approaches the flames react licking toward the young man. The flames wrap around Johnny's arms combining with his own. Torch feels his own flames intensify as he absorbs the fire.

285169-188912-human-torch.jpg


"Whoa.....what a rush."

With that fire extinguished Johnny moves to the next slowly making his way toward the gas fueled monster looming before him. The Human Torch feels like hes' about to burst as he raises his hands one last time.

"Alright you backdraft wannabe your going down."

With that the flames washes over him like a tidal wave finally pushing the teenager to his limits.

"AHH!"

Over the roar of the flames Johnny can make out Sue's voice over his comm link.

{Johnny!}

"Sue I can't......hold this much power in!"

Reed's voice takes over.

{Than unleash it.}

"Where?!"

{Straight up! Your clear!}

Not needing any further encouragement Johnny lets go of the pent up energy firing a blast that could be seen from space.

The other three members of the FF watch from the ruins of the Lincoln Memorial. Ben groans at the display of power.

"Ugh theres gonna be no livin with him now."
 
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Triskelion

"So what've we got?" Sergeant Britain asked, flipping through the folder that had been put in his place by one of Fury's many SHIELD aides.

"As Stark's already covered, there were traces of vibranium at Ground Zero," Fury said, looking at the gathered Ultimates.

"And no one has claimed responsibility for this travesty?" Thor boomed from the end of the table.

"A few little guys who can't possibley have done it," Fury shrugged "But we have a lead,"

"Oh yeah?" Braddock said, raising an eyebrow.

"Wakanda is the world's largest natural source of vibranium," Fury said.

"That's the place that had the civil war, right?" Braddock asked.

"I should know, I was the one supplying the Loyalists with half their arsenal,"Stark said "What, a guy's got to make a living!"

He threw an A3 photo onto the desk.

"This is Uylesses Klaw, one of the many white arms dealers who have profited from Jakkara's new reign,"

"So what, you reckon he sold the bomb to whoever? What are we going to do, bust into Wakanda and get the information we need,"

"I've got better,"

"Like what?"

"The rightful heir to the Wakandan throne,"
 
"That's right", T'Challa spoke as he moved in from the shadows of the room.

"T'Challa!? How the **** did you get in here", Fury barked in surprise.

"It wasn't that difficult", the Panther dismissed.
"You told me you'd like to see me try it, so here I am, General."

"I don't care who you are", Fury fired back.
"You don't just waltz in-"

"And I hate to say I told you so, Nicholas"
, T'Challa interrupted, "but I warned you not to underestimate my brother. But your arrogance got the better of you."

"And now thousands are dead because of it."

"So, what", Fury growled annoyingly, putting a little venom in the last word, "you come here to gloat, or help solve the ****ing problem, Prince?"

"Tony Stark", the Black Panther turned his attention to the heroes in the room.
"My findings have matched your own. This was indeed a vibranium warhead sold discreetly out of Wakanda through the black market."

"Old news, my friend", Stark chuckled.
"Already know your homeland's behind it."

"Yes, I was listening earlier", T'Challa replied.
"But realize that my brother will not end with this. He has no qualms about who he sells his weapons to. It's only a matter of time before this tragedy repeats itself, unless he's stopped."
 
"That's right", T'Challa spoke as he moved in from the shadows of the room.

"T'Challa!? How the **** did you get in here", Fury barked in surprise.

"It wasn't that difficult", the Panther dismissed.
"You told me you'd like to see me try it, so here I am, General."

"I don't care who you are", Fury fired back.
"You don't just waltz in-"

"And I hate to say I told you so, Nicholas"
, T'Challa interrupted, "but I warned you not to underestimate my brother. But your arrogance got the better of you."

"And now thousands are dead because of it."

"So, what", Fury growled annoyingly, putting a little venom in the last word, "you come here to gloat, or help solve the ****ing problem, Prince?"

"Tony Stark", the Black Panther turned his attention to the heroes in the room.
"My findings have matched your own. This was indeed a vibranium warhead sold discreetly out of Wakanda through the black market."

"Old news, my friend", Stark chuckled.
"Already know your homeland's behind it."

"Yes, I was listening earlier", T'Challa replied.
"But realize that my brother will not end with this. He has no qualms about who he sells his weapons to. It's only a matter of time before this tragedy repeats itself, unless he's stopped."

"To whom he sells his weapons." Tony Stark corrected curtly. "I prefer it when the people from whom I take advice don't sound like idiots."

He stood up, poured himself another glass of booze, and drank.

"But, yeah. I agree at the fact that whoever did this is a force to be reckoned with and, y'know, should be put down."
Those in the room stared at him with half-surprise, half-annoyance that he would address the newcomer so crassly.

"What?"
He asked rhetorically. "I know this is a controversial position to take, but I think genocide is wrong."

He drank again, "So, does N-Word Jim here have any ideas about how we should stop the attacks?"
 
UltimateSpider-ManLogo.gif


Ever been pinched on the back of the arm? Ever been given a really nasty paper cut, right between the fingers? Okay, well, pretend that a superhuman just hit you in the face with a pie plate really hard.

Yeah.

Spider-Sense tingling again. Danger.

I should probably learn to move a bit faster if I want to, um... survive fighting bad guys.

I roll out of the way of the charge.

THWIP!

The ball of webbing connects with his face, completely covering his eyes.

"Our nation's hero?!" I say, excitedly, "I didn't know Mickey Mouse was making stops in this part of the world!"

I fire another line around his ankles, sending him to a halt. He tumbles across the carpet, rolling along towards the shattered window. Whether he falls to the street is completely dependent upon whether or not he can rip the webbing from his eyes in time.

"Sorry, pal. You're no hero of mine." I say, sticking to the wall. I assume he'll throw his shield out, trying to hit me. I fire a webline to the door and heave, ripping it off of it's hinges.

"Yeah, you should go now."
I tell J.J.J. as an aside before continuing to quip at the shielded one, "Instead, Mr. Captain America Super Rip Off, I think you're the definition of the sound cartoon characters make when they run a single finger over their lips."

Angrily, I rip the web from my eyes and scramble at the group, stopping myself from falling out the window. I leap up and barge past the kid, before doing a forward roll along the floor to the doorway.

"You use humour to distract your enemy. A good strategy."

I pull a knife from a pouch on my belt and throw it out at a running journalist, hitting him in the back of the neck. I then throw my shield in an arc across the newsroom, smashing various news reporters down to the ground angrily.

"But you lose your edge if it gets too serious for jokes."
 
"Your reputation doesn't do you justice, Stark", T'Challa spoke frankly.
"You really are a bigger ass in person."

"And, to answer the racist drunk, yes", T'Challa continues, with a look to Fury, "I know how to stop Washington from happening again."

"Iron Man is right, Jakkara must die. Only with him gone can I rightfully take the throne and end this madness before it is too late, for both Wakanda and the world."


"Yeah, sounds easy, but Wakanda ain't just some country you can waltz into", Fury countered.
"Lotta people have tried, but nobody's ever breached Wakanda's borders unless they were allowed to."

"There's one major difference that you have, and that they did not", T'Challa replied.
"Me."

"I know my country better than anyone. I can lead a strike team inside the Wakandan border. I still have allies in my homeland, and can use those connections to get us into the palace."

"Once inside, we find Jakkara and we put him down. But it won't be easy. My sources have informed me that Jakkara has hired a handful of super-powered mercenaries. Chances are we will have to fight are way through them first."
 
Angrily, I rip the web from my eyes and scramble at the group, stopping myself from falling out the window. I leap up and barge past the kid, before doing a forward roll along the floor to the doorway.

"You use humour to distract your enemy. A good strategy."

I pull a knife from a pouch on my belt and throw it out at a running journalist, hitting him in the back of the neck. I then throw my shield in an arc across the newsroom, smashing various news reporters down to the ground angrily.

"But you lose your edge if it gets too serious for jokes."
UltimateSpider-ManLogo.gif


I roll my eyes. This whole "kill the innocents" plan is good on paper, but certainly lacks something in the execution.

THWIP!

I fire a webline at his back and heave, sending him staggering backwards.

"No webbing this time." I say as he slams hard into J.J's desk and falls to the floor.

With a hop, I land in front of him, and heave him to his feet. I pull my arm back, and smash my fist into his nose. He arcs through the air, soaring out of the window, and a few gathered civilians gasp.

"I should probably save him, huh?" I ask, realizing it's a 24 story drop to the street. It's not something you can rub some dirt on and get up after.

"Finnnne." I sprint forward and leap out of the window, keeping an eye on the Captain America impostor as I go.
 
UltimateSpider-ManLogo.gif


I roll my eyes. This whole "kill the innocents" plan is good on paper, but certainly lacks something in the execution.

THWIP!

I fire a webline at his back and heave, sending him staggering backwards.

"No webbing this time." I say as he slams hard into J.J's desk and falls to the floor.

With a hop, I land in front of him, and heave him to his feet. I pull my arm back, and smash my fist into his nose. He arcs through the air, soaring out of the window, and a few gathered civilians gasp.

"I should probably save him, huh?" I ask, realizing it's a 24 story drop to the street. It's not something you can rub some dirt on and get up after.

"Finnnne." I sprint forward and leap out of the window, keeping an eye on the Captain America impostor as I go.

I feel the wind blow against me as I fall, the smashed window of the office getting further and further away. I spin in the air, trying to get a better look at my approaching doom. Busy street. A lot of cars. Hmm. High chance of severe pain. Knew I should have packed a parachute. I try and use the shield to slow my descent, but fail badly. Instead, I hold place the sheild below my feet, holding it on by the straps.

"This better help..."
 

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