• Secure your account

    A friendly reminder to our users, please make sure your account is safe. Make sure you update your password and have an active email address to recover or change your password.

  • Xenforo Cloud has scheduled an upgrade to XenForo version 2.2.16. This will take place on or shortly after the following date and time: Jul 05, 2024 at 05:00 PM (PT) There shouldn't be any downtime, as it's just a maintenance release. More info here

The Ultimate Marvel RPG Season I IC Thread

"Your reputation doesn't do you justice, Stark", T'Challa spoke frankly. "You really are a bigger ass in person."

"Am I blushing?"

"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."

"For the record," Stark said, "I'm not 'drunk.' The liquor coursing through my veins rarely makes it to my blood stream for more than a few minutes, which is why, if you're particularly annoying, I'll help myself to some more."

Glaring at the Wakandan, he poured himself another glass, drinking it quickly, so as to emphasize his point.

"And, before anyone gets all uppity, I'll just say that I don't have a pain management problem, I have a pain problem. One of the side effects of having a birth defect." He sat down in a leather chair, drinking again, "I understand your perspective, T'Challa, but, for now, I don't think it's in the interests of The Ultimates to get involved. We're already taking heat for what happened in the Middle East, and the last thing we need is to deal with media coverage of us intervening in a coup. Sorry, pal. Though you find yourself on our doorstep, it's a simple case of wrong place, wrong time."

"Stark." Fury warned, "Show some respect."

"Why?"
Stark asked, cocking his head to the side, "He's not my king. Not my boss, not my leader, not my teammate. Hell, I don't even consider this guy to be my equal."

He shot a glance the Wakandan's way.

"And, before we go making me out to be a down-home hick, I'll just say that I own a small island off the shore of Bermuda."
He drank again, "You come from a nation where people still carry boxes on their heads."

"The man standing in front of you is the heir to the Wakandan throne." Fury said, respect echoing through his voice, "He is here to stop a genocide and injustice against all people of Wakanda, and --"

"I'm sure if I were from Wakanda, he would be very important to me." Stark said snidely, "But I'm not a 'brotha' and I'm not Wakandan. Mother always told me to treat guests with respect, but he wasn't invited, which makes him more of an intruder. And mother always said that intruders are how the Devil gets inside you."

Stark filled his glass again, standing up to get more ice, and took the spot at the head of the table, as if he owned the building room.

Speaking to Fury, but staring straight into T'Challa's eyes, Stark spoke again, "He can have all the royal authority he wants, all the princely arrogance that his bloodline gives him, but those and a Metrocard can get you downtown. Klaw attacked the United States, so it stands to logic that he's still here. You want us to help you in Wakanda? We take care of the people who blew up our capitol first."

Stark leaned back, and drank again, staring forward. "But what do I know?" He added, "I'm just the racist drunk who pays the bills."
 
T'Challa sat back and listened to the man's rant. When it was finally finished, the exiled Prince simply smiled under his mask and chuckled.

"Your ignorant perception of my country aside, do you honestly think a mercenary like the Klaw would come to America, sell somebody a warhead, and then stick around?"

"Come now, Stark, use your brain. He's on Jakkara's payroll. He was off American soil almost immediately after getting rid of the weapon. If you have any leads, I'll gladly help take down whoever orchestrated the Washington attack. But, there's nothing. No signs pointing anywhere. The only person who knows the identity of the mass murderer is my brother and Ulysses Klaw."

"But, if you wish to stay here, sitting on your ass and drinking, that's fine with me. Clearly, I came to the wrong people."


"T'Challa..."

"It's all right Nicholas", the Panther cut him off.
"Both of our countries don't have time for a battle of egos. I'll gather my own team and take down my brother. When I find Klaw, I will learn who he sold the weapon to and send you all the information you need to take them down."

The Panther departed back into the shadows from whence he came, and left the Triskelion.

Soon he was back on the rooftops of Manhattan, heading back to his apartment. He didn't have much time to spare.

Finally arriving in his dwelling, T'Challa hurriedly collected all of his data and items of importance. He had to depart within the hour, any more time he wasted was time Jakkara could use to sell more weapons of mass destruction on the black market. And the thought of more madmen carrying destructive power of that magnitude did not sit well with the Wakandan Prince.

When he came to this country, at first, it was about reclaiming his birthright. Now, that was pushed to the back burner. Right now it was about saving lives and preventing the Washington tragedy from repeating itself.

T'Challa downloaded all of his files on a small datapad, then erased the hard drive. Looking at the datapad, T'Challa glanced over the list of meta-human he had studied just in case the Ultimates were unwilling. With the first name on the list not far from his apartment, T'Challa headed out the window to begin recruiting his Crew...
 
Moon_Knight_descending.jpg

[blackout]ULTIMATE MOON KNIGHT[/blackout]​


The crescent chopper came down from the clouds overlooking the palatial estate of one Steven Grant. An attractive blonde looks out of a window in the manor and smiles. She walks down the halls at a confident pace to meet him on arrival. The aircraft enters an artificially lit hanger and a well-coiffed man in an expensive suit of immaculate style dismounts the custom-made vehicle.

[blackout]“Good evening, Ms Alraune. You look even more enchanting than when I left.”[/blackout]

"You came home early!” Marlene beamed and then paused with a concerned look on her face. “Did something happen? Something go wrong?”

[blackout]“Everything’s fine, my sweet. A minor hiccup along the way, nothing to concern yourself with. With everything that happened today there was a lot to do early on, but Spector certainly made his presence felt. We just thought we’d call it a night as a precaution. Don’t want to push ourselves too hard on Monday and wind up unable to protect the meek on Wednesday, do we?”[/blackout]

[blackout]“Now, are you pleased to see me?”[/blackout]

“Well yes” replied Marlene “but I know how seriously you take this. So when I see you come home early, on a night when I’ve seen just how bad some of the riots have been across the country on television…”

[blackout]“Nothing Moon Knight can’t handle”[/blackout] Grant said with a reassuring smile [blackout]“you know however bad things are out there, I’m coming back here to you. That knowledge gives me as much strength as the moon.”[/blackout]

Grant strode off confidently to find Samuels so as to announce his arrival since Marlene had not passed him through the halls of Grant manor. After his arrival there was always much to do in the small hours of the morning for Steven’s loyal butler.

Marlene walked around the front of the helicopter where she found “Frenchie” DuChamp chocking up the wheels beneath the Crescent-chopper to prepare for refuelling and maintenance.

“Level with me, Jean-Paul. What happened with him tonight? Why did he come home early?”

“He would not tell me Mademoiselle Alraune, he silenced me early with the celebratory champagne… but knowing him as I do… I would say its happened again.”

“Again?” Marlene’s concern was visible. With growing negative sentiment each month Marlene was growing more concerned with police action, rather than with the threat of the scum of a city untamed.

“This has to be getting to him… Steven has always expressed regret afterwards. But it never lasts long. I’m worried he’s just not facing up to when it happens completely.”

“I’m worried about him.”

"We ALL worry about him, Mademoiselle."

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

Grant finds Samuels dusting in his office. The office is lit by a dim lamp in the corner. [blackout]“I’m home, Samuels old friend. Holding down the fort I see?”[/blackout]

“Yes, sir. It is good to have you home. I trust tonight didn’t have any complications?”

[blackout]“No, Samuels. Just a busy night in the office. I see its much the same here?”[/blackout]

“Quite, sir. Shall I have Nedda make anything up for you, sir?”

[blackout]“Oh, to be honest I could go for some of her flambéed duck.“[/blackout] [blackout]“Don’t wake her if she’s not still up though, Samuels. I won’t be out there for about an hour to an hour and a half, though. Could you let Marlene know that?”[/blackout]

“Yes, sir. If I understand correctly, you’ll be wanting privacy from us all barring emergency circumstances, sir?”

[blackout]“Your observation is as astute as ever, Samuels.”[/blackout] Smiled Steven Grant.

Samuels left the office, closing the double doors behind him.

Steven Grant stood alone in his poorly lit office. A familiar statue standing in one corner, and shelves stocked with more books than he could ever hope to read covering the large wall behind his desk, an antique chair in the corner by the windows and a calendar on the wall between said two windows. Windows which revealed the downpour that was now happening in the world beyond these 4 walls. Grant stepped around his mahogany desk as lighting flashed from beyond the windows. Seconds later thunder would clap… and it did. True to the prophesy of the flash which preceded it. Grant turned and looked out of the windows, into the dark night his kindred other called home.

Grant then looked between the flashes at the calendar. Marlene had purchased it for him. It had landmarks from the cities from around the world on each month. Marlene would always call it cheating to look ahead at the following month but she was not around and there was a new following month now, being the start of October. Steven Grant grasped the lower corner next to the final square – the 31st and lifted upwards slowly like a small child tearing at the corner of a Christmas present in the days before. He lifted it all the way.

Big Ben stared him back in the face.

Steven Grant smiled to himself, chuckling internally at how childish he could be as he saw the corner of the following month was curled.

He’d already lifted that next page previously.

He couldn’t remember it…

Lightning flashed on his flanks. With curiosity he grasped the corner of the calendar’s page and raised it upwards slowly again. Thunder startled him and he flinched, closing his eyes on instinct.

Marc Spector opened them.

Spector came face to face with a circled number. The number circled shakily several times already in a blood red pen. He twitched nervously and taking the red pen with the calendar in his off hand, flipping the cap off as it rolled somewhere on the hardwood floor of his office. Once more, as he had done numerous times before, Spector shakily circled the dreaded number once more.

Suddenly feeling drained by this activity, Spector slumped down into the antique chair. It was not long now until the dreaded day would come. The feeling of complete and utter vulnerability, that which he feared most of all, would once again soon be upon him.
 
Last edited:
T'Challa sat back and listened to the man's rant. When it was finally finished, the exiled Prince simply smiled under his mask and chuckled.

"Your ignorant perception of my country aside, do you honestly think a mercenary like the Klaw would come to America, sell somebody a warhead, and then stick around?"

"Come now, Stark, use your brain. He's on Jakkara's payroll. He was off American soil almost immediately after getting rid of the weapon. If you have any leads, I'll gladly help take down whoever orchestrated the Washington attack. But, there's nothing. No signs pointing anywhere. The only person who knows the identity of the mass murderer is my brother and Ulysses Klaw."

"But, if you wish to stay here, sitting on your ass and drinking, that's fine with me. Clearly, I came to the wrong people."


"T'Challa..."

"It's all right Nicholas", the Panther cut him off.
"Both of our countries don't have time for a battle of egos. I'll gather my own team and take down my brother. When I find Klaw, I will learn who he sold the weapon to and send you all the information you need to take them down."

The Panther departed back into the shadows from whence he came, and left the Triskelion.

Soon he was back on the rooftops of Manhattan, heading back to his apartment. He didn't have much time to spare.

Finally arriving in his dwelling, T'Challa hurriedly collected all of his data and items of importance. He had to depart within the hour, any more time he wasted was time Jakkara could use to sell more weapons of mass destruction on the black market. And the thought of more madmen carrying destructive power of that magnitude did not sit well with the Wakandan Prince.

When he came to this country, at first, it was about reclaiming his birthright. Now, that was pushed to the back burner. Right now it was about saving lives and preventing the Washington tragedy from repeating itself.

T'Challa downloaded all of his files on a small datapad, then erased the hard drive. Looking at the datapad, T'Challa glanced over the list of meta-human he had studied just in case the Ultimates were unwilling. With the first name on the list not far from his apartment, T'Challa headed out the window to begin recruiting his Crew...


Hawkeye glanced from one Ultimate to another. He'd stood and watched the exchange from the corner of the room, saying nothing. Now though, the tension in the air could be cut with a knife.

With a shake of his head he stood up straight, "Well that went well!" he quipped sarcastically. "But I have a tendency to agree with Panther. And whilst you mooks sit here and act like *****, I intend to do something about it".

Hawkeye spun and left the room. The ego's could look after themselves. People were at risk and the innocent lives needed protection. Hawkeye was a soldier and he fully intended to do what needed to be done to protect those he loved.
 
It was a humid night in Harlem as the Panther sat patiently on the rooftop of an apartment building, waiting for his contacts to arrive.
Finally the rooftop door opened and the unusual pair of heroes stepped out and walked towards T'Challa.

"You're late", the Panther stated as the pair moved to stand in front of him by the roof's edge.

H4H.jpg


"Yeah, had to stop a robbery a couple blocks up. Mutha****er tried to rob Mr. Goodwin's electronics shop. Was about to put a bullet to the man's head when we showed up."

"And we don't play that"
, Iron Fist said with a smirk as he cracked his neck.

"When your message said you were the Black Panther, you weren't kidding", Iron Fist says as he looks T'Challa up and down.
"Talk about taking a gimmick and rolling with it."

"Man, Danny, don't you know anythin'", Luke shook his head.
"This here's an African legend, man. The Panther's the protector of Wakanda. One of the dudes that inspired me to become a hero."

"My father was always good when it came to inspiring others", T'Challa replied.

"Yeah", Cage said, picking up on the 'was', "heard about what happened to your family when Jakkara took over...I'm sorry."

"Your words are appreciated, but I think we should get down to business. After what happened to Washington, we have little time to waste. Analysis of the attack had detected trace amounts of vibranium around the blast site. Which means Jakkara played a part in what happened earlier this morning."


"Wait, so you're saying that Wakanda was responsible for the attack?"

"No. At least not directly", T'Challa shook his head.
"But Jakkara sold the weapon to the person, or persons, behind the bombing. One thing you must know about my brother, he has no problem selling his weapons to the highest bidder. No matter who it is."

"Which is why he needs to be taken down immediately."

"Before things go from bad to worse"
, Cage said nodding in agreement.

"So...what? You want to hire us on to over throw the Wakandan government? Because that's what it sounds like you're saying?"

"As long as Jakkara is in power, he will continue to sell weapons of mass destruction to militant groups and terrorist organizations throughout the world. If he's not stopped, Washington will only be the first of many more tragedies to come."

"You ain't even got to ask", Power Man said.
"I've been hopin' that they'd catch the *******s responsible for Washington. And with the chance to personally beat the livin' **** out of them in front of me...can't pass it up. We're in."

"Wait a minute, Luke. Let's think this thing over a bit", Danny began to say, but Power Man cut him off with a raised hand.

"Already did."

"But we're talking about overthrowing the government of a country that hasn't been conquered. Ever. Every single foriegn invader who's tried to take Wakanda hasn't even been able to get through it's borders. I'm all for fighting the good fight, but this is suicide."


"Don't worry about getting in to my country"
, the Panther chimed in.
"I can get us in without being detected. Once we get to the royal palace though, things will get rough. Jakkara has hired super-powered mercenaries as his private guard. We will have to fight through them to get to my brother."

"Don't worry, your Highness"
, Cage smirked.
"Power Man and Iron Fist got your back."

Iron Fist sighed in defeat.
"So, when do we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning, be at this address"
, T'Challa stated as he handed Cage a small piece of paper.
"It is a small, private airfield just outside the city. Make sure you are there at nine AM sharp. We leave as soon as everyone arrives."

"Everyone? There's gonna be more costumes goin' with us?"

"Yes", T'Challa nodded, "a mission of such importance and difficulty requires a solid team of like-minded individuals. You two are the first I have contacted, but I plan to meet with several others before the night is through."

"Right on, brotha", Cage says, "Go get the rest of your Crew together...we'll be there."

The Panther turns and leaps off of the building and into the muggy night, quickly heading towards his next target and potential ally...
 
Previously:

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.

Magneto stepped from the helicopter onto the fertile soil of the Savage Land. Both Mystique and Avalanche fell into step alongside him.

"Lord Magneto, you know that they will not let your liberation go without confrontation? And it will be here that they look first"


Magneto nodded solemnly. "Yes Mystique, I'm aware. We are merely here to collect our resources and then we shall build a new army. Do you really think that I have not already formulated our next steps?"

Mystique glanced at Lensherr but said nothing.

"If I may, Magneto. I have associates who I am sure will be happy to join our cause and fall in line with your leadership".


Magneto nodded and clasped the man on the shoulder. "Thank you Avalanche. When we are done here, our recruiment will begin with your men".
 
T'Challa sat back and listened to the man's rant. When it was finally finished, the exiled Prince simply smiled under his mask and chuckled.

"Your ignorant perception of my country aside, do you honestly think a mercenary like the Klaw would come to America, sell somebody a warhead, and then stick around?"

"Come now, Stark, use your brain. He's on Jakkara's payroll. He was off American soil almost immediately after getting rid of the weapon. If you have any leads, I'll gladly help take down whoever orchestrated the Washington attack. But, there's nothing. No signs pointing anywhere. The only person who knows the identity of the mass murderer is my brother and Ulysses Klaw."

"But, if you wish to stay here, sitting on your ass and drinking, that's fine with me. Clearly, I came to the wrong people."

"T'Challa..."

"It's all right Nicholas", the Panther cut him off.
"Both of our countries don't have time for a battle of egos. I'll gather my own team and take down my brother. When I find Klaw, I will learn who he sold the weapon to and send you all the information you need to take them down."

The Panther departed back into the shadows from whence he came, and left the Triskelion.

I watch T'Challa leave the room in silence.

"Americans," I say as I click my tongue at Stark.

"So self-absorbed about your country. If we let what goes on in Wakanda unchecked, it will only be a matter of time before it runs rampant through all of Africa. Klaw and Jakkara have already helped slaughter millions. If they aren't stopped, that number will reach billions. I signed up for this team not to chase and hunt down America's enemies, but to help the world. Those two men not only have committed genocide in one country, but in two. A soverign ruler or not, I say we have to bring him to justice."
 
Captain America had sat back and listened to the exchange in surprising silence. The attack was still fresh in his mind, and it brought back old memories of the Great War.
The meeting had not been going rather well. The Black Panther, apparently the rightful king of Wakanda, crashed the meeting and talked about how his brother is selling WMDs on the black market to terrorists.
Stark had some crass words, and the two fired back and forth from each other until the Panther had had enough of it and left to stop his brother by himself.

Meanwhile, the team was right back at square one then, with the only lead being the one that just walked away.

After Hawkeye stormed out and Thor made his comment, Cap leaned forward and took a deep breath, trying to exhale his frustrations.

"Tony, I think I speak for all of us when I say that you really need to learn to shut the hell up sometimes."

"General, if this Jakkara is selling weapons over the Black Market to terrorists, and is the supplier of the bomb that destroyed Washington, we need to take him down."

"I agree, Cap", Fury replied.
"We need to get in there, take this bastard down, and find out who he sold the nuke to."

"Get some rest and reconvene in the morning in the hanger bay at 0500 hours", Fury said as he walked towards the exit.
"We're going to take ourselves a little trip to Wakanda and have a nice chat with King Jakkara."
 
Tony took his last sip of vodka, promptly wiping his mouth dry. Despite the tense situation, there was a part of him that found this all very amusing. The would-be King of Wakanda tries to muscle his way into a state of the art operation for help to take out one man. And doing so while demanding the respect he believes himself to be entitled to. As much as his teammates seemed unsupported of the notion, Stark was still clinging tightly to his convictions. If he wanted their help, T'Challa needed to earn it.

Until then, he'd be busy working with Stark Tech's scientists in the creation of his new bio-cannon fuel.

rpg8.png


"I've no regrets, Steve. Even if you have them for me,", He replied to the evidently strung-out Captain America. "The truth is, none of us here can deny that we'd be foolish to rush into a situation like this again without thinking it through. And it's going to take far more than what I perceive to be a wannabe ruthless opportunist, who's only looking after a nice seat on the throne of a small African country, to change my mind. The only reason I might consider being here in the morning is because I find the idea of a testflight for my new computer simulators to be a unique opprotunity."

Turning to the automatic door, Stark effortlessly tossed his empty glass into a bin on his way out.

"Until tomorrow, gentlemen. I've got a date."
 
Last edited:
"I'm going to turn in for the night", Steve said as he rose to his feet and collected his shield, slinging it across his back.

"I expect to see each of you there at 0500, sharp."

Captain America didn't say a word or look anybody in the eye as he left the meeting room.
As he walked the halls, his mind drifted back to time in his old life, back in New York in the year of 1945...

--------------------------------------------------​

UltimateCap-1.jpg


Steve smiled as he leaned in and kissed her, hard.

"Not as much as you."


Gail shifted a bit on the bed, at obvious unease.

"I wish you didn't have to go..."

"Gail, honey", Steve said as he finished putting on his uniform.
"We've been over this...I have to go. After what the Japs did, these people showed how far they're willing to go. Hitler, Hirohito...they aren't going to stop until they control the world. By any means necessary."

"I can't, in good conscious, allow them to destroy the country that I love. Besides", Steve said with a calming smile as he leaned down to look Gail in her eyes.

"I'm a super soldier", he said as he rubbed her shoulders, trying to comfort her.
"We'll end this war and I'll be back in a jiffy."

Gail wiped a tear from her eye as she forced herself to smile.

"Here...", she said as she reached into the drawer of the bedside nightstand.
In it was a small photograph of her that she handed to Steve.

"To remind you to come home safe", she said with a smirk.

"Don't worry, my love", he said as he closed his eyes and kissed her softly on her forehead.
"You aren't going to lose me."
 
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.
Janet Pym shouted orders to all nearby S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel around as the last of the super criminals were returned to their holding cells.

All-in-all, the situation was handled, considering the circumstances of Magneto's breakout and shutting down of the power grid. With the arrival of the additional Ultimates, Janet and her teammates took down the rest of the B-list villains with ease.

Still the loss of Magneto was a mighty blow to the Ultimates. It would take a large cover-up from Betty Ross and her public relations crew to cover this mess up on their part. With a mutant terrorist as powerful as Magneto on the loose, there is no telling what's to come.

The rest of the Ultimates had been needed in the conference room leaving Jan to clean up - not that she minded too much. Whatever was happening now after Washington was in major Steve and Tony's hands. Since her recent problems, Jan didn't find herself as much of a central figure on the team, after her temporary leave of absence.

Later that day Janet found herself with Nick Fury as they discussed the recent happenings.

"Janet, missed you in the conference briefing earlier. Everything alright?"

"Yeah of course Nick. I just wanted to make sure our 'guests' made it back safely to their cells. I can't believe that happened right under our noses. Have the specialists figured out how he escaped yet?"

The director of S.H.I.E.L.D. shook his head in disapointment.

"Nah no leads, but I've granted clearance to the X-buddies to pursue Magneto."

Janet glanced aside, recalling the Ultimates last run-in with the X-men.

"Nick are you sure that's such a good idea? Are we sure we can trust them?"


"Ms. Pym, we can't trust any god damn person these days, but we're gonna work with what we got, and we got you."

Her eyes suddenly returned to meet Fury's firm gaze from his one good eye.

"General?"

"You heard me Wasp. The Ultimates are in the middle of an international conspiracy, but we can't just sit around in the mean time, waiting for the next terrorist attack to wipe out another American city. I want you to go with the X-men to Magneto. You know, with your whole mutant thing, I'm sure you'll get along fine. Plus we need eyes and ears there. Secret, eyes and ears Ms. Pym."
 
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..."
Spidey.jpg


Floor after floor flies past me as I plummet toward the attacker. Past him I can see the people scattering out of the way of the descending nutjob. I hold back a laugh as the Cap wannabe tries to use his shield as parachute than settles for using it to break his fall. My heart starts to race as the ground draws closer. In my short time as Spider-Man the thrill of webslinging is by far one of the greatest thing I've ever experienced, well so far, but this is pushing it.

Raising my arms I fire a webline snagging the herb by the shoulder. Tightening my grip on the tacky strand I quickly gather my strength and pull feeling the strand stretch to a point I never dared to push. The web recoils catapulting me within reach of my target. Seizing his costume I quickly reach out with my other arm and fire a new webline snagging the Bugle easily.

Big mistake.

The web goes taut and pain washes down my back as my left arm instantly halts this dork's fall.

"AHHHHH! Dude argh I got two words for you. Slim Fast."
 
Years earlier...

In transit, somewhere over Northern Africa/the Middle East

Off-colour banter is hollered back and forth between three men in desert fatigues, as the privately purchased Apache helicopter buzzes like an angry wasp to the location of its next big "sting". Its cargo; three deliverers of destruction, soldiers for hire of well-established reputation. Pilot Jean-Paul DuChamp a man of clockwork precision both behind the stick and behind a sniper rifle, Jack-of-all-trades Marc Spector - ex-Marine of impeccable training until a moment of weakness saw him thrown into the private sector, and a large tank of a man going by the name of Raoul Bushman - known for enjoying his work a little too much, a monstrous "grunt" who's reputation for strength was only surpassed by his reputation for savagery.

DuChamp is seated in the cockpit, whilst Spector and Bushman are seated opposite one another in the rear of the Apache.

"IT'S AMAZING THE AMOUNT OF WORK THAT'S TO BE HAD THESE DAYS!" shouted the French flyer to the men at the back.

"HEH. YES FRENCH-FROG-MAN! THERE'S NO SHORTAGE OF JOBS THAT THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT WOULD PREFER DONE, BUT WITHOUT THEIR FINGERPRINTS ON THE SCENE!" responded Bushman.

"IT'S A GOOD THING THEY'RE TO POOSSY TO DO THE JOB PROPERLY THEMSELVES! THE POODING-BODIED PEN-POOSHERS IN WASHINGTON WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND THESE PEOPLE TO TAKE THIS WAR CLEANLY!" continued Bushman.

"WHAT?!?" came the French voice in the front, struggling to hear what was being said over the cacophony from the prop.

Raoul Bushman rolled his eyes, confusing Jean-Paul DuChamp's difficulty hearing the conversation with the protest of another liberal bleeding heart.
"YOUR FRIEND UP THERE IS ANOTHER OF THOSE, YES? I STILL WORRY THAT WHEN IT COMES DOWN TO IT NONE OF THEM UNDERSTAND WHO THEY'RE FIGHTING OR HAVE THE STOMACH TO DO WHAT'S NECESSARY!" shouted Bushman a little quieter for the benefit of Spector in the back.

A solemn Spector, who maintains his quiet highly-trained, well-disciplined demeanour prior to a mission gives a rare reaction offering a raised eye-brow suggesting interest in what his colleague thinks. Raoul Bushman takes this as an invitation and continues.

"THOSE SOOTS! THEY DON'T UNDERSTAND THESE PEOPLE! FOR THESE PEOPLE ITS JUST A MATTER OF SURVIVAL! DOING ANYTHING TO MAINTAIN IT! THESE PEOPLE WILL CLING TO ANYTHING THAT MIGHT HELP THAT! THERE'S MEN GETTING BEHIND OTHERS TWISTING OF THE KORAN BECAUSE THEY BELIEVE THEY CAN SAVE THEM! THERE'S MEN BELIEVING IN ANYTHING THEY CAN JUST IN THE HOPE THAT THEY CAN CLING TO LIFE! THESE PEOPLE AREN'T GOING TO GET BEATEN DOWN NOW AND JUST GET OVER IT! LOOK AT PALESTINE AND THE JOOS! THAT WILL NOT END ANY TIME SOON!" the Grunt continued.

Spector pondered this comparison of the state of Israel and the current wars and gave another half-raised eyebrow.

"THEY'RE TOO SOFT ON THESE PEOPLE! YOU LEAVE THEM STANDING THEY'LL BOMB YOU FIRST OPPORTOONITY THEY GET! YOU DON'T MOVE IN, FORCE GOVERNMENT ON THESE PEOPLE TAKE THEIR OIL AND LEAVE! THAT'S NOT HOW YOU HANDLE THESE PEOPLE! YOU MOVE IN YOU SHOOT THE F***ERS AND YOU TAKE WHAT YOU WANT! THAT'S HOW YOU HANDLE THEM! ANOTHER GENERATION WILL ONLY STAB YOU IN THE BACK! YOU PLUNDER THE WEALTH AND SALT THE EARTH! THESE PEOPLE ARE DESPERATE AND HOLD A GRUDGE! YOU HAVE MEN TWISTING THE KORAN TO PUSH THEIR OWN AGENDA FOR VENGEANCE! F***! I'VE EVEN HEARD SOME OF THESE PEOPLE DOWN THERE..." Bushman gestures out of the Apache.

"SOME OF THESE PEOPLE DOWN THERE HAVE EVEN GONE BACK TO PAGAN RELIGIONS! YOU KNOW THAT!?! THEY'VE TAKEN REFUGE IN THE OLD EGYPTIAN LORE, SUCH IS THEIR DESPERATION! THEY FOLLOW THE ANCIENT GODS! THEY HAVEN'T TAKEN ON ALL OF THEM AGAIN, BUT THAT WHICH THEY FIND MOST RELEVANT! WHAT DO YOU THINK THAT WOULD BE?" Bushman goes on shooting the breeze.

"I S'POSE WHEN YOU'RE SEEING WIDESPREAD DESTRUCTION OF EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE YOU KNOW RESTING YOUR HOPES IN THE HANDS OF SPECIFIC GODS TO FIND VENGEANCE, RESTORE ORDER, LET THE NILE FLOW SOMETHING OTHER THAN BLOOD, THE SIMPLE THINGS... I SUPPOSE THAT BECOMES FAR MORE..." Raoul searches within for the word he's looking for.

"...APPEALING! I GUESS! THAT'S WHY THIS WON'T END UNTIL THEY LEAVE THE WARS TO THE WARRIORS AND LET US WAX THESE MOTHERF***ERS! THIS IS OUR TIME, BROTHER-MAN! BECAUSE THESE MEN ARE JUST MEN, NO DIFFERENT THAN YOU OR I! KILL OUR FAMILY AND LEAVE US IN CHAOS AND WHO KNOWS, THEY MAY FIND US BUILDING A MONUMENT TO THIS KHONSHU AS WELL!" Raoul finished up. Spector liked to entertain the notions of Bushman, it kept him onside to let the guy speak his mind. The main thing a man had out here was his own mind. So while he thought Bushman was barely evolved in a lot of his thoughts, granted it was definitely an interesting perspective considering all they'd seen, Spector just didn't exactly buy it. He thought it an overly pessimistic vision of humanity to suggest that a few key losses could leave a man to cling to the crazy notion of Gods... Thinking about it further he put it in the "Crazy things Bushman says to justify his own animalistic behaviour to himself."

Spector thought to himself: I bet if I slaughtered folk in cold blood as often as Bushman does I'd have to buy into some bulls### as well...

"EH, MARC!!" the French accent came from the front again. Spector shot a glance at Raoul. Bushman nodded in a way that shouted, "remember what I said, the frog has gone soft" fashion.

"MARC!!"

Spector, climbed up to poke his head into the cockpit.

"THAT'S IT! THE CO-ORDINATES MATCH! THAT'S THE CAMP THAT NICK FURY SENT US TO TO TRY OUT FOR THIS PROJECT: SECOND COMING! SECOND COMING... SHOULD BE SECOND CHANCE, OUI MARC?! THAT WOULD EXPLAIN CALLING FOR THE REDEMPTION REGIMENT!" DuChamp quoting his own little nickname for their three man unit.

Little would he know that only two were ever searching for redemption.

But that was before.

Before everything changed.
 
Norway

After the disaster of a team meeting, I teleport from the Triskelion and back home.

For me, home is the squatter's camp twnety miles outside of Oslo. Two hundred of my followers live here with me. They've all given up their lives and careers to follow me.

"He's back!"

"Yes, I have returned," I say as I wave, Mjolnir slung on my shoulder.

"How was America, Thor?

"They continue to sit on their high horse and tell the world how it should be run. Regardless, tradgedy has struck that nation and I will help the country through its struggles."

I navigate through the small crowd to my tent. It's small and humble. Very fitting.

I place Mjolnir next to my bed and stretch. The sound of my tent flap opening captures my attention.

"Thor," Angela say as she enters the tent. Originally from America, she followed me to Europe and is one of my most devoted followers.

"I'm sorry, I don't feel in the mood tonight. I have to be in America early tomorrow."

Angela opens the tent flap again, this time Marta from Poland enters the flap. I arch my eyebrow and look between them.

"Well, I suppose Fury could wait a little."

They both smile as they cross the tent. I kiss Angela, then Marta and help both women with their shirts.

Godhood certianly does have its advantages.
 
"You're going WHERE!?" Jessica yelled.

"Please...keep your voice down," Luke tried to calm her from across the kitchen table. Their small apartment held only one table, a small, round one halfway between the kitchen and living room. "I... feel like I have to go."

"You 'have to go'?!" Jessica's voice was not as loud, but was just as upset. "Don't they have the army for this kind of thing? What about the Ultimates? Can't they send the Hulk in there to smash them to little pieces?"

Luke took her hands in his. "Look, remember after 9-11, when everyone was scrambling to find shelter, lay low for a few days, try to make contact with their family and friends? Sure, all of us IN New York were doing that, but what was everyone else in the country doing? They were huddled around their TVs, watching helplessly as their nation was attacked. They sat there, clenching their fists and wanting to do something, but they couldn't. Now we're in their shoes - two days ago, Washington was bombed. Hell, they still don't have any idea as to the total casualties. My point is, I guess... I feel like I have to do something. Like it's... patriotic or something."

Jessica had calmed down, seeing his reason. A tear still rolled down her cheeks as she finally said, "But you're not trained for this. What if they set off another bomb on all of you?"

Luke, still holding Jessica's hands, dropped his head and looked at the floor. "I don't know if even I could survive a blast like that. I've never tried." He looked back up at Jessica. "Don't you think all those Americans who volunteered for the Army after 9-11 were scared? They knew they'd face bullets and grenades and bombs; they knew they might die. But they did it because they knew it was the right thing to do. If anything, I'm one step ahead of them because of this unbreakable skin, but that's no guarantee..."

Jessica leaned over and hugged Luke. It was all just happening so quickly - like enlisting in the army and being shipped to a warzone within half an hour. Even under the best circumstances, coping with this could take days or weeks... if it ever happened. Now she had to get used to it literally overnight.

With a slow but steady stream of tears down her face, she asked, "How long will you be?"

"I don't know. Probably not too long. I'm no trained soldier, I'm a fighter; if they're calling me in, it's because something needs to be smashed, not because they need someone to do patrols somewhere. I'll call you as often as I can... if I can get reception."

Through her tears, Jessica briefly managed a smile. "You always said you wanted to visit Africa."

Luke looked away. "Not like this. I wanted it to be a... spiritual experience, or something. Getting back to the land of my ancestors, maybe learn something in their simpler ways. But now... I'm just part of a battering ram going in to level these guys. I probably shouldn't say much in detail, but from what I've heard, we're going in with a freaking army of heroes."

They sat in silence for several minutes. Finally getting up her never, Jessica said, "Do you need to pack anything?"

Luke replied, "On the way home I stopped at the supermarket. I bought a box of Powerbars to snack on and a couple gallons worth of powdered Gatorade. They'll probably give us some kind of military food kits or something. And clothing. I'm gonna wear those black BDU pants, my boots, and a black shirt. I don't figure I'll need my leather jacket in Africa," he tried to make her smile.

She chuckled in between tears, surprised that his attempt at humor actually worked in a time like this.

Luke pulled her into his arms. "I want to go. I feel like I can help. But I don't want to leave you. I'll be back as soon as I can, I swear. Hopefully a couple days, tops."

They sat at the table in each others arms, each afraid that it could be the last time but neither willing to say that possibility out loud. Instead, they kept it inside.
 
Previously...

The crescent chopper came down from the clouds overlooking the palatial estate of one Steven Grant. An attractive blonde looks out of a window in the manor and smiles. She walks down the halls at a confident pace to meet him on arrival. The aircraft enters an artificially lit hanger and a well-coiffed man in an expensive suit of immaculate style dismounts the custom-made vehicle.

“Good evening, Ms Alraune. You look even more enchanting than when I left.”

"You came home early!” Marlene beamed and then paused with a concerned look on her face. “Did something happen? Something go wrong?”

“Everything’s fine, my sweet. A minor hiccup along the way, nothing to concern yourself with. With everything that happened today there was a lot to do early on, but Spector certainly made his presence felt. We just thought we’d call it a night as a precaution. Don’t want to push ourselves too hard on Monday and wind up unable to protect the meek on Wednesday, do we?”

“Now, are you pleased to see me?”

“Well yes” replied Marlene “but I know how seriously you take this. So when I see you come home early, on a night when I’ve seen just how bad some of the riots have been across the country on television…”

“Nothing Moon Knight can’t handle” Grant said with a reassuring smile “you know however bad things are out there, I’m coming back here to you. That knowledge gives me as much strength as the moon.”

Grant strode off confidently to find Samuels so as to announce his arrival since Marlene had not passed him through the halls of Grant manor. After his arrival there was always much to do in the small hours of the morning for Steven’s loyal butler.

Marlene walked around the front of the helicopter where she found “Frenchie” DuChamp chocking up the wheels beneath the Crescent-chopper to prepare for refuelling and maintenance.

“Level with me, Jean-Paul. What happened with him tonight? Why did he come home early?”

“He would not tell me Mademoiselle Alraune, he silenced me early with the celebratory champagne… but knowing him as I do… I would say its happened again.”

“Again?” Marlene’s concern was visible. With growing negative sentiment each month Marlene was growing more concerned with police action, rather than with the threat of the scum of a city untamed.

“This has to be getting to him… Steven has always expressed regret afterwards. But it never lasts long. I’m worried he’s just not facing up to when it happens completely.”

“I’m worried about him.”

"We ALL worry about him, Mademoiselle."

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

Grant finds Samuels dusting in his office. The office is lit by a dim lamp in the corner. “I’m home, Samuels old friend. Holding down the fort I see?”

“Yes, sir. It is good to have you home. I trust tonight didn’t have any complications?”

“No, Samuels. Just a busy night in the office. I see its much the same here?”

“Quite, sir. Shall I have Nedda make anything up for you, sir?”

“Oh, to be honest I could go for some of her flambéed duck.“ “Don’t wake her if she’s not still up though, Samuels. I won’t be out there for about an hour to an hour and a half, though. Could you let Marlene know that?”

“Yes, sir. If I understand correctly, you’ll be wanting privacy from us all barring emergency circumstances, sir?”

“Your observation is as astute as ever, Samuels.” Smiled Steven Grant.

Samuels left the office, closing the double doors behind him.

Steven Grant stood alone in his poorly lit office. A familiar statue standing in one corner, and shelves stocked with more books than he could ever hope to read covering the large wall behind his desk, an antique chair in the corner by the windows and a calendar on the wall between said two windows. Windows which revealed the downpour that was now happening in the world beyond these 4 walls. Grant stepped around his mahogany desk as lighting flashed from beyond the windows. Seconds later thunder would clap… and it did. True to the prophesy of the flash which preceded it. Grant turned and looked out of the windows, into the dark night his kindred other called home.

Grant then looked between the flashes at the calendar. Marlene had purchased it for him. It had landmarks from the cities from around the world on each month. Marlene would always call it cheating to look ahead at the following month but she was not around and there was a new following month now, being the start of October. Steven Grant grasped the lower corner next to the final square – the 31st and lifted upwards slowly like a small child tearing at the corner of a Christmas present in the days before. He lifted it all the way.

Big Ben stared him back in the face.

Steven Grant smiled to himself, chuckling internally at how childish he could be as he saw the corner of the following month was curled.

He’d already lifted that next page previously.

He couldn’t remember it…

Lightning flashed on his flanks. With curiosity he grasped the corner of the calendar’s page and raised it upwards slowly again. Thunder startled him and he flinched, closing his eyes on instinct.

Marc Spector opened them.

Spector came face to face with a circled number. The number circled shakily several times already in a blood red pen. He twitched nervously and taking the red pen with the calendar in his off hand, flipping the cap off as it rolled somewhere on the hardwood floor of his office. Once more, as he had done numerous times before, Spector shakily circled the dreaded number once more.

Suddenly feeling drained by this activity, Spector slumped down into the antique chair. It was not long now until the dreaded day would come. The feeling of complete and utter vulnerability, that which he feared most of all, would once again soon be upon him.


Moon_Knight_descending.jpg

ULTIMATE MOON KNIGHT


Steven Grant emerged about an hour and 15 minutes later. Marlene was waiting for him, she embraced him from behind as he closed the door behind him. "We need to talk." she said softly into his ear.
[BLACKOUT]"What kind of talk? Good talk or bad talk?"[/BLACKOUT]

"What difference does it make between good talk and bad talk if we need to talk?"

[BLACKOUT]"It makes a difference because if its bad talk I may need to stop by the hanger and check if Jean-Paul left any Perrier Jouët..."[/BLACKOUT]

"Steven, I'm serious..."

[BLACKOUT]"So am I."[/BLACKOUT] Grant said with a mouth curled at the sides, managing to deadpan for only a few second before breaking into a chuckle.

[BLACKOUT]"Alright Marlene, we'll talk in the dining room."[/BLACKOUT] they walked together down the hall making small talk about Marlene's evening.

Minutes later Marlene and Steven are seated opposite one another on the short sides of a long formal dining table, flambeéd duck off to the side on a silver platter with a sliding cover.

[BLACKOUT]"So, Marlene, if I may be so forward, what exactly is this talk going to be about?"[/BLACKOUT] Steven asked, smiling as he began to carefully arrange duck on his plate from the platter.

"It's about what happened last night, and what's happened a few recent nights... Steven, I'm worried about you, and I want you to come and be honest with me even if you can't be honest with yourself." Marlene spoke, with honest concern in her eyes.

[BLACKOUT]"Marlene, I already told you, nothing happened that can't be handled."[/BLACKOUT]

"Then what happened? If it can be handled, then what happened?"

[BLACKOUT]"I don't want to worry you..."[/BLACKOUT]

"Steven, I AM worried because you WON'T tell me. Now what happened?"

[BLACKOUT]"Calm down, Marlene."[/BLACKOUT] Steven spoke with a soft spoken, cool headed response that in the current situation had the all too present hint of patronisation.

"Rrrrh! You're just frustrating me! Just tell me what happened, why can't you do that?!"

[BLACKOUT]"I can do that, just calm down."[/BLACKOUT] Grant gave her a look and paused, raising his eyebrows and tipping his head he extended the pause further.

[BLACKOUT]"Alright..."[/BLACKOUT] he started. [BLACKOUT]"Its perfectly straight forward. The Moon Knight came upon a rapist. The man was a haemophiliac and couldn't handle the consequences of his own actions."[/BLACKOUT] [BLACKOUT]"He bled out in the gutter."[/BLACKOUT]

"And how does that make you feel..?" Marlene asked.

[BLACKOUT]"'How does that make me feel?' is that, is that a joke? Sigmund Alraune, hahaha. I feel fine. Moon Knight has his methods, they're his own. I mean, what he does is needed, right? Crime's plummeted since he began and well... there's the other thing."[/BLACKOUT]

Marlene sat. She would let that go without comment, it was the unspoken point between them which she had just learnt to accept. His own religion had largely become the unmentionable, she didn't want to know, and who was she to question it? He would never question her own beliefs, what made hers superior to his?

"I just... I just want us to be able to talk about these things, I don't want things like that to get to you, and..."

[BLACKOUT]"They don't get to me."[/BLACKOUT]

"...And I think openness and honesty can only help things here. I just want you to know that you can come to me with these things and I want to know that you feel comfortable doing that."

[BLACKOUT]"Its not that I don't feel comfortable around you. I do. Its just that this is a non-issue... it doesn't bother me at all. It comes with the territory, we need him so we have to be willing to tolerate the questionable to get the good."[/BLACKOUT]

"I just need to know that you can..."

[BLACKOUT]"I can be open with you."[/BLACKOUT]

"Will you let me finish my sentences? I'm not one of your lackey underlings..."

[BLACKOUT]"Lackey underlings?!?"[/BLACKOUT]

"See, there you go again."

An uncomfortable pause falls over the dining room, the silence echoing in the large room.

"I just need to know you can confide in me, you know how I feel about this, ever since my father..."

[BLACKOUT]"I'm not your fathe..."[/BLACKOUT]

[BLACKOUT]"Sorry..."[/BLACKOUT] Steven responded as he saw the look on Marlene's face showing that she was not at all impressed.

She paused to further make her point before continuing.

"You know how my father was, he drove me so hard into everything he did and never opened up to any of us... For 24 years my father was a complete stranger, and he was much the same to my mother... and I can't have that... I can't have us be that way..."

Steven looked upon her with complete compassion. Steven felt awful, he had no idea he'd made her feel so horrible and his mouth went dry with the tension.

[BLACKOUT]"I don't want us to be that way either... You know you don't have to explain how it is to have a father you can never impress. I've told you how my own father treated me before. It may have been just because he wanted me to be as strong as I could be, be the man that he was, but I still know how that can feel."[/BLACKOUT]

A long pause filled the hall, the only sound coming from Marlene as the tears poured out. Spector closed his eyes and held his forehead, with his eyes opening Steven Grant walked around the table and held her. The isolated emotion like a flood light in the fog of the massive dining room.

Steven wouldn't hurt her like this again.

He couldn't.
 
The plane came to a stop in the hanger of the Triskelion, and T'Challa, Luke Cage, and the Iron Fist slowly exited via the ramp.

Waiting for them in the hanger bay was General Fury, accompanied by a dozen well-armed S.H.I.E.L.D. strike team.

"T'Challa", Fury greeted the exiled Prince.
"Should be ready to roll out in fifteen, once we finish loading the jet and going through a final equipment check."

"Thank you, General", T'Challa said.

"Ain't nothin', Panther. We've got ourselves a mutual enemy in your brother, and we both need each others help in taking him down. Rest of the team should be arriving any minute now."
 
Hank Pym - Once a member of the S.H.I.E.L.D. Superhuman Task force known as the Ultimates

"Weeks ago I had felt at the top of the world. It was great, I mean I was part of a superhuman team operated by the United States. How much cooler can you get?"


Hank Pym shifted in the old flower-patterned chair, careful not to hit his injured arm. Though the pain could be intense if positioned incorrectly, Hank found that his wounds from Steve Rogers, or Captain America as the country recognizes him, were beginning to heal.

His daily energy was increasing, and he didn't continuously have to rely on his Aunt Grace to grab things for him in the kitchen.

"Then it all came crumbling down. Here I am in Wisconsin, hiding my face because I'm too ashamed to show it. I should be ashamed to show it after what I did - who I hurt. I lost Jan because I'm a stupid jackass. She was right on the phone. What she said, I mean you heard it."

Hank slowly placed the phone down on the wooden coffee table. Janet had treated him justly in their conversation.

"I don't know the meaning of the word civilized. I'm a disgrace, Giant Man was a failure. My marriage was a failure. I'm a failure."

The cat purred as it brushed against Hank's leg.

He reached down and petted it as it's tail stretched out in joy.

"Yeah, thanks for the pity cat, but that's not going to help me now."
 
656126-440px_ult_hawkeye_super.jpg


Hours Earlier...


"So you're leaving?"

As much as he didn't want to leave her and his children, Clinton Barton looked down as the pair stood next to their bed, confirming her conclusion.

"It's Nick, Laura. I can't leave him hanging. He needs us. All of us. He wants me there by his side. I mean look at what happened to Washington..."

Clint grabbed the remote from his nightstand and switched on their television to find the news already being viewed. More specifically footage of the rubble that used to be the nation's capital. Footage that compelled him to be alongside his team as they fight the people responsible...

"It's fine. Go. Go find who did this..."

"Tell the kids I love 'em."

"Always..."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Clint. Come back in one piece."

"Always do." He responded as he smiled, kissing his beautiful wife's forehead.

Then he turned and grabbed his case and headed straight for the Triskelion's hangar. Where the Ultimates were waiting...

* * *

Now...

"Thank you, General", T'Challa said.

"Ain't nothin', Panther. We've got ourselves a mutual enemy in your brother, and we both need each others help in taking him down. Rest of the team should be arriving any minute now."

Just as the General finished his assuring statement to the Wakandan Prince, Clint Barton, in his full Hawkeye gear, walked up to the pair, nonchalantly holding his crossbow on his shoulder.

"Ready to kick some ass, Nick?"
 

Just as the General finished his assuring statement to the Wakandan Prince, Clint Barton, in his full Hawkeye gear, walked up to the pair, nonchalantly holding his crossbow on his shoulder.

"Ready to kick some ass, Nick?"

Luke Cage walked down the runway with a backpack slung on one shoulder, eating a powerbar with the other hand. Looking around to the Black Panther, Iron Fist, Hawkeye and Nick Fury, he walks up to the general and asks, "So, just for the record, we're invading a foreign country with handful of dudes in tights, using a compound bow? Do we have any tanks or machine guns, just as backup or something?"
 
Spidey.jpg


Floor after floor flies past me as I plummet toward the attacker. Past him I can see the people scattering out of the way of the descending nutjob. I hold back a laugh as the Cap wannabe tries to use his shield as parachute than settles for using it to break his fall. My heart starts to race as the ground draws closer. In my short time as Spider-Man the thrill of webslinging is by far one of the greatest thing I've ever experienced, well so far, but this is pushing it.

Raising my arms I fire a webline snagging the herb by the shoulder. Tightening my grip on the tacky strand I quickly gather my strength and pull feeling the strand stretch to a point I never dared to push. The web recoils catapulting me within reach of my target. Seizing his costume I quickly reach out with my other arm and fire a new webline snagging the Bugle easily.

Big mistake.

The web goes taut and pain washes down my back as my left arm instantly halts this dork's fall.

"AHHHHH! Dude argh I got two words for you. Slim Fast."

I let us swing around back towards the Bugle, thinking quickly on how to get out of this.

"Shut it."

We smash through the window, the glass splintering off and I roll into the new room. Before I survey the area I whip a smoke grenade from my pocket and throw it down to the ground, the smoke churning out quickly from the capsule. That ought to distract him. I break out of the doorway and out into a corridor. I swing around to see a charging security guard, before I smash him around the chin with the shield and swing him around into the wall next to me. I break off down the corridor, trying to remember the layout from when I arrived, and smash through a door, out into the main stairway. I leap over the rail and go down the middle, occasionally, controlling my descent by bouncing off the lower rails. As I land on the ground floor, I roll up to the door, the ribs aching madly. Trying to regain some breath, I open up the door out into the ground floor and make my way through to a fire exit, and run out into the streets, pulling off the costume as I go.
 
Luke Cage walked down the runway with a backpack slung on one shoulder, eating a powerbar with the other hand. Looking around to the Black Panther, Iron Fist, Hawkeye and Nick Fury, he walks up to the general and asks, "So, just for the record, we're invading a foreign country with handful of dudes in tights, using a compound bow? Do we have any tanks or machine guns, just as backup or something?"

"Tanks and machine guns are for *****es, son", Captain America smirked as he strode into the hanger, his shield strapped to his back, and carrying an M16A1 rifle.

"You've got the Ultimates."

"General", Steve saluted.
"Ready to roll out and take it to Jakkara, sir."

"At ease, Captain", Fury said as he went over his checklist a final time.
"Still waitin' on Thor and Iron Man. Should be ready to go in a few."
 
"Tanks and machine guns are for *****es, son", Captain America smirked as he strode into the hanger, his shield strapped to his back, and carrying an M16A1 rifle.

"You've got the Ultimates."

"General", Steve saluted.
"Ready to roll out and take it to Jakkara, sir."

"At ease, Captain", Fury said as he went over his checklist a final time.
"Still waitin' on Thor and Iron Man. Should be ready to go in a few."
"Remind me," I announce loudly, gathering the attention of everyone in the hanger, "Why I woke up this morning next to an attractive, morally compromised Swedish supermodel, but instead of staying underneath my $2000 linen sheets with her, I got up, spent a considerable amount of time clamoring into this--"

I motion to the armor adorning my body.

"--and came all the way over here to help a man I neither respect nor trust?"

Shaking my head, I down the contents of the flask in my armored hand, discarding the flask afterwards. I look down at the helmet tucked under my other arm before meeting the eyes of the assembled group.
 
"Remind me," I announce loudly, gathering the attention of everyone in the hanger, "Why I woke up this morning next to an attractive, morally compromised Swedish supermodel, but instead of staying underneath my $2000 linen sheets with her, I got up, spent a considerable amount of time clamoring into this--"

I motion to the armor adorning my body.

"--and came all the way over here to help a man I neither respect nor trust?"

Shaking my head, I down the contents of the flask in my armored hand, discarding the flask afterwards. I look down at the helmet tucked under my other arm before meeting the eyes of the assembled group.

KRAKOOM!!

In a dazzling flash of lightning and a roar of thunder, Thor appears before the group with Mjolnir raised above him.

"Am I late? I wasn't sure exactly what time I was to be here. I figured these people already have control of Wakanada, so they're really not going anywhere anytime soon."
 
KRAKOOM!!

In a dazzling flash of lightning and a roar of thunder, Thor appears before the group with Mjolnir raised above him.

"Am I late? I wasn't sure exactly what time I was to be here. I figured these people already have control of Wakanada, so they're really not going anywhere anytime soon."

(OOC: Changed the font to Trebuchet MS)

"Ain't that just like you, Thor, to make an entrance..." Clint wittingly stated, smirking under his mask.
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Latest posts

Forum statistics

Threads
200,687
Messages
21,787,171
Members
45,616
Latest member
stevezorz
Back
Top
monitoring_string = "afb8e5d7348ab9e99f73cba908f10802"