The 'Ultimate Marvel' RPG Season IV

[Eddie Brock]

There are days where everything changes for ever. I should know - I've experienced more of them than most people get in a lifetime. It all started with the day I was bitten by a radioactive spider. Without that life-changing day, I don't know if the others would even happen. Of course, the next time I felt the shifting of fate was the day that Uncle Ben was shot. Losing such a powerful mentor and learning such a hard lesson is a surefire way to rearrange all of your priorities. Then, there was possibly the hardest day to swallow. It was the day that I found out that I was nothing more than a clone. My entire life wasn't my entire life. I was living a lie. That was a hard one to bounce back from. Nonetheless, I found a way.

In all of these cases, the magnitude is inescapable. It sounds cliché, but my life was never the same afterwards. I don't know what it is about me that I seem to attract these huge events. Like I said, it all traces back to the spider bite. Why I just so happened to be then and there is beyond my human level of comprehension. If there is someone up there, I suppose He's to "blame" for the course of events in my life. Nevertheless, I'll trust my fate in His hands. After all, I've been pretty gifted so far - all things considered. I mean, I've come toe-to-toe with some dangerous folks, and I'm still living to tell you about this day in my life. I guess He likes me.

Anyway, I'll stop digressing so that I can tell you what I came here to tell you. After all, it's not fair to keep you waiting like that. Where was I? Oh yes, when a life-changing moment comes, you know it instinctually. People have this innate sense to predict a storm before it comes. You just sit back and say, "This is it. Everything changes today."

Well, as I sit in my apartment, that's the exact thought that runs through my head. I have just been bombarded with information, and it all leads to one inevitable thing: change. I find myself just sitting on the bed, staring into space. These kinds of moments are well beyond my maturity level, and yet life keeps putting them on my doorstop. I swear, one of these days, I'm just going to snap.

Finally, after some time of solitary meditation, I get on my feet in a daze. I'm moving more on instinct than mental control. My mind is still processing everything while my body gets into motion. I clumsily grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder. As I slip my keys into my pocket, I glide out the door and start heading down the street. I must look like a zombie to bystanders. If only they knew everything that was going on behind my spaced-out eyes. It may look like I'm braindead, but my brain is actually working overtime here.

I elected not to swing, which surprises me in retrospect. Usually I always swing when something is weighing on my mind, but I guess this was so heavy that I simply couldn't get off the ground. Maybe I just wanted to feel normal by walking. Either way, I kept both feet planted firmly on the ground. It's symbolic, really. Here I am, trying to remain grounded while everything else is going on around me. I mean, if the Ultimates are right, we don't have long to live anyway. Having knowledge of a pending Apocalypse doesn't settle your mind any.

Even still, Nexus is the furthest thing from my mind. Sure, it could be the end of everything, but I'm more concerned with maintaining my sanity for the time-being. I find myself constantly asking, "How much can one person take?" I just remind myself that everything's worked out in the past. It will be the same now.

I hope.

All my deep thought makes the trip to the Triskelion seem amazingly short. In no time at all, I have reached the entrance without even realizing it. I suddenly pop out of my daze and remember why I came. With a newfound purpose, I make my way to the elevator. It's time to let the secret out.

The elevator ride only gives me more silence in which to ponder. Truth be told, I don't like being able to hear myself think right now. There are too many different thoughts flooding my brain to handle. Luckily, a major weight is about to be lifted.

"Jessica, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Fury asks cordially when I enter his office. He doesn't pay much attention to me, but I catch his eye. When he sees the emotional state I'm in, he suddenly seems interested. "Is everything okay?"

I nod while brushing the hair out of my face. As my palm grazes over my forehead, I feel heat flush my body. I walk over to Fury's desk when I'm hit with a flash of light-headedness so powerful that it forces me to take a seat.

"You don't look so great," Fury remarks as he circles around to get a good look at me.

"Yeah, well," I sigh before trailing off. I look at all the papers on Fury's desk. "Hard at work?"

"Trying to figure out the logistics of President Bronson's move," he explains. He's referring to the fact that the Ultimate's governmental budget has been cut. I nod in an attempt to look like I know all about that, but I honestly don't. Economics was never my "thing."

I bury my forehead in my palms. "Fury, I'm not sure how to say this," I begin hesitantly.

Fury sits down in his chair, opposite me. "Then just say it," he suggests as he folds his hands.

I look up at him. I never thought of him as a particularly patient man. I sigh once more before muttering, "How much maternal leave does the average Ultimate receive?"

Well, there it is. Everything's out in the open now. I take in a deep breath as Fury contemplates my question.

"You can't be serious," Fury replies disbelievingly, yet with a sense of understanding.

I nod. "Unfortunately, it's not April 1st, so I am serious," I respond seriously.

"Does Eli know?" Fury asks deliberately.

"How do you--?"

"Jessica, nothing gets past me," Fury explains with a satisfied smile.

I pout. "No, I haven't gotten around to telling him yet. After all, we don't have anything that serious right now."

"Obviously, it's serious enough..."

"Don't start," I reprimand while Fury gets a little smirk. "If he's cool with it, I'm going to live with his family during the pregnancy. It's the closest I'll have to a stable family, and it will be out of the way."

I lean forward.

"After all, you and I know well enough that New York City isn't the safest place."

Fury leans back in his chair. "You've thought about this," he states bluntly.

"You have no idea," I reply exhaustedly.

Before our conversation can continue, Fury receives an alert. He looks at it solemnly before standing up. I don't get up just yet. "There's a situation downstairs," he explains. "I have to go take care of it."

I nod as I get up and follow him to the door. As we get into the elevator, Fury adds, "Take all the time you need."
​

 

[Saved]

Pacific Ocean

Rumekistani Super soldier Michael Straka hovers above one of the many ships in the south pacific fleet. The bright sun reflects off of his gray and white uniform, glistening brightly and giving Straka the appearance of a god.

The soldiers below him smile with pride as they look up to him. For weeks they’ve fought off an evil threat. One who has slaughtered their friends and sunken their ships. With the arrival of a superhuman on their side, they feel safe. They feel equal.

“Straka!” A man yells as he steps out from the bridge on the flagship. The man‘s uniform is gray as well, decorated with many gold and silver medals. He stands at attention, his face showing no emotion, just as a soldier should. “A word!” He yells loudly.

Straka nods and lowers himself down to the ship. Hovering eye level with the decorated officer. “General?” He asks as he moves to attention.

“At ease, Straka.” The man commands. “I wanted to warn you about this threat you’re about to face. Calls himself Namor. Claims to be the, what did he say, ‘god of the sea.’ Gave himself some other titles while he was at it. You know, the regular bull****.” Straka nods, a smile coming across his face.

“Yes, sir, I’ve heard. The men say he’s near invincible.” The General laughs.

“Yeah, so they think. Everything has a weakness, Straka.” The General’s face fades back into a straight stern expression, and he walks to the railing of the deck. “The Americans have fought this guy before. Found some top secret files. Apparently he attacked New York.” He looks over his shoulder to Straka. “Ever heard of the Fantastic Four?”

“No, sir.” Straka replies as he holds his arms behind his back.

“Some super elite force that are stationed in New York. The Americans have all the supers, it’s unbelievable.”

“Well, the mutants are everywhere, sir.”

“No, Straka. These guys ain’t mutants. They’re engineered. Like you.” Straka moves back a bit, surprised by the General’s words. “In any event, this Sub Mariner claims he’s the most powerful being on the planet. Have to say, he’s damn near it. He’s got almost every non projectile power on the planet. His skins like vibranium, and his fibers like adamantium. He can take almost anything we throw at him. But, then again, so can you.” Straka smiles with pride. “So, watch yourself in combat, Straka. This guy’s a tricky bastard. He’ll swim under the sea if he starts to get beat. Just remember, never follow him under. He’ll kill you down there. As powerful as he is above the ocean, below it, he’s unstoppable.” Straka nods.

“I understand, sir.”

“Good work, Straka.” He lifts his head up, motioning to the sky. “Wait for him, soldier.”

“But, sir. He hasn’t shown his face in the forty hours I’ve been here. He could be in the Artic for all we know. What makes you think he’ll show up?” The General frowns as his eyes move upward, staring in the sky.

“That.” He responds coldly. Straka turns around to see a blurry figure moving faster than anything he’s ever seen. The figure stops in the sky above them, its motions fast but still slow and subtle. Straka knows this being does not fear him, and that’s just how he wants it.

Waving the General off, Straka slowly hovers higher into the air. As his body rises, Straka is able to see the figure’s features more closely. Coming into view, he notices the being has his arms folded across his chest, flying still in the sky with only a prideful smirk on its face.

Straka soon reaches the being’s altitude, and levels off with it. The two stare at each other in silence for a few moments, sizing each other up in both power and speed. The being suddenly laughs, breaking the silence like a gunshot. It keeps its arms loosely held across its torso, and stands unaffected.

“Who are you?” The being asks.

“Officer Michael Straka. Super soldier for the Rumekistani armada.” He answers proudly. The being scoffs at him, laughing once again in an obnoxious manner.

“Armada? I’d use that term lightly.” Namor says with a laugh. “Well, I see you can fly, Straka. Tell me, do you really think that makes you my equal?” Straka frowns as he stands ready in the air.

“I take it your Namor?” He asks with a sneer.

“So, you’ve heard of me? I’m not surprised.”

“You’re very sure of yourself. I’m guessing you don't know what it feels like to lose.”

“No. Unfortunately, no one can satisfy my desire for a good fight. I’m sure the Ultimates thought they were a worthy match, but in truth?” He smiles, his face expressing a cruel look. “They didn’t even make me break a sweat.”

“Funny, Namor.” Straka quips. “I didn’t know fish could sweat.” Namor frowns, his pride hurt by the soldier’s remark. He lowers his arms at his side and prepares himself for the next move.

“I see you’re quite proud yourself. Tell me. How will it feel to have that smile ripped off your face?”

“I don’t know, freak. How about you tell me after I’m through with you!”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re asking for a fight.”

“I’m not asking. I’m demanding!” Straka moves into a fighting stance, holding his arm high above his head and closing his fists tightly. “You’ve attacked my military and threatened my people! Today, you die, Namor.” Namor laughs subtly, cracking his neck as he moves it from side to side.

“You want a battle?” He asks, his smile fading from his face. “Then I am sorry to tell you all I can offer is-” In the blink of an eye, Namor moves across the sky toward Straka. He lifts his knee into the air and thrusts it into Straka’s stomach with tremendous force. Taken off guard by the attack, Straka feels the full blunt of the attack. The blow sends shockwaves through his body, causing him to gasp for air. With a cough of desperation, blood spills from his mouth and falls down toward the ocean’s surface. Namor smirks as he lifts his elbow above Straka’s head, and prepares for the next attack. “Your death.”

Namor lands a strong blow to Straka’s neck, plunging his elbow deep into Straka’s tough skin. Before Straka’s body can fall, Namor delivers another powerful attack to his chest, lifting his knee high into Straka’s sternum. A loud crack echoes on the barren ocean landscape, and the soldiers watch in horror below.

Before Straka can recover, Namor punches Straka square in the face, breaking the man’s nose and sending a waterfall of blood pouring from the man’s nostrils. Namor laughs as Straka’s body falls limp and begins to fall to the ground below. Reaching down, Namor grabs the soldier by his torn and already bloody uniform. He raises the man up so he can stare at his face. Looking into Namor’s eyes, Straka coughs in pain, blood pouring from his lip. Namor frowns as he tosses the body aside, and allows it to resume its decent to the ocean below.

“Mpf. Super Soldier.” Namor scoffs.

As Straka falls, his advanced healing quickly kicks in. In only seconds, the man’s body begins to heal. His broken bones recover, mending themselves rapidly. His skin forms together and his blood ends its flow. Straka’s eyes suddenly open as he takes a deep breath of air. He stops his body’s fall and holds himself in the air. With his bruises still apparent and his injuries still present, Straka’s body works fast to heal him, using all its reserves and energy.

Straka feels the surge of power through his veins and smiles. Using all his strength, he propels himself upward, toward his assailant. He smiles proudly as he raises his fist in the air, aiming himself toward Namor.

Unaware of the attack, Namor gloats in the air, his eyes closed as he basks in the glory of another supposed victory. Catching him off guard, his concentration is suddenly broken by a cry of victory.

“Hey, Namor!” The voice yells. “Die!” Before the Atlantean can react, Straka thrusts his fist into Namor’s torso, sending it deep into his body. Straka laughs as he begins his attack, sending fists and legs flying toward the powered being with everything he has. Namor’s body moves like a rag doll as he takes the attacks head on, not moving a muscle to deflect them.

With a final kick, Straka raises himself above the Atlantean, and grasps his hands together above his head. He laughs proudly as he tenses his arms, preparing to deliver his final blow.

“Not impressed, Namor? Still think we are weak?” He throws his arms down with great speed and even greater power. His hands make contact with Namor’s spine, making a loud noise as they connect in the air. The force of the attack sends Namor plummeting downward, sending him flying at incredible speeds toward one of the ships below.

In only seconds, Namor’s body crashes into a large battleship resting peacefully atop the ocean's calm waters. His body breaks through the metal easily, piercing its iron and steel hide like it were bread. A large explosion fires from the hole, and Namor disappears from sight. Above the destruction, Straka hovers in the air, watching from the sky. He smirks with anger and pride as he breathes heavily, his body still struggling to heal itself completely. Straka wipes a stream of blood falling from his eye on his glove, smearing the red liquid across the gray fabric.

“Even gods have to fall.” He says as he spits into the air. He watches as the men on the wounded battleship quickly move to put out the fire. Black smoke billows from the vessel as the water flows from the hoses and sprays onto the flame. Even high in the air, Straka can still hear the men shouting as they work to repair the hull.

Suddenly, the ocean begins to rumble. The waves around the ships grow, first starting small but soon evolving into twenty foot monsters. The ships fall up and down on their liquid bases, and the men stumble and fall on the tops of the ships.

On the injured battleship, a loud explosions sounds from below, and a pillar of fire soon replaces the smoke. Like a rocket, an object flies from the inside of the ship, cuts through the air with ease. Straka turns to the object, his eyes trying to comprehend what is airborne. Before he can say the words, his eyes see what has been launched into the sky. Straka tries to mutter the words but his lips will not move. Without trying to guard himself, the object crashes into him in the air. Straka’s body flies through the air above from the attack, and the object chases after his weakened body.

His flight is suddenly stopped as the object moves in front of him, and strikes him again, sending him back down toward the ocean. The figure stops in the air, and begins to laugh.

“Yes, Straka, gods do fall.” The being wipes the spit from its lips and smiles an evil smirk. “But we get up afterward.” The object is none other than Namor. He chases after Straka as his body falls toward the ocean. Moving a head of him, Namor stops in the air, waiting for the body to catch up, thrusting his punch toward the body, Namor hits Straka in the throat. Grabbing him quickly, Namor holds onto the body, and begins delivering a series of strong kicks and punches.

With another powerful punch striking Straka across his face, Namor grasps him by both his arms, and holds him upright. He stares into the dying soldier’s eyes and frowns, watching the blood drip from his reopened wounds. “And let me tell you something else, Straka.” Namor says as he grips the flesh on his body tightly, his fingers breaking through the skin and digging into the muscle and tissue beneath.

“When we return? We always get our revenge.” Namor pulls Straka’s body toward him in a quick jerk. Thrusting his head forward, Namor head butts the soldier, cracking his skull open and sending a powerful concussive wave to his brain. Straka makes one final cry out in pain before his body falls limp, his mind losing control over itself. Namor releases the body, his fingers pulling themselves from the torn flesh.

Before the body can drop. Namor’s fingers grab hold of Straka’s blood soaked uniform, now so stained and tattered it’s appearance has lost its significance. Namor lowers himself down to the flagship below, filled with the hopeful soldiers who now stare in horror at the massacre that has taken place before their eyes. Some men gasp, some hold their breath, while others whisper to themselves, “But how? He was a super soldier? He was our finest.”

Namor hovers only a few feet above the cold hard metal surface of the ship. He holds Straka’s body away from him, watching to keep his clothes from being stained with Straka’s dripping blood. He turns to a grouping of soldiers who stare at him with fear and hate. With a smirk, Namor throws the body toward them. The soldiers step back and watch as the body flops onto the ground beneath them, bouncing like a dead fish. As Straka lies helpless and bleeding, his life fading fast, Namor looks up at the General peering over the rail at the events below him. Namor raises himself in the air until he becomes level with the high ranking man, and he stares emotionless at him. Raising his hands slowly, Namor places them over his chest, and he takes a slowed breath.

“Next time, send me something that can last longer than two minutes.” With the snide remark, Namor ascends into the sky in a burst of flight. Before the men can blink, he disappears in the bright sunshine, and is gone from sight. All that is left is the beaten and dying body of the super soldier, the man who was the hope of his nation.

The General looks down at Straka and frowns, disappointed in the performance of his elite. He shouts down to the men with a voice of no sympathy, and no remorse.

“Get him to the medical bay. Try to keep him alive.” The men nod to him, and the General moves back into the bridge of the ship. Standing in complete silence, the other soldiers refuse to speak a word. All they can do is think to themselves, and wonder how this could happen.

“Contact President Winters.” The General says to one of the men in the room. “Inform him of Straka’s defeat. Tell him Project Flag is approved.”

 

[SenseiofCheese]

I stand up and wipe the blood that's trickling down my mouth, Thor and his freaky pal look at me with concerned looks on their faces.

"Oh, Pal...you just went and made the biggest mistake of your life."

My shield whistles as it whizzes through the air. Thor and his buddy know better than to be fooled by it again, so they duck. That's just what I was counting on. They're too busy watching my shield, they fail to see me moving towards them.

"When I say cease and resist....I mean!"

I swing high and kick Thor's friend square in the jaw, he stumbles back and falls just as Thor turns to face me.

"Forgot about something, didn't you?"

CLANG!

My shield doubles back and smashes against the back of Thor's skull. He falls to the ground too. While they're down, I kick both of them in the ribs for good measure.

"Now, son. STAY DOWN!"

It takes Heimdall's entire strength of will to refrain from striking at the Captain. Lying at his feet, along with Thor, Heimdall grunts in pain as Captain America's foot connects with his ribs, as he listens to Loki's high-pitched laugh.

"Hahahaha! You call yourself Gods? Look at who just took you down; a man with nothing but a shield. Pathetic."

All of a sudden Loki's form is no longer a distant form the Gods can see from the corner of their eyes, as he appears directly behind Captain America, who keeps his stern eyes on the Gods before him, completely unaware.
Taking stock of the hero in front of him, Loki shakes his head. "Although I must say, he would've made a great Asgardian. Tsk tsk." the God of Mischief ponders for a moment, before slithering in between the men like a python.

"Loki...your trickery cannot save you this time. It is only a matter of time before they realize what goes on here." Heimdall says through gritted teeth.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Loki walks over to Heimdall and kneels beside him. Smiling, almost affectionately, Loki raises his clenched fist and brings it down into Heimdall's head. With the blow, his head slams down onto the ground as blood shoots out of his mouth. "What is it with you Asgardians and not knowing when to call it a day? For Odin's sake, they're mere mortals. I could keep them believing what they see for the rest of their lives if I wanted to. But I don't.." Loki says before standing back up. Wiping Heimdall's blood off his fist, he continues. "...I'm going to release them from my grasp just as soon as they're forced to kill you."

"Now, before Steven here kills you, let me just that it was a pleasure playing with you both. You really are pathetic little creatures, you 'Gods'." Loki spits out at the two men on their stomachs in front of him, with a sneer on his face. "..You call yourselves fearless warriors, yet the mightiest one of you all spends his entire life trying to avoid something that is set in stone, cowering in fear of the mere mention of Ragnarok. Odin is a fool. Instead of taking measures to prevent it, he should be doing what's necessary to survive it."

Walking back over to Captain America and patting him on the shoulder, Loki runs his hand through his raven hair. "But that would make him as smart as me. Now, enjoy your stay in Hel, gentlemen. Tell my lovely daughter I said hello, and I promise I won't hurt your father too much, Thor, when I slice his head off."

 

[Matt Murdock]

It takes Heimdall's entire strength of will to refrain from striking at the Captain. Lying at his feet, along with Thor, Heimdall grunts in pain as Captain America's foot connects with his ribs, as he listens to Loki's high-pitched laugh.

"Hahahaha! You call yourself Gods? Look at who just took you down; a man with nothing but a shield. Pathetic."

All of a sudden Loki's form is no longer a distant form the Gods can see from the corner of their eyes, as he appears directly behind Captain America, who keeps his stern eyes on the Gods before him, completely unaware.
Taking stock of the hero in front of him, Loki shakes his head. "Although I must say, he would've made a great Asgardian. Tsk tsk." the God of Mischief ponders for a moment, before slithering in between the men like a python.

"Loki...your trickery cannot save you this time. It is only a matter of time before they realize what goes on here." Heimdall says through gritted teeth.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Loki walks over to Heimdall and kneels beside him. Smiling, almost affectionately, Loki raises his clenched fist and brings it down into Heimdall's head. With the blow, his head slams down onto the ground as blood shoots out of his mouth. "What is it with you Asgardians and not knowing when to call it a day? For Odin's sake, they're mere mortals. I could keep them believing what they see for the rest of their lives if I wanted to. But I don't.." Loki says before standing back up. Wiping Heimdall's blood off his fist, he continues. "...I'm going to release them from my grasp just as soon as they're forced to kill you."

"Now, before Steven here kills you, let me just that it was a pleasure playing with you both. You really are pathetic little creatures, you 'Gods'." Loki spits out at the two men on their stomachs in front of him, with a sneer on his face. "..You call yourselves fearless warriors, yet the mightiest one of you all spends his entire life trying to avoid something that is set in stone, cowering in fear of the mere mention of Ragnarok. Odin is a fool. Instead of taking measures to prevent it, he should be doing what's necessary to survive it."

Walking back over to Captain America and patting him on the shoulder, Loki runs his hand through his raven hair. "But that would make him as smart as me. Now, enjoy your stay in Hel, gentlemen. Tell my lovely daughter I said hello, and I promise I won't hurt your father too much, Thor, when I slice his head off."

Ultimate Iron Man

The Iron Man suit in the lab beneath The Triskellion sparked and lit the room up as electrical flares rocketed out of the suit.

Stark's eyes grew wide as he looked upon his creation. It was torn... rattled. Wires had been exposed from the blows he had taken during his bout with Heimdall. The paint had worn thin, and rubble had dented the metal, making the suit look weary.

Stark gripped his flask tightly and sipped on it, letting the sweet liquor within it wash away his angst.

Disregarding the damage to his suit, Star stared at his creation.

"Get this thing up and running." muttered the billionaire.

"Mr. Stark..." His assistant, Happy Hogan said, standing next to him. "This thing isn't ready to get going."

"It was working an hour ago." Stark growled, looking at his watch.

"We had to shut it down to start repairs. We're working on the startup sequence. Some of the processors were damaged in the Heimdall fight."

Stark stared at the suit, his fingers around the top button on his shirt, as if the suit itself was somehow willed into not working. Stark had designed it to be impervious, but the billionaire had learned that not even his precious dollars could rival the power of an Asgardian god.

It was a daunting reality that the industrialist could face only by continuing to unbutton his shirt.

"Then get the prototype suit online."

Hogan nodded quietly. He was well aware that his boss was fully inebriated, staring at the Iron Man suit like it would somehow respond to him, but he was in no place to go against Stark's wishes.

After five minutes of prep time, Stark heaved himself into the Prototype suit's open chest cavity and tapped a few buttons within it, ceremoniously encasing himself in its warmth.

"Full power to internal suit couplings." His muffled voice said from within the suit.

Slowly, the internal readouts flickered on, and the suit's eyes glowed gold.

Stark pulled himself out of the suit, his voice eerily mechanical.

"Full power to the jets on my mark."

Carelessly demolishing the doors into the elevator shaft, Stark hopped into the long, steel tube, with a few empty stories beneath him.

"Mark."

In mid-air, the boots on Stark's feet ignited, illuminating the shaft around him, as he rocketed through the floors of the Triskellion.

Stark landed on a ledge just outside of the containment blocks.

"Full power to the repulsors."

Stark placed his hands against the steel between him and the blocks melt.

"'You guys had better be ready for a fight..." he announced, tearing through it with ease,

​

"...because I am really not in the mood."

 

[Saved]

"You're going to pay for this, Blackheart. Everything." The Rider bellows.

"Well, is that so?" The Rider nods, his teeth clenched hard. "Well come on then, let's get it on!" He shouts loudly, a dark aura beginning to form around him in a dark mist.

"I'm not sending you back to daddy this time. I'm finishing your existence, demon. Forever."

"Ha. Ha. I welcome the thought. But, you and I both know that it's not me who's going to die here."

"We'll see. Vengeance will be served." Blackheart raises his hands, the dark blue skin beginning to glow and burn.

"Let's finish this."

"Once and for all."

As a soft breeze moves down the street, it kicks up dirt and papers into the air. They blow by the two figures as they continue to stay locked on the other, their eyes unwavering. As they stand like statues, the Rider's hands begin to smoke, a small ember forming in his palm. As the ember begins to flicker, it quickly burst into a full flame, engulfing his glove in the orange and red hellfire blaze.

Ghost Rider lunges at Blackheart as Blackheart lunges toward him. The two bodies move through the air, as they prepare to continue the battle. As they grow closer toward each other, all the onlookers suddenly stare. The battle it drawing closer to the end as the final round begins. The fate of both teams rests on this skirmish as the two entities engage.

"You're going to burn!" The Rider growls as they make contact in the air. They grip each other, as they fall to the ground, their legs staying firm as they crash.

"And you're going to suffer!"

"It's time for you to die, Blackheart! You...must...pay!" The Rider throws a punch toward the blue demon, his fist covered in flame. Blackheart catches the punch and drives his arm back. Lifting his leg, he deliveres a powerful blow to the Rider, his knee smashing into his chest.

"Likewise, nephilim!" The Rider grabs Blackhearts knee and pushes it backwards, his body straining to fight off the demon's strength.

"Of...all the mistakes...you're father...ever made...you were the biggest." The Rider says as he pushes back Blackheart's leg. Blackheart smirks as he releases the Riders hand, pushing him backward.

"I couldn't agree more. Now everyone cries!" Blackheart's tail suddenly whips around his head, and strikes the Ghost Rider‘s skull. The Rider moves backward from the blow, stumbling but quickly gaining his balance. "It's time to end this."

The Rider nods, his jaw forming a smile. "If you're ready to die."

The two lunge at each other once more, each reaching deep within their beings to find their true potential. They prepare to engage once more, their final battle for the right of both sides. One a symbol of evil, the other a symbol of good. The sun sets in the distance and casts a dying shadow on the battle field. The fight is about to close, and there can be only one winner.

Grudge: Trigger

"Blackheart! Your hands are stained with the blood of the innocent!" The Rider growls as he jumps back, pulling the chain wrapped around his shoulders. "Vengeance must be served!"

"Oh, is that so, Zarathos? I should've known its you who does the fighting. Johnny is quite the coward!" Blackheart laughs as he mocks the Thunderbolt. "I mean, hiding behind your family, Johnny? How heroic!"

"Shut your mouth, Blackheart! I have had enough!"

The Rider throws his chain toward the blue demon. As it flies through the air, the metal suddenly ignites, as if an invisiable liquid spread acrossed its smooth surface and caught fire. The chain flips and twists around Blackheart, cracking like a whip, releasing fiery spats of fire, spewing in sparks and falling in embers. Blackheart grabs hold of the chain as it moves like a snake in front of him. His skin begins to ignite from the hellfire, sending fumes of black and gray into the air. He smirks as he tugs on the chain, pulling the Rider close to him.

With an evil stare, Blackheart looks deep into the Rider's eyes, grabbing hold of his body and keeping a firm grip. As the Rider burns his flames, Blackheart pushes through the pain, holding on with all his might and energy.

"Do you really think you can beat me? You come from hell. Do you know what I am?" Blackheart releases the grip of one of his arms. He lifts his hand up and takes hold of Ghost Rider's skull, pushing his fingers through the fiery soul of the demon rider and gripping the bone at its core.

He lifts the Rider off the ground, his grip strengthening by the second. As he holds the Rider off the pavement, he struggles angrily, like a fish on a hook. The Rider squirms and wriggles, grabbing at Blackheart's arm and ripping away at his skin and tissues. As Blackheart's arm is mutilated serverly by the Rider's vicious assault, he merely laughs, holding the Rider in his grasp.

He pulls the Rider in front of his face, looking at his skull as his fingers penetrate deeper into the Rider's being. Blackheart laughs mightily, basking in his glory and victory. As the citizens watch in horror, Blackheart suddenly stops his laughter, cutting it off swiftly.

"I am the son of Mephistopheles! Heir to the throne of the underworld!" Blackheart growls, his eyes darkening into a frightening shade of red. "I. Am. Hell."

Blackheart slams the Rider into the pavement, thrusting his arm deep into the hard concrete. As his head becomes burried beneath rock and dirt, the Rider lets out a roar, a sound not heard in ages. Zarathos reaches inside his inner being, finding a power hiden from even him since the creation of time and Earth. His flames change from bright yellow to a dark red and orange. The flames burn so hot and so fierce even Blackheart cannot withstand its power. He releases the Rider and moves back.

Blackheart stares at his arm, looking at the seared flesh as it melts away like wood to a blazing fire. As his body begins to reform, his eyes look up to the Rider. He watches him pull himself from the ground. As the Rider brushes himself off, his flames continue to burn hot and heavy, burning so bright even the bony skeleton beneath him becomes invisable.

"You really think I'd let a weakingly take advantage of me this long?" The Rider says, his voice changed to dark and double toned, giving the appearance of two voices speaking at once. "Did you think I would be stuck bonded to a human forever?" Blackheart stares in shock, his mind running wild with thoughts and memories. As the Rider slowly walks toward the demon, Blackheart suddenly smiles.

"What's so funny, Blackheart? Nervous? Do you finally feel the fear you've used to kill others? Innocents?"

"No, no. I'm just impressed. The real Zarathos. Finally unleashed."

"You try to inhibit something too long, it only grows stronger, until it eventually explodes." The Rider holds up his hand and closes it into a fist. As the black glove closes over the flame it suddenly begins to smoke and glow. In a ball of fire, the glove is set a blaze, and the leathery material burns away into nothing.

"I see, Zarathos. The deadliest demon of all. Eater of souls, finally awakened, is that it?"

"Something like that, Blackheart." The Rider smiles, his bone skull contorting to make a smile. "Soul or no soul, I'm going to devouver you! I'm going to crush you into nothing and throw what's left to the wind!"

"Ah, such a speech. Welcome home, brother. Welcome home."

"Oh, it's not the reunion you're especting!" The Rider charges Blackheart, moving quickly as he rushes the blue demon. Like a trail of ball lightening, fire lingers behind the Rider as he moves. The area where the Rider stands engulfs in fire, releasing a hell onto the Earth of its own.

Zarathos grabs Blackheart, holding him tightly in a close grip. As the two demon's make contact with one another, the flames of Zarathos burn like an unstoppable fire. Blackheart tries to resist the blaze, the torrent of vengeance and suffering, but to no avail, he remains locked in his position.

The Rider growls and roars as he breaths, the inner power within him slowly seeping out. The flames burn away at Blackheart's body, eating at his figure and burning him away to his very core.

As Blackheart screams in pain, the Ghost Rider continues his attack, showing no remorse and no mercy. With Zarathos in control, Johnny can do nothing but sit back and watch. As his soul sits captive to the carnage, he finds a peace in the destruction of his enemy.

"Zarathos!" Blackheart says with a groan. "This is the demon I've been wanting to fight! This is the foe I remember!"

"This isn't a fight anymore, Blackheart!" Zarathos growls. "This is your funeral!"

Blackheart's eyes shine in a bright red flash. Like a lamp about to burn out, his eyes flash between shadings. The red flashes brightly, then dim, only to gain momentum and change back to a mystic sable. His eyes smoke as they burn away, changing to a new color completely.

The two continue to struggle in combat, Zarathos holding on tightly and Blackheart trying to break free. As Blackheart's eyes flash a final time, his body suddenly begins to smoke a dark black. The vapors engulf his body, moving around him like the fire around the Rider.

As the red dies out in Blackheart's eyes, it is replaced with the darkest black in the worlds. Like two black holes, Blackheart's eye sockets now resemble an endless abyss. To stare into the two pitless holes would leave a man in hell alone.

The Rider releases Blackheart, letting his body fall slowly to the ground. As Blackheart's jaw slams into the concrete, the Rider smirks, proudly victorious against his foe and tormentor. The Rider kicks Blackheart's head, rolling the body over from the force. He turns around to face the others behind him. Everyone around him stares in shock and fear; The Thunderbolts, the Hellfire Club, the people.

As Zarathos takes a deep breath of freedom, the people near him shake and cower. Without care, Zarathos steps forward, moving toward the center of the street.

"I have killed the demon! I have righted the wrongs done to so many souls." His eyes burn red in a odd flame and the aura around him ignites hotter, bursting like an explosion before dying down. "Vengeance has been served." Suddenly, a groan distracts the Rider. He turns around to face Blackheart, his body healing and groggily coming to a stance.

"You think it's over, Rider?" he says as the skin around his eyes and mouth forms back. "I told you! It's never over!" Blackheart storms toward Ghost Rider. With each heavy step he mutters a word, his tone deep and evil.

"Not! Until! I! WIN!" With the final word Blackheart grabs the Rider by his neck. The flames sear the demon's hand once again, but without care, he ignores the pain. Instead he laughs a deep and sinister cackle, the sound echoing throughout the city.

"You may be stronger! You may be more powerful! You may be the most supreme damned creation this realm has ever spawned! But I swear by the hells and heavens, by every devil who lurks in the souls of man, and every angel on the planes above and within, you...two...will DIE!" Blackheart pulls back his arm, forming his hand to a fist. His large blue fingers overlap eachother and he tenses his arm. Just as he is about to throw his deadly punch, he suddenly stops and pauses. He stares into nothingness as if caught in a trance. The Rider holds still, dazed and enraged.

Nothing around them moves, everything falling quiet and still. Everyone stares, unsure and confused by the strange event. Just as soon as it came, the glazing apparision in Blackheart's mind passes. His fist loosens and he lowers his arm. A look of vision and hope comes across Blackheart's face as he slowly comes back to reality. Looking to the Rider, his face flashes a heinous and insidious smile.

"This isn't over, Zarathos. Nor has this ended for you, Johnny. A reckoning is coming. A great destruction. As far as I can tell, we survive it." Blackheart raises his hand and grasps Ghost Rider once more. The two scream out in a horrible scream as a bright light flashes, blinding all who dare watch.

As the scream fades and the light burns out, the Ghost Rider no longer is held with Blackheart's grip. Instead, the body of Johnny Blaze is present, tired and falling away into unconsciousness. Blackheart laughs quietly as he releases his hand from Johnny's face.

"Stay ready, Blaze. We will meet again. And next we meet, one of us will perish, I swear you that." Blackheart drops Johnny to the ground, his body hitting the street hard with a thud. Blackheart lifts himself into the air, hovering low on the ground for a few seconds before making a subtle groan. As his body begins to turn to black smoke, he opens his eyes once more and stares at Johnny.

"Oh, Blaze." He says as his voice begins to trail off, becoming lost in the air along with his body. "Watch Zarathos. You let him get control...you'll never get it back..." Like the whisper of a ghost, Blackheart's voice lingers in the air. His body turned to smoke, the vapors disapear in the soft and gentle wind. As the others look around, they notice there are others missing as well. The Hellfire Club has vanished, leaving no trace of their bodies.

Johnny Blaze slowly gets to his feet, dazed and confused by all that has happened. Sharon Carter runs to his side, moving to aid her fallen friend. As she runs across the street, the Black Cat falls from the sky into a graceful landing. She comes up beside Johnny and holds him tightly. The two embrace, hugging one another as if they'd been to hell and back. In a strange way, they have, all of them.

Johnny grabs her tightly and the two kiss passionately, showing all their love and excitement to be alive. As Sharon comes closer to them, Forge joins the scene as well. Black Cat and Johnny end their kiss and gaze into eachothers eyes. Black Cat takes a deep breath as a tear falls from her eye.

"I thought I'd lose you."

"To...Blackheart? I'd never let him beat me."

"Not to him, Johnny. Not to him." She holds him tightly as they embrace once again. Forge steps behind Black Cat and stares up at the sky, looking for any sign, any remains.

"Is it over?" He says, asking no one in particular.

"For now." Johnny says in a tired and weary tone. "For now."

As the Thunderbolts crawl out from the broken buildings, the wrecked piles of debris, and the shambles of what once was a city block, they all look around them, confused by all that has just come to pass.

On the top of a rooftop watches a dark figure. It stares down at the ground below, pleased and proud by all that it has witnessed. It says two words, and two words only, before it turns to smoke and disintigrates into nothing.

"It's begun." It hisses. The wind carries away its gasious form, and soon scatters it amongst the endless skies. Only one has seen this being's true form. Only one has stared into its eyes and lived.

This man now stands on the ground below, unsure of what lies ahead and left with so many questions that must be answered. Only one thing is known and that is that the battle has ended. Another victory for good, another defeat for evil. But has the war ended? No. Never. Just as Blackheart said, the war can never end. Not until evil has burried itself in the hells its forged through its own sins. The war can never end, it can only be prolonged. But as the Rider knows, the longer something is kept at bay, the stronger it becomes...

 

[Lord Doom]

ic: DOOM

Doctor Doom sat in the back of his limosine, plugging a password into his arm-mounted computer system. A small screen activated and began showing him statistics and blueprints of Tony Stark's Iron Man armor. Victor couldn't deny the extreme level of enginuity Stark had put into his little toy (which, of course, was all the armor ammounted to in the eyes of Doom). The screen then switched to depict the image of a large, insectoid creature. A being Doom had known as a Brood. The screen gave various information on the creature including strengths, weaknesses, and an over-all lay-out of its body-structure. Doom grinned.
Sometimes he amazed himself.

 

[Gallagher]

It takes Heimdall's entire strength of will to refrain from striking at the Captain. Lying at his feet, along with Thor, Heimdall grunts in pain as Captain America's foot connects with his ribs, as he listens to Loki's high-pitched laugh.

"Hahahaha! You call yourself Gods? Look at who just took you down; a man with nothing but a shield. Pathetic."

All of a sudden Loki's form is no longer a distant form the Gods can see from the corner of their eyes, as he appears directly behind Captain America, who keeps his stern eyes on the Gods before him, completely unaware.
Taking stock of the hero in front of him, Loki shakes his head. "Although I must say, he would've made a great Asgardian. Tsk tsk." the God of Mischief ponders for a moment, before slithering in between the men like a python.

"Loki...your trickery cannot save you this time. It is only a matter of time before they realize what goes on here." Heimdall says through gritted teeth.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Loki walks over to Heimdall and kneels beside him. Smiling, almost affectionately, Loki raises his clenched fist and brings it down into Heimdall's head. With the blow, his head slams down onto the ground as blood shoots out of his mouth. "What is it with you Asgardians and not knowing when to call it a day? For Odin's sake, they're mere mortals. I could keep them believing what they see for the rest of their lives if I wanted to. But I don't.." Loki says before standing back up. Wiping Heimdall's blood off his fist, he continues. "...I'm going to release them from my grasp just as soon as they're forced to kill you."

"Now, before Steven here kills you, let me just that it was a pleasure playing with you both. You really are pathetic little creatures, you 'Gods'." Loki spits out at the two men on their stomachs in front of him, with a sneer on his face. "..You call yourselves fearless warriors, yet the mightiest one of you all spends his entire life trying to avoid something that is set in stone, cowering in fear of the mere mention of Ragnarok. Odin is a fool. Instead of taking measures to prevent it, he should be doing what's necessary to survive it."

Walking back over to Captain America and patting him on the shoulder, Loki runs his hand through his raven hair. "But that would make him as smart as me. Now, enjoy your stay in Hel, gentlemen. Tell my lovely daughter I said hello, and I promise I won't hurt your father too much, Thor, when I slice his head off."

Thor growled, dodging Captain America's shield once more. "Stop this madness Loki you ungrateful swine!" He grabbed hold of his mighty hammer with both hands and swung it upward catching Loki unawares, firing him straight up.

"We need to get out of here!" He called to Heimdall. "While Rogers are being deceived we have no chance of stopping him!" Thor jumped into the air following his evil half brother, grabbing his foot in mid-air he twisted his body and flung Loki through the wall of the Triskellion out into the ocean.

"There. Now..."

Ultimate Iron Man

The Iron Man suit in the lab beneath The Triskellion sparked and lit the room up as electrical flares rocketed out of the suit.

Stark's eyes grew wide as he looked upon his creation. It was torn... rattled. Wires had been exposed from the blows he had taken during his bout with Heimdall. The paint had worn thin, and rubble had dented the metal, making the suit look weary.

Stark gripped his flask tightly and sipped on it, letting the sweet liquor within it wash away his angst.

Disregarding the damage to his suit, Star stared at his creation.

"Get this thing up and running." muttered the billionaire.

"Mr. Stark..." His assistant, Happy Hogan said, standing next to him. "This thing isn't ready to get going."

"It was working an hour ago." Stark growled, looking at his watch.

"We had to shut it down to start repairs. We're working on the startup sequence. Some of the processors were damaged in the Heimdall fight."

Stark stared at the suit, his fingers around the top button on his shirt, as if the suit itself was somehow willed into not working. Stark had designed it to be impervious, but the billionaire had learned that not even his precious dollars could rival the power of an Asgardian god.

It was a daunting reality that the industrialist could face only by continuing to unbutton his shirt.

"Then get the prototype suit online."

Hogan nodded quietly. He was well aware that his boss was fully inebriated, staring at the Iron Man suit like it would somehow respond to him, but he was in no place to go against Stark's wishes.

After five minutes of prep time, Stark heaved himself into the Prototype suit's open chest cavity and tapped a few buttons within it, ceremoniously encasing himself in its warmth.

"Full power to internal suit couplings." His muffled voice said from within the suit.

Slowly, the internal readouts flickered on, and the suit's eyes glowed gold.

Stark pulled himself out of the suit, his voice eerily mechanical.

"Full power to the jets on my mark."

Carelessly demolishing the doors into the elevator shaft, Stark hopped into the long, steel tube, with a few empty stories beneath him.

"Mark."

In mid-air, the boots on Stark's feet ignited, illuminating the shaft around him, as he rocketed through the floors of the Triskellion.

Stark landed on a ledge just outside of the containment blocks.

"Full power to the repulsors."

Stark placed his hands against the steel between him and the blocks melt.

"'You guys had better be ready for a fight..." he announced, tearing through it with ease,

​

"...because I am really not in the mood."

Thor cursed under his breath.

"Tony please, not you too..."

 

[Westchester]

editttt

 

[Matt Murdock]

Thor cursed under his breath

"Tony please, not you too..."

Ultimate Iron Man

"Not me?" Tony Stark growled from behind his Iron Man mask. "'I thought I was the worst humanity had to offer?"

Stark felt the power surging through his suit and knew that Thor would prove to be a small challenge.

 

[SenseiofCheese]

Heimdall got to his feet as Loki was flung out to sea. With a thunderous blast Iron Man entered the room, taking an offensive stance towards Thor, while Captain America stood at the ready, his eyes on Heimdall.

"Thor, my friend, how do we act? I am afraid your brethren are completely fooled by Loki's trickery. I am afraid we have no choice but to slay them, do they not snap out of their trance!" Heimdall called to Thor, as Captain America began to advance on him, his shield held fast at his front.

Clenching his fists, Heimdall stood still, preparing for the Captain's attack.

 

[Gallagher]

Heimdall got to his feet as Loki was flung out to sea. With a thunderous blast Iron Man entered the room, taking an offensive stance towards Thor, while Captain America stood at the ready, his eyes on Heimdall.

"Thor, my friend, how do we act? I am afraid your brethren are completely fooled by Loki's trickery. I am afraid we have no choice but to slay them, do they not snap out of their trance!" Heimdall called to Thor, as Captain America began to advance on him, his shield held fast at his front.

Clenching his fists, Heimdall stood still, preparing for the Captain's attack.

"NO!" Thor shouted turning to Heimdall. "I won't even entertain the thought." He said, turning back to his friend, clad in gold and red armor.

"This time we run." He said with a certain finality in his voice. Heimdall was about to speak but Thor put up his hand. "No arguments Heimdall, I will not risk the lives of my friends." He looked from Iron man to Captain America then back to Heimdall, sadness in his eyes. "Any of them..."

With that he dived backwards, propelling himself toward Heimdall he twisted in the air and grabbed his ally's hand, soaring out of the cells and into the air.

 

[Saved]

Ultimate Hellfire Club

Grudge: Epilogue

New York, New York

In a puff of smoke, Black Tom appears on a rooftop in New York city. Confused and still groggy from his fight, he looks around. Trying to understand where he is, he uses his technological devices, mapping his current position. To his surprise, his scanners tell him New York City. He stares at the screen in disbelief, wondering if he has gone crazy or if it was just a dream. He walks to the ledge of the building slowly, the dark sky above him calming him. He places his hands on the ledge and stares at the city before him.

"What in the hell just happened?"

Manhattan, New York

Elektra finds herself waking up on the floor of a cold apartment building. Her clothes are torn, her body wounded from the battle. She slowly sits up, rubbing her head as she comes too. As she looks around her, she remembers where she is. The apartment of Johnathan Densen, her target she was hired to eliminate before all the chaos.

She slowly gets to her feet, the feeling in her body returning little by little. As she shakes off the pain and wounds, she walks down the hallway in the empty building. She notices a light shining into the dark corridor from a room, its door opened wide. She begins to walk toward it as she tries to make sense of all that's happened.

"Did it all really happen?" She asks herself. Her hand touches one of her fresh cuts and she cringes as pain shoots through her body. Recovering fast, her expression soon turns to a grimace, and her hands clench tightly.

"Yeah...it's real."

Turning the corner into the room, she soon confronts a strange sight. She finds John Densen pinned to the door by Elektra's sais. The blades pierce him under the tendon running up from the shoulders and connecting to his neck. Blood stains his shirt as he hangs unconscious. Elektra stares at the man with a strange look.

As she looks closer, she finds a message written in blood on the door next to Densen's hanging body. Elektra reads the two letters aloud as she stares at the bloody encription.

"B.H.?" She asks herself. She looks back to Densen's body and finds herself lost in her thoughts, trying to answer questions she'll never answer.

Chicago, Michigan

Longshot runs down the streets of the city as the sun sets beneath the towering skyscrapers. As he runs, he feels a presence watching him, trailing his trek. He looks over his shoulder hoping to find his stalker. To his dissapointment, he only sees the many colors of the sky.

He continues to run down the streets, hoping to evade anyone and everything. His mind thinks to thoughts of freedom, of times for his own desires. With his selfish thoughts in his head, he turns into an alleyway, and jumps onto the ladder of a fire escape. He laughs as he climbs the metal walkway higher and higher into the sky as a cool front moves over the city.

Bronx, New York

Kaine webslings through the air of the small residential district. As he moves with ease in the cover of the moon light, he thinks to himself intently. How the hell did I get back to New York? He ponders. I was in LA! The other side of the frickin country! I mean, I know I'm fast but, no way I could ever pull off a trek like that in a few seconds.

Kaine continues to swing. Taking a jump off of his last webline, he soars through the air, the wind brushing against the suit. He feels a cooling peace as he lands ontop of a building, perching himself on the small home's roof.

He commands the suit to pull back, and the black liquid falls back from his face. Using the suit's power, Kaine's horrid scar is gone, showing the perfect face of a young adult male.

"I wonder how Heart did it." He asks himself, his normal voice returning. "I wonder why he ended it. We were winning." He pauses, thinking back to Scorpion. "Okay, mostly winning. Still, we had the upper hand. Why bail?"

As Kaine asks himself these questions, he suddenly hears a voice whisper in his head. The voice is familiar, one he's heard speak to him before. It hisses and growls as it plays in his head, and Kaine listens intently to its words.

"The battle is done." It speaks. "I thank you for your help. All of you."

As Kaine hears the speech playing in his head, all across the states the other members of the Hellfire Club hear it too. Longshot hears it as he jumps the rooftops of Chicago, Elektra hears it as she continues to stare at the body of Operative Densen. Black Tom hears the voice in New York, and Hydro-Man listens intently to the message as well.

"You fought well. I must say, for the first time, I am not dissapointed in what has happened. Our contract has ended for now. Our inner circle must retire for now, take a rest. The Hellfire Club must once again fade back into the shadows, and watch from a far."

"However we are not finished. The battle is not over. I will require you again, so stay ready. Fight the battles a head, face the combat without fear, without mercy. Wait to hear my voice again, listen for my call. The time will come when we reunite. Just watch for my sign."

Just as soon as the voice came, the voice dissapears. The villains all stand where they are in astonishment, both scared and confused. They realize now who it was they worked for, and that everything that happened was not an illusion.

With their team broken up, each member must now go one and live their lives once again. But each of them wonders to themselves about what Blackheart meant by some of his words. They think on his foretelling of battles and coming tragedy. But above all, each of the members has one question in their mind. One question more powerful then any of the others filling their heads.

"When will he call on us again?"

 

[Cyrusbales]

Bruce has been in the company of this scientist, Samuel Sterns, for over a day now, and was still none the wiser as to what this whole project was. He felt like he was constructing the smallest of pieces of an enormous puzzle that he could never hope to solve.

“Are you alright Bruce?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t understand why you keep shutting me out. We’re both scientists here.”

“You created that…..thing, that HULK. You destroyed my life and countless other people’s. Is that a good enough reason for you?”

Raising a hand to a furrowed brow, an expression of concern filtered across this humbled man of science’s face.

“And what have you done since being ‘recruited’? I heard about Genosha, I don’t understand where your intendancy comes from here.”

Without a second thought, rage flooded Banner’s mind at this quip, H.Y.D.R.A may have left the Hulk dormant until they wanted him, but if he had to, Bruce himself would tear apart this monster who committed atrocities in the name of science himself.

Flinging his chair back, clenched hands grasped Stern’s lab coat and pushed him back into the filing cabinet. A quivering vein flickered on the irate Bruce’s forehead as he experienced something he had long since lost in due to the Hulk. Anger.

“You did this. YOU DID THIS ALL. Genosha was you. New York was you. Don’t act as if you had no choice.”

“I’m sure you’ve learned by now, that H.Y.D.R.A don’t GIVE you choices.”

The knowledge that Samuel was right was hard to fight back as it slowly crept into mind, loosening his grip as it did. Finally letting go, Banner could do nothing but return to his seat in frustration and commiseration.

“I had a life Samuel. A LIFE.”

Mildly dishevelled, Stern approached to offer what little comfort he could.

“So did I Bruce. So did I.”

To describe the last few months of Bruce’s life as stressful would be the most horrific of understatements imaginable.

The last few weeks however had provided some relief. Rather than being used a weapon by H.Y.D.R.A, his mind was the tool of which they employed. Samuel Sterns was the leader on the project to which he was assigned, and whilst the thought of spending time with the man responsible for creating the Hulk made him physically sick, he had grown to understand the situation in which this fellow scientist was in. Both men had been pushed way past their ethical boundaries and used to the fullest extent of the word, under what circumstances had Sterns been put in order to unleash such a horror on the world?

“Samuel. What are we even trying to do here?”

“What do you mean exactly?”


“Well all we’re doing is modifying the effects of this unknown agent on a single cell. I mean, why? We need to see what happens on a larger scale, we have no real sense of what this thing even is at this level of study.”

Peering out through the corner of his eyes, Samuel’s response came forth.

“I think that’s the point. I don’t think we’re supposed to know what it is, and keeping in mind who’s in charge of this whole operation, would you really want to know?”

Banner knew his co-worker had a point, but curiosity has a key characteristic of any great man of science. And Bruce was determined to find out what it was he was doing, especially if that meant ruining H.Y.D.R.A’s plans.

 

[Cyrusbales]

The Whitehouse had been the centre of activity over the past few weeks, America’s newest president meeting with various people from across the world, some well known, others complete strangers to the world at large. Economy now booming, Mr. Bronson’s promise of making the country thrive and prosper seemed fulfilled to the letter already in such a short time.

With the extra money saved from no longer funding the Ultimates, the general level of law enforcement was on the increase. Information leading to the arrest of common street criminals, many of them meta-humans that were deemed too low profile for the Ultimates and too dangerous for the police, had worked it’s way up the agenda, and already the crime rates under John Bronson had dramatically decreased. Life it seemed, was good.

“Good morning Marcia. New shoes?”

With a slight giggle and blush, Marcia welcomed John into the office.

“Morning, glad you noticed, you like them?”

“Well I wouldn’t wear them myself! But they look great on you!”

“Thanks John. By the way, the Secretary General called to say he’d be about five minutes late.”

“Let’s just hope he doesn’t run the military like that! Thanks Marcia.”

Turning to head into the Oval office, John stops, squinting slightly as his mind reels in something important he'd nearly forgot to mention.

“By the way Marcia, could you go to lunch from one till three PM. I’ve got a matter I’d like to attend to alone.”

“Sure John, I’ll buzz you when the Secretary General arrives.”

 

[Lord Doom]

ic: DOOM

After taking a moment to briefly assess the new information downloaded into his personal data bank, Doom motioned for the driver to stop the car. They had just arrived at the Latverian Embassy, where he had informed his contact to meet him. Doom stepped out of the vehicle, still diguised by his holographic technology, and enterd the embassy of his homeland.
As ordered, the employees were absent, carrying on their pointless lives without even the slightest hint as to the calamity that would soon engulf their entire universe.

"You wanted to see me, Doom?" a slightly distorted voice called from a dark corner of the building.

"I'm glad to see you made it. I was a little convinced that you wouldn't show up."

As Doom approached the announymous figure, the shadow of a hand was thrown into the air.

"That's far enough," the voice replied and Doom could do nothing but comply as signified by his sudden halt in movement.

"Very well," he replied with a hint of annoyance.

"Am I to assume that you have what I requested?"

A small orange light burned brightly in the corner where the contact was standing and a puff of smoke quickly followed.

"You are correct, sir," the voice replied and it tossed a small vial of green liquid towards the dictator.

Doom caught the vial in his right hand and took some time to study it. On the side of the vial was a very neatly-placed label with the words: "OZ"
written in bold red letters. Doom nodded, satisfied.

"What about the two DNA samples I requested, along with the othewr serum?"

The bright orange light (which, by now was the only sign that the contact was still present) bobbed a bit and glew bright once more, followed by the inevitable puff of smoke.

"In order to get THOSE, I'll have to break into a SHIELD facility and THAT'S only if they HAVE 'em. Either way, it'll cost ya."

"How much?"

A brown glove pierced through the darkness, holding out five fingers.

"Done. Contact me again when you have them. Same time, same place."

"See ya then."

Doom turned and headed back towards his limo.

 

[Feature]

FLINT MARKO: THE SANDMAN
Season IV - Part 34


"You're not gettin' anything outta me, Marko. Not one damn thing. So go ahead. Kill me. Do what you do..."

Flint looks into Bench's eyes and feels a terrible whirlpool of anger stirring in his gut. At this moment, he can kill. He can kill without remorse. Without the smallest shred of second thoughts.

But he doesn't. He sighs and turns to Forge.

"That thing workin' yet?"

Forge nods.

"Yup."

"Then turn this creep into a popsicle."

Flint turns his back on Bench, who begins shouting...

"Walk away now, Marko! Go ahead! But I'll find you! I won't stop looking for you! Not for one minute! Not for one second! You ca--"

Bench's voice cuts off as his breath is frozen in his lungs. He will survive this. Flint knows. But at least the Thunderbolts will have one hell of a headstart.

The team gathers around Johnny Blaze, who has finally defeated Blackheart.

"Is it over?"

"For now... for now."

The team is silent for a moment, exchanging looks that speak louder than failing words. They are grateful for eachother. They are overjoyed that none of them were lost. And they are exhausted.

"I want everyone piled into the Zeus. Fast. We're going back to base. Johnny, you and Felicia can take the cycle... but stay close. I don't want anyone straying until we're home. Got that?"

Everyone nods. In less than a minute they are tearing down the road. Flint and Sharon sit in the back of the Zeus, her head resting on his shoulder.

"You're okay?" Flint asks.

"Oh yeah. Nothing I haven't been through before."

Flint kisses her forehead.

"I'm proud of you." She says quietly.

"Why?"

"Because Morris Bench is still alive somewhere."

Flint chuckles under his breath.

"Doesn't sound like something to be proud about."

"Oh? Then why'd you let him live?"

Flint doesn't answer. Sharon gives his hand a squeeze.

Soon, they are back in the base. Together. All of them. Although they are physically tired... sore... they have all grown closer. Hardship brought them together and hardship has allowed them to flourish. Each day they grow closer. They learn more about eachother... grow more accustomed to eachother... friendships blossom.

Each day, Flint Marko takes a small step towards reinventing himself.

 

[Feature]

PIOTR RASPUTIN: COLOSSUS
Season IV - Part 16


Colossus watches as Xavier enters the hall and speaks to Sinister. In the midst of their exchange, Xavier locks eyes with Colossus. And then, the Russian is no longer in the hall. All that remains is a fiery tunnel... Colossus at one end... Xavier at the other.

<Why are you still here Mr. Rasputin?>

Xavier asks angrily, projecting his voice into Colossus' mind.

<Because... Sinister! He attacked! I couldn't just leave!>

<Yes you could have, Mr. Rasputin! In fact, that's exactly what you should have done!>

<But... my teammates! I can protect them!>

<They are no longer your teammates, Mr. Rasputin! And you cannot protect them! I have forseen this! They are in grave danger if you stay!>

<How?>

The fiery tunnel dissapears and Colossus instead sees the entire room from above. He looks down on himself, Xavier, his teammates, and Sinister. Suddenly, Sinister turns and fires. The bullet strikes Colossus, then ricochets off his armored skin. The slugs rips through the air, hitting Angel in the head.

The winged mutant falls to his knees, both hands clamped against his bloody temple. Dazzler rushes to his side. Screams fill the air. In the commotion, Sinister turns and shoots Xavier. A geyser of blood spurts from Xavier's throat. Wolverine lunges forward and grabs Sinister, who Blink teleports away at the last second. Wolverine goes with them... well, half of him. His bottom half does not make the trip. Two legs and a severed spine lay on the floor.

Then, in the blink of an eye, Colossus is back.

"Lay down your weapons and I might grant you mercy."

He is trembling and breathing hard. Only a few seconds have passed. Angel, Xavier, and Wolverine are still whole. What he has seen was not real, but a projection of what may come to pass if he does not leave.

Torn, but frightened, Colossus runs. He turns away from his friends and moves toward the kitchen. He picks up his bag and leaves the mansion... running. Running away. Always running from something.

 

[Venom160]

PIOTR RASPUTIN: COLOSSUS
Season IV - Part 16


Colossus watches as Xavier enters the hall and speaks to Sinister. In the midst of their exchange, Xavier locks eyes with Colossus. And then, the Russian is no longer in the hall. All that remains is a fiery tunnel... Colossus at one end... Xavier at the other.

<Why are you still here Mr. Rasputin?>

Xavier asks angrily, projecting his voice into Colossus' mind.

<Because... Sinister! He attacked! I couldn't just leave!>

<Yes you could have, Mr. Rasputin! In fact, that's exactly what you should have done!>

<But... my teammates! I can protect them!>

<They are no longer your teammates, Mr. Rasputin! And you cannot protect them! I have forseen this! They are in grave danger if you stay!>

<How?>

The fiery tunnel dissapears and Colossus instead sees the entire room from above. He looks down on himself, Xavier, his teammates, and Sinister. Suddenly, Sinister turns and fires. The bullet strikes Colossus, then ricochets off his armored skin. The slugs rips through the air, hitting Angel in the head.

The winged mutant falls to his knees, both hands clamped against his bloody temple. Dazzler rushes to his side. Screams fill the air. In the commotion, Sinister turns and shoots Xavier. A geyser of blood spurts from Xavier's throat. Wolverine lunges forward and grabs Sinister, who Blink teleports away at the last second. Wolverine goes with them... well, half of him. His bottom half does not make the trip. Two legs and a severed spine lay on the floor.

Then, in the blink of an eye, Colossus is back.

"Lay down your weapons and I might grant you mercy."

He is trembling and breathing hard. Only a few seconds have passed. Angel, Xavier, and Wolverine are still whole. What he has seen was not real, but a projection of what may come to pass if he does not leave.

Torn, but frightened, Colossus runs. He turns away from his friends and moves toward the kitchen. He picks up his bag and leaves the mansion... running. Running away. Always running from something.

"Piotr where the hell are you going!"

I turn and see the man known as Colossus fleeing down the hall and disappearing from sight.

"Warren go after him! Find out whats wrong."

"You got it Cyke."

I tear past the Professor and follow Piotr through the kitchen and out the backdoor.

"Pete wait!"

 

[Batman]

Man, this reeks.

Peter sat across from Mary Jane, as she lied, peacefully, on her bed in the middle of the room. He hadn't stopped staring at her since they had gotten back. Even after changing out of his costume, Peter felt as if he was wearing a curse, as he hurriedly ripped it off and stuffed it into one of his backpacks in the closet. What had he gotten her into? What kind of life was this for her? Did she deserve better than him?

All signs pointed to 'yes', in Peter's mind, as he tried his best to hold a strong face, in case she finally woke up. But the truth was, he was aching inside. And not in a physical manner. The truth was, for all of the good he tried to do, and for all of the justice he tried to bring to the world, Peter Parker felt like Spider-Man was becoming more of a danger to those he loved than any of his enemies could ever be.

This totally reeks, He thought to himself, burying his head in his hands. I wanted to protect MJ, and protect everyone who I cared about, and now look at me. Beat up, bruised, and escaping that nutjob within an inch of my life... and within, like, half an inch of her's! When is it gonna stop?! Harry's Dad as that Goblin thing, Doc Ock... they were bad enough. But what if Eddie ever got to her? Or The Kingpin? Or any other member of the half populace of New York that know my secret identity?

Peter looked up, and leaned back into his seat, staring up at the ceiling.

What am I supposed to do? Just hang it up for good? Can I do that?

The teenager frowned, as he looked into the closet across the room, seeing a strand of crimson webbed material. ...Would I even want to do that?

Peter sighed. Anyone who said it was easy being a superhero was obviously full of it. But it wasn't like he wasn't used to this... and maybe, just maybe that was the problem. He was used to this. The constant danger. The self torture. The whackos that crawled out of the woodwork to try and kill anyone Peter held dear to him. It was all apart of an ongoing routine that Peter wasn't sure he could ever escape. And it was all because of Spider-Man.

Every last bit of it.

The consideration of giving it all up once and for all was becoming stronger by the minute, as Peter laid back, letting it pass through him. Whatever he decided would affect so many lives. If he quit, there was a slim chance that his friends and family would get off the hook from superpowered weirdos, but everyone else would be open game, and without Spider-Man to protect them - or, at least, there to try. If he didn't, well... this was the rest of his life. Worried, afraid, and in turmoil for everyone else in his life. Not to mention constantly coming home beaten to a pulp.

As Peter drowned in the overwhelming burden, the door suddenly came open. Frantically, May Parker stood in the doorway, as her nephew looked up, confused. She had greeted them nearly an hour before, when Peter had miraculously brought MJ home after her kidnapping - he had made up some story about a gang that beat him down before the cops showed, and retrieved MJ from their hideout, in order to ease May's worries about the truth. But now, it seemed, something else plagued her, as Peter got up from his seat.

"Aunt May? W-Wha...?"

Instantly, she grabbed his wrist, and pulled him out of the room. Before Peter knew it, the two were being rushed downstairs.

"When was the last time you stopped by the Bugle?"

Peter's eyebrow raised. "What? What does that have to do with-"

"Peter, answer the question! When was the last time you were-"

"A couple hours ago!", He responded, unnerved. "Aunt May, what's going on?"

"And your boss? He was there, right?"

"Of course he was."

"He was there?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Well, kinda..."

"Peter, was he there or not?!"

"I-I... wait, why do you want to-"

The two stopped downstairs, infront of the television, as it played a live newscast. May crossed her arms, looking at her nephew with a strong skepticism, as she indicated the screen.

"Then tell me, young man, just how he was there when this has been going on all day?"

Peter's eyes drifted to the television, as the headline leaped out at him instantly: "BUGLE PUBLISHER SPIDER-NAPPED: Has The Wall-Crawler Finally Crossed The Line?". Peter's jaw dropped, instantly, as he ignored his aunt to see the broadcast. But May instantly grabbed him, demanding his attention.

"You weren't at the Bugle, were you?"

Struggling to see the TV behind her, Peter tried to explain himself in the process. "I-I was! I was there, I swear!"

"Peter, don't lie to me! How could you not have known about this if you were there?"

"I was there, Aunt May! I'm being honest!", He pleaded back, while his mind was thinking something else. What the holy heck is going on here? They're blaming me for this? Seriously?!

"Then you saw him?", May demanded, sterny.

"Who?"

"Spider-Man!"

"What? It's... no! It's not him! He didn't do it! He..."

Peter turned, and began to run out of the room.

"Just trust me, he didn't do it! I gotta go... I gotta..."

"Peter! Peter, get back here this instant! PETER!"

But it was too late. By the time Peter made it out the door, and May followed to the front steps, her nephew was already out of sight. Her head hung low, as she tried to think of numerous ways to ground him for lying... only not to notice the sight above her, as a red and blue clad figure leaped out of Mary Jane's window, and swung down the street, heading into Manhattan.

"One more time...", Spider-Man murmured to himself, as he tried to race to the rescue of his boss.

 

[Ol'Canucklehead]

Apocalypse​

January 13, 2029​

Its has been two days past her awakening. All that I have forseen has come to pass. For the past two days I have instructed The Phoenix, my new adopted daughter, in everything she will need to know for the coming battle. I have explained to hear the importance of my turths....The strong must survive and the weak must perish. I have told her that because the X-Men attempted to go against those truths set before them by me, their god, than in turn they caused the destruction of the entire planet. In fact, this is nothing far from the truth. Had the X-Men not put up a resistance against my armies than the world would flourish under my ideals. The strong would lead, and in this time would be the majority of the populus. Many lived could have been spared had they only seen the turth. Perhaps even some of the X-Men could have been Generals in my armies, but they chose to use their strength defending those who are unworthy.​

I watch her as she trains, as she learns from the computer systems I have built here. Everything is structured in order to make her stonger. The video systems play to the parts of the war I find most important for her to learn. I made sure to have them begin with how she died.....how Charles Xavier's warped perspectives drove her into madness, and in turn making her kill herself to protect the X-Men. Her classes have been in preperation for years.....awaiting her birth.​

When it was made clear to me that the Phoenix Force would reincarnate in a specific time line from the time of death of the last one, I decided that I must then make it my goal to find the next incarnation.....and control it. With the help of my loyal subject, Sinister, who died years ago in the war, I was able to pinpoint the timeline, and eradicate all other life in order to find her. I destroyed the planet city by city, enslaving all in my way, simply to find this child. After she was found Sinister stored her in an incubation chamber for the last twenty years. There she was subconciously programed with behaivior modifications in order to make her more subserviant to my commands....at least her human entity was. Altering the Phoenix Force would be impossible, however altering the human side to feed on the anger, agression, and rage that drives the Phoenix would allow a great measure of control. For you see one side can not survive without the other, they are bound together through their ancient creation. This is why the human side has never changed in apearance, and is eventualy able to retain the memories it had from previous lives. Now, through this alteration, and my own guidance, she IS ready to face them.​

I aproach her as she begins to exit her computerized training session.​

"Now my dear, are you ready to begin? Are you ready to change the very face of the world?"​

"Yes Lord Apocalypse....father. I am ready, in fact I don't wish to wait any longer!"​

"HAHAHA! My dear sweet girl. I apreciate your enthusiasim, but you do know what is required of you for this first mission, do you not?"​

"Yes of course Lord."​

Suddenly her demenor changes, the once presnet enthusiasim and anger is now nowhere to be found. Even her clothing, chaneled from those flames of anger, are now non existant. She stands before me naked and helpless. She then looks up at me and say,​

"What happened to me? Wheres Scott? Where is the proffesor? Oh god, what has happened to me. Sir, can you help me? Please?"​

I pause for a moment, and then begin to laugh. I clap my hands loudly in applause, still laughing and say,​

"PERFECT! HAHA! That was truely a preformance."​

She looks up at me with a grin and begins laughing herself. Then she is once again engulfed in flames, returning her garb, and her spirit.​

"Thank you Lord Apocalypse."​

"Good, now you are ready. It is time to proceed. You realize that once we have traveled backward in time that there is no going forward. The tunnels lead ONLY backward. Once we have arrived it is your mission to infiltrate the school and take your place as the true Jean Grey. My servant Sinister should already have placed his creation, Pryor, inside to serve as your replacement. You know what plans we have for her later, so allow all that will happen to happen. In addition Sinister himself shoudl be arriving at the school. Do what you must to keep your guise intact, if you must hurt him to prove yourself to the X-Men than he WILL understand once he realizes that it is in the name of his Master. Communicate with him telepathicly if need be, just make certain that Xavier is unable to intercept that communication. Once this has been done give Sinister my new location in Italy. Tell him the priests will give him full acess once he has spoken the words "Revaltion of Apocalypse is the plan of the Divine." Do you understand all that you must do?"​

"Yes Lord, it shall be done."​

I smile at her certainty. She makes me as proud as any daughter could to their father. I reach to my belt and activate the wormhole set in the great hall beside us.​

"Now is the time my child. Now me must go."​

She bows her head to me and enters without another word. Now is the time.....FOR VENGANCE!​

I enter the portal with my father, the light engulfs me as I go through. Time seems to lose its meaning as second pass feeling like hours. I can feel the fleeting lives pass me, returning from the beyond as time is restored and then finaly, we are there. I stand naked once again, this time in front of a large building, an older mansion, the one my father showed me in my training. The X-Men are there, I can feel them. I turn to my lord, my saviour, and before I can even speak he says to me.

"This is the new begining, this is where together we shall save the world. You know what you must do, and remember my instructions carefully. Prove yourself to them, defeat my servant, but do not harm him to the point he can not return from. Send Sinister to me, explain to him telepathicaly what his new objective is and return him to me."

"And what of his followers my lord?"

"They serve only the will of their own finances. They are hired as contracted soilders, they do not serve me, there for they do not matter. Do with them what you will. Test them, and if any seem worthy of my gifts than perhaps they can be sent to me as well."

"Yes my lord."

With a powerfull gesture from his hand he says, "Go, set the stage."

He turns away from me and walks into the mist, disapearing from my sight all together. I turn to the mansion in front of me and begin walking towards it. I reflect on all that I have been instructed to do, I must make them believe that I am the person I once was, the fool that followed them so blindly into death. I have been prepared, and now it is time to strike. As I walk to the door I can hear voices, Sinister is inside, Xavier is close by aswell, but I can tell there is a new change within him, whatever that is will be hard to detect as his telepathy is strong and he will no doubt be well sheilded. The Angel, the former servant of my master, flees in attempt to save the metal skinned Russian, and standing in the room with Sinister are the two simpelest pawns of them all, Scott Summers and Logan. This will be an overly simple task indeed. I calm myself for a moment, think hard on the person that I once was, the person that I learned about from my father, my eyes open and lose their red fiery glow and return to the dull faded green I was born with. I open the door and walk into the mansion calling out,

"Professor, Scott.....Logan?"

I can feel their thoughts racing, they know my voice and for a moment think it is that aboination made by Sinister, that peice of property soon to be reclaimed by my master, but soon realize the truth. I continue walking into the mansion and once further in I stumble upon them, I put on a mask of confusion, still naked and damp from the mist. I look towards them and call out to them with tears streaming down my face,

"Oh thank God!"

For a dramatic effect I fall to the ground and await one of them to assist this poor defenless creature.​

 

[Matt Murdock]

"When was the last time you stopped by the Bugle?"

Peter's eyebrow raised. "What? What does that have to do with-"

"Peter, answer the question! When was the last time you were-"

"A couple hours ago!", He responded, unnerved. "Aunt May, what's going on?"

"And your boss? He was there, right?"

"Of course he was."

"He was there?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Well, kinda..."

"Peter, was he there or not?!"

"I-I... wait, why do you want to-"

The two stopped downstairs, infront of the television, as it played a live newscast. May crossed her arms, looking at her nephew with a strong skepticism, as she indicated the screen.

"Then tell me, young man, just how he was there when this has been going on all day?"

Peter's eyes drifted to the television, as the headline leaped out at him instantly: "BUGLE PUBLISHER SPIDER-NAPPED: Has The Wall-Crawler Finally Crossed The Line?". Peter's jaw dropped, instantly, as he ignored his aunt to see the broadcast. But May instantly grabbed him, demanding his attention.

"You weren't at the Bugle, were you?"

Struggling to see the TV behind her, Peter tried to explain himself in the process. "I-I was! I was there, I swear!"

"Peter, don't lie to me! How could you not have known about this if you were there?"

"I was there, Aunt May! I'm being honest!", He pleaded back, while his mind was thinking something else. What the holy heck is going on here? They're blaming me for this? Seriously?!

"Then you saw him?", May demanded, sterny.

"Who?"

"Spider-Man!"

"What? It's... no! It's not him! He didn't do it! He..."

Peter turned, and began to run out of the room.

"Just trust me, he didn't do it! I gotta go... I gotta..."

"Peter! Peter, get back here this instant! PETER!"

But it was too late. By the time Peter made it out the door, and May followed to the front steps, her nephew was already out of sight. Her head hung low, as she tried to think of numerous ways to ground him for lying... only not to notice the sight above her, as a red and blue clad figure leaped out of Mary Jane's window, and swung down the street, heading into Manhattan.

"One more time...", Spider-Man murmured to himself, as he tried to race to the rescue of his boss.

Back To Basics
Part III
​

The itsy-bitsy spider went up the water spout.
Down came the rain and washed the spider out.
Out came the sun, and it dried up all the rain.
And the itsy-bitsy spider climbed up the spout again.

[blackout]"Where's our itsy-bitsy Spider, JJ?"[/blackout]

J. Jonah Jameson's body is limp... not lifeless, certainly, but he's not home.

Even if he were, my webbing would've left his mouth sealed.

[blackout]"Why so silent, JJ?"[/blackout] My voice is masked by a series of clicks and growls coming from the Carnage suit.

[blackout]"Don't tell me that you haven't got a thing to say to me, ol' bristle-head."[/blackout]

His body simple sways and spins in the mid-spring breeze.

The thunderstorm had blown away, and replaced by a light drizzle.I glare at my reflection in a puddle, the sickening grin of the Carnage suit fading in and out as the golden eyes staring back at me cut to my core.

I'm doing this for the right reasons, aren't I?

What was it that I had said to Kaine in the restaurant....

"It's not his job to be a hero. We're the ones who were cloned.... We should give him a break."
​

I stare at J. Jonah Jameson's cold, closed eyes and I feel Anton's blood pulsing through The Suit.

This has gotten so much bigger than I wanted it to be... I didn't want Anton to die. He was my brother. But he got in my way. He's a copy... like me. Nobody knew he was alive.

I feel my air of smugness return.

[blackout]"I've come to far to back out now."[/blackout] I mutter to myself.

"Nobody dies. Nobody gets hurt."

My conscience was the biggest hurdle I had to leap now. Anton didn't deserve to die, but The Suit...

My thoughts trail off as I continue to stare at the puddle.

What have I become?

*WHUMP*

"Let Jameson go." A stern voice says from behind me.

Out of either fear or shame, or maybe even both, I don't turn around. I know who it is, anyway.

[blackout]"Hello, Peter."[/blackout]

At the simple mention of his name, The Suit twists and turns on my flesh, as if it hates his very being.

"You heard me. Let him go."

I feel myself smirk.

[blackout]"You want him, Pete? Go fetch."[/blackout]

A blade rockets out of the back of my hand and I slam it through the thin webbing holding Jameson attached to the gargoyle next to me. With this, the publisher's eyes open and he starts muffled screams of protest, but he's already flying through the air, straight for the ground.

Peter dives in front of my face, heading straight for Jameson. As I casually watch, I don't bother following. Peter's too heavily invested in this now. I'm his clone, I kidnapped his boss, and I've probably taken him away from Mary Jane or Aunt May.

No, this time he's looking for a fight... or a beating.

He snatches Jameson out of the air and slams onto a rooftop, protecting the man who's put him down publicly so many times.

I step off of the Empire State Building and soar through the air. The rooftop is coming at me quickly, but I don't care. I slam into it, knee-first, and rise slowly.

"I'm not going anywhere until I have Jameson and rip that suit off my Brother!"

Anton had tried to stop me. He couldn't. Jessica had tried to stop me. She couldn't.

Hell, I had tried to stop me, but at this point the situation I had found myself in had snowballed out of control.

I stand now, glaring at Peter Parker, each of us behind our masks. I turn my back to him and look out at the city as dawn approaches.

[blackout]"Does it hurt when you put it on, Peter?"[/blackout] I ask quietly.

I don't have to turn around to see the look of confusion on his face, it'd be on mine too.

[blackout]"Your mask."[/blackout] I clarify. [blackout]"Can you feel it suck the life out of you as you swing through the city?"[/blackout]

His silence speaks for him.

[blackout]"Can you feel it weighing you down like some sort of anchor? Can you feel yourself stop growing as Peter Parker, and start turning into Spider-Man? Does your spider-sense warn you of the jealous looks you get from Mary Jane as you put on your mask or the new wrinkles on Aunt May's face since you've been staying out at night?"[/blackout]

I turn around and stare at him before I continue speaking. His mask is blank, expressionless. He could punch me at any second, but something inside of me is driving me to keep talking.

[blackout]"You don't have to feel that way ever again. You don't have to put the people who worry about you through anymore pain."[/blackout] I say. [blackout]"You're a kid. You've had so much thrust upon you lately... and me? I haven't got anything to do. I could be Spider-Man."[/blackout]

I place my hand on my chest.

[blackout]"You don't have to fight with yourself or the lunatics out there anymore. You don't ever need to put yourself in harm's way. Ever, ever again."[/blackout]

His eyes stare back at me, dull and vacant, as if he's still thinking about what to say. Part of me wants him to say something, anything. My own thoughts and my heartbeat are almost too much for me to deal with at this point, my own head has gotten way too small.

At last, Pete speaks.

"And do what?" He says with his trademark wit, "Leave the whack-jobs of New York in the hands of... well... a whack-job?"

I sneer.

[blackout]"If you're talking about what happened with Ant--"[/blackout]

"I'm talking about what happened with J. Jonah Jameson." Parker says, simply cutting me off. "He's an innocent person. You used him to get to me. No. You can't do that and expect me to entrust my city, my home, to you."

I can feel every bone in his body screaming for him to just give up, to accept the reality that he shouldn't be Spider-Man. So, I'm going for the one million dollar question, the big one.

[blackout]"And if you die?"[/blackout] I ask, almost condescendingly.

I see his mask pull back in such a way that I can tell he's grinning.

That's not a good sign.

"I hope I go out fighting." He says with a maturity far beyond his years.

That's where he and I differ, I guess. He wants to go out fighting. I'd rather not go out at all. Why is that a bad thing, though? Why should I be judged for valuing my life?

I blink, realizing that nobody's judging me... nobody but myself.

"You've hurt people tonight. I can't let that go unspoken for."

Whatever remorse or sorrow I may be feeling is gone.

[blackout]"Let's dance."[/blackout] I growl.

Parker lunges at me, his movements are slow, as if he's groggy.

I duck out of his path with ease, and roll along the rooftop.

As Parker hits the rooftop, I pivot and fire a pair of weblines at his back. They go taught and he slams onto his back. He grabs the lines himself and pulls me onto my face.

"That the best you've got?!" He jests. "Throwing my own tricks my way?"

*THWIP*

Before I can even get to my feet, two streams of webbing wrap themselves around my wrists. Parker heaves, sending me flying. My chin meets his heel and I slam backwards, hitting my head on the ground.

I'm groggy, but The Suit has taken the brunt of the blow. Parker's fist is coming straight for my jaw.

I roll out of the way, a split-second before he can hit me.

*CRACK!*

"Gah! Dammit!" Parker says as his fist hits the rooftop.

I leap into the air, dodging a kick from Spider-Man. He refuses to stop coming, his assault won't end.

I land behind him and slam my fist into his back, sending him face-first through the air.

My heart is pounding. How will this end?

The ringing of metal wakes me up, as Peter's skull is driven into a nearby flag pole. His body slumps to the ground, as he lacks and Suit to protect himself. He feebly tries to push himself up, his limbs are obviously weak.

I heave him to his feet and slam a fist into his nose, sending him sprawling.

I casually step towards him, but soon feel his foot slice at my ankles, knocking my footing out from under me. I feel myself falter, stumble, and slam into the ground. Without even getting up, Peter delivers another blow to my face and I feel the cartilage in my nose break.

I curse under my breath and grip his foot with both of my hands. His other foot, though, slams into my face again and I release my grip.

What is wrong with me? This guy should be cake!

He somersaults backwards and onto his feet, staring down at me. I push myself up, sprinting, and tackle him, an uncontrollable roar in my voice.

The two of us careen off of the rooftop, and I feel my grip on Peter weaken. He tenses every muscle in his arms and breaks my grip, kicking me in the gut as we fall.

We part ways in the air, and he slams into a brick wall. I crash into the side of a fire escape, nearly breaking my neck.

We both land in puddles in an alleyway. I'm winded, barely able to stand, but, somehow, Peter can keep fighting.

He pulls himself to his feet and looks down on me.

"You're a disgrace."

His words hurt me worse than any blow I've felt tonight, as they feel like they're coming from both myself and Uncle Ben.

[blackout]"I jus... I just wanted to help you."[/blackout] I whisper as the grimy water seeps into my mouth.

"By what?!" Peter cries, "Making my life more of a living hell?"

I don't reply.

"You've basically ruined everything I've worked for as Spider-Man. People're gonna be afraid of me again, don't you get that?"

I roll my eyes as he continues to whine.

Deep in my heart, though, I know he's right.

I can't stop, though. I've come too far. I won't lose.

I drag myself to my feet and throw a measly punch into Peter's side, he counters with a blow to my jaw that sends parts of The Suit splattering onto the bricks.

I feel my forearms scrape along the ground and see my wrist in the early-morning light.

"You've gotten soft."

Peter's right. My wrist is gray, and my muscles are easily visible, each of them strained.

I'm hungry.

The Suit is hungry.

[blackout]"You gonna kill me?"[/blackout]

I feel my skin dry out as I crawl up the wall.

"I should." The teenage desire and rage Peter feels is clear through his tone. And, in all honesty, I'm terrified by it.
Spider-Man fires a webline into the air above us and snaps an electrical cable, bringing it, sparking, in front of my face.

"But with great power comes great responsibility."

He juggles the livewire between his hands for a second before staring at me.

"This is gonna hurt, pal."

My back arches as soon as the wire makes contact with my chest. The feeble layer of The Suit isn't enough to protect me from the pure voltage surging through my system, and The Suit quickly starts turning to steam. My hands twitch, and muscular cramps line my bones. I taste blood and salt as my skin and lips crack. Tears well in my eyes but quickly turn to steam as the heat coursing through my flesh reaches them.

At long last, the pain stops, and I slump to the ground, smoking slightly.

*THWIP!*

Webbing engulfs me and I feel my nude body pressed up against a wall by Peter, as he heads after Jameson.

My eyes are open, but barely.

I'm alone. The Suit is gone. Peter's gone.

Anton is gone.

What've I done?

I watch as the drizzle washes the charred remnants of the suit down a nearby drain, and my head grows heavy.

Everything slowly goes black.
​

 

[Gallagher]

Sinister could feel all eyes on him, he could feel the burning desire from most of the X-Men to rip him to pieces. Something caught his notice, the large Russian, Colossus, was sweating profusely. Staring around the room in fear.

Without warning the metallic behemoth turned and ran. Sinister couldn't help but chuckle as the winged Angel gave chase.

"Is this what your student body has come to Xavier? Whimpering cowards? Hardly surprising. Look at who they have for a role model." He stared at each individual Mutant in turn. Assessing them, studying their weaknesses their strengths. "So much potential and you have merely discarded it Xavier."

Blink still stood firmly behind Essex, not moving much, her eyes darting from one X-Man to another. Focused on sensing any form of attack.

"This room is full of mutants that could change the face of the world with but a gesture. A thought." He spoke loudly, as if projecting his voice would make this sink in.

"I extend and invitation to each and everyone of you. If you tire of the pathetic ways of the X-Men you may but repent and my good lord shall set you free." Sinister grinned, speaking passionately, If he had a heart he was most certainly speaking from it.

"Fear not, my master is fair, he is just. All he asks for your obedience, your love." He continued, gazing down at the bleeding Gambit, the only son he'd ever known. He never changed facial expression.

Then someone entered the room. Someone unexpected, even by Sinister himself.

Jean Grey.

The real Jean Grey, one that his master had kept a secret all this time had just wandered into the X-Mansion. Sinister stared as the naked young lady walked up the steps. He noticed as Summers and the Wolverine moved forward into her arms.

"What the hell did you do to her!?" The young Summers yelled at Essex. Sinister but thought 'If only you knew.' Nodding to Blink he whispered.

"Time we made our exit." Blink moved fast grabbing her boss by the arm as he waved, grinning. During the commotion only one person made eye contact.

Xavier stared. His eyes shifting to Blinks were the last thing Sinister saw before enveloped in a pink smoke.

***

"Argh!" Essex rolled, the impact from the portal sending him down a hillside, hitting rocks and tree roots on the way. He landed at the bottom with a sharp exhale.

Getting to his feet slowly he surveyed the area.

"Wh... Where are we?" Essex asked, dazed and confused he craned his neck and saw Blink a few yards away clutching her head in pain.

"Urgghhhaaa! Xavier did somethin to me! It felt like my head was going to split open. I lost focus, I dunno where we are."

Essex shot her a look of disgust and continued to look around. They had landed in what seemed to be a graveyard. The sky was a scorched red, lightening dancing across it. "What do you mean we don't know where we are!? You brought us here!"

"It... it was Xavier, he messed with my head right before I ported us. It's supposed to be the warehouse boss."

"Does this LOOK like a warehouse to you child!?" Sinister snapped, causing Blink to cower in fear.

"Halt! Unidentified civillians!" Yelled a robotic voice from the sky suddenly. A beam of light shone down on the duo.

"What... what is this?"

"In the name of our Lord Apocalypse you are under arrest for breaking curfew! If you do not reply within 5 seconds I will switch to lethal force."

Sinister just stared awestruck...

Without warning the flying droid contorted and tore apart, sparks flying as the insides where shredded by an unseen force. As the smoke cleared a figure stepped forward.

"Come with me if you wish to live."

 

[Eddie Brock]

I sat with my feet up on the coffee table at the Baxter Building. The chain of events have been set into motion. Now it's up to me to follow through. Getting Kate and Ted to agree was the easy part. It's the next group of recruits where I'll really have to work. I flip open my phone and start a new text message to Kitty.

Need to talk
Meet at Baxter ASAP

I stare silently at the message for a moment. As the cursor blinks invitingly, I decide to add:

Bring Bobby

Bobby Drake and I don't have the best track record, but let's face it - I need all the help I can get. Besides, what we have is little more than a stupid rivalry - mostly over Kitty. I just hope that he's not bitter that I won this time. What's coming is way more important than girls.

Besides, it's not like he stood a chance against me anyway.

After sending the message, I flip my phone shut and slip it back into my pocket. I reach over to the coffee table and pick up the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue.

"Nice," I remark to myself.

Suddenly, the door to the common room opens, and I toss the magazine back onto the coffee table. Reed, Sue, and Ben enter the room as I try to act natural. I snicker slightly as Ben picks up the SI issue.

Sue stops and looks at me. "Johnny, what are you planning?" she asks suddenly. Both Ben and Reed stop what they're doing and look over.

"Nothing," I lie innocently.

Sue puts a hand on her hip. "I know that face. You're planning something," she insists. Damn, she's too good.

"I don't even wanna know," Ben announces.

"It's nothing!" I repeat, my voice wavering. They're onto me now. Sue stares at me with a face that can only mean, 'Tell me now.'

"Okay, I'm organizing a little group," I admit.

"What kind of 'little group?'" Reed asks interestedly. Reed, Ben, and Sue close in, making me a little uncomfortable.

"Well, you guys know about this impending doom thing, right?"

Reed nods. "Yes, we all received similar letters," he reminds me.

"Well, my letter suggested that I organize some friends," I explain, "You know, power in numbers and all that."

"When you say 'friends,' you mean..."

"Kate Bishop and Ted Altman," I respond honestly.

There is a collective realization in the room. "The same Kate Bishop and Ted Altman that are SHIELD trainees?"

"Johnny, what the Hell are you doing?"

"I'm doing the one thing I can do! I'm getting together a team of my superpowered friends, and I'm going to fight this thing!" I explain defiantly.

"And who's going to be in charge of this team?" Reed asks.

Sue scoffs. "If you say that you are..."

"Why couldn't I be?!" I ask angrily.

Ben just laughs. "Do you really want to know the answer to that, kid?"

"Johnny, you know nothing about being a leader!" Sue insists. "You're immature, irresponsible, self-centered, impulsive..."

"She has a point, Johnny," Reed adds sincerely. "Besides, why are you so worried about having a team? Aren't you the one who always reminds people that you're part of the 'world famous Fantastic Four?'"

"Yes, but this is different!"

"How?"

"These are my peers! They get me!"

"I don't think anyone 'gets' you, Johnny," Sue sighs. "I know that I sure as Hell don't."

"Is this because of what happened with Captain America?" Ben interjects.

"No!" I respond defensively. That's not entirely true. After all, my confrontation with Captain America planted the seeds in my head. It was Deadpool's letter that harvested them.

"Oh my God, Johnny!"

"Look, I'm doing this! You guys can support me, or you can attack me. I don't care! This is what I feel like I have to do, and I'm going to do it!" I state determinedly.

"Don't say we didn't warn you..."

I've grown tired of being lectured, so I get up and storm out. They don't want to support me? Fine. That's their prerogative. Forming this team is mine.
​

 

[Blacklight]

"So what you think, Katie? He souded legit..." Said Ted as he and his archer friend Kate Bishop assessed their encounter with the Human Torch. His growth horomone already worn off, causing his white skin and blonde hair to show, and his uniform to sag from the lack of mass that also resulted from the expiration of the drug.

"I could tell. He was scared. He was telling the truth." She said looking out the window, hoping to see something to help them.

Ted sighed. His days in the hood. People got killed almost everyday. He had seen some of it. The violence. The deaths. None even close to comparing what Johnny was hinting at. Ted wasn't a huge fan of the unknown, always living in the here and now, training to help people in situations like this for when he turns legal, but things that he had no information about scared him a little, but he didn't know that SHEILD would come to his doorstep either, or offer him a deal that not only would give him the chance to get out of the piece of crap place he grew up in, but also help save the world and give back. So the unkown he slightly feared, he also slightly anticipated. Nothin' he couldn't handle, right?

"Aiight, then. Let's call up Speed. See if he'll join up."


* * *


"Are you two f***ing ******ed!?! Fury will have our f***ing heads!" Tommy screamed on the phone to Ted.

"C'mon, T. The world's in danger, and SHEILD won't know nothin'."

"Yes they will. They find out everything. They're like psychic or something..."

Ted sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Listen, man. Why did you join this program in the first place?"

"To help people..."

"And to help save the planet too, right?"

"I guess..."

"So why don't you help us do that, Shepherd?"

Tommy paused for a moment, which added to Ted's anxiousness for an answer...

"I...I......I'm sorry dude..."

CLICK!

Ted turned to Kate who leaned against the wall, hearing only his side of the conversation.

"He's out..."

"No he's not..."

Ted gave her a look. He wasn't one for puzzles.

"...You'll see. He'll come on with this. I know him better than anyone..."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Let's just get some sleep in the meantime. It's getting late."

Ted couldn't disagree. He was a little tired out from training and dealing with this new task at hand.

"Sounds good..."

 

[Saved]

Rumekistan, Capital City

Inside the government building of the flourishing nation, President Winters sits in his office. He sits in his chair, turned away from his desk. He stares out the two large windows in the back of his office, looking up at the bright sky.

He watches the birds fly through the sky, gracefully and elegantly flapping their wings. Winters smiles at the peaceful sight, and closes his eyes. He takes a deep sigh and folds his hands together, bringing them in front of his face.

His calm rest is suddenly interrupted by the sound of the doors to the room opening. Winters frowns, and turns his chair around to face the person entering.

As he turns, he sees his advisor, Ivan Rice, standing at attention. Winters waves him off with a salute and leans forward in his chair.

"Ivan," he starts, his voice calm and commanding. "What news do you have?"

"It's...from the front in the South Pacific, sir." The man says with a disheartened tone. "It's Straka."

"Well," Winters asks impatiently. "What is it? Tell me, Rice."

"Straka engaged Namor, sir." He starts. Rice takes a deep breath, placing his arms behind his back. "They seemed to be even."

"Seemed?" Winters asks, his hope fading fast.

"Yes, sir. The report states that somewhere in the middle of the fight, Namor caught him off guard and...broke him."

"Broke him? Is he dead?" Winters asks impatiently. "Don't beat around the bush with this, Rice. Tell me! What happened?"

"Namor beat Straka, sir." An expression of shock and dissapointment comes across Winters face as he leans back in his chair. "The medics say Straka's body is broken in over a hundred places...and he seems to have experiance...brain trama."

"How bad?" Winters asks, his dissapointment turning to frustration.

"They expect him to regain seventy-five percent mobility and sixty percent brain function. Even with his accelerated healing."

As Rice stands silently, Winters sits in his chair, deeply thinking. Rice stands in the awkward silence, waiting for a response from his leader. His eyes look around the room as he waits, staring at the various maps around the room. His eyes look to their country's flag, its elegant colors and symbol shining as a beacon of hope.

Rice's eyes move to a suit, proudly displayed in a frame behind glass. The gray suit has many pieces of armor attached to it on various places. Lime green lines are stitched into some of its creases. All throughout the suit are various bullet holes and burn marks, signs that the uniform has seen many battles.

As Rice becomes lost in the stories the suit could tell, his concentration is interrupted by a laugh. He looks over and sees President Winters laughing, a smile on his face. Rice quickly becomes confused, and stares at his leader with an unsure look.

"Sir, what's so funny?"

"Oh, come on, Rice." He says as he slows his laughter. "This isn't bad news. This is excellent news. It means a super soldier can take on a god! If he could hold his own with Namor for even thirty seconds, imagine what he could do to regular infantry! Regular people! He'd rip them to pieces!"

"I'm not sure I understand, sir. I thought Straka was our only super soldier."

"No, Rice. Far from it." Winters leans forward from his chair and places his hands on his desk comfortably. "Tell me, did the General say anything about...project Flag?" Rice stands quietly for a moment as he thinks back to the report.

"Actually, sir. I believe he said something about Project Flag being a go." He stares at Winters for a moment, taking a deep breath. "What is project Flag, sir?" Winters smiles, his face showing an expression of secrecy and pleasure.

"It's the future of Rumekistan. Tell Luft that he may continue with his plans. If Project Flag's test was a success, then we are ready to finish the experiment completely."
"Yes, sir. I will tell him." As Winters goes to turn back to the window, he notices Rice still standing.

"Is there something else, Rice?"

"Yes, sir. There is. We've gotten more complaints about the mutant population in East City. Apparently, some of them feel their rights are being infringed upon. They feel like some of your laws are insensitive to them. Some of spread rumors that your last action, Black Box, was a genocide."

"Weren't they told that Black Box was and is an operation to take willing mutants and cure them of their sickness?"

"Yes, sir. But they've claimed that you never had a cure, and have instead, killed the willing participants." Winters leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers together. He closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath. Suddenly, a smile comes to his face, and he lets out a small and subtle laugh. "Sir, the police in that area say that the mutant picketing and marches are beginning to cause problems. They want you to take care of it."

"Very well." Winters says calmly. "Kill them."

"What?" Rice asks surprised. "What did you tell me?"

"I told you to kill the mutants, Rice. Have the Ultimatum kill any mutants they see on the spot."

"Sir, why? That's genocide!"

"Tell me, Rice. Do you know about Eugenics?"

"No, sir."

"It's the process of cleansing a certain race. Now, tell me what a mutation is."

"An abnormal phenomenon?"

"Mm. Close. It is an alteration to a cell of a living organism. Normally, they only occur in one particular way in a species. In other words, the same mutation almost never happens twice." Winter's tone suddenly changes to stern and cold. "Now, tell me. Do you really think that a mutation is normal?"

"Well, no, sir. I thought that was part of the definition."

"Exactly, Rice. They are a dark spot on the human race. They are a pock mark, a virus, a disease. The only way to make the human race perfect, cleanse the race, is to cure the disease...or eliminate it."

"Sir, they are people too!"

"Do you call them people? Do others call them people, Rice? No. They are mutants. Mutatations. And they must be removed."

"Sir, why do you want to do this? Why kill mutants? Can't we find a cure?"

"If we find one, I will gladly use it. But so far, we've discovered none. There appears to be only one option left." He says with a smirk. "Doesn't there. Now, is there going to be a problem with carrying out this action? Or do I have to have you removed too?"

"No, sir." Rice says nervously. "I'll inform the Ultimatum."

"Good, work."

"But how will we get the people on our side, sir? What makes you believe that they won't up rise against this?"

"We have footage of Namor destroying our ships. Make it public. Just say he's a mutant. The public will see they are dangerous, and will be behind my law. It's as simple as that." Winters smiles haughtily as the smirk on his face grows wider. “Plus, they love me.”

"Yes, sir."

Somewhere off the coast of South America

I fly through the air at my normal pace. Soaring slowly above the trees, above the mountains, above the towns, above even the waves. It allows me to see the world for what it is. Mine.

But all this time I’ve had here, all this time I’ve spent awakened, I can’t help but feel disappointed. I’m a lone, here. Sorely and utterly alone. The last of my kind, the last fighter, the last warrior for my race. For so long I’ve had to “share” the planet with these humans. But now? Now they think it’s theirs. They think its their domain now.

These thoughts, these feelings, they only fill me with rage. Atlantis was the supreme power here once. I remember, I was there. Those five thousand years ago, we ruled. The Earth was ours! These humans feared us! When our paths crossed, we were gods! They ran in terror, knowing only the cliffs could protect them from our might!

But now, it’s all changed. Atlantis is now a legend, a myth. Our history is not taught as fact, only as fiction. We are not seen as gods anymore. We’re, I, am seen only as a curse. I am seen as the “bully”, as they put it. A being with supreme power who uses it to pick on the lesser beings.

“Pick on?” Is they think that’s what this is? Like I have nothing better but to disrupt their “perfect” lives? No. No! That is not my existence. That is not my purpose. That is not MY life! I am the heir to the Atlantean thrown! I am the last of the ruling race! This world belonged to us once, they have only forgotten.

I do not, “pick on,” these humans. I am not their, “bully.” I am their god. And it is time they remember this. Time they respect this. Time they embrace it.