The Ultimate Marvel RPG Vol. 2: New World IC Thread

The remains of a black hummer sped down the road, smoke pouring out from underneath the bonnet. It slid to a halt at the SHIELD manned checkpoint at the far end. Agent Barton kicked open the door, dragging the driver's unconscious body behind him, which he dumped unceremoniously at the feet of the SHIELD fire-team. He had a large cut on his forehead which was letting blood flow into his eyes.

"Agent Barton," the obvious leader said "We thought you were dead,"

"Bad comm," the archer muttered, tapping his ear. A woman with flaming red hair marched out from the airfield behind the checkpoint, engulfing the wounded man in a hug and planting a kiss of his lips.

"I thought you were dead," Natasha admonished.

"Bad comm," Clint protested, blinking the sweat out of his eyes "Status report?"

"Fury's livied. Stark's back but he's refusing to fight. The Thunderbolts have mobilised and Cap and Thor have gone to deal with them. I think Richards' band of misfits is helping them out," Natasha said as she led her boyfriend into the airfield.

"The Fantastic Four?" Clint asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Richards is working on a way to close the portals up, and the rest of his team have gone with the Ultimates. Apparantly Fury's going down there personally," Natasha said.

"Tell him that these Asgardians die just as easy as any normal person," Clint said wearily.

"They're not superhumans?" Black Widow asked.

"I'm just saying, two bullets to the head and they aren't happy," Barton said "The regular army should be able to deal with them. What about Van Damme?"

"Technically he's done nothing wrong," the red-haired superspy said "He's just sending in a relief force,"

"Like hell he is," Clint muttered "This is an invasion,"

The pair walked over to the Black Hawk that was sitting on the helipad.

"What's the plan?" Natasha asked.

"We're going to take out Doom's hellicarrier," Clint said "But first I have a call to make,"

Barton pulled his cellphone out of his inner pocket and hit the speed dial.

"Stark? Look man, it's Clint. I'm happy you're alive and everything, but you need to get up off of your ass and help us here man. We're being invaded by a foreign power, so dont you dare go all emo on us now. Natasha says hi,"

 

Doom's metallic heels touched down on the fragile green grass in the middle of Central Park, an area had been cleared with transportation ships coming and going, taking evacuees aboard the Behemoth.

"Sir, an unprecedented amount of civillians are seeking refuge, we can't possibly take them all." Chirpped up one of the pilots of a nearby transport.

"You take as many as you can, women and children first." Doom ordered as he strode past the young soldier.

"General!" Doom barked, the startled man flinched for a second before turning and saluting.

"My lord?"

"What news of the frontlines?"

"The Asgardians numbers are continuing to grow, the Fantastic Four are attempting to close the portals between their world and ours."

Doom scoffed and crossed his arms.

"Richards and his pathetic band would take days, weeks to close those portals. Get me a transport General, I shall close them myself." With a wave of his hand Doom sent the man on his way.

Victor Van Damme turned to the great crowd gathered infront of his landing zone and raised his arms.

"Citizen's of New York." His voice, amplified by magic, commanded the attention of the frightened escapees. "I ask you all to kindly remain calm whilst we board the transports, we can only take fifty people per trip although we do have multipul craft. Fear not, you shall be safe soon."

He could hear the crowd's audible sighs of relief, shouts of praise and cheers for their savior. It was delicious to say the least, playing the role of the saint always brought a smile to his twisted face.

Moments later a helicopter bearing the Latverian flag touched down next to it's great dictator. Doom casually stepped aboard and the chopper was off into the sky once more.

Doom surveyed the destruction below him as police and military groups combined their forces with his legion of Doombots to take on their attackers.

"Sir!" Shouted one man as he pointed below. Doom followed his gaze and found his androids being ripped apart by a large orange monster.

"... Osborn?" Doom muttered. "No... No that isn't how he looked from the archive footage. This must be Osborn Junior." Victor let out a short laugh.

"Ignore it, for now, we can stand to loose a few in the initial stages."

After a few moments more Doom's chopper arrived above a large glowing portal at street level, troops trickled out of the gateway every so often, joinging the fray.

"Clever trickster." He muttered to himself as he examined the doorway below him. "But you have yet to know the true power of Doom."
​

Raising his arms in front of him he stared intently into the glowing portal, muttering constantly under his breath, a chant, a spell, no one but him knew.

He continued, relentlessly, his voice getting more and more vicious with every incantation he uttered. The portal began to shrink.

Doom smiled, never breaking his chant, although his chant had become a shout and then it became a roar, a primal, powerful roar infused with dark magic. Suddenly the portal slammed shut, dissapearing before his eyes. Doom exhaled deeply and sat down.

"Take me back to the Behemoth." He uttered, clearly closing the gateway had taken its toll.

 

As there was good, there was evil. While some strive for order, for peace, others wreak havoc and destroy. There is black and there is white.

There is Thor and there is Loki.

Somehow it did not surprise the Thunder God that Osborn had made a deal with the devil; that the God of Mischief had aligned himself with the God of Deceit. Nor did it come as a surprise that Loki had tried to take Thor down, to turn the people of the world against him. But what did surprise him was Nick Fury.

"Save it, Thor. No one here at SHIELD and not a single member of the Ultimates actually believes what that venomous snake is spewing."

Thor felt an uncomfortable urge to thank Fury, as a wave of appreciation washed over the Norse God. For the first time since his release Thor felt....trusted, again.

"Good." he opted for instead, before turning to the small hovercraft flying over the city of New York beside him.

"Ms. Storm, has Reed made any progress with closing the portals?"

"It seems our 'friend' Victor Van Damme has lent a helping hand." The Invisible Woman scoffed. "Wait, we still get to bash in some Asgardian heads, right?" The Thing asked excitedly, before catching himself. "Uh. Sorry, Thor."

"Don't worry, Mr. Grimm. I don't know who those people are, but Asgardians they are not. My father's men would never side with Loki." he assured the trio.

"Well goody. Last one down is a rotten egg!" shouted Johnny Storm, his entire body ablaze, as he spiralled down to the street. With a curt nod, the other two members of the Fantastic Four steered their hovercraft downward to where a large gathering of 'Asgardians' were advancing on a hospital.

"Attention." Thor called into his comm. "Whatever we are up against are not Asgardians. Repeat, we are not dealing with an invasion from Asgard."

He touched down on the asphalt, right behind a crazed Norse warrior about to bring his axe down on a crying business man. Clasping the axe's blade in his hand, Thor turned the Norse warrior around and slammed his head into the 'Asgardian's nose. Bleeding profusely, the behemoth of a man collapsed. "These are mere men playing dress up with a little help from my brother."

 

"Not that I don't appreciate the action.." Deadpool said as he leaped over an advancing Asgardian, his katana slicing effortlessly through the man´s neck, and landing behind him just in time to plunge a small knife into another Asgardian´s eyesocket. "...but this is kind of dull."

The Asgardian yanked the knife from his eye, blood pouring from the wound. He stumbled around, crying in pain. "Yeah, real big strong warrior-types, you lot." he sighed, pulling a sidearm from a holster on his hip and sending a single bullet into the Asgardian's head without even looking at him.

"Can't help but feel I could be used for something other than killing the clones of a 16 year old mutie dressed as Thor." Wade lamented. "Hey, maybe I could kill the real Thor!" he spoke with childish glee, a dreamy smile under his mask.

"Would you please just shut the **** up, Wilson?" Bullseye growled as he sent three shurikens flying into an attacker´s face.

"Tsk, Tsk. Osborn wouldn't like you using that kind of language in front of the cameras, Bulls. It could make us look like 'bad apples', instead of the stand up super heroes we are." Wade brought his sword down and cut off an Asgardian's hand, the hand and the broadsword in it falling to the ground. The Asgardian looked down at his hand in pained surprise, and Deadpool thrust his sword upwards through the man´s head. "You know, I prefer children's blood." he mused as the red liquid poured down his hands. "It has a sort of watery texture I find lacking in adult blood."

Bullseye and Deadpool were a blur of motion, taking down clone after clone without the least bit of discernible effort. It was almost like a dance, the way they dodged and weaved through crowds of enraged Asgardians, steel slicing through flesh, bullet ripping apart muscles and bone.

"You think Osborn has a plan for being cockblocked by Steely Stalin?" Wade mused, turning his back on Bullseye, who was in the midst of taking a twisted pleasure out of draining an Asgardian's blood. "It'd be ****ing hilarious of Van Damme comes out of this as the hero."

Wilson first heard the metal rubbing against cloth as it was raised in the air. Then a low, near inaudible grunt, as it was hurled, and the whizzing of the shuriken flying through the air. Turning where he stood, Deadpool snatched the projectile out of the air, no more than an inch from his face. For a moment the two assassins stared at each other, only the sounds of battle and an intense, mutual dislike between them. "If this were a TV show, this would totally be a 'to be continued' moment." Wilson grinned as two short swords slid into Bullseye's hand, and the assassin that never misses charged.

 

​

Tony Stark breathed heavily, and the water running over his mouth jetted upwards, spewing lazily against the wall as he sighed. He ran his hands along the places where the assassin's knife has cut his skin. Beneath the dry and coagulated blood, there was nothing but perfect flesh. Wiping the residue of his wounds away as if they had been cured by some wayward messiah, Stark blinked several times, trying to force the memories of the attack on his life out of his head. He couldn't, though. What mortal man could? Whoever it was who had tried to kill Tony Stark had, in reality, succeeded. It was merely by the way of his birthright, the genetic anomaly that had lined his body with regenerating neural tissue, that had kept Stark alive. He ran a hand through his hair and down the side of his face, almost afraid to reach for his throat, where the deadly shot had been fired. He took a deep breath, and brushed the congealed blood off of his neck.

Trying not to let his mind wander, Stark turned the water off and stepped through the glass sliding door onto the tile floor of his bathroom. Waiting for him on the granite counter top was a silver tray of scotch, complete with a glass of ice. He poured discarded the glass and picked up the bottle. Taking a long swig from the bottle, he glanced at his phone, reading the display.

ONE NEW MESSAGE
​

He held the phone to his ear, drinking from the bottle again, trying not to vomit as the liquor surged down his throat. He recognized Clint Barton's voice immediately.

"Stark? Look man, it's Clint. I'm happy you're alive and everything, but you need to get up off of your ass and help us here man. We're being invaded by a foreign power, so don--."

Stark closed the phone opened the door to his bathroom. Stepping through the dark hallway towards his bedroom, Stark tossed his cellular phone onto his bed and picked up a remote control. Pressing a button carelessly, Stark watched as one of the walls dissolved into glass windows. He stared out over Manhattan from his penthouse, watching as portals spread across the city, all overshadowed by the behemoth-sized airship hovering ominously over New York. Stark's eyes seemed glazed over as he looked. It was as if what he saw just wasn't registering. The contents of the bottle continued to grow lesser as he took yet another long drink. He pressed another button and a portion of the window displayed MSNBC.

He pulled on a polo t-shirt and slacks. He slipped on a pair of Italian shoes and stepped into his living room. He stepped lightly down a silver staircase, located in one corner of the room. His pace slowed as he reached the bottom of the staircase, staring into the room that lay below the main floor of his apartment. He took another large drink from the bottle, finishing it and dropping it carelessly to the ground. Dozens of TV monitors lined the room. Some with Iron Man prototype armor designs, others with news headlines in dozens of languages. One screen was running various searches of government databases, scanning for any fingerprint matches on the Chameleon. Stark took a few steps forward and sat down in the leather chair situated in the middle of the consoles and monitors.

He stared forward for several minutes, barely moving. He simply sat there, with his hand on his chin. On the desk next to him was the faceplate of one of his Iron Man helmets, along with several more empty bottles.

"Been hitting the midnight oil again, I see." The voice of Jim Rhodes carried across the room.

"Yep." Stark said flatly.

"Jarvis let me in. Any luck?" Rhodes asked, nodding to the scans of AFIS as Stark looked for the Chameleon and his known associates.

"Am I in the suit?"

"Nope."

"Well, there you go."

"How long are you going to keep..." Rhodes picked up one of the bottles, and looked at the screens again, "This up?"

"However long it takes."

"Alright." Rhodes sighed, placing his hands on his hips.

A silence passed between the two of them, as Stark stared at the screens some more. All of the news broadcasts showed Doctor Doom's airship hovering dangerously over the city.

"What's he want?" Stark asked.

"Dunno." Rhodes said, "Hasn't contacted anyone from what I've heard."

"But he's closing up the portals."

"Yep."

The pair sat quietly for a moment, the matter-of-fact nature of their conversation settling in the air. Rhodes muttered quietly, "You gotta go up there, Tony."

"Don't." Stark said sharply. "Just... Don't."

"Victor van Damme is flying around the city, doing God knows what, and Iron Man isn't going to do anything about it?"

Stark spun around, and stood up angrily glaring at his oldest friend.

"Iron Man isn't real, Rhodey." He said, "The name 'Iron Man' hasn't got the clout to protect my god damned secretary, let alone an entire city."

"Is this about Pepper?" Rhodes asked, quietly, fully aware of the answer.

"What?" Stark hissed.

"Is it abo--"

"Of course it is!"

In a sudden burst of anger, Stark snatched a bottle and heaved it towards one of the monitors, cracking both.

"What else would it be about, Jim?"

Tony stormed past Rhodes, headed for the stairs.

"That wasn't your fault!" Jim said, following Tony up the stairs.

Stark scoffed.

"Whose fault would it be?" He asked snidely, "My employee, my company, my name, my city. The only reason Pepper is missing today is because she was my secretary yesterday. If the blame for that can't be heaved upon me, then with whom else does it belong?"

He snatched another bottle from his kitchen, barely glancing at the label.

"Tony," Rhodes said, taking a step towards the billionaire, "I understand how much Pepper means to you, but why has this become so personal? Why now?"

Stark's breathing was heavy as he stared out of the window, looking over the city. The unopened bottle was in his grasp, and he didn't so much as move to tear the paper of its pristine label. He stared out, over the city, with the eerie glow of the window shining over him as he spoke.

​

"In the last day, I've been gutted, shot, and brought back from the dead." He sighed, "I shouldn't be alive right now, unless it's because there's one last thing I'm meant to do. I don't know about fate, and I've never been one to believe in destiny, but something kept me alive. Maybe it was to stop van Damme, maybe it was to kick that megalomaniac Osborn into next week. For years, I teetered on the brink of moral ambiguity, looking the other way for the sole sake of making sure I didn't see what was going on if I didn't. But now, this... Making sure Pepper Potts gets back here alive..."

He turned to face Rhodes, placing the bottle on the windowsill.

"That just feels right."

"Then that's what we'll do." Rhodes said, "But, Tony, right now, there are 8 million New Yorkers out there, looking to the skies. And when they do, all they see are villains and conquerors. Victor van Damme is in the skies. Norman Osborn is in the street. Iron Man is nowhere to be found."

He nodded quietly to himself, choosing his words carefully.

"I'm sorry, but this is one time when you can't look the other way."

As much as he didn't want to admit it, to live the life of Iron Man and Tony Stark, Anthony knew that Jim was right. Touting himself as a hero in the media was only good for so long. Eventually, the time would come when he would have to stand up and be counted for what he was. The time would come when he would have to recognize his own principles, and whether or not he had the courage to stand up for them."Is Iron Man VI ready?" Stark asked, staring at the approaching airship.

"Fueled and ready to go, last time I checked." Rhodes said.

"Good." Stark muttered, heading for his bedroom. He pulled out a button down shirt, and a fine black blazer. He grabbed a pair of designer sunglasses from his nightstand and made his way back to his living room.

He picked up a piece of paper and scrawled a few lines onto it. "I need you to make these modifications to the suit."

"Shouldn't be a problem." Rhodes said, looking at the mundane requests. "Where're you going?"

Stark pressed a button on the wall, summoning his private elevator. He entered, and marked his destination as the roof.

"I need to talk to Victor van Damme."

Rhodes immediately took a step forward, ready to get on the elevator with Tony.

"Sorry, Jim." Stark said, holding his hand up. "Gotta do this one alone."

Rhodes nodded and held up the list, half smiling as he did so.

The doors closed, and Stark stood quietly as his elevator lurched upwards. He adjusted his suit, shifting silently until the elevator reached the roof. He stepped out of the transport, onto the roof of his building, where a Stark Industries chopper sat waiting for him, as was customary.

He pulled himself aboard, the lone passenger of the craft, and entered a security code into a panel on his seat. As Stark slid his blazer off and rolled up his sleeves, the high-tech seat shifted and molded itself to the contours of his body, as wires and tubes connected to the plugs in his arm. A HUD illuminated itself on the glass, and the chopper welcomed him. He pulled up on the joystick, and a targeting reticule followed his eyes as he glanced around the city's skyline. Easing the chopper into the sky, Stark made his way for van Damme's craft.

Stark's trip to the massive skycraft was short, and van Damme undoubtedly knew the billionaire was on his way. The craft touched down quietly on the landing platform of the ship, and Stark stepped out, pulling his blazer on. The wind swirled, and it was hard to keep a footing, but he saw a group of robotic soldiers headed his way. In response, he merely held out his hands, trying to show that he had no weapon.

"So..." He called to the robots, shouting over the roar of the engines and wind currents, "Where's Jean Claude?"

 

Victor Van Damme stood upright on the bridge of the Behemoth, finally having returned from closing the larger of the portals scattered across New York.

"The crowd seems to be thinning out sir, we have the majority of refugees on board but the process is slow and we're not sure how many more we can take."

"As many as it takes." Van Damme muttered as he overlooked the situation below.

"Lord Doom." A robotic voice adressed him via commlink. "There's a Mister Stark here to see you."

Doom pondered for a moment before replying, he had nothing to hide nor fear from this man, so far his presence in this country had been strictly aid-related, who was to say it wasn't going to stay that way?

"Send him in."

***

"Mister Stark." Van Damme smiled as the billionaire inventor swaggered onto the command bridge, flanked by two robotic servants. "I had heard you were dead."

 

GREEN GOBLIN

My shield clangs against the back of one of the warrior's skulls, knocking him out instantly. Beetle, Enchantress, and Loki did a damn fine job of making these clones a serious threat. But I, of course, having expected them, am more than prepared to bring them down with relative ease. And I'm finally getting a hang of this shield business.

"Excellently played, wouldn't you say?" Loki whispers in my ear. In reality, he's some distance away, biding his time until he can make his grand entrance. "I'm to understand that my beloved half-brother has just touched down on the street."

"So why aren't you doing anything?" I ask annoyed. I surely hope Loki doesn't expect me to go up against the might of a Norse god. Despite claims to the contrary, I'm not crazy. We've turned Thor into a question mark in the public's eye, but only Loki has the power to bring him down.

Loki laughs softly. He enjoys this "game" of his. "Once I've revealed myself, it's only a matter of time before the All-Father becomes aware of my interference in this realm," he explains. "Once that happens, he'll send the real Asgardian warriors, and all our work will be for naught."

I sneer.

"Calm yourself, Norman. I've got this all planned out," he assures me. "Just do exactly as I say, and you'll be deciding where to hang Fury's head in no time."

Suddenly, a hulking monstrosity turns the corner. I'd recognize it anywhere. It barrels through waves of warriors, swatting them away like flies. I almost smile to myself. All my hard work, all those years of parenting. They've finally paid off. My son has made something of himself.

Now, I must tear him down.

"Son. I've been waiting a long time for this." I adjust the straps on my shield as I charge Harry's hulking form. He roars as his fists burst into flame. I use a parked sedan as a springboard, vaulting over the fireball Harry tosses in my direction. I throw the shield directly in the center of Harry's forehead. He stumbles backwards as the shield returns to me. I land on the roof of another car, narrowly avoiding another fireball.
​

 

​

Stark's eyebrows raised, and he felt himself scowl for a moment.

"Touche." He said with a nod, "I hear you've lent a helping hand."

 

"I saved the world once before Stark, I'm merely attempting to offer my assisstance so that our countries may forge a better relationship."

Victor Van Damme steps forward, toward Stark.

"We have a lot to offer each other Stark, as people, as countries."

 

​

Stark rolled his eyes.

"Because you're such a benevolent leader." He snarled through clenched teeth, "What do you want, Van Damme?"

 

Doom sighed, exasperated with the man's unwillingness to co-operate.

"What I want, Mr Stark, is for our countries to benifit one another and to do that you need to have a country."

 

​

Stark walked past Van Damme, headed for the interior of the the airship.

"Your country sure is doing well, Van Damme. I'll say that much. Ninth richest country in the world? Day-um." Stark strolled listlessly into the ship's interior, which was as lavish as the palace Doom himself lived in. Stark sat in an elaborately and ornately carved wing chair, putting his feet up on an antique table. "Looking to expand the empire, there, Vic?"

 

Van Damme looked on in quiet distaste as Stark planted his feet on the expensive table. He chose to ignore it for now.

"Are you implying, Stark, that I am here for reasons other than that of a relief effort? I assure you, once this situation is dealt with this ship and I shall leave your country's airspace."

 

"Clint, this is ridiculous," Natasha shouted over the roaring wind.

"I know," her boyfriend replied "But Stark's bailed, and everyone else is fighting a ground war,"

The Black Hawk carrying the pair pulled up alongside Van Damme's helicarrier, within jumping distance of a maintenance hatch.

"We don't have long before we're intercepted sir," the SHIELD pilot announced over the comms. Clint nodded wordlessly and made the jump from the rear section of the helicopter onto the rungs that led up to the hatch. He slapped an explosive on the side of it, and moved his face out of range of the small blast. With a bang that was barely heard above the wind, the hatch was gone, and Barton pulled himself into the hellicarrier, motioning Natasha to follow him.

As he turned, a mutlitude of clicks announced Van Damme's guard arriving and training their rifles on the Ultimate. He heard the thud that meant Natasha was now on board as well, and recognised the man standing in the forefront of the soldiers from some obscure SHIELD dossier.

"The Beetle right?" he asked.

"That is correct. And you are Agent Clint Barton designated Hawkeye," Doom's servant replied.

"Yup, you got me. So you must know that I can get out of this," Clint said, placing one of his hands behind his back on the pistol strapped to his belt. There was a bang and he heard Natasha shriek before dropping to the ground. A large pool of blood was forming about her leg and her face had turned the colour of ash. The Beetle stood holding a smoking pistol, with what Barton imagined was a smug look on his face.

"Indeed. And the next bullet shall go through her head," the sycophant said with barely contained glee.

"Take me to Van Damme," Clint growled.

 

​

Stark plucked a grape from a bowl of fruit and tossed it up into the air, catching it in his mouth.

"You better hope so, Van Damme. 'Cause we've both got airships. But, trust me..." He pulled himself to his feet, and tossed another grape into the air, missing this time. He looked at it for a split-second and then planted his foot on top of it, crushing it beneath his foot. "Mine's bigger."

 

Before Van Damme could reply to the poorly masked threat, Beetle entered the room, followed by half a dozen guards and two others.

"Beetle? What is the meaning of this?" Van Damme demanded to know as he turned his attention from Stark.

"I found these two inflitrating the ship my lord."

Doom's eyes flicked from the one prisoner to another, Clint Barton and Nastasha Romanov. Ultimates.

"So you opened fire? Without first consulting me?" Doom demanded to know, anger plain in his voice.

"I thought best-"

"Mr. Barton. Miss Romanov, I apologize. Medic! See to Miss Romanov immediately." Doom called, interrupting Beetle mid-sentence. "Now... What is the nature of this intrusion? I assume you knew something of this Stark? Is that was this was? Merely a distraction so that you could jump to conclusions and attack my ship whilst thousands of refugees are aboard?"

 

edit

 

​

Stark scoffed.

"Right. That makes sense." He said, with a snarl, "I came in here and told you about how I could, if I wanted to, I could send you back to the dark ages... that way when my teammates, here, decided to attack... your ship... without an army. I really should've been in the military."

 

"Stark? You're helping this mad man?" Barton rasped disbelief in his eyes, before looking at Doom "And you. You've saved some civilians, so I didn't just blow this thing out of the sky. But if you think you're taking them back to your god-forsaken bananna republic, you've got another thing coming. And if you don't get this monstrosity out of American airspace within the next hour, there's going to be hell to pay,"

 

​

"Do I look like I'm helping him, Clint?" Stark said, angrily, "I came here to try and do what you wouldn't. Settling things without discharging a firearm."

 

"You're sitting there with your feet on the table, eating his grapes you bastard. What did he offer you? More money? A small country of your own? Or maybe you just went bad the second Pepper disappeared - she's your conscience after all. Don't be a ****ing coward all your life Stark,"

 

​

"How're the kids, Clint?" Stark said flatly, "Still living with the ex without their daddy?"

 

"What's that, your go to line?" Clint said, sneering at his ex-team mate "We were friends Tony. Hell, I was going to ask you to be best man at the wedding, whenever it came about. You were like a brother to me. And now you've got your thirty pieces of silver. You disgust me,"

Barton turned away from his erstwhile friend and looked at Doom.

"You can cut the ****. You and I both know this isn't just a relief effort. You arrived here about ten minutes after these Asgardian ****s did, and I'm willing to bet your country's a little farther away than that. So just turn around and head out now while you still have a chance to come away from this the hero,"

 

Doom, who had grown very weary, very quickly at the two bickering Ultimates on his command bridge, sighed heavily.

"You came here, attacked me with, as I understand it, no orders from your superiors to do so and are now telling me to leave."

Doom thought it over for a moment.

"It is you that is trespassing here Barton." The Dictator said, his tone harsher than usual. "Leave my ship, any other government interference in my relief effort will be taken as a declaration of war."

 

"Don't you dare turn this around onto me. As far as I'm aware, I haven't attacked anyone," Clint said, his fists clenched so that the knuckles turned white "You haven't exactly been opening channels of communication, so I did what I had to do to get here. If my memory serves me right, it was one of your flunkies that shot Natasha. So I'm telling you, metal man, if you take American issues into your claws again, there will be repercussions. Severe repercussions,"