Welcome to the subreddit belonging to the one group of people stupid enough to try and combine the two largest comic universes into one! Here at r/DCMFU, we release stories every month set in a universe where the DC and Marvel characters coexist, giving us tons of cool and interesting story possibilities like Jason Todd as the Ghost Rider and Peter Parker working at the Daily Planet!

It is important to note that every 6 months, the timeline progresses 1 year. This is so that we can speed along the progression as event a bit, making it easier to get to things like Wally West as the Flash, Dick Grayson as Batman, Miles Morales as the main Spider-Man, etc. etc.

Currently, books release on the 1st and 15th. The release schedule is as follows...

The 1st...

1. Batman

2. Green Lantern

3. Thor

4. Daredevil

The 15th...

1. The Flash

2. Iron Man

3. Captain Marvel

We're always looking to expand our titles, as result, we're always looking for new writers! Titles we're looking to add are as follows...

To apply, message u/JPM11S or send a modmail containing what you'd like to write as well as a sample of your writing.

In case you were wondering if there is a sudreddit like this, but for just DC or Marvel, there is! Go check out r/DCFU for DC content and r/MarvelsNCU for Marvel content!

Author: u/JPM11S

Book: Batman

Arc: Case of the Serpent Society

My name is Bruce Wayne. When I was 8 years old, my parents and those of my friends were shot in an alley in front of our very eyes. That day, I swore to myself that I would stop the crime that took my parents from me. To do this, I devoted my life to honing my body and mind into becoming a weapon in which to fight evil. I am vengeance. I am the night. I. AM. BATMAN.

WAYNE MANOR - June 1, 1958

Shoots of grass grew in the cracks of the stone walkway leading to the behemoth of a house that loomed over Jim Gordon, an average-sized man with an above average-sized mustache. Before him the front entrance of Wayne Manor, a monster of gothic architecture, was shaded by two trees on either side of the heavy, yet beautifully crafted, oak doors. He’d barely managed a single knock on those doors before Jim was greeted by a leathery faced old man in a suit who ushered him in.

“Detective Gordon.” said the butler in his high english accent. His mustache was nowhere near the size of Jim’s, and what little hair he had atop his head was little more than a white semicircle running in a band behind his ears.

“Nice to see you, Alfred.” replied Jim, stepping into the entrance hall. “Bruce wanted to see me?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Alfred, who motioned to take Jim’s coat and hat. “I will let him know of your arrival at once.”

“No need, Alfred!” The voice of Bruce Wayne boomed across the hall as he strode up to Jim, sloppily parted black hair bouncing.

“I’m glad you could make it,” said Bruce with a warm smile, clapping Jim on the shoulder as he led the way to the parlor. “How have you been?”

“Busy,” said Gordon, his mustache twitching slightly. The only real suggestion of a smile that almost formed. He adjusted his square spectacles as they stepped into the warmly lit parlor. “You didn’t just call me to talk about work, I hope?”

“No, of course not.” Bruce motioned to one of the two squashy looking armchairs set before the ornate granite hearth of the fireplace. He busied himself at his liquor cabinet for a moment as Jim sank into the nearer of the chairs with a quiet sigh.

Bruce poured a drink from a half-empty decanter and offered the glass to Jim, who took it politely. He took a quick sip, savoring the burn of the alcohol.

‘Bruce Wayne knows his liquor,’ Jim mused to himself.

“What have you been up to, Jim?” asked Bruce,sitting in the other chair with a soft smile. He sipped from his own drink, and let out a heavy sigh.

“Other than work? Nothing much.”

“Still a full-time detective then, eh?” Bruce chuckled. “It’s a shame. If I had my way, you’d be promoted to commissioner.”

“Commissioner Gordon…” Jim shook his head, a crooked smile mostly hidden beneath his mustache. “No, that’s not really my style.”

“Then what is?”

“I don’t know, being more...hands on, I guess. Detective work.”

“Wading through the grit and grime of Gotham then?”

“Yes, I guess you could say that.”

“Speaking of Gotham,” said Bruce, adjusting in his chair. “ What do you think of all these characters popping up?”

“Like that ‘Superman’ guy?”

“No, no, in Gotham.”

“Oh, those… characters. It’s a shame really, I know- knew- most of them. To see them lose their marbles…” Jim took another drink, looking soberly into the empty fireplace.

“And what about the vigilante?”

Gordon shook his head again. “Probably the nuttiest of them all, running around by himself in a ski mask like that . I’m sure he thinks he’s making a difference, but at best, he’s a nuisance to the criminals and the police.”

Bruce’s jovial smile dropped. But only for an instant. So quickly that Jim thought it was a trick of the lamplight.

“Oh. Shame, I really thought he was doing some good out there.”

“Master Gordon,” interjected Alfred, cutting Jim off before he could begin a response to Bruce. “You have a telephone call.”

Jim walked to Alfred, who had the phone in his hand, and picked up the receiver.

”Gordon,” he answered gruffly. He fell silent, a scowl forming on his face as he visibly tensed.

“Yes. Of course. I’ll be there right away.”

Jim hung up the phone.

“I’m sorry, Bruce. I have to run.”

“Is everything okay?”

Jim shook his head. “There was a murder at Marshall Lambert’s mansion.”

Bruce’s look of concern turned to shock. “I understand. Of course.”

And with that, Jim ran off, the squeak of his shoes ringing in the hall, punctuated by the slam of the heavy oak doors.

Bruce’s face hardened, fingers clenching around his glass. He’d finished the imitation whiskey during their chat.

“He confirmed it, Alfred, I’m not making a difference.”

“Don’t say that, sir! Oh course you are.”

“Dammit, you heard him! ‘A nuisance at best!’”

Alfred sighed, “And exactly what are you going to do about it?”

“I need to make them fear me. They just see a man in a mask right now. I hoped that would be enough. But I’m going to have to be something more. A phantom. The monster that could be lurking around any corner.” There was a dark gleam of inspiration in his eyes.

“And I imagine that nothing I can say will change your mind, will it, sir? I take it you’ve had a new costume prepared?”

Bruce smirked. “I don’t think I’d call it a ‘costume.’”

LAMBERT’S MANSION - June 1, 1958

Having sped through winding back roads, narrowly avoiding crashing the car repeatedly, Batman arrived the scene. He stepped out of the car, seeing the huge stone monstrosity off in the distance that was the Lambert Family mansion, the rotating blue and red lights of police cars crowded around it. Black cape trailing behind him, Batman began climbing a nearby tree. He needed a better vantage point.

Perching himself on one of the tree’s branches, Batman took a pair of binoculars from one of the leather pouches of his utility belt, using them to examine the mansion in the far off distance. He needed a way inside. With the police blocking the front entrance, the front door was a no go. A more creative approach would be required, it seemed. Eyes darting around the place, Batman’s eyes eventually fell on the eastern wall of the mansion that he would be able to scale unnoticed.

Batman leapt off the branch, spreading out his cape and gliding towards his desired location. Landing with a soft thud, he checked to make sure no one had seen him. No one had; the cops were probably eating donuts. Or, knowing Gotham, stuffing little valuables into their pockets. But he needed to stay on track. Pulling out his grappling hook, Batman shot it up, the hook burying itself in the stone wall of the mansion. The line pulled him up, hook detaching itself from the stone once he arrived on the roof. Sneaking over to an open skylight above where the investigation was going on, Batman peered in.

“So, you’re Philip Lambert,” asked Detective Gordon, “son of Marshall Lambert,correct?”

“Yes, of course I am, ” spat Lambert.

“Just making sure for the record, son,” said Gordon, perfectly calm. It was obvious that he was in his element. “Can you think of any reason why your father may have been killed?”

“No! Nothing that would have been taken seriously.”

“What do you mean, ‘taken seriously?” asked Gordon with a scowl.

“My father is… was, a powerful man. Death threats were a regular occurence.” The younger Lambert tensed up, eyes rolling down to the corner.

“And what were the latest death threats?”

“Just some phone calls. He gets calls like that all the time, though. It’s the price of doing business. Nothing ever comes from them.”

“Well it seems something did this time.” Gordon let out a heavy sigh. “You said you witnessed the murder. Is there anything you can tell us?”

“I just saw some huge black bat...thing standing over my father’s body. It jumped out the window when I turned on the lights. I didn’t get a very good look at it.”

In the corner of the room, the phone rang, startling both Gordon and the witness.

Jim picked up the phone on the second ring. “Hello?” he asked. “Jim Gordon, GCPD speaking.”

A panicked voice answered, though it was far too quiet for Batman to make out many words from where he was crouched.

“Sir, calm down, please,” said Jim gruffly. “Mr...Stryker, was it? No, I’m sorry, I can’t discuss ongoing investigations. Yes. Okay.” Jim was writing something on a pad of paper.

Batman could just barely make out ’Alfred Stryker. Similar threats as victim. Possible susp.’

“Mr. Stryker,” Jim continued. “If you’ll give me your address, I’ll personally send someone to investigate. No, stay where you are. Lock the doors and windows, I’ll make sure my officers announce themselves.”

Batman leapt into action, jumping off the roof and gliding back to his car.

STRYKERS MANSION - June 1, 1958

Black boots stomped up the wooden stairs as Batman raced to save the life of Alfred Stryker. Time was of the essence. Arriving at a large wooden door, Batman kicked it in, the door making a muffled thud as it hit the carpet.

For an instant, Batman was able to take in the scene before him; the bat-like phantasm Philip Lambert had seen hovered above a very pale Alfred Stryker, knife in hand. Assailant and victim had both been surprised by the sudden appearance of Batman. But the shock was wearing off.

Batman sprung into action, leaping at the would-be assassin, but an instant too late. The old man let out a strangled sort of cry as the assailant plunged the knife into his chest.

Thunderous bootsteps rumbled up the stairs. The police. Gordon must have yelled so hard that he was red in the face to get them here this quickly. Batman grabbed at the phantasm’s grey cloak, which just barely slipped past his fingertips as they dove through the window.

“GCPD! Put your hands up!” The voice belonged to Detective Gordon, who was pointing his gun at Batman.

Once again, Batman had an instant to take stock of the situation. Strike one: the police had just found him standing over Alfred Stryker’s still warm body. Strike two: he certainly matched the description that their only eyewitness had given. Strike three: he was about to mark himself as hostile.

With a practiced flick of his wrist, a batarang flew at Detective Gordon’s gun. Jim yelped as the razor sharp blade impacted hard enough to knock the gun out of his hand. Following up his throw, Batman threw down several white pellets which let out a pop, and instantly began filling the room with a cloud thick of smoke. He climbed out the window, ready to purse the phantasm.

Feeling the roof tiling underneath his boots, Batman started at the phantasm across from him, both of their capes billowing in the wind. The phantasm was clad simply, only wearing a torn grey cloak with the hood pulled up, a mask which appeared to have some sort of breathing unit attached, and a pair of black pants with boots.

“Who are you?” growled Batman.

“I believe the police are referring to me as a ...phantasm, no?” said the Phantasm. His voice was unearthly. Unsettling. And clearly being changed via an electronic modulator.

Whipping out his grappling hook, Batman shot it at the Phantasm, effortlessly puncturing their shoulder and sending them flying towards him. They reacted quickly though, using a knife to the cut the line, boots clapping against the tiled roof just out of Batman’s grasp. They threw the blade at Batman, who simply ducked to the side, narrowly avoiding it. With the distance closed, the two engaged each other, sending out a flurry of punches and kicks, trying to see whose defenses would break first.

It would be Batman’s.

Slashing at the caped crusader with clawed gloves, the Phantasm left several bloody gashes across his chest, making him growl in pain. Dazed from the pain, Batman staggered about, leaving himself vulnerable as his legs fell out from under him. Landing on his back, the Phantasm stood over him, blade in hand, ready to deliver the killing blow. Quickly wrapping his legs around his opponent, Batman heaved himself up onto the Phantasm and pushed down, effectively having reversed their situations.

Batman pinned the phantasm’s arms down with his legs as he pummeled the poor soul underneath him, looking to break the breathing apparatus. With his sights so focused on damaging it, he didn’t notice the Phantasm’s legs until it was too late. They wrapped around him in a headlock and twisted, sending him tumbling off.

Now with a bit of space between the two broken and bleeding combatants, the two took the momentary break to reevaluate their approaches.

“Why did you kill them?” asked Batman, his voice low and animalistic.

“Maybe money. Maybe it was personal. Maybe it was both. I doubt you’ll ever know.”

“Give me some time. I’ll find out.”

“Really? Because it really looks like you want me to kill you right here on this roof.”

“You’ll have to if you don’t want me coming after you.”

“Good point.”

The Phantasm disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Not letting his guard down, Batman looked around for where they could have went, turning just in time to catch the Phantasm trying to stab him with their claws. Twisting his opponents arm, Batman quickly had the Phantasm on their back, arm up and his foot holding them down at the shoulder, ready to break it if need be.

“Talk, or I break your arm.”

“It would be rather unfortunate for me if you did.”

Batman twisted their arm a bit. The Phantasm growled, their modulated voice almost garbling the sound into static.

“Ok, I get it!”

“Then talk.”

“Let me think about it. No.”

One of the Phantasm’s legs shot up, a blade shot out of the heel of their boot, and stabbing into Batman’s thigh, making him lose his grip, allowing his opponent to get out from under him.

In a single, simple motion, the Phantasm grabbed Batman, pulling him down onto the blade of a knife. Rolling Batman off of themself, the Phantasm watched as he struggled to get up, only to fall back down again, blood pooling around him.

With yet another cloud of smoke, the Phantasm disappeared, leaving Batman to die, alone, on the roof.

To be countinued...

Author: u/Max1756 and u/cyanide-x

Book: Thor

Arc: New Beginnings

Prologue - The Reckoning

The ground trembled.

She stirred in her slumber.

She opened her eyes, but her vision is clouded, and she can barely see.

Is it time?

She could not tell. It always seemed so close, only to be disappointed yet again.

She sighed. It felt like lifetimes ago. Fighting up the ranks to prove herself as a formidable female warrior, sword and shield in hand, glistening both in the pale moonlight and the blood of her foes, baptizing herself in the tears of the fallen as her long, golden hair flows in the winds of victory.

Yes, her beautiful golden hair. Right before Loki snipped it off and replaced it with one dark as stallion, black as night.

She snorted with disgust. How could a man as magnificent as Thor have such a vile creature as his kin? She made a mental note to make sure Loki gets a piece of her mind when she sees him again. If she sees him again.

The ground trembled yet again. She felt something poke her.

This is no way a God should be treated! I shall have words with the Allfather-

It was swiftly cut off when she felt her mind waking up. Energy levels are rising, and she could feel it.

Could it be….?

Her vision starts to focus, and power surged through her body, like a bolt of lightning through the boundless skies of the Nine Realms. She could almost hear the crack of thunder, but in a split second, it was gone. Yet, she knew. Even for a fleeting moment, she knew.

She smiled, something she has not done in a thousand years.

It is time.

2:01 pm 20 January, 1958 - Strange and Blake’s Medical Practices, Hospital, NYC

"Still having your head deep in small cases, I see."

Donald Blake looked up from his chart, unamused. "I mean, someone has to save all these lives. Every life is- "

"-worth saving. I know. But shouldn't we leave these small cases to the interns and graduates while we go for the big fish?”

Blake finally puts down his chart and looks up at his old friend. "What do you want, Stephen?"

Stephen Strange hands Blake a medical docket. “I come bearing gifts, my friend.”

Strange and Blake were college roommates back at Harvard Medical School. Since graduating, they’ve been working at New York Medical Centre with Blake being more of a general practitioner and Strange rising up the ranks and becoming the super-star neurosurgeon he is now.

“Charles McNider. 30-year old surgeon, got blasted by shrapnel from a hand grenade in close quarters few months ago. Poor guy lost his sight. Theoretically speaking, the shrapnel should have penetrated his cornea, destroying his optic nerves and disconnecting the brain, costing him his sight. But to deal that much damage to the eye to cause this-”

Strange turns to Blake, looking him dead in the eye.

“-he shouldn’t be alive.” Blake finished, his eyes skimming across the patient file. "Fascinating stuff." He rubbed his chin, taking in every minute detail of the case.

“That’s not even the fun part. Turns out he’s blind only during the day, claims to regain 100% of his vision once it’s dark.”

“Interesting. Heightened vision in the dark, kinda reminds me of the pupillary response of an owl.”

“Exactly like an owl.” Strange strutted over to the window overseeing the magnificent city of New York, taking in the hustling and bustling of city life. “Blake, taking on this case will put us on the map. We could work for S.T.A.R. Labs, get funding from Wayne Biotech for our researches. Imagine the possibilities. We would be the Elvises of the Medical World; I’ll get all the ladies and you,” Strange gave Blake a cheeky wink, “can finally get that color-TV for Jane.”

Blake got up shakily, leaning on his walking stick to put on his doctor’s coat. “And I’m guessing you’re too busy to see him yourself, Mr Doctor-Of-The-Year?”

“Like you said, all I do is meddle with brains all day”. Strange gave his buddy a pat on the back. “You know, there’s more to life itself than saving lives. Wine, women, and… ” Strange trailed off dreamily.

“And wasting precious and very limited hospital resources on experimental nerve cell regeneration research?”

Strange smirked as he buttoned up his tailored suit. “Someone’s gotta pay the bills in this place. Don’t you think you’re selling yourself short here? We’re Harvard graduates, for crying out loud! We’re destined to change the world.”

Typical Stephen and his big dreams.

Strange saunters over, his Louis Vuittons making resounding clicks on the floor, shiny alligator leather and all. “Come on, work with me on this one. It’d be like the old days in college when we worked on that paper on Neuroscience together. It’ll be fun.” He checked out his cellphone before turning and hurrying towards the door. “I'll meet you there after I am done with the operation on the mayor's daughter.”

As Strange’s footsteps echoed down the hallways, Blake looked back at the docket once more.

He picked up the phone and dialed.

“Nurse Joy? Is there someone who can cover my shift? I am going to have to cancel the rest of the appointments for the day. Something’s come up.”

3:48 pm 20 January, 1958 - Blake’s car

(phone call to Jane Foster)

“Hey babe, something came up at work.”

“Let me guess. A spacecraft from outer space landed in New York and somehow an alien takes the form of a human, and wants to know how he’s shooting lasers out of his eyes?”

“Something like that.”

“Donald, I thought we said we were having dinner with your mom tonight? If you jet off halfway during the day, how will you be back in time?”

“Look, I’m sorry, Jane. You knew I made a promise to myself to do all that I can for these people. If there is a life I can save, I’m taking it. I know it’s tough, and I won’t say I understand, but I promise you, I will make it back in time. I will even be bringing a little something for you.”

“If you aren't back in time, you can bet your ass I’m remembering this. If not for my shift in 20 minutes, I would so strangle you.”

“You can strangle me when I am back. In front of my mom.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

4:14 pm 20 January, 1958 - McNider’s apartment, NYC

“You can see at night.”

Blake looks over at Charles McNider. The man sat across from him in the hall, a pair of shades sitting on the bridge of his nose. Strange was late, as per usual.

Is it customary for all blind men to wear shades?

“My gut tells me that is a question, Dr Blake?”

Blake rummaged in his briefcase for the docket. “My partner should be arriving shortly, but help me understand this. Multiple lacerations of the iris and cornea, puncturing of the retina and the optic nerves caused by the shrapnel. You know it as well as I do, you should not be able to see at all.”

“What can I say, I’m a lucky bastard.” Charles stretched out his hand. An owl, large and spotted, swooped down and perched on his outstretched hand.

Blake almost fell off his seat. Where did that come from?

“You know, I was a man of science before, just like you.” Charles continued. “I was a brilliant doctor, scientist too, working everyday to better the lives of people. When my daughter contracted a rare genetic disease never seen before, no doctor would take her case for fear of negative publicity. Desperate, I devoted all my time into engineering a genetic drug to save her.”

Charles took off his shades, his fingers lightly massaging the bridge of his nose. Blake could see that this man’s eyes had lost its light, like the heart of a dying star.

“There was no bomb, Dr Blake. My experiments failed, and my lab exploded. All the physicians, including myself, believed that it was over, that I will never see again. But by some will of God, I have perfect vision in the dark. Miracles do exist after all.”

Blake listened and felt sorry for McNider. He remembered Strange’s heavy investments in stem cell regeneration and decided to give it a go. “I’m sorry to hear that, sir. I hope you’re coping with it well. But if what you told me is true, some parts of the iris may be severely damaged, restricting their light receptivity to daylight.” Blake’s voice quivered with anticipation. “If you don't mind, Dr McNider, I could take your case further and my colleagues at the hospital could perform an experimental cell regeneration to help restore some of the damaged tissues. We can get you back to normal again.”

McNider’s face hardened. “The only problem here is, I do mind. The press, the media, the experimental nature of the procedures. I may be blind, but don’t take me for a fool. Do you think I’m gonna let you experiment on me like a lab rat? You’re here for the publicity, for the recognition, just like all the others.”

The owl turned his head towards Blake, black unblinking eyes locking onto his. He shifted uneasily in his seat.

Did he just… question my professionalism?

Blake clenched his teeth but held himself back. "I assure you, Mr McNider, I care about the well-being of all my patients, and I would only take it up if I believe 100% that it could work. I genuinely want to help, Charles.”

“Like hell you are.” Charles was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was laced with emotion. “If you really mean what you say, you’d make sure to continue helping others. I can no longer operate, but you,” Charles looked in Blake’s general direction, his eyes staring into the the vast emptiness, almost as if looking for hope. “You still can. There are a million others out there who need help, but not many who care enough to try.”

Blake nodded, lowering his gaze. He’s right.

Blake reached into his shirt, pulling out a pocket watch. He traced the outline of it, his fingers moving over the polished, brass face embossed with the words:

In this world, he who waits won’t get anything he wants.

It was a gift from his father, on his twelfth birthday.

In that moment, he was transported back to when he was a child.

~

His twelfth birthday dinner was simple but sumptuous. Despite not being well to do, Blake’s mother always seemed to make the best meals. Blake could almost taste the baked sweet potato that his mother always made. He never could replicate the texture, even in his adult years.

His father brought him out onto the front lawn.

“Close yer eyes…” his father said.

Blake did as he was told, holding out his hands with anticipation. “Don’t open yer eyes till you can tell me what it is?”

Then, something was placed in his hand.

It was smooth. And roundish. Yet, it feels kind of familiar.

“A ball?” Blake heard a chuckle.

“Nope, try again.”

Blake pressed it and he felt something trickle down his fingers.

Blake opened his eyes. A slightly squashed tomato sat in his hands. He looked up at this father, confused.

“Happy Birthday, son! Do you like it?”

Blake arched an eyebrow. “Ermmm… its a tomato.”

“You don’t like it? Why don’t you work for a better present?” He hands Blake a piece of paper that was folded in half. Written on it were the words “Treasure Map”.

Blake takes the map and breaks into a grin, immediately beginning his quest to find his birthday present. It took some digging in the backyard but he finally found it.

A box with a nice ribbon on it. In it was a pocket watch, the very same one that Blake had in this moment, sitting before McNider. That pocket watch kept him company all through his life, from spending late nights at the library at Middle School, all the way to receiving his degree at Harvard Medical School.

~

Dad would be proud of me.

Not forgetting his roots from the less fortunate, Blake decided to give back and dedicate his life towards aiding the people. And that is why he spearheaded a division specialised in taking on these unusual and often overlooked cases, often for free. It was never about the money.

A knock on the door broke his train of thought. The owl fluttered away.

Charles raised his eyebrows. Blake checked his pocket watch. 10 minutes to 5.

“I should get going.” Blake picked up his walking stick, and hauled himself up. “Thank you for your time, Dr McNider. I appreciate it.” The gentlemen shook hands, and Blake headed for the door.

McNider’s visitor is a woman with dark black hair.

Blake nodded as he passed the woman. She was beautiful. He caught a glimpse of her oval face, her pale flawless skin, and those scorching green eyes. Eyes of pain, of hurt and loss. Eyes of battle; of smoke, fire and destruction. Eyes that seem hauntingly familiar to Blake.

She seemed to have the same confusion written all over her face.

Blake blinked, shaking it off. He didn’t mean to stare, that was rude. He hurriedly bid his farewells, and went on his way.

Well, that was awkward. That is no way to treat a fine lady.

Blake hobbled out of the house with his cane. He looked up at the building.

Shame, he could really take a further look at McNider. Unlike Strange, he truly wanted to help all those around him, regardless of the fame or fortune that he was accused of trying to chase.

Deep in thought, the sound of broken glass and screams jolted him back into reality. He turned in shock, and caught a glimpse of a man wielding a crowbar, going through a window he just broke. He is wearing a dirty green jumpsuit, like the ones belonging to the city’s demolitions crew, with a mask over his face. That’s when Blake realised a bank robbery is happening just a few feet away from him.

Speaking of money grabbing pricks…

Blake hobbled behind a car, and took cover behind it while he assessed the situation. He pulled out his cellphone and called the cops.

“I don’t wanna hurt nobody, ‘ol Wrecker’s here for the bank's money.” The man who called himself the Wrecker hauled himself on top of the front counter. “Think of yer families, don't risk yer life. Don't try and be a hero.”

He fished out a black case, and gestured for it to be filled up. No one moved.

The Wrecker grabbed the nearest man, and swung his crowbar across his face.The man slammed into the wall before slumping to the ground. A security guard pulled out a gun, but before he could react, the Wrecker sent him flying out of the bank with a swift kick to the chest.

The Wrecker turned, with a maniacal smile plastered across his face. “Just kiddin’ yall, I love violence.” He cracked his neck, his mighty crowbar slinging across his broad shoulders. “Oh, I bin itchin’ fer this.”

The bank attendants set to work filling up the case with money without another word.

Blake clenched his fists in anger as he watched. The security guard had landed in the middle of the road, beside the car he was crouching behind. He struggled to get up, clutching his chest in pain.

Blake was terrified out of his wits, but his body reacted faster. He crawled over and pulled himself as close to the security guard as possible without alerting the assailant. He checked his pulse, and assessed the man. Tension pneumothorax, probably caused by multiple rib fractures. If the venous bleeding continues, he could bleed out and die. “You’re gonna be fine,” Blake’s medical experience and instincts kicked in as he reassured the man. “Just concentrate on your breathing. Try not to move too much.” With the amount of pain he must be experiencing, Blake was surprised the man is still conscious.

“You there! Whatcha think yer doin’?”

Oh, shit.

Blake took a deep breath as he turned to see the Wrecker staring straight at him. “Oh lookie, a cripple. You ain’t thinkin’ ‘bout callin’ the cops on the Wrecker, are ‘ya? I’m gonna teach you a lesson you won’t forget.”

Instinctively, Blake put himself between the Wrecker and the security guard. This man was his patient and he’ll be damned before the Wrecker lays another finger on this poor man.

Blake stared defiantly at the Wrecker as he sauntered over. All signs of fear from before magically vanished. Blake stood up on his cane and looked straight into the Wrecker’s eyes. He raised his cane to strike the Wrecker but he simply laughed and swatted it away. Blake lost his balance and fell back down, next to the security guard.

The Wrecker flashed a devilish grin. “How about I make it even for ‘ya?”

Blake closed his eyes as the Wrecker raised the crowbar. Blake’s final thought was of Jane and how her cute face would be scrunched up in anger when she finds out he’s probably not going to be at the dinner after all.

That was when it happened. From the corner of his eye, Blake saw a beam from the heavens. A pillar of light, shimmering in colours of the rainbow, engulfing him in different hues of silver and gold. As it hit the ground, a figure dropped from the skies, landing between Blake and the Wrecker.

What the hell…

The figure crouched and held up a shield. There was a deafening twang as the crowbar and shield collide, sending out a shockwave so strong it knocked Blake a few feet backwards from where he was. He felt the back of his head collide with the car he was hiding behind.

The figure turned, and Blake realised it was the dark haired lady from before. She looked different, in some sort of shiny silver armour. Her green eyes glowed like emeralds as she looked straight at Blake and extended her hand towards him.

“I’ve finally found you… Thor.”

That was the last thing Blake remembered before his world slipped into darkness.

Author: u/BatDog2814

Book: Green Lantern

Arc: The Silent Planet

Hal Jordan was a normal test pilot, until he was chosen by an alien ring to become Green Lantern. Using his imagination, he can create any construct as long as he overcomes fear.

Sector 2733

February 8th, 1958; 23:32 ET

To Hal Jordan, there was nothing better than flying, especially in space. The time between the battles and conflicts, where there was peace was amazing to Hal. His mind drifted off and he flew through the cosmos. However, the peace would not last long. If it ever did.

“Lantern 2814.1?” Salaak chirps through the ring. Hal’s mind was brought back to reality.

“Yes, Salaak?” he asks.

“Current status?” Salaak asks, annoyed. Salaak is a man of order. He was at a computer all of the time, sending Lanterns on missions and finding any dangers. Hal was the opposite though. Careless and reckless, Hal did whatever that got the job done, disregarding any rules.

“I’m traveling through Sector 2733. I’ll probably get to Oa before lunch. Tell Kilowog I’m in the mood for a sandwich.” Hal says with a smile.

“Your humor continues to elude me.” Salaak states. “I need you to visit the neighboring sector. Planet Brix. We’ve sent Lantern 2732.2 to retrieve a prisoner. Both him and the planet itself has lost communication with us two of your Earth days ago.”

“A whole planet just stopped talking?” Hal asks. “I’m on my way.”

“Good.” Salaak replies, “Also…”

“Yeah?” Hal asks.

“Stay safe.” Salaak says. Hal’s eyebrows raise. Never has he heard Salaak say something like that. Then again, Hal has never heard of a planet that lost communication.

“Ring, set course for planet Brix.” Hal orders.

“Yes, Lantern Jordan.” the Ring replies.

Hal flies towards Brix. Flying was great, but it was these moments he hated. After the peace, but before the danger. The tense moment bridging the gap. Something must’ve happened to Brix. It’s Hal’s job to find out what and put a stop to it. He sees gray clouds covering the planet, hindering his view of the surface. Asteroids float by Hal as he figures out what to do.

“Isn’t this supposed to be a vacation planet?” Hal asks himself. “Ring, pull up files on Brix.”

The ring begins to talk. “Planet Brix is located in Sector 2732 in the Ballan System. The fourth planet from the system’s star, Brix averages a steady temperature of 70 degrees fahrenheit. Unlike many planets in the Ballan system, Brix has a radius of 1,576 miles and an average population of 2.3 billion. A po--”

“Ring, stop.” Hal orders. “A sunny planet loses communication from all life and has a thick layer of clouds. What happened?” he asks himself. Space is always vast and quiet, but Hal is unnerved. The silence of the planet, mixed with the darkness enshrouding it worried Hal. That doesn’t matter. Nor does it stop him. He’s a Green Lantern. Entrusted with a ring. Chosen because he can overcome fear. That’s what he does now.

Hal flies closer to the planet, hovering over the dark gray clouds. He punctures the top layer of the clouds and flies through. His sight is hampered by the thickness of the clouds.

Hal comes to a stop. “Ring, scan the...clouds.” Hal orders. He senses something wrong with it. Something...unnatural.

The ring begins, “These are not clouds. They are a mixture of Brixian soil, along with building materials an--”

“Stop.” Hal says. Hal flies blindly deeper through the thick dust. As he flies, he picks up wind with him. He would feel the abrasion of the dust, but his natural shield protects him from minor forces, making the flight smooth. He flies out of the bottom of the clouds to see the surface of the planet.

“My god…” he says. His eyes widen. His mouth dropped in awe.

Brixian structures are seen in ruins. Buildings topple another. Dust, glass, metal all on the ground. The pure soil of Brix is not to be seen. The once beautiful vacation planet is dead. Along with 2.3 billion people.

Hal reaches the surface of the planet and touches the ground. His foot makes a print in the soft, gray mixture of dust, sand, concrete, and pieces of buildings.

“Ring…” Hal says, shaken at the sight. “Scan for survivors.” The ring beams with light, scanning the destroyed building next to him. Hal’s mind races at a million miles per hour, his eyes still wide. His stomach tight. He feels like he was stabbed in the chest. Not fear, but worry. His ring goes dimmer. No. You overcome fear. You stare at it everyday and don’t let it get the better of you. He thinks. The ring beams to light with more energy and power.

“Scanning…” the ring says. “Scanning…” Hal steps closer to the building. He thinks to himself, What could have done this? Destroyed a whole planet? He looks into the shattered glass of the building. Nothing but destruction. Nothing but death.

“No survivors found.” the ring says. Hal’s morale sinks. He doesn’t feel fear. He feels sad. All these lives lost. For what? Hal switches emotion. He feels rage. A green boxing glove forms around his wrist.

“Ahh!” Hal screams as he smashes a chunk of the building. Another green boxing glove forms around his other hand. He begins punching pieces of the building that aren’t already destroyed. “WHY?!” He screams as he punches a pillar. He punches another. The green boxing gloves begin to crack. Hal isn’t feeling will. He isn’t powering the ring. Hal steps back. The green boxing gloves disappear. He sighs. Hal whispers to himself, “Why? Why all of them?” He sighs once more and then straightens his back. He has a job. Not only to find who did this, but to avenge the Brixians.

Hal holds up his ring to his mouth. He needs to get word to Salaak. “Send a message to--” THUNK. A knife hits Hal in the back of his right leg. A sharp pain. His shield should have stopped the knife or at least slow it’s speed into his leg.

“Gah!” he screams as he falls. Shields go up around him. Full power. He forms a green gauntlet on his right hand and a medieval shield on his left. He turns around to see his attacker.

“Where is Thanos?!” a grey muscular man yells as he runs toward Hal. In his hand is another knife.

“Did you do this?!” Hal yells as he throws his gauntlet construct, hitting the attacker in the chest. The man falls to the ground. Hal can see him more closely. Red tattoos cover his body, one in the shape of a skull. His red pants are covered in dust from the surface of Brix.

Blaster-fire erupts from a nearby building. Hal lifts up his shield, blocking the shots. Hal hears a yell from his right side. The gray man jumps up and grabs Hal’s head. The attacker tries to stab him. Hal takes his shield with his left hand and brings it to the attacker, blocking the knife. The knife shatters the construct. Hal’s eyes widen. He broke my construct. Blaster-fire hits Hal’s side. He still has his natural shield. The shots would be lethal, but with his shielding, all Hal feels is a slight sting. The gray man punches him and takes Hal off his balance. The combination of the stinging of blaster-fire and the punch from the gray man makes Hal fall to the ground.

The gray man jumps on him and punches Hal in the face. Luckily the shields take most of the damage, but Hal can still feel the slight pain of the man’s fist.

“Drax! Move outta the way!” a voice yells from the building where the blaster-fire was coming from.

“Yeah, Drax…” Hal says as he makes a construct of large, heavy boots around his legs. “Move outta the way!” Hal says as he kicks Drax off of him and into the air. Drax smashes into a nearby structure. It may be a building, but too destroyed to be able to be identified.

More blaster-fire hits Hal. “Would you knock it off!” Hal yells as he forms a giant green hammer from his ring and smashes it into the building.

Drax emerges from the rubble. “Do not harm Rocket.”

“Why did you destroy this planet? Also, how?” Hal asks forming 15 arrows around him, pointing at Drax.

“We didn’t destroy this planet. You did, alongside Thanos.” Drax says, grabbing his knife.

“I didn’t destroy anything! I’m a Green Lantern. Why don’t we stop fighting an--”

Hal sees a man in a silver mask fly towards him “Die!” the man yells. The man pushes Hal into the ground. The surface, while being soft, hits Hal’s back hard. The man’s silver mask has red eyes. He wears a gray shirt under a red jacket. There is a satchel he has, hanging on his right side. The arrow constructs disappear. Hal needs to regain his focus.

“I said…” Hal says as the man keeps punching him in the face. “STOP FIGHTING!” Boots appear on his feet and kick the man off like Hal did with Drax.

Hal sinks back into the ground, trying to get a sense of the battle. A silver blade appears in front of his throat. “Don’t move” someone says. He can’t see her. He doesn’t want to fight anymore. They clearly didn’t destroy the planet.

“Who are you guys?” Hal asks.

Drax steps up to him. “We are the Guardians of the Galaxy. And you are?”

“I’m a Green Lantern.” Hal says. “That’s all you need to know.” Hal hears other voices behind him.

“I hate Green Lanterns.” Rocket says.

“I am Groot.” Groot says as he steps into Hal’s view. Hal is surprised. A...tree? A man dressed as a tree? A tree dressed as a man? Hal’s mind wanders.

“Hi...Groot.” Hal tells him. The wielder of the sword steps into Hal’s sight.

“Why are you here?” she asks. It’s a woman. Red clothing like Drax and the other man who attacked Hal. Green skin and black hair.

“I’m a Green Lantern. This planet and the GL defending it lost communication with us about two days ago. I’m here to find out why. I didn’t expect a whole planet to be destroyed.”

The man in the silver mask walks up to him, panting. “Why...did...you...blast me... into a building?!”

“Sorry about that.” Hal says. “To be fair, you were trying to KILL ME.” His voice raises.

“So...what’s up Gamora? This guy with Thanos?” the man asks.

“No, Peter.” Gamora says. “I do think he knows something.”

“I’ve been a Green Lantern for the past four years. I’ve never heard of someone named Thanos.” Hal says.

“He’s a New God.” Gamora tells him.

“A New God? I’ve heard of them before. Some guy...Black-side? Death-side? Darkseid. Yeah. Darkseid.” Hal reponds.

“Darkseid is ruler of Apokolips. A desolate world outside of the universe. Filled with death and despair.” Gamora tells Hal.

“How do you know that?” Hal asks.

“I lived there.” Gamora replies.

“A world of death.” Hal says, his mind drifting off, thinking about Brix and...other things.

“You know something about death?” Peter asks.

“Yeah.” Hal says. His mind is barely in the present. He drifts of to the past. Instantly, he snaps back into reality. “I lost someone. At the end of World War II.”

“World War II? There was a second war?” Peter asks.

“You’re from Earth.” Hal says.

“No. Never heard of Earth. I’m from...Suh….Slearth.” Peter says quickly.

“You’re not fooling me.” Hal says.

“He doesn’t fool anyone.” Rocket says. Hal’s head darts to the voice. He sees a humanoid racoon standing, a giant blaster in his hand.

“Woah! A racoon was shooting at me?!” He asks.

“What’s a racoon?” Rocket asks.

“I am Groot.” Groot replies.

“Naw. Those things were Dranylian rats. Hate those things. Had to wash my clothes 10 times to get the smell off.” Rocket tells Groot.

Hal sighes and turns back to Peter. “World War II. It started in 1939.”

“1939? That was three years before I...left Earth.” Peter says, his mind racing to his past.

“How did you leave Earth?” Hal asks him.

“A long story.” Peter replies.

“One for another day.” Gamora states, annoyance in her voice. “Now, we need to find where Thanos is heading next.”

“Why’s that? He’s gonna destroy another planet?” Hal asks.

Gamora puts her sword away. “He will. He’s looking for an artifact. The Book of the Black. He’s trying to find some power. Legend says it’s in the book.”

“Then why did he waste his time with this planet?” Hal asked.

“A prisoner.” Peter replies. “Apparently, a dweeb from Apokalips that went rogue. Guess Thanos didn’t want him spilling the beans.”

“Let’s get to the point.” Gamora says. “He’s looking for an ancient artifact. The Book of the Black. It’s prophesied to hold the Anti-Life Equation. Something Darkseid has been longing for.”

“If this book has the Anti-Life Equation, whatever that means, why didn’t Darkseid get it before?” Hal asks.

“Darkseid’s the kinda guy who waits for it to come to him. He says it’s all lies and he will find the Anti-Life Equation a different way. Probably a way with a whole lotta murder.” Peter explains. “Although, he may not be much of a reader.”

“Getting back to Thanos,” Gamora says, anger in her voice. “We need to get to a planet named Ryut in Sector 666.”

“Sector six, six-- that’s forbidden. That and the Vega System. Off-limits to all Lanterns. Always wondered why.” Hal says as he gets up from the ground. He brushes the dust off of him.

Gamora looks at him, her face still with anger. “It doesn’t matter. We need to get to the planet Ryut before Thanos. If he finds what he’s looking for, the universe will die.”

Hello there everyone! I'm u/JPM11S, Editor in Chief of r/DCMFU and writer of Batman, and today I'm proud to announce our partnership with DC and Marvel Fan-Scripture!

But what is this, you ask?

Over on Discord, a team of people have been developing fanmade feature-length screenplays and releasing them for the enjoyment of the fans. If you're looking for an example, here's their script for Spider-Man 4, which was released on Reddit to strong reception!

Currently, DC Fan-Scripture is launching their own shared universe! Super cool right!? If you're curious about what movies are going to be in Phase 1, they are as follows...

Batman: Knightfall - When a mysterious new adversary named Bane breaks Killer Moth, Firefly, Riddler, Poison Ivy, Scarecrow, and Joker out of Arkham Asylum, Batman and his allies will be pushed beyond their breaking point as they try to contain the greatest threat that Gotham has ever faced.

Superman: American Alien - Young Clark Kent has just moved to Metropolis from his family's farm in Kansas, and joined the Daily Planet. As he struggles in balancing his Superman persona with Clark Kent, an intergalactic bounty hunter named Lobo comes to Earth looking for Clark's head. Superman must face being hunted by Lobo while pining after his colleague, Lois Lane's affection, and teaming up with mysterious business man Lex Luthor who takes Clark under his wing.

Booster Gold - Michael Jon Carter, a night watchmen from Gotham City in the 25th Century, steals superhero relics from a museum with the help of a security robot named Skeets and travels back in time, intent on becoming a famous superhero and getting rich doing it.

Batman: Vengeance - No synopsis written.

Legion of Superheroes - A group of teens from the future who run a superhero fanclub stumble upon a clone of Superman named Superman X and release him in order to get respect within the superhero community, but things soon take a turn as they must prove themselves as more than just a fanclub.

Wonder Woman - No synopsis written.

Green Lantern Corps - An intergalactic buddy cop movie featuring the rookie, Hal Jordan teaming up with the veteran, John Stewart.

The Flash: Born to Run - A Flash movie focused on Wally West taking up the mantle after Barry Allen is forced to retire.

Justice League of America - No synopsis written.

Over on the Marvel side of things, they're about to start production on Spider-Man 6 which will finish their trilogy starring Tobey Maguire as Spider-Man! Since I listed what movies DC Fan-Scripture are doing, here are ones for Marvel Fan-Scripture.

*Spider-Man 6

*Jameson

*Spider-Man: Black in Black (part one)

*The Sensational Spider-Man

*The Spectacular Foes of Spider-Man 2

*Spider-War

*Spider-Man: Back in Back (part two)

*The Spectacular Foes of Spider-Man: Go to Hell

*Spider-Girl

*The Spectacular Foes of Spider-Man 3

*Daredevil

Invite for DC Fan-Scripture Discord Server

Invite for Marvel Fan-Scripture Discord Server

Hello r/DCMFU! I’m u/JPM11S, the Editor in Chief of r/DCMFU and writer of Batman, and in this post I’m going to be going over everything we’ve done this year and what we plan to do (which is a lot).

What’s Happened So Far…

We launched on October 1st of this year with Batman, Green Lantern, the Flash, Iron Man, Thor, and Daredevil, with Captain Marvel following the next month. Originally, we planned to have a Superman book as well, but due to behind the scenes stuff, we were not able to do that, though that is something we still want to do. We also have begun to plot out our first event, Hail Hydra, releasing in March, which will be spinning out of Batman.

What We Plan To Do…

Once again, we’re going to releasing our first event in March. Now, something I’m very excited to announce, is the new books that will be launching after the event!

• Spider-Man, written by u/DarthGiorgi

• Fantastic Four, written by u/VerumFalsum

• X-Men, written by u/Extrevious

• Justice League, written by r/c0d95

Additionally, we’re looking into launching a Superman solo book, Arrows (Hawkeye and Green Arrow team up book), a “52” like book, and introducing the characters that will comprise the Teen Titans and Defenders lineup.

Teen Titans (subject to change)

• Robin (Dick Grayson)

• Kid Flash (Wally West)

• Wonder Girl (Diana Rogers)

• Spider-Man (Peter Parker)

• Hawkeye (Kate Bishop)

• Storm (Ororo)

The Defenders (subject to change)

• Green Arrow (Oliver Queen)

• Blue Beetle (Jaime Reyes)

• Ant-Man (Scott Lang)

• Elektra

** Author: Flyman95**

Book: Green Lantern

Arc: The Silent Planet part 4

**Captain Hal, “Highball”, Jordan, a combat ace and former test pilot, has been inducted into the ranks of galactic peacekeepers for his ability to overcome great fear. Using the most powerful weapon in the universe, a ring, he can create hard light constructs using his own willpower. Let no evil escape his sight. He is THE GREEN LANTERN. **

February 14th, 1958; 10:00am planetside

OA: Home of the Green Lantern Corps

No way out. Back against the wall, no ring and a ruthless opponent. Hal had faced everything from genocidal warlords to planet devouring monsters. But nothing had prepared him for the horror he currently faced.

Hal sat across from the Green Lantern Corps’ Psychologist, Mantis. A slender, pale skinned humanoid with long black hair and puppy-dog eyes. Two large antennas protruded from her head. They gently hung bending forward under their own weight. Definitely not human but far closer than most aliens in the verse. Under different circumstances Hal would have bought her a drink and offered to take her flying.

Despite her benign appearance, Mantis had… a reputation. Mantis had power. An empath with the ability to read emotions and was rumored to be able make people feel emotions. She had become the one being that even Green Lantern’s feared.

Hal didn’t like the idea of anyone messing with his head.

They sat in silence, staring at one another. Hal had lost track of the time. It felt like hours.

Finally she spoke in a soothing but professional voice “Usually, a therapist can sit in silence until it becomes so awkward that the patient speaks first. However, I find this incredibly difficult with the most willful beings in the galaxy. So to save us both time let's go over why you are here.”

Hal remained silent. She continued, “ You have now seen the lifeless husks of two separate planets. Each planet’s populous had been systematically and brutally killed for no reason than a mad man’s desires. This includes Lantern Tothar whom according to your report was executed in cold blood after watching the horror befall his home. You fought Thanos, the being responsible for this atrocity. He then proceed to hand you a swift decisive and otherwise a humiliating defeat.”

The words hit Hal like a gut punch but he did not speak.

Finally Mantis inquired “Do you believe I have correctly characterized the details of your last mission?”

“Yes.” Hal finally said reluctantly.

“Then you can understand why the Guardians require that you have physiological evaluation. Understand, the purpose of this is not to find ground to dismiss you from the Corps. It is to ensure that this event will not affect your ability to function as a Lantern. So the more you help me the faster this process can be complete.”

“Alright,” Hal stated,”I fought a genocidal maniac and he mopped the floor with me.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“How will this affect you as a Lantern.”

“How will this affect me?!” Hal repeated incredulously “Instead of helping my brothers in arms bring this bastard to justice, I’m stuck here talking with you!” Hal began standing up to leave. Mantis reached across and gently placed her hand on his knee. Hal suddenly felt calmer and sank back into his chair. He somehow began to relax.

“What is happening?” He asked through gritted teeth. He wanted to be angry but just couldn’t find the spark.

“Your anger threatens to overwhelm you.” She calmly explained.”It will only cloud your judgment. I am attempting to give you clarity.”

Hal jerked his head up fighting the feeling overcoming him. For all his will he could not find the spark of anger.

“I can’t let this happen to anyone else” Hal pleaded, “I have to be on that mission”

“And how will your anger help you?” Mantis asked calmly, “it seems that your rage will only serve to endanger your fellow lanterns.”

Hal realized what she was trying to do and quit fighting it. He allowed the calmness to wash over him. All the pain and rage over of the last few weeks seemed to melt away.

“It won’t help will it? My constructs will be weaker, my head clouded. God, they teach rookie pilots this week one.” Hal buried his head in his hands.”

“Very good. Mantis said approvingly, “I’m pleased that you are capable of introspection. Not all Lanterns are. Some Lanterns seem think that willfulness needs pride. It tempers them and makes them strong. However, this strength is like iron, brittle. They break when hit to hard.”

“And you think coming to terms with this event will prevent this?” Hal asked. “I think that you can recover from this and will be a better Lantern for your experience.You’ll be tempered but like steel. Good steal may chip or bend but will never break” Mantis spoke reassuringly, removing her hand. “I recommend a few weeks rest and a daily session with me”

“Thankyou,” Hal finally said, “Being a Lantern is all I have.”

“We both know that’s not true. There is someone out there. You only need to overcome that particular fear”

Hal didn’t need to ask. He already knew the answer. Suddenly the door violently swung upon.

Stepping through was none other than Peter Quill AKA Starlord. In his Ravager duster Hal thought he looked more like gunslinger than a self appointed protector of the universe.

“Hal!” Exclaimed Peter, “We have to talk. NOW. Those Lanterns are flying into a trap!”

Five minutes later they were all crowded around a table in the Lantern mess hall. The room was practically deserted as near every lantern was making preparations for the coming conflict. The Guardians of the Galaxy, Hal, and for some reason Mantis. Once everyone was settled a brief moment of awkward silence.

Gamora nudged Rocket who cleared his throat and began speaking, “You see all your bosses have kinda been pains in my ass for years. I thought I would return the favor and leave a little bug in there. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just wanted to know what they were saying.

Hal glared at him. “I’d like to point out that I in no way ordered or approved this action” Quill quickly interjected.

“ A true captain is responsible for every action of their crew.” Drax interjected.

“I am Groot” Groot agreed.

“Guuuuys, SHUT UP.” Quill said pointedly.

“We are all wasting time” Gamora said with a more than a hint of exasperation.

“Rocket just play him the tape.”

“Fine, I was getting to that” Rocket grumbled as he pulled out a gadget from his belt. It looked like one of his custom made devices.

The hologram began playing, One guardian spoke “this task force is doomed. We all know the prophecy from the Book of the Black.”

“Don’t be a fool Ganthet” another Guardian spoke, “That book forbidden. We must avoid the blackest night at all costs.

“Sinestro has never failed us.” Another Guardian pointed out.
“His skills are unparalleled.” agreed another.

The one identified as Ganthet spoke again “Sinestro’s skills are not in question. But we are sending him and our best Lanterns to their death on a fool's errand. The prophecy clearly states: When a son of New Genesis invade a forsaken sector the anti-matter universe will bring salvation.”

“You speak blasphemy Ganthet. Any contact of the anti-matter universe is strictly forbidden by the book of OA.”

“Did we not write the book of OA?” asked Ganthet angrily, “So logically we should be able to rewrite it or make exceptions in times of great need.”

“Would you have us disregard all of our rules Ganthet?” Asked another Guardian, “You have already overstepped your authority by reading a forbidden text. Any further violation of the book of OA will be grounds for expulsion from this council.”

“I understand and obey the will of the council” replied Ganthet with a flash of anger that was soon gone. “Brother’s let us speak of other pressing matters.” Hal could have sworn that Ganthet winked at Rocket’s recording device as he changed the subject.

Rocket turned off the hologram as conversation switched to a trade disputes between two neighboring sectors.

“So” Quill asked, “what do we do?”

“Well I’m going to go warn Sinestro” Hal started to leave.

“You are not approved for active duty Lantern Jordan. Any use of the ring will have serious consequences and what good would your warning serve? Sinestro has his orders.” Mantis said pointedly.

“I’m sorry,” rocket said sarcastically, “WHO THE HELL IS THIS?!” Gamora ignored him and addressed the other guardians. “We could go to the anti-universe”

“How do you propose we do that?” Hal asked.

“We have a contact.”

“UGhhh“ Quill moaned.

“Who is it?” Hal asked.

“A ravager named Yondu.” Gamora answered.

“UGhhh“ Quill moaned louder.

“So any way I can catch a ride with you guys then?” Hal asked sheepishly.

“Well since we are apparently set on doing this, yes” Quill said.

“And I will be coming as well” announced mantis.

“Seriously, Who the hell is she?” Asked Rocket.

“So,” asked Hal, “where we headed?”

“Knowhere” replied Quill with a lopsided grin.

February 17th, 1958;

en-route to Knowhere

The trip took longer than Hal would have liked. What would have taken an hour with the ring took several days of flying. Even that was pushing the engines to the absolute limit. Rocket for all his attitude was a brilliant mechanic.

When not working with him in one of the private compartments, Mantis had taken an interest in the survivor of Ryut. She and Gamora where trying to use her telepathic powers to reach him.

Hal had to find a way to amuse himself. Thankfully Quill had a decent supply pre-prohibition bourbon to help pass the time. Apparently, he had “liberated” it from some off world smugglers. Hal figured that if the guardians had all but taken his ring away then it wasn’t his duty to report it anyway.

Sitting around the table. Rocket and Quill were already drunk. Giggling at stupid jokes they told one another. Drax sharpened his knives not partaking in the relverly. Hal quitely nursed his drink. His work with Mantis had calmed and centered him. He no longer felt the anger threatening to overwhelm him. He wondered how this would affect his inevitable showdown with Thanos. Looking up again Hal noticed Quill and Rocket had passed out at the table. Drax paid no mind. Clearly, this was not an uncommon occurrence.

Suddenly the intercom sent an alert. Gamora’s voice came weakly through. “We need immediate help in the medical area. The survivor is awake. And he is angry.”

“On our way” Hal replied.

Rocket and Quill were in no state to help. Looking at Drax, a nod told Hal all he needed to know. Together they rushed to the med bay. Hal could barely believe what he saw.

The Hulking red Alien had all but destroyed the Med-bay. Equipment and supplies laced scattered about Mantis had been knocked against a bulkhead either dead or merely unconscious. Gamora had a gash across her forehead and was hunched over by the intercom station. Groot had arrived first and had entrapped the creature in vines and roots. As much as he thrashed, cut, yelled, and struggled, Groots control stood firm.

His eyes fixed on Hal he yelled “I’LL KILL YOU ALL! You destroyed my planet! You killed my family”

He continued to desperately fight against the ever tightening shackles. His screams of rage and grief rocked the ship. Hal hesitated, without his ring and unarmed their didn’t seem like much he could do.

Drax was the first to speak “We did not destroy anything.” Drax answered in a tone of voice Hal had not heard before. Was Drax bein Reassuring? “A being named Thanos killed your family just as he killed mine. I am Drax enemy of Thanos”

This gave the alien pause. Groot stopped tightening the vines around him, “I to Know what it is like to lose everything. To have the rage threaten to overwhelm you. But we are not your enemy. Thanos is.”

“Yes” the alien agreed. “Thanos and his army must die.”

“You must control your anger.” Drax advised.

“How?”

“If the tree will release you I will attempt to teach you.”

“Do it Groot” Hal ordered.

“I am Groot?” Groot asked

“It will be fine” Drax assured him

As the alien broke free Hal checked on Mantis and Gamora. Both were fine if a bit shaken.

“By the way we never got your name?” Hal asked.

“Atrocitous”

February 18th, 1958;

Knowhere: Head of a long dead Celestial

Hal stepped off the gang plank of the Milano with Quill, Gamora, Groot and Rocket. Mantis and Groot had decided to stay and help Atrocitous. Opting to try and blend in he wore a grey jumpsuit, black combat boots and a heavy brown leather duster. Under his duster he kept a plasma blaster. It wasn’t his ring but Hal was confident he could defend himself. In his chest pocket he kept the ring itself. He wasn’t going to use it but a little insurance never hurt anyone.

Dressed as a common denizens of knowhere they made their way to Yondu’s base of operation. Around them milled smugglers, merchants, beggars, prospectors whores, and thieves. All different races. No one making eye contact. No one (aside the escorts) trying to draw attention to It was the type of place you could buy anything. Where death was cheap and law meaningless. Truly a place where Lantern’s light rarely touched.

They approached a grey nondescript building. Outside two Ravagers stood on guard duty.

One instantly recognized Quill. He nudged his partner and they both allowed their hands to rest on atop the holsters.

“Quill you know you ain’t allowed here anymore.” The left one said threateningly

“I’m here to see Yondu.” Quill said ignoring them.

“And we’re telling you he don’t want to see you,” the other snarled. “Is that so?” Quill asked innocently.

“It is.” The meaner looking of the two replied gruffly “Well then” Quill said. Then faster than Hal would have expected Quill had drawn both his pistols and stunned both aliens with taser blasts. They both fell to the ground with a dull thud.

“I guess we will have to show ourselves in.” Quill said dryly.

Stepping through the door Hal was less than suprised to see that it was a bar. Loud music played as the Ravagers partook in their favorite pastimes. Sitting at a table in the far end of the room was a being that could only be Yondu Udonta.

Yondu was a blue humanoid alien with crooked teeth and a (blue) goatee.Hal recognized his species as Centaurian. However, instead of the typical bald head of most Centaurians he had was metal red fin. A cybernetic implant. Hal wondered what it could do. Dressed in his Ravager robes he looked every bit the outlaw king.

“BOYY!” Yondu yelled at Quill, standing up. “Wha’tch you doin’ here. You finally get tired of play’n hero boy and decide to return to our esteemed ranks?” “No Yondu” It was clear that this was question Quill had answered many a time.

“ And whose this pretty boy with you? I ain’t never seen him as part of your group b-fore” Yondu asked motioning towards Hal. “This is... ah... Mal”

How Quill had been a successful criminal Hal would never know. His “fast thinking” had much to be desired. Gamora rolled her eyes. Rocket rubbed his temples. Even Groot seemed embarrassed for him.

Quill continued apparently oblivious, “Mal used to captain a small freighter called the ser..”

“He looks like a cop.” Yondu interrupted.”There’s terrans now in that Green Lantern Corps”

“Are you saying all terrans look the same? Cause I got to say Yondu that’s some ass backwards logic.” Quill replied as innocently as he could muster. “Don’t get wise with me boy.” Yondu warned “I find out you brought a Green Lantern here, you’ll wish I let the boys eat you when we found you.”

Hal was very aware the music had stopped and the Ravagers were watching them. He felt his hand slip to his gun belt.

“Now Yondu, this isn’t about who should or should not have been eaten” Quill attempted to placate. “We just need to borrow something.”

“And what would that be?” Yondu asked suspiciously.

“We need access to the anti-matter universe” Quill said.

“The anti-matter universe? Hahahaha” Yondu laughed. “ Even if it wasn’t against Guardian law to even contact, much less travel too? Boy there ain’t nothin their but death. Or so I’ve heard. I don’t care what foolish notions your lady has been fill’n your head with but that is suicide.”

“What if I said it was to save the Universe?” Quill asked.

“Then I would say you’ve confused me for one of those sentimental fools you have with you. Don’t think I haven’t forgot about you. You have a look about You that I don’t like” He said suddenly turning to Hal.

“Is it that I’ve taken a bath in the past month? Hal asked. He could feel the crowd rustle at that particular comment.

“Ah, a funny one” Yondu said. “Let me tell you, I don’t like strangers in my establishment.”

“Well give us what we need and we will be on our way.” Hal said unblinking. “Now you see I’d like to but you all aren’t the first stranger to arrive today. I was given express instructions that they would speak to anyone ask’in about the Anti-matter universe.”

Out of the shadows a tall slender figure stepped into the light. Blue skinned with what looked like dozens of cybernetic implants.

“Nebula.” Gamora hissed reaching for her sword but not drawing it.

“Greetings sister” Nebula replied. To yondu she ordered “He’s the one.” gesturing at Hal.

Yondu motioned to his men. “Take ’em.

Before anyone could react two dozen guns were trained on the Guardians. Stun rays lashed out dropping them all like rocks. An alien on either side grabbed Hal’s arms forcing him to his knees. Nebula Walked over, crouched down in front of him and removed his pistol from it’s holster.

“Not the weapon I expect a Green Lantern to carry.” She taunted. “Now tell me why you’re heading to the Anti-Matter universe.”

You’re not going to intimidate me.” Said Hal.

She stood up and addressed Yondu. “Find out what he knows. Make sure you don’t kill him. I’d hate to see that ring find a new bearer.”

“You never said nothin about interrogating a Green Lantern.” Yondu said. His crew voicing agreement. “All you said you wanted was your sister”

“I am altering the deal. Trust me you will be rewarded. Move the others to the back room. I will interrogate them personally.”

As she walked away Yondu turned to Hal “Sorry about this. I find this type of thing distasteful myself but you know business is business. Now I’m go’in to ask a very simple question.” Yondu said menacingly. “Why are you attempting to access the anti-matter universe?”

“Go to Hell” Hal said getting ready to call the ring. Orders be damned.

“Oh, we’ll see about that.” Yondu said, then letting out a loud whistle. His red fin began to glow and out of his jacket a red arrow came to life. It placed its tip a few centimeters Hal’s temple.

“Oh so that’s what that does.” Hal said dryly. He’d have to find his moment.

Space Sector 666

Sinestro’s temporary base

Guy Gardner created a telescope to view Thano’s ship from light years away. It was clear that it was moving to the next planet.

“Only a few days now you bastard” Guy muttered to himself.

He moved to join the War Council that Sinestro had called.

Sinestro was outlining his plan of attack. Kilowog stood behind him viewing the plans before him. Nodding approvingly.

“So you want Tomar-re to lead a diversionary attack while you and a select group sneak aboard and take out Thanos.” Kilowog asked.

“Well to put it simply, yes.” Sinestro said with a touch of wounded pride. “And who will the unlucky Poozer’s joining you be?”

“Well you, and..” Sinestro looked up, “Gardner, It is actually good to see you. You shall also be joining my team.”

“Me?” Gardner asked surprised.

“I thought you were bull headed not deaf. I want to have you where I can keep an eye on you.”

“Welcome to the big leagues, poozer.” Kilowog said slapping him on the big as he walked out of the tent.

“It’s about damn time.” Guy said with a grin.

Author: u/Max1756 and u/cyanide-tx

Book: Thor

Arc: New Beginnings

1:43 pm 12 September 1923 - Shiruta, Kahndaq

It’s Wednesday.

Not just any Wednesday. In the city of Kahndaq, Wednesdays are Execution Days. Where past criminals were taken out and executed in the public squares for all to witness. It was a draconian tradition, but Adam had felt that it was an essential deterrent. All Kahndaqians were expected to respect the laws and any violators were subjected to punishments.

“Adrianna, get him ready.” Adam ordered her.

Ah, yes. That’s her mortal name now. Adrianna Tomaz.

Isis prepared the man. Ever since Adam freed her from Intergang, he kept her around. She was still his slave, but Adam treated her like a fellow citizen. A dignified Kahndaqian. He was cruel yes, but he wasn't evil.

Isis had assumed the identity of a slave named Adrianna when she came to Earth. She could have used her amulet to escape, but she wanted to walk the Earth as a mortal. Besides, something about Adam made her stay.

The man didn’t look like much, frail slender body, pale skin covering what was left of his muscles. He had long unkempt hair, greasy and matted beyond repair.

“What was the crime?”

“Arson.”

“For revenge?”

“For livelihood.”

Isis lowered her eyes. She tried not to get too acquainted with these guys.

She cleaned the man and helped him into white overalls. Adam wanted them to be executed in white. Something about cleansing away their sins.

She handed the man over to the others, who carried him and tied him up on a stake in the middle of the Main Square. A crowd had gathered as usual. Whether to witness the act of justice or just merely to relish in the superiority of watching another man die, Isis did not know.

Adam had walked to the middle and there he stood, holding onto a flame torch, waiting.

The man did not struggle. He held his head up as firewood was piled around him. He gritted his teeth as the smoke wafted up from the burning firewood, stinging his eyes. It was only when the flames were licking at his feet where he lost it. The blood curdling screams always got to Isis, each one different but yet always signifying the ending of a life.

Isis shuffled to a corner, making sure she was out of sight. She clasped her hands around the amulet on her neck, and whispered.

“Oh Tefnut, Bringer of Rains,

Cleanse this man and take away his pain.”

She could see the man visibly enter a state of calm before life seeped from his body. He didn't deserve to suffer like that. Isis felt breathless, and momentarily dizzy. She put her hand on the wall to steady herself. Using the amulet weakens her mortal body. She had learnt to only use her abilities where necessary, and this man was worth it.

The sky darkened as small pellets of rain pelted down. The crowd had started to disperse with hushed whispers. The flames gradually simmered and died, leaving a blackened char on the ground, marking the spot for the next execution.

Isis caught up to Adam as they were walking back.

“Your Highness, forgive me for saying this but, don’t you find this… barbaric?”

“You’ve never lost someone, have you?” Adam replied without breaking stride.

“No, but-”

“You’ll understand when you do.”

“Yet I know that this is cruel and merciless!”

“And are they not?”

“I..”

“The victims, are they spared from mercy? Is it not cruel to take them from their families?”

“But you are doing the very same thing!” Isis knew she was venturing into dangerous territory.

Adam remained composed. Out of the entire country, Adrianna was the only one willing to speak her mind, and that was why he decided to keep her around. She was special.

“What I do is uphold justice. Just like how I slaughtered all the Intergang members responsible for slavery, for your captivity. Have you forgotten?”

“I remember it like it was yesterday.” Isis said. “But justice isn't absolute. It’s not all black and white, there are grey areas too.”

“To me, it is. People who break the laws, my laws, must be punished.”

“Punished yes, but shouldn't they be given a chance at repentance?”

“Chance? Repentance? Who is going to answer when my people suffer? When people are captured and sold to slavery, are you going to give them another chance to do it again?”

Isis chose her next words carefully. “Where I come from, we believe in embracing life. There is always good left in people, some are just left undiscovered.”

“Where I come from, I believe the only way to control them is through power, and fear. And that is what I do.”

“Look around! These people are scared and miserable!”

“But alive and well.” Adam turned to Isis, eyes piercing. “I am the Ruler of Kahndaq, I decide what goes on around here.”

Isis bowed her head. Even she knew when she had lost.

Under all that facade, Isis knew deep down Adam’s heart was pure, but it was damaged. Someday, she will get through to him. Someday, she will change that heart of his.

Someday.

08:57 am 11 February 1958 - Asgard Safehouse, NYC

He started out in a dark room. Very much like the one that he would be in when Thor took over his existence.

A figure emerged from the shadows. “Mortal.” Thor spoke with a booming voice.

“I am unworthy.” Thor said to him. A dark green aura engulfed him. Thor’s will was wavering, as if he was second guessing himself.

“I have failed Asgard. I have failed the Nine Realms.” Thor knelt down, dejected. He looked to the sky. “I have failed you, Father.”

“Mortals have worshipped us, but we have brought nothing but suffering and destruction to Midgard.” Thor spoke solemnly, eyes closed in self-accusation.

“I watched her die. Right in front of me. And I couldn't stop him.”

“The Mjolnir is wasted on me. I am no hero. I am but just a fool for thinking I am.”

And then, Thor vanished, leaving only the Mjolnir behind.

Then, a screen appeared before him.

This was new. The dream usually ended here.

It was Jane in a white room.

She was wearing her engagement ring, the one that he had given her at the diner, the Chocolate Shoppe. Blake loved that place; it was where they had their first date.

He was the new intern at the hospital and she was a senior nurse at the ward he was assigned to. Her intelligence and clear mind made her one of the most respected nurses at the hospital. Blake was always attracted to her beauty, but it was her mind and kindness that truly won his heart.

The way that she treated each patient with care and concern left a lasting impression on the young doctor and it was after weeks of frazzled nerves and awkward stammers that he finally managed to ask her out on a date, at the diner right outside their hospital.

And the rest was history. Blake always imagined following in his parents’ footsteps. He wanted a family and kids. A boy and a girl. Maybe even a family cat or dog, if finances permitted.

Then, the door opened.

“Hello, Ms Foster.” The man in a trench coat sat down opposite her. “I hope you are doing well.”

“Please tell me you have some good news, Detective.” Jane looked at the man. “Blake’s been gone for two weeks without so much as a call. He’s never been away this long without contacting me or his family.”

“Well ma’am, we tried all his colleagues at S&B’s, nothing. His good friend Stephen was reportedly missing as well. It's a shitstorm down at the NYPD. But there is some good news. We do have a witness who remembers him.”

“I can't really call him a witness since he’s blind.” The detective slides a photo over the table. “His name is Charles McNider. Did Mr Blake ever mention him to you? Because he met Dr McNider on the same day you said he last called you.” The man checked his files. “On 20th January.”

“No. He never mentioned it to me. He just said something cropped up at work. And…” Jane trailed off. She started to pick at her fingernails nervously, something she did whenever she’s worried.

“However, I’ve found something else.” The detective took out a separate file. “It's a long shot, but my source found a separate statement by a security guard admitted into New York Medical during the same day. He provided a recount on the incident on the street right across from Charles’ address, and it fits the time your fiancee visited him.”

He opened the file and sifted through several police reports and pictures. “There was a robbery at the bank he worked at and he was attacked. The details are a little fuzzy, since he passed out and got sent to the hospital. But he did mention one thing. A brave young doctor was there by his side.”

“That does sound like him.” Jane cracked a small smile. She played with the ring on her finger absentmindedly. “Always helping others in need.”

“I did a little digging and Officer David at the NYPD recounted a woman carrying him away.”

The detective looked over to Jane.

“I think it might be him.”

~

Donald Blake opened his eyes, breaking out into sweat. His heart was palpitating and he struggled to catch his breath. It was that vision once again. One that had plagued him for the past 4 days.

“Just a dream…”

He was in the bedroom of an apartment, one that had been stashed away by Sif during her mortal days.

Blake touched his engagement ring. All this while, he never forgot about Jane. He looked at his hands. Just two weeks ago, he had found out that he was, simply put, a reincarnation of sorts of the Norse God Thor. How real was Donald Blake? Was he just a shadow of Thor? Was he just a figment of existence meant to be a placeholder till the real Thor showed up?

He couldn’t face Jane till he found those answers. He couldn’t just walk back into her life if he was just gonna vanish once again when Thor fully takes over his existence, just as Sif had.

He looked over to his bedside where his old walking stick leaned against the wall. He reached out and grabbed it. It used to be that all he needed to do was to slam this hunk of wood against the ground and he would be the mighty Thor. Blake didn’t relish the idea of being wiped from existence but right now, the world needed Thor, not plain old Donald Blake.

Blake closed his eyes as he struck the floor with the stick. He opened one eye and examined his surroundings.

Nope, he wasn't in a body with rippling muscles. And there was no lightning or magical clouds circling overhead.

“Maybe it’s the wrong end,” he thought out loud. He flipped the stick and struck the ground once more.

No luck. In his dream, he saw Thor vanish into Mjolnir. Was it possible that Thor was in the walking stick?

“I must be crazy.” Blake looked at the stick in his hand and sighed. “Thor… I know you’re in there. Come on, Black Adam isn’t exactly scared of Donald Blake with a walking stick. We need Thor, the Thunder God. Your people need you. Heimdall needs you. Sif needs you. ”

“Are you talking to a stick?” Sif’s head poked in.

“I thought maybe Thor’s spirit resides...”

“Resides within a stick?” Sif said, her eyebrow arched. “Norse Men do not reside within any old stick. Are you ready? Heimdall is waiting for us.”

“In a minute.” Blake got up and headed to the bathroom.

Blake stared into the mirror as he stuck a toothbrush in his mouth. He looked exactly like himself, except that he’s standing on his own two feet, something he hasn't done in years. Normally Blake would have been over the moon about it, but he had more serious matters on hand.

Outside, he could hear the merry chirpings of Starlings.

9am.

Jane would be halfway through her morning espresso by now. With her eggs on toast, she can't cook anything else. Maybe even skipping breakfast altogether. She does that sometimes. With a sad smile, Blake grabbed himself a piece of toast and sat himself down.

For the past few days, Heimdall had tried to look into Kahndaq, the place where the portal had brought Thor, to gain an insight into their new enemy and more importantly, retrieve the artefact that he had stolen from them, but it had been in vain.

The Enchantress had conjured some sort of black magic to obscure the all-seeing eye. So the only way was to relive the encounter with Black Adam in order for Heimdall to see into Kahndaq. And since Thor and Blake shared the same mind, Blake had to be the one to do it.

To say it was painful would be a massive understatement. The first few times he tried it, Blake had passed out from the sheer pain of the recollection. He would feel the pain that Thor had felt during that encounter.

“You ready?”

“I never am.”

Heimdall placed his hands on Blake’s temples. “You have great courage, mortal.”

Blake forced a bitter smile. He had a hypothesis that the visions were a sign that the link between Thor’s mind and his were the strongest, and he hoped for the sake of his sanity that it held true.

Sif held his hands. “Just say the word and we’ll pull you out.”

“Don't.”

Blake looked to Sif, a plea in his eyes. He handed her a syringe. Adrenaline.

“Keep me awake no matter what happens. I'm done running.”

She nodded solemnly. Blake closed his eyes.

“Let's do it.”

~

Like the few times before, Blake felt himself being lifted, slowly. His consciousness floated up, higher and higher. He saw the entire New York City landscape in its full glory. Higher. He saw the clouds surround him like cotton candy. Droplets of moisture condensing on his warmth, and with nothing to cling to, fell down towards the earth. Higher. He felt the chill as the temperature dropped and the atmosphere thinned. He's seen it several times before, but it doesn't fail to amaze him. Every single time.

This must be what the gods see.

Then he plunged. The wind was merciless against his face, coupled with G-force and drag, warping it into an uncontrollable distorted mess.

Soon, Blake found himself back, standing in the dreaded dark place. He was dizzy from the change in motions and had a sudden urge to puke, but since he was somewhat of a bundle of energy now, nothing came out. Heimdall stood by and waited for Blake to go through with the motions.

Blake felt a sudden wave of anger wash over him.

“You do have your father’s eyes y’know, do people tell you that?”

He glanced over to Heimdall and they both knew what they heard. The recollection has begun.

Heimdall became motionless and his eyes glowed gold. Blake made sense of the surroundings. Right where they’d always been, Blake saw Black Adam lifting Thor by the neck, in a chokehold. This recollection was notably clearer and less fuzzy. It seemed his hypothesis did hold. The link was indeed stronger.

He had tried to leave the grounds previously but he didn't make it far before he passed out. He glanced around. There had to be something around here that would be of use. Something he hadn't tried before.

Blake noticed something he hadn't before. During the encounter, the Enchantress waved her hands as she chanted, before snapping her fingers and vanishing in a puff of smoke. Yet, for some reason, Blake could see a trail of green smoke. He decided to follow. She led him into a huge room with a raised platform, and atop the steps… an altar? Whatever gods they are worshipping here it doesn't seem like it would be the benevolent kind.

“EAT MY HAMMER!” The fight between Thor and Black Adam raged on, just as Blake remembered.

Blake suddenly bowled over in pain. He felt Thor’s ribs crack, and it drove him close to insanity. It was followed by several bruisings from crashing through multiple walls.

“Breathe… Deep breaths…” Blake gasped through deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. He picked himself up and dragged himself through the pain, up the steps leading up to the altar.

Enchantress was holding onto the spear on one hand and an amulet on the other. As Blake got nearer, he realised there was a body lying on top of the altar. A woman. Are they doing a human sacrifice? There was some twisted shit going on here.

Enchantress began chanting as green tendrils of energy forked out from her body. It took awhile for Blake to realise that the body lying on the altar was in fact, a dead body. A beautiful lady, eyes closed (thank god) and hands crossed across her chest in the shape of an “X”. There was a discoloration on her pale face, something not seen in normal cadavers.

It wasn't a sacrifice. It was an attempt at resurrection.

“Yes. Fear me, boy.” Blake heard the venom in his threat. The fight was ongoing.

Uh-oh. Blake braced himself, instinctively wincing. He knew what was coming.

Blake’s face contorted in pain as Thor’s nose was crushed, engulfing the rest of his face. Blake screamed blue murder. Heimdall’s left eye twitched ever so slightly. It was evident that the recollection blurred for a split second. Blake blinked, trying hard to keep himself in control. He needed a clear mind but he can barely keep his eyes open.

Ok, he made it without passing out. He had not made it this far before.

Another blow. Left shoulder.

Blake howled in pain, clutching his seemingly dislocated shoulder.

Again. Right knee. He collapsed onto the ground.

~

Back in the cottage, Blake was trembling uncontrollably in his chair. Sif held him down.

She was worried. Blood was dripping from his nostrils and ears. His fingers were frozen rigid, claw-like. It looked like a scene right out of a demonic possession movie.

Sif knew she had to keep him from passing out. She carefully threaded the syringe with adrenaline into Blake’s vein.

“Just a little more, mortal. Just hold on.”

~

Blake gritted his teeth. He didn't know how he’s holding on for so long. How was Black Adam so much stronger than a god that he's beating Thor into a pulp?

He looked up from where he was, curled into a ball on the ground. The Enchantress looked frustrated. The green tendrils of energy had disappeared. Did her resurrection fail?

“HEIMDAAAAAAAAAAAALLLL!” Thor bellowed. That was the cue that the fight between Thor and Black Adam was over.

It was a relief for Blake as much as it had been for Thor when Heimdall finally called down the Bifrost.

09:33 am 11 February 1958 - Asgard Safehouse, NYC

Blake opened his eyes. He fell forward in his chair, and Sif caught him.

“Did it work?” Sif inquired.

Heimdall nodded.

Sif flashed a relieved smile and hugged Blake. “You were amazing, mortal. I was wrong about you.”

“And I’ll accept that as an apology for tricking me.” Blake smiled weakly. “A serving of toast with eggs should seal the transaction.”

Sif hugged him again. She couldn't believe it. Who knew the fate of Asgard would lie in the hands of a mortal. A cripple. His body might not be much, but there was no doubt that Donald Blake had the heart of a hero.

“We need to move fast. Seems like Enchantress is attempting resurrection using the artefact.”

“Resurrection?” Sif gasped.

Before Heimdall could answer, an emergency beep came from the other room. Blake got up.

“I’ll go check on her.”

~

The beep was from the makeshift hospital bed Blake had set up. During the time Thor and Sif went to Wakanda to retrieve the artefact, Heimdall had located the host and whisked her to the safehouse. Blake didn't know if it was consensual, and had considered the odds of Heimdall being charged for child abduction but he figured since he was a god, he’d find a way out of it anyway. At least one of them had succeeded.

The girl was young, probably fifteen. She had been unconscious since the day Heimdall brought her in. Blake had hooked her up on feeding tubes and breathing apparatus to keep her vitals stable. He was unsure of her condition, there were no hospital records according to Heimdall. A private clinic maybe. He figured it was some sort of rare genetic disease from the way her body rejected every attempt to save her. It was something he hadn't seen before. She was getting weaker everyday and Blake haven't the slightest clue how to treat her.

But today was different. As Blake walked into the room, he felt her stir. He rushed to her bedside, pulling her hands to his.

She opened her eyes.

Blake had so many questions. “How are you feeling?”

“Water…” She muttered through parched lips.

Blake poured her a glass.

“I can't find your records anywhere. Who are you? What is your name?”

Blake couldn't believe his ears when she spoke next.

“My name is Chrissy.” She said. “Chrissy McNider.”

“You’re… her? I met your father a few weeks ago. Charlie? Christian?”

“Charles McNider.”

“Yeah… Charles.” Blake turned to Heimdall, who was standing behind him now. “Are we sure she’s the one?”

Heimdall nodded. “There is no mistake. She is the one. I do believe another of our comrade lies within her.”

“Who’s lying in me?” Chrissy rubbed her forehead as she tried to gain her bearings. “Who are you people?”

“Well, it’s kind of a long story…” Blake trailed off.

(2 hours and 48 minutes later…)

“Phew… Any questions?” Blake finally rested his head on the chair.

“So let me get this straight…” Chrissy began. “All of you are some Greek Gods.”

“Norse.” Heimdall corrected her.

“Norse gods. And you kidnapped me from my volunteering job in Connecticut-”

“Safeguarded.” Heimdall corrected her once again.

“Right. Anyway, all of this was to awaken this GOD within me with the help of this artefact that is not here because a man with the powers of the Egyptian Gods has taken it away for reasons unknown…” Chrissy said.

“Yeah. That sounds about right.” Blake sighed.

“HEEEEEELLLLLPPPPP!!!” Chrissy screamed at the top of her voice. “This is some voodoo shit!”

“Please, Chrissy…” Blake pleaded. “We are telling you the-”

Heimdall’s eyes glowed once more and it was as if he was in a trance.

“Heimdall?” Sif waved her hands in front of him.

Heimdall’s eyes returned to normal and he looked at Sif and Blake. “The resurrection has begun.”

Happy 2019 everyone!

Author: u/VerumFalsum

Book: Captain Marvel

Arc: The Modern Prometheus

Kasnia May 1958

“Captain!” Sergeant Johnson yells as pulses from an advanced beam rifle cut through the trees. How come none of these shield agents can protect themselves? I guess this is where I intervene.

With a wave of my hand, I send tendrils of lightning into the group of weapon smugglers. This is supposed to be a covert mission, how could have gone so far off course? Oh yeah it was because Fury failed to inform us that the Kasnia smugglers were in league with Latveria and their druids.

But I have my own brand of magic up my sleeves.

Entangling with a bolt of lightning, I dive into the crowd of overly-armed cultists catapulting them into the air. Even with their weapons and magic, they’re no match for the god’s inside me. I’m pretty sure the spark of Zeus could take them out by itself.

“Bïемn вēщjцатtu!” A soldier yells at me in Latverian. The wisdom of Solomon allows me to understand it just enough to know it’s definitely not a compliment and it was definitely aimed at me. I’m gonna have to give a few extra bolts just for that.

“Follow me, men!” I yell as I throw a supercharged ball of lighting at the name-calling soldier. With a second ball instantly in my hand, I overcharge a Kanian tank’s fuel tank causing a chain explosion through a small unit of men. Instantly, my agents surround the small amount of remaining weapon smugglers and force them to their knees.

“Where is Sportsmaster?” I ask the Kasnian mob boss sending a small amount of voltage up his jaw. This voltage is only enough to shake him up and cause a minor nosebleed, but it does it job perfectly.

“Двa мnли нa сaiвер. Вju плeниenните Kasnas.” He stutters spitting out a small amount of blood that had slowly trickled down over his lips. It takes a few second for us to find a translator, but soon a SHIELD issued translator runs into our group.

“He’s two miles… north... in the Kasnas … mountain.” Agent Locklear translates pointing to the peak of a mountain that judded out of the starry sky in the horizon, “We have three trucks ready to take us wherever, and I’m sure you won’t need that.”

“Copy.” I say pressing a button on my wrist, “Load up the captives onto the helipad for evacuating first. That’s top priority. Afterwards we can load up and head to the mountain. Double time.”

With a second press of the button, my agents start pouring out into the woods towards the camp. I was surprised that fury gave me my own agents, but he thought my powers and military experience would give me an edge to work up from. It is his reject pile as he called it, but it is a start.

Soon, I hear their engines perk up as they head down the dark, European woods and I blast off to keep ahead of them. With a thunderclap, I arrive at the mountains way ahead of the thundering trucks and check the area for traps. The Latverians were known for their devilish ingenuity.

Everyone from the mad queen, Cynthia Von Doom, to the lowest gorilla trooper is as cunning as a snake. They have to be. With a military of only a couple hundred boots, they have to rely highly on smuggled technologies and gorilla tactics to protect their country.

With a quick flash around the mountain, I find this is not the case. Sportsmasters luckily, is not Latverian.

As I complete my survey of the mountain, my agents are winding their way up the mountain. With a quick drop of altitude, Im making my way up in the front of the squad. Luckily the headquarters isn’t too high up the mountain.

Like a new nest of spiders, my men and I hurry up into the mouth of the cave and up to the metal gate that protects it from prying SHIELD eyes. Not that it could really protected them. As soon as we make it to the wall, Agent King is placing a series of high precision explosives to make a instant door.

With a thundering explosion, my men charge into the cave, guns aimed at anything they could. Only emptiness and silence great us in the cave. Either Sportsmaster has slipped out, or he was never here, and honestly, who knows which is worse.

Suddenly, there is someone in the cave. Dressed in a yellow jumpsuit, is an ancient looking man holding a large rifle. Those aren’t the most noticeable; instead, his glowing blue right eye is the first thing I see.

“Ahhh,” He groans, “Pests from SHIELDS. Please inform Fury that AIM says hi. Actually that might be hard to do since all of you will be dead.”

With this he steadies his cannon and pulls the trigger shooting a steady beam of some type of white energy that cuts through my men. On contact with the laser, my agents implode into a micro black hole. As my men all start to fall, I launch a ball of lightning that only dissipates on his orange jumpsuit.

“Welcome Captain Marvel.” He says re-aiming his weapon at me, “Goodbye Captain Marvel.”

He fires his weapon again, but directly at me this time. Time seems to slow down as the beam moves towards me. As the beam contacts my suit I can feel a strange blast of energy come over me. Instead of blackness, I feel the pull of a blood red force.

Red

“Gnaiih nommo, l' tharanak ya gof'nnn ot r'luhhor.” I hear as I wake up. In front of me, the twisted form of a lizard humanoid chants alongs with an eldric throng of cultists. Separating me from the cult is a series of rune marked bars.

“Welcome sssspark of the wizzzard.” The lizard said flicking his tongue,”Will you join usssss?”

“Who is ussssss?” I ask.

“You dare mock C’th?” he says slapping the bars of my cage before returning to a calm stature, “Neverthelessssss, we are the Nephilim, children of power. For agessss we children of godsssss never got our due. We are more powerful than the broken ssshellssss of humanssss that walk the earth, and more human than the uncaring deitiesss that watch from their thronesss of pride.”

“And? Why do you want me?”

“You’re a Nephilim too. Of more than one god in fact. We need your help.”

“Help with what? Can you please get to the point?”

“Just what I’ve been ssssaying. People are below usss and godssss don’t care. Thissss world sssshould be ourssss. If you ssssay yesss or no, it hassss no effect to our plan, we have thoussssandssss more of usss. If you ssssay yesss you can be part of sssssomething more, but if you ssssay no, you will be disssspossssed of. No big deal as you would sssay.”

“Woah, woah, woah! Don’t you think that’s a bit harsh?”

“Hahahaha! That’s exactly what the other wizzzzard chossssen sssaid. He’ssss being exterminated currently. Don’t tell me I have to ssssummon that dissssapointment Black Atom.”

“Wait Mar-vell is here. No, no, no, no!”

“He’sssss taken care of already. Don’t worry.”

Suddenly, an explosion rocks the cave. I knew it. I knew it. I knew it! Of course the cultists can’t handle a god-juiced kryptonian.

With the speed of kryptonian boosted lightning, Mar-vell bursts through the wall of the cave and shoots a hand through the scaled face of C’th. Instead of being attached to his skull, the stunned reptilian’s face js held in the bloodstained hand of Mar-vell.

“Oh, look it’s the Wizard’s newest recruit.” Mar-vell says moving the mouth of C’th like a terrifying puppet, “Now you get to see what prison is like. Hope you enjoy.”

“Mar-vell! What are you going to do to me?” I ask summoning a small ball of lightning in each hand.

“Do?” He says pulling back his hand through the lizards skull dropping both c’th and his mask, “Nothing at all. I’ll leave you here to die slowly. None of those gods give you extra time without water. Dehydration is quite… excruciating.”

With that, he jumps through the roof of the cave causing rocks to fall onto the other cultist crushing some of them. Mar-vell purposefully made sure his exit did just the right amount of damage as to not free me. I guess he does have the knowledge of some god, some kryptonian Solomon type.

I guess this is where I die.

Suddenly, the wall to my left explodes with lighting. Behind it stands a young man covered in the royal, Latverian, green cloak. In his hand, a ball of green lightning has formed.

“Who are you?” He asks in a thick Latverian accent.

“Captain Marvel,” I respond, “I work for shield. We need to get out of here, and hurry.”

“American,” He scoffs throwing the ball of lightning at , “should have known. Let’s go.”

“Wait, what can I call you?” I ask as I scramble out the fresh hole in the wall.

“Victor.” He says turning around to shake my hand, “Or maybe Dr. Victor if you wanted, or even Dr. Victor Von Doom if you’re just overly formal.”

“Oh,” I say pausing for a second, “So you are a royal Latverian.”

“Yes. My mom’s the queen, and my Father… Well he’s the reason I’m here.” He says as we walk out of the main room into the corridors that turned this whole area into honey comb. The walls are made of red dirt packed in behind thick sheets of seemingly randomly placed metal.

“Do you know who your father is?”

“Can we please just focus on escaping?” He asks giving me a glare that could cut glass. I guess we won’t be talking anymore. Yeah my favorite thing when walking through creepy, cult caves, silence.

As we round the next corner, an eclectic group of strange humanoid forms greet us. Some are definitely human, or used to be at least human, but there are several that look mostly alien or animalistic. All around them on the floor are the dead bodies of other similar looking creatures.

“Stand back.” Victor says as he shoots a ball of green lightning that chains to other enemies. As each tendril of lightning strikes, the arcane cultists are instantly evaporated creating a static cloud of neon dust. With each explosion, his lightning is chained even farther, and in an instant almost all of the room is cleared, almost.

From the center or the room, a giant skull headed creature rises from green ash. As he rises to full height, he charges us like a bull, his eyes glowing a bright red. Trying to slow him, Victor shoots a bolt of lightning that merely evaporates on the hulking frame.

“Got it this time.” I say as I uppercut the skull-head into the cave ceiling with a super-charged fist. With a burst of cave dust, the creature slams back to the ground incapacitated.

“Fantastic,” Victor says sending a high voltage shock to the head, “he shouldn’t wake up again. Can we go now?”

“Do you have any idea how to do that… Doctor?”

“Of course. Hit that wall right there as hard as you can.” He says pointing to the metal wall on the opposite side of the room. With a leaping punch, I slam the wall creating an electrically charged explosion. The wall gives way revealing the nighttime sky of some mountain range.

Suddenly, a helicopter lights up the night sky, and lands on the red rocky surface. From the cloud of red dust, Nick Fury walks out in his signature black jumpsuit. In his hand is a large rifle already trained at Victor.

“Captain Marvel,” He says, “We’ve just gotten word that Mar-vell has escaped. As for you, prince, I hope you won’t inform anyone of SHIELD’s activity on sovereign soil. I would hate to have to kill you, and I believe you’ll need our help with the runaway kryptonian.”

“Wait we’re are we?” I ask.

“Latveria.” Victor says waving his hand to display the mountain range, “Welcome to my home. As for SHIELD, my silence will only be upheld if you can deal with this villain. Otherwise I can’t promise the queen’s army won’t take out your agents in the crossfire.

“That’s a deal.” Fury says, “Let’s not start a war here, because believe me, the battle is most definitely coming.”

Author: u/WebWarrior420

Book: Daredevil

Arc: The Devil Can Fly

March 14th, 1958

Hell's Kitchen

Daredevil was momentarily stunned by the sheer absurdity of what he was looking at. In his brief time as a costumed hero, he had fought and heard about a wide variety of colorful villains and troublemakers. Kite-Man was taking it to the next level. He was snapped backed to the present from the sobbing sounds he heard coming from the broken window. Reacting instinctively, he threw his baton straight ahead, hitting Kite-Man straight in his stomach who let out a “hhrrrkk!” of pain and tilted backwards.

Almost as soon as his baton had left his hand, Daredevil began sprinting across the roof. He got to the edge and lept without hesitation. It was perfectly timed. He reached out with his hands and grabbed Kite-Man around his waist in a bearhug. His momentum pushed the two of them back even further; they went off balance for the flight suit at its current settings and the two of them began careening towards the ground

Kite-Man was stunned from the first blow but as soon as he realised he was going in the wrong direction, he fumbled around, trying to get his bearings. As soon as got the gist of what had happened, he received a punch in the face. He tried to get his hands up in time but was too late and received a right hook straight to the cheek. Angry and frustrated now, he began wildly throwing his own punches. A couple of them connected.

The two fighters were grappling with each other, each one trying to gain the upper hand over the other, while the ground was getting closer and closer. His suit immediately began beeping frantically and right before they could hit the ground, Kite-Man was able to adjust the controls on his flight suit and steered them away from the ground . . . and straight into the wall.

“SMASH!”

The impact was felt by both hero and thief; the wind was knocked out of both of them. Their momentum was cut down but they were still a good height up and still subject to the force of gravity. Almost immediately, the two of them hit the ground.

Both of them lay there, wincing in pain and trying to get there breath back; they had separated from the crash with the wall. Kite-Man was able to recover first and immediately went about adjusting his wings, which were in tangled mess, and checking for damages. It didn’t take long for Daredevil to get up as well. He had experienced his fair share of bumps and tumbles when he had first began using his batons to manoeuvre around the city. It was painful, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle and he forced himself into action again.

As soon as he was standing, he charged at Kite-Man almost bowling him over. The two of them went at it, in a rough brawl. The two of them were throwing punches at each other, trying to get in as many hits as they could manage. Kite-Man was less successful at knocking some in. His heavy gear was hampering him. Suddenly, Daredevil got a lucky punch into his stomach, causing Kite-Man to double down in pain. He stayed there, wheezing and gasping. Daredevil stopped for a moment to catch his breath keeping his arms raised just in case. Had he won the fight?

Suddenly he felt something heavy hit him squarely in his chest, knocking him over. His senses detected something metallic and mechanical on his chest. He realised what had happened. Kite-Man had been pretending to have taken a heavy hit. He had secretly been disconnecting a section of his flight suit. You didn’t need to be a genius like Ted Kord to work out what had happened next.

“Hah! That’s what you get for messing with Kite-Man!”

With Daredevil knocked down, he wasted no time in getting the rest of his equipment sorted. Happy there weren’t any damages, he packed up his wingsuit. He went over to Daredevil and snatched the remaining section

“Thanks for keeping this warm for me”

Daredevil felt a weight off his shoulders, literally. He took in large gasps of breath, getting his energy back. He rolled onto all fours, gasping for breath. He focused himself and tried to control his breathing. Just like he had practised. Soon Kite-Man had gotten his suit ready and was ready to go. He turned around and took another opportunity to gloat

“You know, for someone called ‘The Devil’s of Hell’s Kitchen’, you weren’t so tough!”

He chuckled, pleased with himself. He had stolen a good haul tonight and was ready to head off. Sure Daredevil was a bit of a setback but he had managed to beat him which, in all honesty, was actually a good thing. His street cred was going to through the roof when word of this would get out. It was a good night all things considered. He got himself ready to take off. He jumped, engaged his flight suit and felt the familiar sensation of soaring into the night.

“Oh No you don’t!”

Kite-Man suddenly felt a jerk pulling him downwards on his ankle. Undeterred, he adjusted the settings on his wrist controller and sent full power to his engines. It would reduce his flight time but hopefully it would help him get moving until he could work out what had happened. His pack whirred louder and seemed to be straining but at last, he was able to steadily start rising again. He looked down to see what was weighing him down and wasn’t too surprised to see Daredevil hanging onto his foot as tightly as he could.

In the time it had taken Kite-Man to boast and get his gear ready, Daredevil was able to get onto his feet and collect himself from the blow. He was barely ready to start moving again when he heard the sound of gears grinding and a motor running, becoming faster and louder. Kite-Man was just about to take off. Without thinking or dawdling, he ran towards Kite-Man, jumped and reached out in an effort to grab hold and ground him. He was just able to grab his ankle. He smiled to himself, he wasn’t gone yet. He felt the two of them move towards the ground. Just when he thought he had done, he heard the groan of the motors get louder and felt themselves move higher. Looks like things hadn’t gone exactly to plan.

Daredevil swung around wildly, buffeted by the air currents and G-forces. He tried to get his other hand up and strike Kite-Man wherever he could. He failed, multiple times. Kite-Man, in response, tried to shake him off and strike him with his other foot. He was more successful in getting some hits in, although given the circumstances, none of them hit very hard.

Daredevil realised he had more pressing issues to worry about. The kicks to the arms were the least of problems. He felt his senses getting overwhelmed. The force of the air on his body, the rush of the wind in his ears, the sound of pain. Did pain even have a sound? He wasn’t thinking straight. His muscles were aching from the strain of hanging on and the pain from his their earlier brawls were becoming harder to ignore. They were also climbing higher and higher. Just how high were they going to go? As high as a kite? Inspite of the pain in his arm, he hung on as tightly as he could, refusing to buckle. He couldn’t give up now.

Seeing that he wasn’t having any effect, Kite-Man tried a different approach. He steered towards the wall and moved his foot. There was a bit of an initial shock as Daredevil first hit the wall and then it he being both slammed and dragged across it as Kite-Man flew ahead. This was much more effective and Daredevil felt like he couldn’t hold on for much longer. He decided to try something different as well. Anything to get the upper hand. He somehow grabbed his remaining baton and fired it upwards. It was a shot in a million. The baton struck Kite-Man in the side of the head. He jerked his hands on the controls. The two of them swerved suddenly and hit the opposite building, once again falling towards the ground. This time Kite-Man had enough time and attention on his hands to course correct so they were flying again.

Kite-Man changed his controls so they flew upwards as fast as they could. This time, Daredevil couldn’t take it anymore. The most recent impact felt like the straw that had broken the camel’s back. He felt his hand slacken and the sensations around him change. For a brief moment, he was suspended in the air, upset that he had failed. Then he began falling. He was picking up speed, falling faster and faster. He felt bruised and battered. A small part of him thought to stop, to just let the fall happen. The stronger part of him knew he couldn’t do that. He forced himself to twist his body in the air and spread his arms out to slow down his descent.

He forced himself to hone his senses and work out his surroundings. He located full dumpster which would be able to gently break his fall, he hoped. The problem was that it was on the other side of the street. Time for some fancy fast footwork. As he fell past the side of the building, he turned his body and tucked in his legs, kicking out at what he thought was the right moment. He was successful. He was able to change his direction and move shoot towards the dumpster. Now for the hardest part. He braced himself.

“CRASH!”

He smacked against the rubbish. It was soft enough to cushion his fall. Not soft enough that it wasn’t painless however. He felt like all the air was kicked out of his lungs for the third time. He felt his bruises sting even more and was thankful for his armoured costume absorbing a good chunk of the blow. Daredevil let out a sigh of relief. The smell was atrocious and he would need to wash his costume at least three times to begin to get rid of the stench, but now he was safe. No more dangerously high flights with no protection. At least for now.

He felt his consciousness start to slip away and he struggled to hold on. He reflected briefly on what had happened. Losing his batons probably wasn’t the smartest move. He was used to flying through the air but he always had his batons to get him around. Those were what he used to get swing around and feel the air rush past him. They always made him feel secure and fast and he realised, now that he had experienced free-falling without them, that he had been taking them for granted.

He wondered what Stick would’ve thought of his latest performance. He bet Stick would’ve been furious. Stick had helped him in several ways. He had taught him how to fight properly and how to take a hit. Without Stick’s help, his current fight would’ve been a lot shorter otherwise. Stick’s methods were a bit more . . . direct, however. Daredevil disagreed with his methods and he had stepped away from him and his so called group, the “Chaste”. Daredevil chuckled to himself quietly, thinking it wouldn’t be too bad to have at least wound Stick up.

He forced himself to struggle through the garbage and climb out of the dumpster. It didn’t go as smoothly as he would have liked and he flopped onto the ground like some flailing fish. Luckily no one was around to witness him. He sensed something in the distance and smiled. His baton was lying on the ground, not too far away. He limped towards it and grimaced at the thought of trying to find the other one. The one from when he first attacked Kite-Man. He held himself together and started to walk roughly in the direction of where he needed to go. It had been a long night, and things were looking rough.

Author: u/Max1756 and u/cyanide-x

Book: Thor

Arc: New Beginnings

4:53 pm 20 January, 1958 - McNider’s home, NYC

Sif knocked on the front door, and waited. A young doctor with a birth defect, just as Heimdall had seen. It is imperative that this is the right one.

She wanted to make a good first impression on the God of Thunder, but her dirt-stained oversized white shirt and baggy cargo pants isn’t doing her any justice. Yet she knows there is no time to waste looking for fancy clothes. That was what her archaeologist host was wearing when she awakened, so that’s the disguise she’s stuck with.

Sif adjusted the obnoxiously large sun hat sitting comically on her head. The Sun, a symbol of strength, life and rebirth. Why do mortals fear it so much that they need to shield themselves from it?

The door opened, breaking her train of thought. A young man appeared at the doorway, wearing a white doctor’s coat. He leaned on his walking stick as he wobbled out unsteadily. Sif locked eyes with him briefly as he passed. For a mortal in his early 30s, his eyes were that of an old soul, his unusually azure blue eyes telling stories over hundreds of years, ones filled with courage and bravery. The fire burns strong in this one.

Sif realised that she was staring for too long. The young man was clearly uncomfortable as he shuffled off hurriedly. She turned her attention to the other young man who was standing at the doorway. He is also wearing a white doctor’s coat.

“And you are?” He asked.

“M’lord! It is I, Lady Sif, warrior of Asgard, defender of the Nine Realms. And I have come for thee!”

“Sorry, what? You people need to stop showing up unannounced.”

“My apologies, I may have gotten a little excited. But Odinson, there is no time to spare. Come with me m’lord, I will fill you in along the way.”

McNider frowned, visibly annoyed. “I have no clue what you’re babbling on about. If this is about the accident with my eyes then you have to come back another time. I’m done for today.”

“What is this ‘accident with your eyes’ you speak of?” Sif inquired. “I am looking for a young doctor with a defect since birth.” She gestured to McNider’s eyes. “Are you not born of blindness?” She squinted at McNider, trying to see past his pair of shades, contemplating. “You ARE blind, I assume?”

“Miss, your questions are nonsensical and your behaviour is appalling. I’m not answering any of them. You best be on your way.” With that, McNider closed the door in Sif’s face, leaving her speechless.

By Odin’s beard! Did I say something wrong? Sif double checked the address Heimdall had located the host to make sure she is at the right place. There is no way Heimdall is wrong on this one. He is never wrong.

Then, it dawned on her. The young man with the walking stick. His white doctor’s coat, the limp, the sense of familiarity. A young doctor with a birth defect. It all makes sense now.

I must have gotten the wrong one. I better hurry.

Sif swiftly set off in the direction she last saw him in.

5:05 pm 20 January, 1958 - Bank robbery scene, NYC

Sif landed, one knee on the ground, sword and shield in hand. She ditched her mortal disguise while Heimdall transported her using the Bifrost and now her Asgardian armour gleamed in the light as she raised her shield to parry the blow.

TWANG!

The shockwave from the blow sent Blake flying back. Sif turned towards him.

“I’ve finally found you… Thor.”

He seemed confused, but also somewhat relieved. But it became apparent that the blow was too much for his mortal body to handle and he passed out soon after. Sif was worried, but she had a score to settle with the Wrecker. This filthy weasel ain’t getting away, not after harming all these mortals.

A car was flung backwards, onto the oncoming traffic. A speeding car went headfirst into it, resulting in an explosion. In a distance, she could hear the blaring of sirens. Sif turned back to the Wrecker.

“What’s this? A woman?” the Wrecker sneered as Sif rose from the ground. “Get outta’ ma way before I grind you to bits too.”

Sif tightened her grip around her sword and shield, cracking her neck. It felt good to be out, after what, a few thousand years of slumber?

“Go ahead, mortal. It's not like I ever had someone try to kill me before.” Sif smiled as she raised her shield to deflect yet another of the Wrecker’s strikes. Her assailant had great strength, she’d give him that. For a mortal. Yet, his movement was slow and sluggish. Even Loki could disarm this oaf blindfolded with one arm behind his back. Sif decided to have a little fun.

“Come on, big guy,” Sif teased as she danced between the Wreckers’ rapid assault, effortlessly deflecting all of them before unleashing a barrage of blows to the Wrecker’s chest. “What’s all these big muscles for if you ain’t using them right?”

The Wrecker stepped back from the blows, unable to keep up with Sif’s movement. This was new. Someone had just effortlessly held off all of his attacks.

And not just anyone. A woman.

The Wrecker bellowed in frustration. “Hold still, ya lil’… “

“You bore me.” Sif yawned. It was frustrating that her first foray back into combat was with such a worthless opponent. There had to be a way that she could even the playing field. She is a god after all.

The Wrecker stared in disbelief as Sif let the weapons fall to the ground. She raised her fists. “Now, give me a proper fight.”

He clenched his teeth in anger. “YOU BITCH!!!!” He came barreling towards her in full force but Sif already knew how this fight was going to end.

She stepped in close and kept her body low to the ground, dodging his initial first strike. She used his momentum against him, loading him onto her body and throwing him over her shoulder in one swift movement.

The Wrecker landed with a loud “THUD”, cracks forming around the crater of his fall. The Wrecker tried to get up but felt a foot on his chest slam him firmly back onto the ground.

“Stay down, mortal. Or this will not end well for you.”

The sirens were getting nearer, and Sif lingered long enough until NYPD arrived to make sure the Wrecker gets the justice he deserved.

“Hey, look! It’s Superman!”

“No, you idiot. David, that’s a woman. And Superman doesn’t need swords.”

“Maybe ‘cause she’s a woman that’s why she needs swords?”

“Shhhh, before she hears us.”

Sif handed the Wrecker over to NYPD. She wasn’t a hero like Superman. Not yet. But right now, she had to proceed with her mission. She held Blake’s limp unconscious body close to her. In a flash of light, she was gone. Leaving nothing but a ring of scorched ground and a few confused policemen.

10:28 am 24 January, 1958 - Asgard safehouse, NYC

Sif sat beside Blake’s bed, setting down her cup of morning tea as she twisted a warm towel and placed it on his forehead. It had been three days since the fight and Blake was still in a state of unconsciousness. She had not realised that the impact of the blow had been so devastating to have caused that kind of damage. She should have been more careful.

“It’s not your fault.”

Sif turned around to see Heimdall leaning against the wooden door, arms crossed across his chest. “You couldn’t have known. Besides, you saved his life. All this trouble would have been for naught if he is rebirthed again.”

“But this sets back our timeline, which we don’t have the luxury of. We are Asgard’s last hope and yet,” Sif looked back at Blake, her emerald eyes soft. “I have failed him again.”

Heimdall walked over to Sif and placed a hand on her shoulder, comforting her. His eyes were gold.

“He is going to be fine. I know it.”

~

(Blake’s consciousness)

Blake sat on the end of the long table, a cup of mead in hand. He looked at the chalice, confused.

I don’t drink.

His eyes scanned around. There was a feast and people were dancing and drinking. A voice called out to him and he turned to his right.

“You were gallant out there today, my son.” An old man sat to his right, his eyes waning into little slits as he smiled. “A true warrior.”

“Pluto and his army of the dead shall never return as long as I stand!” Blake bellowed, much to his own surprise. This seemed like some sort of a reenactment, out of his control.

“I was right in picking you as the heir,” the old man continued. “You have shown great promise and honour to lead Asgard in my absence.”

“Do not speak of death, Father! I will not allow it.” Blake retorted. This is my father?

“Thor is right. This is a celebration, stop being a bore to our guests, Odin.” A lady sitting on his left spoke and Blake turned to see a graceful woman in her fifties, also smiling at him. They seemed to be laughing at something but Blake couldn’t hear anymore. An explosion hit, rocking the whole building and Blake instinctively closed his eyes.

The next time he opened them, he was face to face with a huge serpent, battling it out with the fearsome beast. The beast towered over him, baring its fangs, scaly body emitting a sick green glow. He found himself hovering in front of it, wielding a stubby hammer, sending bolts after bolts of lightning into its hideous face. And the next thing he knew, he was kneeling in a room, dimly lit by candles. The ground was still trembling from the explosions outside but all he could see was that Odin, the man whom he called his father, was lying still in a glass case in front of him.

“My son, Ragnarok has come. It came sooner than expected.”

“Where is Mother!” Blake could hear the desperation in Thor’s voice.

“Do not worry, we will tide this over like we have for a thousand years.” Odin closed his eyes, and seemed at peace. “For Asgard.” He muttered, before sealing himself in the case with a bright light.

Blake shielded himself from the light, and when it faded, he found himself in a hospital room. He was sitting beside the bed, holding his mother’s hand as he looked down on his father. The smell of hospitals always made him sick to the stomach. Not because of the iodoform, but of what it entails.

Blake recognised this; it was his own memory after all.

Richard Blake laid on the bed, exhausted. Years of battling with cancer has weakened him greatly. He mustered enough energy to whisper. “Don’t be bawlin’ yer eyes out, a man’s gotta die sometime.”

Donald looked to his mother. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying for the past week. His father was on critical watch and the hospital called whenever Richard’s situation deteriorated. This was already the fourth time this week. And Donald knew it was the last.

The next few hours were spent with his mother crying and weeping, and Donald trying to stay strong for her. From the first time he found out he contracted cancer, Richard Blake had been preparing his family for this. But goodbyes are never easy, and even with over 10 years of preparation, you’d always hope there is a way out of it. And there rarely ever is.

Donald watched as his father’s breaths grew weaker and weaker, his eyes slowly getting heavier. Richard had been a saint his whole life, dedicating his life as a combat medic in the frontlines. But the God of Death cuts no bargains. When it was time for him to go, all Donald could hear was the deafening beep as his father flatlined.

~

13:02 pm 24 January, 1958 - Asgard safehouse, NYC

“Dad!”

Blake gasped, as his eyes darted around the room frantically. He jolted up into a sitting position, and was met with two very concerned individuals.

It was that woman again.

Sif let out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding. “Oh, m’lord! Thank the high heavens! I am Lady Sif, and this is my fellow asgardian Heimdall.”

Blake could hear the chirping of birds, and the sound of rushing water nearby. A river, maybe? He held his head, grimacing, trying hard to remember. “Where am I?”

“Somewhere safe.” Sif took out a vial of liquid from her armour. “Drink this. Tears of Heidrun will help you regain your strength.”

Blake looked at it as she handed it to him. The liquid glittered, as if it had a life of its own. He gulped it down with one swift swig. He felt the rush and the pain was gone; the feeling was out of this world. If he had to compare, it was like Redbull, but only a hundred times better. Blake had so many questions in his mind, but with him being out for 3 days straight, naturally he needs a bathroom break. He started to get out of bed, but he couldn’t find his walking stick anywhere.

“Where’s my walking stick?”

Sif remained silent for a moment, then looked to Heimdall. “We have something we need to explain to you.”

“We come from Asgard, home to the great Asgardians-”

“I’m sorry… Asgard? As in, the birthplace of the Norse Gods?” Blake raised an eyebrow. “As in, the Old Gods that brought about destruction with a wave of their hands?”

Sif and Heimdall both nodded.

Blake laughed. “Ok, Strange. You can come out now. I admit this is a rather elaborate prank on your part and I admit this is pretty funny. What’s next? Hercules is going to come out and offer me a beer?”

“I don’t like him.” Sif remarked as she folded her arms. “Too touchy.”

“M’Lord,” Heimdall kneeled next to Blake’s bed and touched his forehead.

Instantly, Blake was transported to the top of a mountain where he could see as far as the eye could take in. He took in the breathtaking view as snow fell beautifully all around him. He looked over the edge and caught a glimpse of the numerous clouds and mountains below him.

“...how?”

In the blink of an eye, he was now in a body of water. A kaleidoscope of corals dazzled his eyes as a school of fish swam him by. Instinctively, Blake thought he was going to choke. He gripped his neck and flapped his arms frantically.

“This is what I see.” Heimdall’s booming voice spoke. “And now, I am sharing it with you.”

Heimdall lifted his finger off Blake’s forehead and Blake was immediately transported back to the dreary room that he was in.

“Y-you guys…you’re, you’re really…”

“Asgardians.” Heimdall completed his sentence.

“As are you,” Sif sat on Blake’s bed and touched his face. “m’lord.”

Blake looked into her eyes and something melted within him. Somehow, he knew this set of green eyes that made him feel at ease.

Blake broke her gaze and gently moved her hand away. “I’m engaged.” Blake tried to show her the ring.

“Engaged? What do you mean?” Sif grabbed Blake’s hand and examined it curiously.

“Sif, we are running out of time.” Heimdall tapped Sif’s shoulder.

“Under this mortal shell,” he gestured to Blake, who frowned disapprovingly, “lies a dormant Asgardian. You don’t know it yet, because his soul is split and contained elsewhere, in an artefact to be exact. Until then, you will have perfect control of your body.”

“So what happens after?” Blake tried to keep his cool as he took in whatever this golden-eyed black dude is spewing.

“You become Thor-”

Thor. Blake heard this multiple times before. First, this lady calling out to him, and then in his visions. He had no idea who this guy is but it seems to be related to him somehow.

“-during Ragnarok, Odin Borson casted a spell before falling into Odinsleep to separate all the Asgardians in 2, mortal and artefact, casting all of us into Midgard with the intention to wake and awaken us after Ragnarok passed. But he disappeared without a trace, so we Asgardians are left here on Midgard, stranded, living like normal mortals.” Heimdall grimaced, as if the thought was too much to bear.

“Ragnarok occurred thousands of years ago, and since then, our mortal hosts have been reincarnated over and over again, with the purpose of getting awakened one day. But in doing so, our mortal lives get shorter and shorter, and in serious cases, a birth defect.”

“You mentioned Odin, as in Thor’s father?” Blake exclaimed. Both Sif and Heimdall appeared surprised. “Ragnarok… Odin and the eternal slumber… I’ve seen it. In my visions, when I was out cold. The destruction, the battles, I saw it all…” He trailed off. “But, how?”

“His memories, you must be jumbling his memories with your own. Your weapon is close by, that might have been the reason why you appeared in his memories.” Sif explained.

“My weapon?”

“Thor’s hammer, the Mjolnir. Uh, we couldn’t move it so,” Sif chuckled nervously. “we built this cottage around it instead. It’s right there, in the next room.” Sif tilted her head in an exaggerated manner, gesturing. Blake could sense something was off, but he pushed it to the back of his mind.

Heimdall continued. “Your body is the host of Thor, the God of Thunder, one whom you’ve been experiencing visions of. He is the rightful heir to Asgard, ruler of the Nine Realms. The future of the people of Asgard depends on him. You have to awaken, mortal.”

“That’s bullshit. It all sounds like a fairytale to me.” Blake shook his head. There is just too much information for him to handle, and that’s coming from someone who has graduated from Harvard. He made a mental note to schedule a brain scan as soon as he could to look for any signs of abnormality. Blake suddenly sat up straight, thinking. “Wait wait wait, so you’re saying my birth defect, this limp leg, is the product of multiple rebirths?”

Heimdall nodded. “I was born a mute.”

Blake turned to Sif, eyebrows raised, questioning. She reluctantly replied. “Cleft lip.” When Blake continued staring at her, she pouted, “It was not a good time in High School for my other self.”

Blake was silent. He knew exactly how difficult it was. He was ashamed of his disability. The pitying looks that others give him, the judgement. Blake hates it, but there is no one to blame.

“This hammer, I want to see it. Help me up.”

Sif fumbled and handed him a wooden cane. It was nothing like his old walking stick, but it would have to do for now. With the help of Sif, he managed to get up.

He took a step. Sif immediately jumped out of the way.

“I’m sorry, mortal.”

The wooden cane striked the ground.

“What are you- AHHHHHHHHH” He started but was soon cut off as a bolt of lightning tore through the roof, searing his body. White light blasted from his eyes as he was wrecked by the lightning. Blake felt as if his body was getting vaporized.

Oh, that little shit. He silently cursed Sif for tricking him into awakening.

One billion joules of pure energy surged through him, and where there was pain previously, it was now replaced with power. He could feel energy levels skyrocketing. The cane had morphed into its true form, the Mjolnir, and was conducting electricity straight from the skies as he transforms into the God of Thunder. The lightning formed silver armour on his body, piece by piece, along with a magnificent red cape, and he admired all of it in awe. He could hear the cackling of thunder, feel it coursing through his veins, but it seemed to be getting further and further away, as if he was experiencing it through a TV screen.

This must be my soul slipping away.

The next thing Blake knew, he was standing in a dimly lit dungeon. Fog crept around his ankles as Blake tried to make sense of his surroundings.

“What… where am I?”

“I am not entirely sure as well.” The voice boomed. “I never really understood magic.”

Blake spun around to find a man sitting cross-legged in the dark, his back facing Blake. “You… I know you… don’t I?”

The man slowly got up, and turned around. He clearly towered over Blake, and his well-built body was draped in a huge white cloth.

A single word escaped his lips.

“Thor.”

“Yes, mortal. I am sorry for what is to come.” Thor took a step closer towards him. “But Asgard must rise once more.”

‘Wait, what are you…” He was cut off when Thor touched his forehead and a brilliant white light enveloped them both.

~

Thor felt a warm sensation on his lips. He opened his eyes but they were still adjusting to the light like a newborn. Yet, he did not need his sight to know the one before him. He broke the kiss, dropping his hammer and hugging her as tightly as he could, afraid that it would all slip away once more.

“Sif.” Thor said, tears welling up in his eyes. Sif caressed his face with her long slender fingers.

“Yes, m’love?”

“I’ve missed you.” Thor looked into her bright green eyes that shone like the stars. For too long, he has not gazed upon her beauty.

“And I, you.” Sif replied.

“M’lord.” Heimdall cleared his throat.“There are pressing-”

“HEIMDALL!” Thor bellowed as he swiftly reached over to hug the Asgardian god. “It has been too long.”

For the first time, Thor noticed his surroundings. “Where is this place? Is this Asgard?” He picked up his hammer and paced around the room. “Asgard seems to have gone through some… renovation.”

“That’s the thing we wanted to discuss m’lord.” Heimdall looked over at Sif.

“This is Midgard.” Sif said, crossing her arms. “The Allfather scattered us all here when Ragnarok arrived.”

“So Father’s plan worked…”

“Yes.”

“Who else is there?”

“You are looking at all that is left of the Asgardian race, m’lord.” Heimdall spoke slowly.

Thor shook his head. “Just the three of us? We’re all that’s left of mighty Asgard?”

Thor closed his eyes in disbelief. It was absurd to think that the great Asgardians, guardians of the Nine Realms, would be reduced to such a pathetic state. They barely had enough numbers now for a game of chariot racing.

His missed his goats, Toothgnasher and Toothgrinder. He remembered the cold freezing winds on his face as they raced, hoofs thundering across the lands like a stampede. They easily crushed any competition there ever was. Their absence fueled a rage within as he reminisced the times that he had on Asgard with everyone he held dear.

He longed for the times Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg were by his side as he crushed wave after wave of frost giants. Of them having jugs of mead after securing victory, only to be called away by the royal guards to see his father. And his mother, Freya, smiling at him as she sat next to Odin, who would once again be reprimanding him about his foolhardiness, all the time while Loki sulked in the background as usual.

All of it gone.

“M’lord, fear not. We will restore Asgard once again. In fact, I have located the artefact to awaken the next Asgardian.”

All eyes fell upon Heimdall as he continued.

“It would seem that it is a place called… Wakanda.”

Wakanda?

Thor looked at Sif, then at Heimdall. “Did you say something?”

Sif and Heimdall both looked at each other, puzzled.

“Forgive me. It must be the wind. Let us be away, to this place called Wakanda.”

Author: u/JPM11S and u/VerumFalsum

Book: Captain Marvel

Arc: The Modern Prometheus

HAL JORDAN’S FUNERAL - February 8th, 1954

They’re burying an empty casket. They never found the body. I don’t know if that makes it any easier or not, the lack of something to cry over. Not that I’m crying or anything. No, the ability to do that was beaten out of me years ago.

Oh, my name is Carol Danvers by the way!

And Harold Jordan, Hal as most knew him, was my best friend, but now his dead body’s is lost somewhere.

He was in an accident. Was testing a new plane just like his dad. You know, it’s kind of funny that both Hal and his old man went out the same way. I’d call it poetic justice, but it’s more like poetic injustice. He was really taken from us too soon.

Anyways, I’ve always hated funerals. Always so many people crying and wailing and all that stuff. Like Carol Ferris over there. She and Hal were dating… I think. I’m not actually sure. But I do know that they cared for each other. As a matter of fact, that’d been friends since they were kids. I don’t really have any friends. Sure there are people I’m friendly with, but my only real friend was Hal.

But yah, enough of me reflecting on my loneliness! If you hadn’t figured this already, Hal was a test pilot for Ferris Air. Why else would be have died testing a plane? I mean, I guess he could have stole it. I’m a test pilot for Ferris Air as well. Got hired after I was dishonorably discharged from the air force, (along with Hal but that’s a different story).

Back to the funeral though. There are loads of people from Hal’s family here. His cousins, aunts and uncles, and all that jazz. Most everyone from Ferris Air is here. Perk of everyone liking you I guess.I think everyone liked him at least. Carol is still crying by the way, just wanted to point that out.

Hey look! What do you know! I think Carol is about to stop her blubbering! She’s getting up! Wait… that probably means she going to go give a speech. Shit.

Yup, she’s on the stand right next to that really bad picture of Hal. Maybe I can catch up on some sleep?

“My name is sniff Carol Ferris. As you all know, our beloved sniff Hal is dead. He was a great, great man, just like his father. When we were kids --”

Ok, I’m about to cut her off.

“Get over with it!” I shout.

Ah shit… everyone is looking at me. Think of something quick.

“What? We all knew Hal. We all know what he was like!”

Hopefully that will do it.

Nope, still staring.

I think they want me to leave now.

Should I leave?

Naw.

I’m just going to slink down in my seat…

“Continue.”

Oh, and Carol isn’t crying anymore by the way.

“When we were kids, Hal and I used to watch the planes go by. I remember Hal sneaking away from school, or just not going, so me and him could watch. We would talk about the planes that were flying that day, or maybe even what wanted to do when we grew up. Hal’s answer to the latter was always the same. ‘I want to be a pilot’ he’d say. When he joined the Air Force, I was so proud, mostly though just because he had actually made it through without getting kicked out. He invited me once to watch him fly. Sitting there, I watched him soar high above me. He was finally a pilot, like he always said he would be. Then one thing lead to another and he was dishonorably discharged. That couldn’t clip his wings though…”

She’s about to cry. Wait for it… wait for it… there we go. Damn, it’s like she never stopped. Probably going to end there.

Yup, looks like things are wrapping up now. Time to make my escape quietly and hope no one bothers me.

Hey look, Carol is about to bother me. And she stopped crying! Somehow!

“Carol, we need to talk.” said Carol Ferris.

“What is it, other Carol?”

“Funny. Now that Hal’s gone, we’re going to need someone to take his place. Fitting it should be you.”

“And what place did he have exactly? Besides a place in your pants, of course?”

“I’m just going to ignore that. I want you as our lead test pilot. Means you get the big stuff now.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Then who else?”

“I don’t know, sure Rhodes would be up for it.”

“Too bad he’s still part of the military.”

“Good point. Smith then?”

“No. Are you seriously trying to get out of a pay raise?”

“I get a pay raise?”

“Yes…”

“Well why didn’t you mention that!”

“I mean… I...look, you’re getting a promotion, just sigh here.”

Several near-death experiences, one marriage, and one kid later…

STEWART RESIDENCE - January 24th, 1958

I married a black guy. What can I say? John Stewart is a great guy. Billy Batson Stewart ain’t bad either (just kidding, he’s the best thing in my life, sorry, John). This is the part where I montage through my daily routine, so here we go…

So first I wake up at around… oh… 6:30? Not really sure, Billy tends to wake me up earlier for some reason, whether it be to watch cartoons with him or what not.

Then I eat breakfast. Usually either John or I cook something, and usually if it’s John, it’s burned. I love him to death but, it’s really a surprise he’s able to keep a government job with how distracted he gets.

Usually after that, I’ll read the paper, and I mean read in the loosest terms. I usually just skim the headlines on my way out the door. Which was what I was doing that morning. I remember the headline “First Japanese Astronauts Chosen, and One is a Woman?” sticking out like a sore thumb. I think I heard John talking about them helping out over at work and how impressed he was at their English.

I started reading the rest of the article, before I realized I would be late for work. This is why I only skim. Time to “beat feat,” as some of these hippies call it. It has to be the lamest slang since “agitate the gravel,” but I really should be doing that right about now.

Then comes the next portion of my daily routine, test piloting. It’s a great paying job and hell if it ain’t fun, especially when I get a new toy. Most of the time it would just be testing small things, like new lever grips or button resistances, but on days like today, I could try cutting edge motors or wings, or best of all, a new jet.

“This baby’s got twice the power and three times the reliability of the GE J47!” Ernest said patting down the wing of the experimental bomber. The Warbird, as it was called, held in its wings two of the most cutting edge nuclear jet turbines. I couldn’t wait to get in its pleather cockpit, and take to the sky, and that’s just what I did. A few moments later I was performing aerial stunts above the runway.

Suddenly, a blip appeared on my radar. It was small and it was going fast, too fast. It’s trajectory seemed to be angling near me.

“Tower, this is warbird,” I said into my radio, “Something on radar, moving fast. Waiting for instructions? Copy.”

“Warbird, this is tower. Thing appears human. Do not react, most likely Superman. Let him be. Copy.”

“Agreed.” I finished, “Will keep formation. Copy.” As I put down my radio, I checked the radar again. “Just Superman.” I said to myself as the blip seemed to readjust to get closer to me.

Immediately, a green and gold man appeared out of a cloud a couple kilometers away, but I could see he was moving closer, quickly. That wasn’t Superman, it was a man, but that wasn’t Superman. Whatever that thing is, it’s speeding directly towards me.

As he grew closer, my control panels and gauges all started flashing unknown red. I tried to call for help, but my radio just started speaking in a strange language, something definitely not English. At the same time, my glass started freezing over. Before I could even figure out what was going on, I felt a world shattering jolt as the man slammed into my ship.

THE ROCK OF ETERNITY - ???

I looked around the… cave? It could really only be as physically described as one could physically describe an emotion or a color. It was kinda dark and cold, and the area felt like a thunder cloud. Static floated through the humid air, and seemed to cause the place to glow without any noticeable lights.

“Come.” a voice called lifting me up and drawing me forward. It seemed to originate from all the corners of the cave, but I still seemed to know where it came from. It came from a dark doorway on the far edge of the room.

I crossed the room in a matter of seconds and peered into the deep. On the other side of the door was a room and in the center was a sphere of mist which glowed with a pale red light. I walked toward it and reached into the mist, and as my hand passed into it, it seemed to pass into me.

Like a dream, I stood on a cloud, or more accurately, I was the cloud. I… it floated over a battle, a battle I was fighting in alongside an large, green ogre, Captain America, a metal man, and… that thing which had attacked me. Was I a super villain here? Was this vision the future, an alternate universe, or maybe just a lie?

Red

I was a different cloud now, or maybe the same cloud, but definitely a different scene. It was a funeral, my funeral. All the people I knew and were there. Hey, at least my death drew a crowd.

“Cancer took her from us all to soon,” I heard the minister say, “but she died as she lived. A hero.” Wow! So glad my mom got the boring minister, I wouldn’t want it anyone other way. But hey! At least Superman was there! For some reason… along with a guy in a bat-costume… and a guy in red spandex… and a guy in green spandex. Why is there so many guys in spandex?

Red

I stood back outside the cloud, which had now disappeared. Instead, an old aboriginal man stood in front of me. The man has dark wrinkled skin and long, white hair, but physically, he was as hard to describe as the cave, and now that I think about it, he had that same dark, static aura around as the cave.

“Carol Danvers, you have been chosen.” He said lifting his decrepit hand.

“Chosen? By what?”

“Shazam!” He thundered sending little sparks of lighting down his hair and beard.

“Sha-what now?”

“I grant you the wisdom of Solomon, the strength of Hercules, the stamina of Atlas, the power of Zeus, the courage of Achilles, and finally the speed of Mercury. These legends will give you the power you need to face the trials set before you.”

“Trials, and gods, and whoever you are. What? Where am I?”

“Carol Danvers, clear your thoughts, or I will be forced to choose another. You are at the rock of eternity, and yes you have trials before you in the future, as all great heroes have. Your first test is looming even nearer.”

“Ok, ok…” I said slowing my breathing, “what’s this first trial?”

He moved to the side of the room and with the wave of his hand, a cloud screen appeared and showed a man, the man, the one that attacked me. Beside my attacker stood a man dressed in a black suit with a large, golden lighting bolt on his chest.

“These are Mar-vell and Black Adam. Foolishly, I had previously granted the powers of the Shazam to them, but they have turned dark. I have forseen that the child of Odin will deal with Black Adam, but you must deal with Mar-Vell.”

“I get I was chosen and all that, but I’m still human, what am I supposed to do against this man that can fly faster than a nuclear jet and break through steel?”

“Say the name.”

“What name?”

“You already know, feel it within you. Speak my name!”

“Um… SHAZAM!” I yelled as a bolt of lightning surrounded me. I could feel it around me and within me changing every ounce of my being. Suddenly, I was someone else, something else.

“Good, now be gone.” The wizard said with a flick of his staff. Out of it came a second bolt of lighting which once again enveloped me in red. I felt it pulling at me, taking me somewhere else.

I was now in the sky, back in my original position, but not in my jet, because that was on the ground in a thousand pieces. No, I was not in the jet. Nope, I was supposed just falling. Wearing a new suit of red and blue sure, but still falling.

Author: u/Max1756 and u/cyanide-tx

Book: Thor

Arc: New Beginnings

A long time ago, Celestial Heliopolis

Isis sat, watching her little brothers Seth and Osiris play with the puppy. She didn’t know where it came from, or who it belonged to, but something about watching adolescent 13-year olds chase after baby dogs just puts a smile on her face.

“Don’t you just miss those days, sister?”

Bastet ambled over, grace and elegance exuding from her skin like an aura - a true Goddess. She was draped in baby blue overalls, ending in suspenders and gold jewellery over her shoulders. From the looks of it, she was prepared for the ceremony.

Isis looked at her own white dress sheepishly. She handpicked it personally from the city’s best tailors, but somehow in comparison to Bastet, she looked like a little girl.

“Yeah, when all that matters in the world was how much fun you had.”

“And whether you make it back in time for dinner before Father loses his shit.” Bastet sat herself down next to Isis. “So, are you prepared for the Blessing of Ra? It’s finally your 18th birthday and Father has been looking forward to this day.” She bent over and whispered into Isis’ ear. “He’s even invited Bes, to bless you with good luck. I’m so jealous!”

Isis rolled her eyes. Their father always had a tendency to make a big deal out of everything. Which made her even more unsure of the whole blessing thing.

“Hey sister Bastet, so how did you decide which path to take… you know, when you did it last year? How did you know it was the right one?”

Bastet placed a hand on Isis head, and rubbed it. Isis hated it whenever anyone did that. It made her feel like a child.

“Silly goose, there is no right or wrong. The Path of the Goddess is as fluid as the zephyr winds that blow, and ever-changing like the rivers, with their constant ebb and flow. You just have to be true to yourself, that’s what’s important.”

“But… aren’t you afraid? We have to serve the mortals, but what if they….” Isis looked down as she shuffled her feet. “... hate us?”

Bastet laughed, her joyous mirth resounding across the green veld. “Hate us? My sister, that’s the last thing we should be worried about! As Goddesses, we seek to lead, to teach and to guide. Those who follow our teachings will worship us, and those that do not will find other Gods.”

Bastet’s eyes twinkled with burning passion as she continued, the same way Isis had witnessed last year as Bastet recited her rites.

“I sought the Path of Balance; of the dark, the light and all that is between. I saw the hardships faced by mortals and I want to free them of it. I seek to empower the weak and grant them strength beyond their dreams. I seek to uphold justice, to protect the good and eradicate all that is wicked.”

“And that was when Father blessed you as the Panther Goddess?” Isis asked eagerly, even though she already knew the answer.

“Yes, and everyday since then I have been serving my mortals, teaching grace, humility and forgiveness.” She looked over at Isis and gave her a tap on the nose. “Besides, if you have no ill intent, there is nothing to be afraid of, sister.”

Isis nodded. She had been worried about this day for ages, but right now she’s brimming with confidence and excitement. She can’t wait a moment longer.

A horn sounded, signifying that the ceremony is in a few moments’ time.

“Good luck out there, sister. My eyes will be on you.”

Isis took a deep breath as she headed towards the Grand Hall.

Blessing of Ra Ceremony - Grand Hall, Celestial Heliopolis

“It is time again. Rise, my fellow people, as we commemorate my daughter’s 18th birthday!” Ammon-Ra, the last of the Ogdoads, beamed like a proud father. “We have assembled today to witness yet another day of womanhood. This day, my daughter will choose her Path as she blossoms into a Goddess!”

The hall exploded into cheers as trumpets and horns sounded in celebration. It was Midday, and the sun-disk sitting in the centre of the hall reflected the mighty Sun, casting yellow and gold light all around.

Isis sat with her two other sisters as she prepared to receive her Blessing of Ra. Half-sisters to be exact, just like Bastet. They had different mothers, but Ammon-Ra treats them one and all the same.

“I’m so excited for you to finally become a Goddess! You’ve waited your whole life for this!” Hathor, Goddess of Cow, exclaimed in excitement.

“Finally, you’re not a useless piglet.” Sekhmet, the Goddess of Lion just looks bored, and couldn’t wait for it to be over. “This ceremony thing is such a drag.”

“Can’t you just be nice for once?” Hathor frowned at her sister Sekhmet before turning to Isis. “I can’t wait for you to finally serve the mortals and have people respect and worship you! Look at me, I’ve got sooooo many followers!”

Isis forced a smile, but before she could reply, Ammon-Ra called out her name.

Isis hurried up towards him.

“Isis, my youngest daughter. Always the quiet and kind one.” Ammon-Ra looked straight into her eyes, and she could see the sparkle in his eyes. “What do you seek?”

“I seek…” Isis faltered. Her eyes darted around. Thousands of eyes stared back at her.

Waiting. Expecting.

She looked back at her father. His eyes never once wavered as he waited for his daughter’s answer.

“I seek the Path of Mortality; of humanity, healing... and death.”

Isis could hear a collective gasp from the crowd, but she didn’t care as she continued.

“I see empathy, compassion and love, but I also see jealousy, vengeance and cruelty. I see mortals too selfish to give, while others too sick to receive. I see inequality in creation, and I seek to be the giver of life. I seek to walk amongst them, to heal, protect and guide them as a fellow mortal.” Her eyes burned with conviction. “I seek to change the world.”

The whole room was silent. Isis held her father’s gaze. She couldn’t really make out what he was thinking. Would he be proud? Would he be supportive?

Ammon-Ra finally spoke, his voice echoing across the hall. “I always thought you were special, different. Humanity ain’t kind, my daughter, but you have made your choice.” There was pain in his voice. “By the grace of the Sun, the lord almighty, I bestow upon you the wisdom and magnanimity of Ra. And I hereby pronounce you, Daughter of God.”

The crowd broke into a cheer. Ammon-Ra reached and held Isis’ hand, and a bright light ensued. When it faded, an amulet laid in her hands. “This amulet shall grant you powers befitting the Gods, should you call for it. Remember, it only answers to those pure in heart, as is yours.”

“Go change the world, my beloved daughter.”

Isis smiled as celebratory music blasted, and the feast began.

She did it. She’s finally a Goddess.

3:28 pm 24 January 1958 - Wakanda

W’Kabi scanned the area as he sped in his vibranium-powered cruiser, his senses going on full alert. Proximity sensors had alerted them to a possible breach, and he was sent by the Border Tribe to investigate.

It’s probably another false alarm, some wild elephant that got lost.

Still, W’Kabi heeded the king’s command. The Wakandan King T’Chaka was the revered Black Panther, and his words were absolute. With all that has happened these past few weeks, it’s only natural that he wanted to step up border security. Ever since they uncovered a metal spear a few months ago, the breaches started happening more and more frequently. It was almost as if it was calling out to other life forms.

W’Kabi glanced up just as an automated voice beeped. “Destination coming in in 5000 yards north from your position.” He hope it’s an african lion; he hadn't seen one in forever.

W’Kabi came to a stop as his cruiser burst into a clearing. He opened his pod, taking in the smell of fresh grassy fields. He programmed his sensors to scan his surroundings. If there were any signs of intruders, it would show up.

His radar flashed red, detecting three targets.

In a distance, he could barely make out a lone figure. There was a circle with weird markings, seared into the ground by some mystical energies.

W’Kabi’s body tensed, instantly flipping his shield cape defensively.

“Intruders confirmed. Notify the king immediately.” He said into his radio.

Another light beamed, colours of the rainbow flowing from the very heavens. It was mesmerizing. W’Kabi stared, completely entranced.

His sensors had detected three intruders but he only witnessed two. Where was the last one? W’Kabi proceeded forward with caution, keeping his footsteps as quiet as possible. He wanted to take a closer look.

In the shadows, a figure slipped past undetected.

~

“Halt, in the name of King T’Chaka.”

Thor looked up to see an army of soldiers. They seem to be clad in heavy red infantry armour with capes, carrying ancient-looking spears. Midgard seemed to be looking more and more like a dreary place. Thor wondered if time actually goes backwards in this realm.

“We come in peace, mortals.” Sif started.

“How did you find this place, and how did you bypass the energy barrier?” The one they called King stepped forward, inquiring. He was around six feet tall, in his fifties, dressed in a sleek black suit. Thor cringed at the thought of how this man’s manparts would feel, all scrunched up in that tight black suit.

“We’re gods. We bypass everything.” Thor said, playfully tossing his hammer in the air. “We’re the good guys, by the way.”

“The only god is the great Bast, Goddess of Panther. You are no god, and you are not welcome here. I command you to leave immediately.”

Thor looked to Sif, feigning a look of concern. “Oh, the mortal commands us, shall we leave?”

“I won’t ask a second time.”

“And neither will we.” Sif brandished her sword. She didn't want to use it, but if it comes down to it, she will. “We have to get that artefact today.”

“What artefact?”

“I believe it’s a spear.”

“You know something about it?”

“All we know is that it is of Asgardian descent.”

The king paused, contemplating. Thor could tell he knew something about it.

“Easy.” He signalled to the Border Tribe to stand down, before beckoning Thor and Sif forward.

“Come with me.”

~

Where the hell is the spear?

The plan was simple. Infiltrate, steal the spear, and teleport out. No one would know. It was almost foolproof, she thought. Except for a small problem. The spear is nowhere to be found.

Adam would be so mad if she failed this.

She had been able to track the magical trail to Wakanda but now that she’s here, the magic in this place is disrupting her senses.

She rounded a corner and was instantly face-to-face with two guards.

Before they could call out, she flicked her wrist, making them grasp their throat for air, choking. She twirled her fingers, her long black nails dancing like little menacing demons. The guards slumped to the ground, sound asleep.

“Sweet dreams, my darlings.”

She could hear the sound of more people approaching. She had to get that spear. Failure was not an option.

Time for Plan B. She opened a portal to let them through. They weren't exactly her favourite bunch - big dumb dimwits. But they were exactly what she needed to keep the Wakandans busy.

~

5:00 pm 24 January 1958 - Mount Bashenga, Wakanda

“You really can’t be too careful these few years, with the War and everything. All the fighting and the killing. The barrier was what kept our people alive.”

“But I hear Superman’s been running around. Flying, rather. Surely, the world is safer because of him.”

“Ah yes, a great man, that one. But even the man of steel himself can’t save everyone. Goddess Bastet has blessed us Wakandans for centuries and we intend to keep it that way.”

T’Chaka was leading them across a long corridor. It was spacious, and lit with a light blue glow, reflected off the shiny curved metal-laced walls which seemed to go on endlessly. Doors pan out on both sides, probably made out of plaster, or really good quality wood. There was a distinct musty smell in the air. Thor admired the architecture - a mix of modern technology and ancient designs, the latter mostly there out of respect for bygone days.

“I like what you’ve done with this place.” Thor remarked. Somehow, Wakanda brings back bittersweet memories of his home in Asgard.

The king bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement as he continued. “We found the spear months ago, while digging up vibranium. Stubborn little thing, it was. Tried infusing vibranium into it countless times but was rejected. Seems to be made of a foreign kind of metal, extremely durable, while also very unreactive.”

“Uru. Forged from a star, its magical properties unrivaled. A metal of the gods.”

The army from before had dispersed, leaving only T’Chaka and his royal advisor, a man named S’Yan.

Thor could see that King T’Chaka was uneasy whenever he talked about gods. Maybe it's their culture, maybe it’s something else.

Thor glanced at his reflection, reflected off the shiny polished walls. He still carried his battle scars, his father’s lightning blue eyes, still wielded his mighty Mjolnir, but something was off. Ever since the awakening, he knew something was different. He felt a little less heroic, but he wasn’t sure what it was, just different. And he didn’t like it at all.

He was met with a pair of crimson red eyes staring right back at him. Eyes he knew all too well. Cold, bloodshot eyes of a Frost Giant.

“Get down!” Thor yelled as he threw his hammer. The Mjolnir ricocheted off the vibranium walls, not even denting it while reverberating with a low humming sound. Lightning danced and sizzled from the hammer, withering against the metallic walls. The Frost Giant smiled before dissolving away; it was merely a reflection.

“M’lord!” Sif’s voice was a mixture of shock and confusion.

“The Frost Giants are upon us, on this very mountain. I’d recognise those sons of bitches anywhere!”

“But, it’s impossible!” Sif leaned in as she whispered. “The Casket of Ancient Winters was destroyed during Ragnarok. There is no way they could-”

“I know a filthy Frost Giant when I see one.” Thor cut her off. He turned to King T’Chaka. “We must hurry. If the Frost Giants are here in Midgard, your people are in danger.”

5:34 pm 24 January 1958 - Mount Bashenga, Wakanda

Thor skidded to a halt as he kicked open the giant doors leading to the Wakandan Design Laboratory. He identified a total of fifty giants give or take, armed with makeshift blades fashioned out of dark ice. He’d battled Frost Giants before so he knew exactly how to deal with them. Gnarly dumb creatures, all of them.

“Shuri!” King T’Chaka had sprung into action. He bounded on all fours as his mask materialised. He leapt, twenty feet into the air. The Black Panther landed straight onto a giant towering over a young Wakandan scientist, unsheathing his claws to slash it.

“Go, alert the others and get to safety!” Black Panther had bought just enough time for Shuri to get out of danger with S’Yan. She hurried out of lab along with S’Yan close by, who gave a respectful nod to T’Chaka before leaving.

Thor had got to admit, this T’Chaka guy is actually pretty cool.

Thor started to swing his hammer, gathering momentum. He charged towards a giant and brought his swinging hammer down to the ground.

BAM!

The shockwave knocked it back, and it tumbled airborne ungracefully, flailing helplessly before getting impaled on Sif’s unsheathed sword. She staggered backwards in surprise. Thor brushed his hair back and winked, as if it was all planned. Truth is, half the time he had no idea what he was doing. One of the many perks of being the Thunder God - the hammer does all the work, all he gotta do is swing it. And look good while doing it.

“Where is the spear!” Thor shouted over to King T’Chaka. He had a mission and he was going to see that it is completed.

“Down the hall, by the vault on the left.” T’Chaka barely managed to slip this out before disappearing again into the sea of stinking Frost Giant limbs.

“Go, m’lord. I’ll hold them off.” More Wakandan soldiers had arrived and with Sif holding the helm, Thor left to search for the spear without another word.

These Frost Giants must be coming from somewhere. Creatures of Jotunheim do not simply appear on Midgard without reason. Something larger had to be in play here.

Thor realised something was wrong right when he reached the vault.

It was open.

He rushed in to see another Wakandan scientist held captive. The poor girl was suspended in a green prism while she struggled frantically in futility. Her body was contorted, writhing in pain. A cloaked figure stood beside, holding on to the spear. A Frost Giant was by her side.

“Thanks for telling me where it is. Although I must say, you did last longer than any other mortal did. The pain…” She trailed off dreamily as her body shuddered with pleasure. “It really drives you crazy, doesn’t it? In the end, they all talk. Anything for it to end, to stop the suffering.”

The cloaked figure flicked her wrist, ending her spell. The scientist fell to the ground, trembling.

“Kill her now. And then return home, Grundroth.”

The Frost Giant Grundroth stretched out his arm, dark ice forming around it.

“NO!” Thor shouted as he ran forward. The cloaked figure turned and disappeared with a dark smoke.

But he was too late. His eyes widened in horror as he watched the ice spear pierce through her heart, ending the young girl’s life in a split second.

Grundroth broke off the spear as another one materialised. He turned to Thor and they locked eyes briefly. Like a javelin, he tossed it straight at Thor.

Thor swatted it off effortlessly without breaking stride. With a swift swing, he brought his hammer up towards Grundroth’s chin and he heard an audible crack, sending him flying forty yards backwards.

Thor fell to the ground beside the girl, completely devastated. Blood was pooling around her body like a bright red carpet, before turning into a darker shade of maroon as the blood freezes. He hadn’t realised how cold it had gotten. She was a mere child, the girl. Probably a filial daughter with a blessed family somewhere, an amazing scientist or even a well-respected researcher, but definitely a life claimed most prematurely and cruelly.

If only he hadn’t hesitate.

Thor felt an unspeakable rage within him. He gripped Mjolnir, his eyes cackling blue with electricity. With all his strength, he swung the hammer, taking flight after the Frost Giant who started to flee. More giants decided to show up, completely oblivious to what lay ahead of them.

“YOU FUCKING MONGRELS!” Thor’s voice was thunderous as he smacked giant after giant, blasting those bastards around, wrecking the laboratory and laying waste to anything that stands. “I’LL KILL YA, EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!” Research shelves and containment pods were reduced to a mangled heap of smoldering metal and shattered glass.

When you gods walk the Earth, it is always us, tiny mortals, who end up suffering.

There it was again, the voice in his head. Maybe it’s the girl’s soul, maybe it’s his conscience. He didn’t care. He’s got a debt that needs collecting, and nothing is going to stand in his way. Someone’s gotta pay for the girl’s life.

Then he saw her again. The cloaked figure, in a corner conjuring some sort of… magical portal.

That’s it. That’s how the Frost Giants appeared here.

But what lies on the other side of that portal? Who is the cloaked stranger with such extensive magical prowess? The cloaked figure was undoubtedly the mastermind, the ruthless killer, the one behind the whole scheme. And she had the spear, along with the soul of the Asgardian trapped in it.

The cloaked figure stepped through the portal.

Thor glanced around him. Wakandan forces were battling fiercely against the Frost Giants, defending their homeland with bravery and driving the intruders away. Thor realised he still had a home that needs defending as well.

Holding his breath, Thor flew into the portal just as it closed in around him.

~

It was dark.

Or rather dimly lit. Flame torches casted an eerie glow, as shadows pranced around like mischievous little goblins - a stark contrast when compared to Wakanda.

He could make out some bloke sitting on what seems to be a throne. The cloaked figure dropped the hood as she bowed before him, revealing long dark hair and, a green headdress?

His eyes barely had time to adjust before he felt himself in a chokehold, sputtering as he tried to catch his breath. The bloke was now standing in front of him, fingers around his neck, lifting him off his feet. Thor didn’t even see him move.

Thor tried to break free but this bloke was strong. Superhuman strength, Thor reckons, ones far outweighing his own.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Odinson himself.” The bloke remarked. He held him in closer, peering. Thor could almost smell his breath. “You do have your father’s eyes y’know, do people tell you that?”

His fingers closed in slowly, squeezing the air out of him. Thor started to choke. He dropped his hammer as he clawed at his neck, trying in vain to pry them apart.

“But I see you’re nothing but another Asgardian scum. Pitiful, pathetic. Just like your father.”

The bloke released his grip, dropping Thor to the ground. Thor gasped. Who is this bloke?

“I actually looked up to you gods once, could you believe it? Me, respecting Asgardians? Hah! Well, at least until Odin Vacant-Eye-Socket-Know-It-Allfather decides to start poking his nose into things he has no business in.”

Thor crouched down, gripping his hammer till his knuckles turned white. Nobody manhandles him like that. At least, no one has lived to tell it.

“You know how it feels like, when something you hold more dearly than life itself gets ripped from your very hands?”

The bloke started to pace around. Thor felt anger building within him. Still, he remained crouched, and silent.

“How it feels like when you witness injustice and yet, too powerless to even stop it?”

“Dogshit.” Thor muttered.

The bloke stopped pacing, confused.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“That’s what you are, and that’s what you’re going to wish you were when I’m done with you!”

Thor leapt, the hammer he has been swinging now in full motion, heading directly for the bloke’s head.

“EAT MY HAMMER!”

“You fool.”

In a split second, he was gone.

Thor couldn’t believe his eyes. He vanished right before him. That was fast.

“Looking for me?” Thor turned, just in time to see the bloke rallying up for a punch, hitting him straight in the gut. He felt his ribs crack.

Thor grunted as he crashed through two walls before thumping into a third one, silver armour clattering against the cold stone floor. He felt himself being lifted again. Thor winced in pain as he raised his hammer. He called the lightning from the skies, charging Mjolnir up with electricity before swinging it at his assailant. This time he managed to knock the bloke off, causing him to stagger forwards, but the electricity just sizzled off of him, running down into the ground where it died.

This bloke was stronger and faster than him. And the thunderbolt from the God of Thunder himself merely tickled the sinews of his muscles.

The bloke picked Thor up by the chest, fingers gripping his Asgardian armour. He brought Thor’s face up to his, cradling it with both hands.

“Yes. Fear me, boy.” He spat. Right before he brought it straight down to his knee, breaking Thor’s nose.

CRRRRCK!

Excruciating pain instantly clouded his mind. A flurry of punches followed and Thor shielded himself, trying to reduce the amount of damage his body already suffered. His vision was blurry and he struggled to stand. God knows how many other bones were broken.

“HEIMDAAAAAAAAAAAALLLL!”

Thor felt weak, and afraid. Very afraid. Whoever this bloke was, he wasn’t messing around.

The Bifrost beamed down from the skies, and Thor welcomed it gladly.

The bloke looked to the heavens and called out, opening his arms like an embrace. “The Old Gods must fall for the New Gods to rise.” He then turned to Thor, a triumphant smirk across his face.

“Odinson, we will meet again.”

Thor closed his eyes and let the white light take him.

Repost

Author: u/sirrobertb

Book: The Flash

Arc: Heat and Light

“Hi there! We didn’t expect you to be awake.” Barry’s eyes began to focus on the source of the pleasant voice. A woman in a nurse’s uniform was standing a few feet away, patting his hand. “You had quite an experience! Now, don’t move about much! I just finished changing your bandages. Your cuts aren’t as bad as we first thought; that’s good news!”

He had no idea what she was talking about. “For that matter,” he thought, “Who is she? What’s going on?”

Her blonde hair was lightly streaked with silver, giving her a warm, comforting, maternal look. He must have looked as confused as he felt because she said, “Don’t worry, you’re ok. This is St. Joseph’s Hospital, and I’m Margot. You had quite an accident. Do you remember anything about what happened?”

He tried to speak, but his throat was dry and scratchy. Instead, he shook his head.

“That’s ok, it happens,” she said, patting his hand again. “The roads were icy this weekend, and you had an accident. Your car went off the road and hit a tree out near Semion Ridge.”

Barry didn’t remember any of that. The last thing he remembered was … returning the evidence to the station. No, that wasn’t it. The last thing was … packing up the evidence to take to the station. An accident? He suddenly realized what she must be talking about. He half shouted, “I have to call the station!” Or, rather, he intended to. His throat, still dry, only permitted a raspy, ragged breath before convulsing him into a seemingly endless cough.

Nurse Margot smiled and managed to suppress a good-natured laugh, handing him a glass of water from the tray next to the bed. “Don’t worry, Mr. Allen; we called the police department and I spoke with your captain Monday morning when they brought you in. They went out to the site of the accident and towed your car and cleaned everything up by now, I’d bet.”

The cool water soothed his throat and Barry’s face, which had flushed crimson from the coughing fit, slowly returned to its normal color. “Thank you,” he said. “How did you know to call the police?”

“Well,” Nurse Margot laughed, “we have done this before. We call the police for all automobile accidents, and your identification was in your wallet. In an accident that bad, and with as many broken bones as you have… well, the doctor will talk with you about all that.”

For the first time, Barry realized that he must have gotten hurt in the accident. He looked towards his middle. He had dressings, splints, and instruments on him in various places.

“The ambulance brought you in two days ago; a delivery man saw your car by the road and called it in.” She paused for a moment to be sure he understood, then continued. “That was early Monday morning and today is Wednesday. We got your major wounds dressed, but we haven’t put on your casts yet so we could let the swelling go down.”

Barry was a bit surprised. He felt pretty well overall, if a bit sore. He silently stretched his legs and wiggled his toes under the blanket. He felt alright, aside from some deep aches in his bones. Maybe they had given him some pain killers. He was careful not to move too much, he didn’t want to loosen the bandages—or exacerbate any wounds.

“You were unconscious when they brought you in, and in pretty bad shape. We weren’t sure you were going to wake up at all, so it’s great to see you’re awake!” she said. “I’ll let the doctor know and he’ll be in to see you when he’s able to talk about your condition. I’m going to find Donna and see about getting your casts ready sooner rather than later. It’s important that you don’t move too much, ok?”

Barry nodded.

She patted his hand and her cool, soft touch set him at ease. “There’s more water on the table, and some things to read. Be careful not to move your bandaged arm.” She pointed to his left arm, splinted and bandaged. “If you need me just press that button”—she indicated a small red button on the wall, set in a metal plate—“and I’ll be in shortly. Is there anything you need now before I go?”

“No,” he told her, “I think I’m fine.” He looked around his small hospital room. “Though, could you call my uncle, Mr. Hank Pym? His number is Edison 5-2239. And also the captain—I had some important documents in my car that he should see.”

“Of course, dear,” she said, collecting a few things as she walked away. When she was halfway out the door she turned to him, “Get some rest, ok? You may not feel it yet, but you’ll likely start feeling awfully sore before long.” She smiled a pretty, genuine smile and Barry nodded, then she was gone.

The window draperies were open and Barry could see the sunlight illuminating the glass brightly. The cold outside had frosted the panes so he couldn’t see any scenery, but the room was comfortably warm. The wall clock read 10:22 and Nurse Margot had said that this was Wednesday, so he had been here a little over two days. He still couldn’t remember the accident. He hoped the truck wasn’t too badly damaged. “But I can’t do anything about that now,” he said to himself, aloud. Glancing around for a moment, he took a magazine and started to read, somewhat disinterestedly.

“Barry.” A familiar, gruff voice broke into his consciousness. Barry opened his eyes; he must have drifted off. Captain Frye was standing next to his bed. “I’m glad to hear you’re going to be ok, young man,” he said. Despite his always-formal demeanor, Barry could hear the warmth and concern in his voice.

“Thanks, Captain,” he replied. Suddenly he remembered the evidence box in his truck. “In my truck! I found something in the evidence this weekend! Did you find my report?”

“Yes, you did a fine job. David went through your notes and we’re working on some new leads now. Thankfully the evidence box was in the floor of your truck. Banged up a bit, but intact” he glanced at Barry’s bandages, “just like you.”

Nurse Margot walked into the room carrying a bit of equipment and rapping lightly on the door frame as she passed by. “Mr. Allen,” she said pleasantly, “I’ve come to put on some casts.” She unpacked a few things from her bags on small table across the room.

Captain Frye took the opportunity to interject. “Barry, you get better. The staff here says you’ll be out of commission for a few weeks. I’ve already let David know, so don’t worry about anything. We’ll see you back at the station after your casts are off; you just work on getting better, ok?”

“OK, Captain. Thanks” Barry said.

“Thank you, Nurse,” Frye said, nodding towards the nurse as he walked past and left the room.

She brought her equipment over and stood at the foot of the bed, looking at some papers. “It looks like you’re going to need casts on your legs and one arm. Then we’ll take care of your sore ribs. The swelling in your arms and legs has gone down a lot—actually, quite a bit more than I expected—which is great. I’m going to put light pressure on a few places and you tell me if it hurts, okay?” she said, putting one hand gently on his lower leg. “We’ve got you on some medication that will dull the pain, but you should still be able to tell me if it hurts when I press.”

“Sounds good, ma’am,” he said.

She smiled and pressed his shin with her thumb. He winced a bit, “That’s a little sore, but not too bad.”

“Hm,” she frowned slightly. She pressed again a few inches lower.

“Not as bad that time,” he told her. “Is anything wrong?”

“Well…” she seemed thoughtful, looking at her papers again, but didn’t finish her sentence.

Another nurse Barry didn’t recognize poked her head into the doorway. “Mr. Allen, you’ve got another visitor.”

She was gone just as quickly and Hank Pym entered the room smiling. “Hey, Mr. Big Shot!” he said. Hank had called him that ever since he had gotten his first college acceptance letters. “I heard you tried playing Chicken with a tree.”

“Uncle Hank!” Barry said happily. Barry was never quite sure when his uncle would be out of town on some interesting research trip and was glad to see he was around. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and sat up quickly, smiling.

Nurse Margot gave a sharp start and Hank and Barry stopped, turning to her. “How did you … ? How are you … ?” Barry looked confused.

“What’s wrong?” Uncle Hank asked.

Nurse Margot regained her professional demeanor quickly and looked at Barry. “Does it hurt to sit up?”

“No, not really.” Barry looked down at his legs, still covered by his blanket, “I’m not even standing up. I mean, I’m sore everywhere, but I guess that’s not a surprise if I got banged up.” He twisted his torso, stretching the muscles in his arms and back, wincing and moaning a bit.

Margot took a step closer and put a hand on his back, pressing her thumb into one rib. “Does that hurt?”

“It’s super sore,” Barry said, “but I wouldn’t say it hurts. It feels like the bone is bruised.”

“That’s strange,” she said.

“What’s strange?” Hank asked. He had begun watching intently.

“While he was unconscious,” she said, tilting her head towards Barry, “we assessed his injuries, of course. We counted his left femur, both tibias, the humerus and ulna on his left arm, and three ribs, all broken. And maybe a concussion as well.”

“Could you have been mistaken about the broken bones? He was unconscious.” Hank asked.

She didn’t seem convinced. “It’s possible, but … I really don’t think so. I’ve seen a lot of fractures in my days. But, well, I just don’t know what to think about this!”

They were all quiet for a few moments. Hank turned to Barry suddenly, his voice unusually chipper. “Are you hungry, Mr. Big Shot?”

He hadn’t realized it, but he was hungry. Actually, he was absolutely famished. “You know what, I’m starving!” Barry said.

Hank turned to Nurse Margot. “Since it looks like he’s not as hurt as we thought, how long do you think it would take to reassess his condition now that he’s awake—and if he’s well enough, maybe I could check him out of here?”

She spent the next 15 minutes poking and prodding, asking Barry questions. She called in the Doctor, who spent another 10 minutes doing the same and murmuring to himself and Nurse Margot. Finally, around 1pm, they checked out of the hospital. At a diner near Hank’s house they had lunch for two hours. Barry was surprised by just how hungry he was. He ate three lunch servings before he was finally sated. They talked a little about the accident—what little Barry could remember—and Barry told his uncle all about the new evidence he had uncovered related to the robbery.

“I spoke to Captain Frye earlier. He said they found my canisters, but they had all been melted or exploded or something,” Hank said.

“Oh! I’m so sorry about that, uncle Hank! I knew they were important! Was anything recoverable?”

Hank laughed, “No, don’t worry about it Barry, I’m just glad you’re alright. I was just trying to find out if you knew what happened to them.”

Barry tried to remember, but nothing specific came to mind. “Sorry, I don’t remember anything specific. I do remember the roads were icy.” And then, after a moment, “I remember something else too. There was a lightning storm. I think lightning struck near the truck and that’s what made me slide off the road.”

Hank Pym nodded, thoughtful. “Do you think it hit the truck, or just struck near it?”

“Well, I can’t imagine it hit the actual truck. We weren’t grounded and tire rubber… you know, a great insulator.” He looked upward at nothing in particular, trying to remember any details he could. “But, I don’t actually know either way. Why?”

“Oh, it’s probably nothing,” his uncle said. “The materials I had been using just have some interesting properties we were studying. One of them is that they behave strangely in electromagnetic fields. I was just curious.”

Barry, forgetting about the accident for a moment, was intrigued. “Strangely how?”

“I can’t talk much about it—and actually, we don’t really know much about it—but let’s just say they had unexpected reactions to certain extremes. One of them was sensitive to extreme temperatures, another to strong electromagnetic fields. One of them had ...” he thought for a few moments, “... curious effects on lab rats,” he finished. “It didn’t seem to hurt them, it just changed the ways they interacted with each other a bit. And the fourth one—well, we don’t know anything about it really.”

“Well, I’m sorry about that, Uncle Hank. Of course, I wouldn’t want to mess up any of your experiments,” Barry said, feeling genuinely contrite.

“It’s no problem at all, Mr. Big Shot,” his uncle said, laughing it off. “We’ll find some more some time. Oh, hey,” he said, suddenly remembering something, “I drove Aunt Maria’s old Packard to your apartment and left the keys inside for you. You can borrow it until you get the truck fixed. Let’s get you home.”

It was before dawn when Barry woke up. His alarm hadn’t gone off, but he was wide awake and feeling fully rested, even though he had woken up earlier than usual. He stretched in bed and reached over to turn off the alarm. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he unwrapped the bandages from his legs, surprised to find the bruises and cuts completely gone. He took a long, hot shower, feeling great.

He got to the kitchen famished again. He read the past three days worth of newspapers over a huge breakfast, finishing with the current day’s paper: Thursday, January 24th. There must not have been anything important in the papers, he thought, since he skimmed all three of them in the time it normally took him to read just one. It had stayed cold, though, and Central City was expecting a little more snow over the next few days.

After breakfast, he got dressed to go into town. The captain had given him a few weeks off work to get his casts off, but that had turned out to be more than he had needed. He decided to take it easy for the rest of the week to make sure he didn’t overexert himself. He wouldn’t need a couple of weeks off, since he lucked out with no broken bones, but a couple of days would be great, so he decided that he would head back into the office on Monday. Thankfully, Uncle Hank had left him the Packard so he could get around while he figured out what to do about the truck. The roads were clear and the Packard, which Barry hadn’t driven before, handled a lot better than the truck had. Actually, it wasn’t just that; Barry seemed to feel and notice every bump and turn in the road. He thought maybe it was the improved visibility that let him respond so smoothly each time a car changed lanes or the brake lights lit up, but it seemed like something more than that. It was like the Packard made it easier to focus on so much more of the driving than the truck had. “Gosh, this sure is a well-made car!” he thought more than once.

It took Barry the normal half hour to get to the city. He planned to enjoy a quiet morning and maybe take in a movie in the afternoon. “After all,” he thought, as he parked the car on the street near a snowy park, “it isn’t every day you escape death; and with barely a scratch! I’ll have to tell dad all about it.” Visitation day at the prison was every other Friday, and Barry never missed one if he could help it. He wasn’t looking forward to telling him about the truck, but his dad would be super glad to hear about the rest of it.

He spent a few hours in the park, enjoying the crisp morning. Maybe it was a new appreciation for life after his accident, but he found himself noticing details he wouldn’t normally have caught: the way some snow fell off a tree when it was bumped, little details in the sounds of the people and traffic. A toddler was walking with his mother, his thick, mittened hands dropping as many Cracker Jacks as he managed to eat. A small winter bird--maybe a finch or a longspur--hopped along a few dozen feet behind, cleaning up after his unknowing benefactor. The boy, noticing the bird let out a squeal of delight, startling the little scavenger away. As it flew near Barry, he noticed it had a couple of missing feathers and a scar underneath its momentarily uplifted wing; and then it was out of view in an instant, lost in the snowy branches of a nearby tree. “That’s definitely not something I would have noticed before the accident!” he thought. After a while, it began to snow again and a few times Barry found himself appreciating the intricate crystal patterns of snowflakes as they drifted down near him; he really was, he decided, seeing life through a whole new lens.

Author: u/c0d95

Book: Iron Man

Arc: Origins

June 29th, 1957

The heavy iron doors that opened into the prisoner’s workshop lay ahead of Viktor and his buddy, Aleksei.

“Idi posmotri chto oni delayut.” Go see what they’re doing.

Aleksei flipped Viktor off, “Ty ne moy chertov boss.” You’re not my fucking boss. He walked up to the door and slid the peep hole open.

“Ey, yebat’ litsa!” Hey, fuck faces! Aleksei heard some movement in the workshop. No response though. He looked at Viktor and jerked his head toward the door. “Chto-to sluchilos’.” Something’s up.

Viktor swore and joined Aleksei at the door. The latter reached for the lock and pulled the door open.

The explosion rocked the bunker. Shortly after an alarm started blaring. The command center of the Russian stronghold was bursting with activity. Orders were being shouted and men were jumping to action.

A wall of video monitors showed everything going on within the underground fortress. One screen showed the smoking hole that was previously a door. One of the security techs squinted at the smoke filled screen. Something huge passed through the field of view, obstructed by the thick smoke. The tech’s eyes grew wide as he shouted out what he saw.

The commander of the bunker ordered a squad of men down to contain the prisoners. Shouting, as they left, “Prinesi mne Stark zhivym!” Bring me Stark alive!

The ground rumbled with every step taken by the metal behemoth lumbering down the concrete corridors. Men were shouting in Russian and firing their guns wildly; hoping to hit their target. The bullets that did hit the Codename: Iron Man armor clinked harmlessly to the floor.

“Keeping up, Yinsen?” shouted Tony to his companion. He turned his helmeted head slightly to look behind him. Ho Yinsen trailed close behind him clutching an AK-47.

“I’m here, Stark. Keep moving.” Yinsen was short on breath, having to keep a brisk jog to make pace with the suit.

The duo heard more shouting ahead of them and turned a corner to see twenty soldiers staring back at them; guns raised and ready to shoot. Tony raised his metal arm and pushed a button on the side of his gauntlet that let a miniature rocket fly into the group of militants. With some Russian shouting, most of the soldiers escaped harm. Several were killed by shrapnel and the rest were left disoriented.

Tony saw his chance to strike and made use of his hydraulic joints and jumped forward fifteen feet, throwing his fist into the face of the nearest Russian. He felt the man’s skull cave in with the impact and gagged a little. Another soldier attempted to rush him and was met with a metal knee to the abdomen. Several of his ribs shattered and the attacker fell to the ground, gasping for his last few breaths.

“Two down, eighteen to go.” Tony muttered under his breath. He raised a metal arm to deflect a barrage of bullets from three more soldiers. With his arm still up, Tony closed the gap between them with five strides. Reaching forward, Tony grabbed the middle soldier by the collar and threw him straight up, with the help of hydraulic powered limbs, into the ceiling.

Using his left leg, Tony kicked the left soldier in the knee cap causing his leg to bend the wrong way. The soldier cried out and collapsed. Tony raised his leg again and crushed the man's spine.

The soldier to his right drew his sidearm and fired several shots at Tony’s head. Tony raised his right elbow and brought it down on the soldier’s head. The soldier fell to the ground and did not get back up.

“Five down, fifteen to go.” Tony took a deep breath and engaged the remaining militants. One by one the Russian fighters fell. Every man was left either dead or very close to it.

As Tony dispatched the final soldier he shouted out, “Yinsen! I think we’re clear, buddy.” He looked back to where he had come from and saw his fellow prisoner coming up to join him.

Yinsen drew close and looked at the corpse covered floor and then looked up at his blood and flesh covered friend. “Oh my...I think your designs worked, Mr. Stark. They worked very well...very well.”

Tony could see Yinsen fight back the urge to vomit and had to do the same himself. The reality of what he had just done began to dawn on him.

A single gunshot rang out, echoing loudly in the concrete cavern. Tony jerked his head to see a fallen Russian with his sidearm raised. He quickly turned and kicked the man in the head, snapping his neck back.

“Mr. Stark…” Yinsen gurgled and collapsed as Tony turned to look at him. Blood flowed freely out of his neck; the single gunshot had struck there.

“Yinsen!” Tony threw his helmet off and rushed to his compatriots side. He put his heavy leather gloved hands over the wound. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Stay with me, buddy, c’mon! Stay with me, Yinsen!”

Yinsen coughed; blood and drool spewed out of his mouth, “Mr. Stark… I don’t feel so good.”

Tony spoke over him, “Don’t talk, buddy, save your strength. I’m gonna get you out of here.”

Yinsen shook his head ever so slightly, “No, Stark. This is-“ Cough, “this is it for me.” Cough, “You have to promise me,” Cough, “Promise to find my d-“ Cough, “Find Riri...keep her saf-“

Dr. Ho Yinsen was unable to speak anymore. He dissolved into a fit of bloody coughing as the life left his body. Tony’s eyes were filled with tears. He closed the eyes of his friend and stood up.

After retrieving his helmet, Tony continued on his trek out of the bunker. He fought off more soldiers; fighting for every inch of ground on his way out.

Tony was panting, sweating heavily, as he finally approached the outer steel door. He opened the mechanism and pulled the massive door open.

Bright, midday, sunlight flooded his eyes. Two months in an underground bunker did not help his eyes to adjust.

Several minutes later, finally adjusted, he looked around and saw that he was in a very empty forested area.

A small remote was strapped to Tony’s left arm. He removed it and pushed the single button. The Codename: Iron Man suit was designed for semi-sustained flight and this button activated that feature.

“C’mon baby, let’s go.” Tony muttered as the suit began to fire its flight boosters. The booster were built into the bottom of the boots. The suit lifted off shortly after the button push and seconds before more soldiers arrived by truck to stop the escape.

“Let’s go!” Tony urged the suit to fly faster, to no avail. A soldier on the ground equipped a rocket launcher from the back of the truck and took aim at the flying metal monstrosity.

Tony watched the rocket leave the launcher and travel up to collide with, and subsequently explode, his armored chest piece. The explosion shattered his chest piece into hundreds of deadly pieces of shrapnel. The missile destroyed the power source at the same time causing Tony’s flight to be interrupted. With the power cut off, and the flight boosters disabled, Tony began to plummet back down to the earth.

“Shit!” Tony shouted as he fell. The g-force of the rapid descent caused him to pass out seconds before he crashed into the forest floor.

July 2nd, 1957

Tony’s eyes snapped open and he gasped for breath. He breathed fast and heavy for several minutes before catching his breath. He could see that he was in some kind of crude wood structure. Tony tried to sit up and stretch but was stopped by a pull on his chest. He looked down to see a metal cylinder in his chest.

“The hell…” as Tony studied the device he remembered his Codename: Iron Man armor being blown to bits and falling from the sky. He remembered the armor turned to shrapnel and bury itself within his chest. He remembered seeing the ground rush up to meet him, but he didn’t remember the impact. Tony remembered sliding in and out of consciousness as someone seemingly tortured his chest. Other than that, he remembered very little. He didn’t even know what day it was anymore.

The front door of the wood shack rustled and was pulled open. A brief ray of sunlight pierced through the darkness within the building. Tony watched a man thirty years his senior, with a massive silver beard, enter with a tray of medical supplies. Tony deduced that the man was here to check his bandages. Plummeting to the ground from the height that he did was not good for the human body, armored or otherwise. Several bandages adorned his arms and he presumed his legs as well. The armor seemed to have damaged him more than it saved him.

As the bearded man approached the bed, he saw that Tony was awake. The man smiled slightly and spoke in a language Tony did not recognize. The confused look on Tony’s face must of told the man that he was not being understood.

In broken English, the man said, “My apologies, sir. My English, no good. English, you, yes?” The man motioned toward Tony, hoping to make a language connection.

“Where the hell am I?” demanded Tony. He looked down at his chest, “and what did you do to me?”

The man sat down in a small chair next to Tony’s bed. He set the tray of supplies on the night stand and sighed. “You are in small village hidden in the mountains of Soviet Union. We built town to hide from Communist regime.” The man pointed at the device in Tony’s chest and said, “that is electromagnet hooked to battery.”

Tony traces the wires coming out of the magnet to what was in fact a battery. “Fuck…”

“Magnet keep metal from piercing heart.”

Tony sighed deeply, causing a sharp pain in his ribs. He started convulsing and blacked out.

——

July 10th, 1957

Tony spent the better part of his first week in the hidden village confined to his bed. He had several more seizures before he was able to walk around his hut with the help of a crutch. Today was the first day he left the shoddy wooden house.

Crutch under one arm, battery in the other, Tony hobbled up the dirt path that led to the community dining area. Several large tables were set up underneath a tall, haphazardly constructed, canvas tent.

Tony made his way, slowly, to the nearest table and sat down as gently as he could. He placed the battery that was helping to keep him alive on the bench next to him.

He ate a minimal amount of the foreign food and hobbled back to his hut, feeling sick to his stomach. He knew he had to find a way to get home.

——

August 16th, 1957

Tony spent the last month rebuilding his strength as well as building a device to communicate with the American government. The hidden village didn’t have much in way of technology; the electromagnet keeping him alive had been stolen from the Soviets.

Anton, the silver bearded man who had saved his life, joined Tony in his hut. Anton was fascinated by Stark’s work and helped Tony when he could.

Weeks of work was finally coming together and Tony began to put the finishing touches on his communicator. The communicator was essentially a telegraph that used experimental wireless technology that Stark Industries had been developing.

Tony finished the device and powered it up. He looked at Anton and gave a curt nod, “This is it, Vanko.” Tony focused on the the communicator and began to tap out a message in Morse code: SOS Tony Stark at these coordinates. The coordinates followed the message.

The message was sent. All that was left was to wait. Several long minutes passed. Tony swore, thinking it hadn’t worked due to the rudimentary technology.

Suddenly, the machine began tapping out a response to Tony’s message. He read it as it came out.

“CIA incoming.”

To be continued...

Author: Flyman95

Book: Green Lantern

Arc: The Silent Planet

Captain Hal, “Highball”, Jordan, a combat ace and former test pilot, has been inducted into the ranks of galactic peacekeepers for his ability to overcome great fear. Using the most powerful weapon in the universe, a ring, he can create hard light constructs using his own willpower. Let no evil escape his sight.He is THE GREEN LANTERN.

February 11th, 1958; 21:45 ET

Aboard the Milano En route to OA

ETA: 10 hours

It felt good to be flying again. Hal’s ring made flying too easy. Sitting in the cockpit of the Milano, Hal remembered the joy flying something real. Unfortunately, his years in the Air Force and as a test pilot had not prepared him to fly a spaceship. Thankfully Hal was a quick learner.

Peter Quill or Starlord, as he preferred to be called, sat in the pilot’s seat next to Hal. At Hal’s request Quill had begun teaching him how to fly the craft. Hal suspected Quill had only agreed as an excuse to talk to someone about the ship’s Specs and capabilities. The number of illegal modifications on the craft was pretty astounding. Behind them Groot (for all Hal could tell) preened himself in the navigators chair. Bits of wood chips, splinters, and mulch were falling all over the seat.

The rest of the Guardians had spread themselves throughout the ship. The recent horror witnessed on Ryut had affected everyone differently. But it was clear that everyone needed a way to distract themselves. Hal had left his ring by his bunk. Sitting in his flight suit and flying a vehicle, helped him to relax. He couldn’t dream if he was awake.

“So?” asked Quill asked not looking up from his controls, “You’re from earth, huh?”

“Yes” replied Hal, “ the ring chose me four years ago now.” “How’d that work?”

Thinking back, Hal remember the fateful day. “My best friend and I where testing new jets for Ferris Air. The weather turned foul. I lost her in the clouds. “Wait,” Quill interjected, looking up “her?”

Hal continued, “Carol Danvers, the best pilot I’ve ever flown with. Not that I would tell her that. She and I where in the Air Force together. Got kicked out together to. VERY. different. story. So anyway I go through this thunderstorm. My wing is clipped by a bolt of lightning. My instruments are completely shot. I can feel the engine dying. I begin losing altitude. I prepared for an emergency landing.

But then everything is still. I mean completely still. The plane isn’t moving. The engine has stopped. My plane is enshrouded in this green light. I hear the words HAL JORDAN YOU HAVE THE ABILITY TO OVERCOME GREAT FEAR. I begin moving again. Not under the plane’s power though. No, I am being moved. The jet is transported 100s of miles and sets me down in the Nevada desert.

Sitting in front of me I see a crashed spaceship. I climbed out of my jet and went to investigate. Climbing through a hole in the side of the craft, I found him. Abin Sur of space sector 2814.

Take the ring and the lantern, he said. Say the oath. Let No Evil escape your sight. I took the ring, placing it on my finger and my uniform was created. Abin Sur looked at me smiled approvingly and drew his final breath. The ring then alerted me that I would immediately transported to OA for training. The rest just kinda happened.”

Quill looked unimpressed. Groot continued to mindlessly preen himself

“Wow,” said Peter “so you just saw a dying alien and decided to steal his jewelry? Are you sure you your ring didn’t mean to say HAL JORDAN you have the ability to commit grave robbery?”

“No, he gave it to me before he died. It’s a lantern’s duty to find their replacement if able. What’s your story then?” Hal replied indignantly. “Wake up one morning give yourself a stupid name and leave earth?”

“I was kidnapped by Ravagers when I was 12. Thought they were going to eat me. Spent the rest of my childhood learning how to shoot, fight and steal. After that it was just a series of terrifying heists and many quick flings with beautiful alien women. That is until I met Gamora. She taught me that I can be more than what I was.” Peter said, in a matter of fact tone.

Suddenly turning around in his chair Quill exclaimed angrily, “AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GROOT, do you have to do that on the bridge? I’m going to be spending the next month cleaning mulch out of the seat cushions.”

Groot indignantly stopped, crossed his arms, and glared at Quill. Under his breath Groot exclaimed “I ammmm groooot”

“So anyway” Peter continued, calmly turning back to Hal “we picked up these clowns around the way and have been trying to do some good in our neck of the universe.”

“Hell of a woman.” Hal responded, noting that Groot had begun preening himself again.

“Yep, they’ll change your life.” Peter agreed, completely oblivious, “You have anyone out there?”

“Carol,” Hal replied absentmindedly, intently staring at an instrument panel. “You’re pilot friend?” Peter asked.

“Yes… erhh, no, different Carol” Hal said guiltily, “she is also a pilot” he added quickly “and even owns the company I flew for.”

“Sounds like a hell of a woman herself. You been back to Earth visit her?” Hal, suddenly feeling crowded, unstrapped his restraints and stood up. “I need some fresh air” and quickly made his way out of the cockpit.

“You know it’s a spaceship right? All the air is same recycled stuff you breath everywhere.” Quill called after him. “AND IF YOU DON’T STOP THAT I AM GOING TO TAKE A PAIR OF HEDGE CLIPPERS TO YOUR CHESTNUTS.” he yelled at Groot.

Making his way through to the galley he saw Drax was polishing his knives for the upteenth time. They gleamed in the lights. He could hear Rocket working in the in the engine room. The steady noise of the fusion torch only intercut with loud, but admittedly creative, insults. If Hal knew the raccoon he was probably adding another illegal modification.

Hal entered the small infirmary wanting to check on the patient. The sole survivor of the planet Ryut. Gamora was busying herself checking his vitals. A red reptilian alien. 8 feet tall, teeth and claws. He somehow looked peaceful as he slept.

“Any change?” Hal asked Gamora.

“No, he’s stable but who knows when or if he’ll wake up from his coma.” Gamora replied.

“Thanks, keep me posted” Hal turned to go back to the cockpit.

“You should get some sleep.” Gamora said without turning around. “Peter should as well for that matter. I doubt we will get much when we get to OA.”

“You’re probably right.” Hal admitted reluctantly.

Even more reluctantly Worked his way down to his bunk in the crew quarters. It wasn’t much but it was nice to sleep on something solid. He just hoped sleep would provide as much solace as the cockpit did.

February 12th, 1958; 06:05 ET

Aboard the Milano En route to OA

ETA: 1 hours

Alive, Abin Sur stood before him grimacing. “YOU HAVE FAILED.” He proclaimed harshly.“You were charged with protecting the helpless. Now two planets are forever silent, BECAUSE OF YOUR WEAKNESS. You are not worthy of my ring.”

The ring turned to dust on his finger as Abin Sur seemed to grow weaker and more decrepit before him. As Abin Sur turned to dust Hal could hear the ringing of Thanos’ laughter.

“NO!!!,” Hal yelled bolting up from his rack. The ship was still but for the hum of the engine. Just a dream. He took a second and breathed deep. Sitting alone in the dark he could feel cold sweat dripping down his back. Drax continued to snoring loudly in his own bunk. Rocket seemed to twitch a bit. Hal knew he wouldn’t sleep anymore this night. There was something he needed to do. Groping around in the dark he found his ring.

Getting up, he carefully made his way to the galley. Once there, he retrieved his lantern from the pocket dimension. The Lantern emitted a low green light that cast shadows throughout the room. Holding his ring up to the it and Hal repeated his oath

“In Brightest Day

In Blackest Night

Let no evil escape my sight

Let those who worship evil’s might

Beware my power

GREEN LANTERNS LIGHT.”

Green energy enwrapped him for a moment but he did not allow the uniform to form. He continued to stare at the glowing lantern. It was a long time before he noticed Gamora, quietly watching from the dark corner of the room. Their eyes locked.

Finally Gamora spoke softly, “Couldn’t sleep?”

“No.” Hal admitted “After Ryut, I… I haven’t been sleeping well. I needed to remind myself of the oath I took.”

“I understand.” Gamora told him, “It’s the ones you can’t save that haunt you the most. I served Thanos for many years. For a long time he was all I had in the universe. I attempted to… temper him. But it is clear his madness has fully consumed him. He will have the Book of the Black and will do anything to possess it. You possess great will to stand against him.”

“Thanks” Hal mumbled, not quite believing it.

Gamora sensed his doubt and continued “No single Lantern can defeat him. The whole might of the Corp invaded Apocalypse once. Half of them were killed the other half fought to a bloody stalemate. But Thanos is only one New God. If the Guardians of the Universe act they can crush Thanos.” She said, Hal suspected trying to convince herself as well.

There was another long silence as both pondered the potential consequences if we was wrong. Hal broke the silence by yawning.

“you wouldn’t happen to have any coffee on this ship would you?” He asked hopefully, “willpower will only take you so far.”

Gamora for the first time since Hal knew her, smiled. “As a matter of fact we do.”

Sitting down at the table with Gamora, Hal enjoyed the first cup of coffee he had since leaving earth. Around him the ship sprung to life as the other Guardians went about their morning routine. It felt like some level of normalcy.

That is until a giant green hand grabbed the ship and brought it to a full stop.

“Really?!” Quill exclaimed, “they had to grab the ship in mid-flight. Why not just a giant green stop sign or something.”

Hal was expecting this. The Lanterns would set a perimeter around OA for this level of threat. Hal allowed himself to relax... Until he heard a familiar voice over the ship intercom.

“Unidentified ravager ship, this is Lantern Guy Gardner of sector 2814. You are to power down engines and prepare to be boarded. Any attempt to flee will allow me to break my very boring routine.”

Of all of the lanterns in all the sectors. Sinestro, Kilowog, Tomar-re, even Salaak would have been preferable. How Hal ended up with biggest asshole in the corp as a sector partner he would never know.

Guy entered the ship through the hatch. A red head with a temper to match Guy was known throughout the corp for his attitude. A former Baltimore cop, Guy had been the second human inducted into the Corps. Guy had opted to don a unique style uniform. Instead of the usual uniform he wore what looked like a letterman’s jacket with the green lantern symbol where the initials should be. Between the jacket and bowl cut hair, Hal thought he looked ridiculous.

Starlord began introductions “I’m Peter Quill, Captain of this ship. This is my first mate, Gamora, we are en-route to...”

Guy ignored him and addressed Hal “Nice company you’re keeping here Jordan. I mean really a ravager ship?“

Hal was silent. Guy continued “After your little vacation to Ryut a high alert was sounded. All ships non-associated ships en-route to OA must be inspected. This being a ravager registered ship I’ll be going over this with a fine tooth...”

“YOU!” Rocket yelled coming up from the cargo hold “this guy cost me a huge amount of money.”

Guy responded “You where selling illegal weapons to a pre-galactic civilization...” apparently recognizing the raccoon.

“That was a completely legitimate weapons sale” Rocket interrupted angrily. “Like hell it was. You’re lucky you’re not in prison”

“You’re lucky I didn’t shove that ring up your ass. Really make you struggle through that blackest night bit.”

“Oh, you want to go raccoon” Guy responded angrily. Green sparks emanating from his ring.

“I don’t know what that is, but anytime, anywhere glow rod.” Rocket moved towards the weapons rack.

“I am Groot” Groot declared, Growing and moving in front of Rocket. “Don’t think I forgot about you tree man.” Guy warned, forming a green lumber axe in his right hand.

“Who does this guy think he is Paul Bunyan?” Quill asked rhetorically. “He said his name is Guy Gardner, I do not believe he is confused by his identity.” Drax answered helpfully.

“ENOUGH.” Hal declared angrily standing up. “Guy, this is now a Oan associated vessel. I have…” Hal thought for a moment searching for the word, “deputized them until the Thanos crisis has been resolved.”

Suddenly green sheriff badges appeared on every Guardian.

Guy looked around angrily, and shrugged “Well if that’s the case, I should probably ensure the newest members of the corp get to a proper landing zone.”

Looking at Gamora, Guy asked “hey sweet cheeks you got any more of that coffee Jordan is drinking? I’ll tell you that smells wonderful.”

Hal could see the rage in Quill’s eyes for a moment. But it passed as quickly as it came. Quill spoke in his most amicable tone “Here Guy why don’t you come on the bridge to drink that. You can guide us in from the navigator’s chair.”

It was the single longest flight of Hal’s life. Hal had crashed before and this was somehow more painful. Within 15 minutes he had witnessed: an oath of blood vengeance, a minor hull breach, and a lantern’s uniform ruined by both extremely hot coffee and mulch. It was a good thing that these rings didn’t run on rage.

Hal had never thought he would want to get out of aircraft. Luckily as the hatch opened he saw a friendly face. Thaal Sinestro, Hal’s mentor and best friend awaited them at the hatch. A tall pink humanoid whose mustache helped hide a near perpetual scowl. Despite being in the Corps for years, his only sign of age where widows peaks that encroached on his pulled back black hair. Standing at the hatch Sinestro hands clasped together behind his back, was the model of how a Green Lantern should hold himself.

The dock was bustling as beings of all races preparing defenses. Lanterns patrolled overhead. Working together some Lanterns where created Giant Green artillery constructs aimed at the stars.

“Sinestro!” Hal called, offering his ring hand. Sinestro returned with his gripping it firmly. Looking around Hal noted “this place looks like its preparing for war?”

“Jordan, My friend, the Guardians have decided it is best to be not take chances and prepare ourselves for the worst. I’ve never seen them worried like this before. Boddika and Kilowog are currently assisting in upgrading the planet’s defenses.”

“It looks pretty impressive” Rocket interjected. “Wouldn’t mind trying out one of those big cannons either.”

Ignoring him, Sinestro changed the subject. “I’ve heard of your recent battle and of your unusual traveling companions.” He looked disapprovingly at the Guardians.

“Their good people. Trying to do right in the universe” Hal assured him Sinestro not looking convinced, noticed Guy as he exited the hatch. “Gardner, I thought you were assigned to guard the perimeter?” Sinestro asked coldly.

“Well you see, I was and then I thought…” Guy began.

“Ah, you thought. That’s when the plan went awry. Go back to the perimeter. Now.” Sinestro ordered.

Guy looked the taller man in the eyes, un-moving.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Sinestro asked threateningly.

Looking away with a growl, Guy headed off into the blackness of space to resume his assignment.

“How did you convince the Guardians not to give you a sector partner again?” Hal asked.

“Because I run the single most ordered sector in the universe” Sinestro replied “and besides Jordan, next to his bullishness you seem almost thoughtful.” he added ruefully.

“Was that a joke?” Hal asked, surprised.

Ignoring him, Sinestro addressed the Guardians, “we best not keep the Guardians waiting.”

“I am Groot?” Groot asked.

“No,” Sinestro replied dryly, “the actual ones.”

The Guardians of the Universe held court in a massive hall. The twelve immortals presided over the greatest peacekeeping force in the galaxy.

“Remember Jordan, let me do the talking.” Sinestro said pointedly.

“Lantern Jordan it is fortunate you have returned to us. The initial report of the Thanos incident is troubling.” One guardian spoke “I see you have brought those who assisted you. The Guardians of the...Galaxy. A unique assortment of individuals.”

“If not wholly unique name” Another guardian added.

“Yah well, I didn’t see your copyright on it when we chose it” piped up Rocket. “now while I have you, I have formal complaints I’ve been meaning to lodge. As you’re all here I figure this is the best time to do so. First, my treatment by Guy gar..MMHMMM.”

Rocket was suddenly silenced as a green gag covered his mouth. Rocket struggled with all his might to remove it.

“We will not waste any more time.” Sinestro declared coldly.
Addressing the Guardians of the Universe Sinestro spoke “I request permission to bring Thanos to justice. I have outlined my plan based on Jordan’s preliminary report.”

The Guardians consulted amongst themselves for a moment. Hal wondered how many lives hung in the balance of their decision. How many lives were lost while they made it.

“Your plan is approved. Two hundred of our finest Lanterns are at your disposal. You are to bring Thanos back for trial, destroy his manhunter army, and ensure that the book of the black remains buried forever.”

Gamora spoke up “Two hundred will not be enough. Thanos has an army. He will be prepared for any attack you plan.”

The Guardians considered her statement. “200 Lanterns is more than sufficient to quell the threat of one New God. Daughter of Thanos.”

Sinestro eyed her for a moment, “I assure you, Thanos will not be ready for me. However, any tactical insights you can provide will be greatly appreciated.

Bowing Sinestro Turned to the Guardians of the Universe, “By your leave.” The Guardians responded “Go Sinestro. Complete your mission.”

Standing up straighter Sinestro looked at Hal and the Guardians “Come Jordan, we have preparations to make before we pursue Thanos. You and Kilowog will be squadron..”

“One alteration.” The Guardians of the Universe interjected. “Lantern Jordan is effect of immediately removed from active duty pending psychological evaluation. In his place, his sector partner, Guy Gardner shall join your Force.”

“Him!?” Sinestro grumbled.

“Her!?” Hal exclaimed.

“Dammit” they cursed in unison.

Author: u/VerumFalsum

Book: Captain Marvel

Arc: The Modern Prometheus

I feel the wind against my face as I fall through the air, before suddenly, a few inches from the ground, I stop. Somehow, I will myself to return back to my correct, feet-first position. My position reverts to normal and as I will myself further, I blast off through the clouds.

Flying is such a strange feeling, like I’ve become a bolt of supercharged lightning, and I’m breaking through every particle of airborne water. The static charge around me heats the air that contacts my suit and leaves a sizzling roar in my wake. I feel so powerful!

As I blast through the air, I realize I need to experiment what all I can do in this new, magically-charged state. I know the place to do this, a place only a few miles out of town. It’s an old museum, or theater perhaps, that never got fully built. I figure no one would be upset if anything happened to the already disintegrating construction site.

I fly towards the old abandoned construction sight and slam into the concrete sending static charged concrete dust into the air. Something around he has to be heavy, something I can test my strength on. As my eyes turn towards the large metal support beam, I know what I need to do.

In a literal flash, I am pulling the giant two ton beam out of the concrete and lifting it over my head. With all my might, I threw the lightning charged beam across the construction sight, which lands as a massive explosion that shakes the sky. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, I am not the cause of the explosion, but as I see the thunderclouds suddenly form over Coast City, I have a good bet I know it’s souce.

With the power of Zeus I leap into the air and blast off. My bolts of power blend with the bolts from the sky as I near the eye of the storm. I assume the eye of the storm is directly over it’s cause. Thankfully, I assume right.

Standing in the center of the storm is a man dressed in a green and black armored suit teeming with lighting. As his storm-laced eyes lock to me, a shiver shot down my spine. I know he sees me now.

With his own rival powers, he blasts into the air towards me. As he flies towards me, I realize he may be more experienced than me, but I am ready. At the last second, I twist in the air dodging the blow from Mar-vell before spinning to grab his ankle. Surprisingly, I am able to grab his black armor boot, but his power overwhelms me, and I am being dragged through the air by the heels of the villain.

As he comes to a sudden stop, I am thrown through a 15th story window into a crowded office complex. In the shattered window, Mar-vell’s supercharged form soon appears. With all his power, he shoots a bolt of mystical lighting at me, but my own godly blessing dissipates the brunt of the attack sending tendrils of electricity to those around me. As the building’s fleeing residents fall to the power of Zeus, I know I have to get Mar-vell out of the city and away from the population.

I dive at the charged villain and tackle him out the shattered window and into the storm clouds outside. With Mar-vell in my grasps, I blast towards the beach front at high speeds. He struggles against me, but before he is free, I am slamming him into the beach sand. I slammed him into the beach creating a fulgurite-laced crater in the coastline.

“Come at me!” I say as I regain my composure on the edge of the crater, and he does.

With his deity-based abilities, he slams his fist into my gut sending me skidding across the waves. Before I recover, he is driving my head to the ocean floor. I don’t think any of the powers of Shazam protect me from drowning, but maybe that was something Solomon could do. With all of my Herculean strength, I struggle against the supervillain under the waves, but he already has the upper hand. I can’t drown here.

One of my punches finally connects, and Mar-vell is skidding across the ocean floor. In this brief second of freedom I launch myself into the air above the salt water. As I take a deep breath of air, I feel Mar-vell’s hand wrap around my ankle and pull me back under. How is he able to hold his breath so long?

As I go under the waves, I start attacking him again with equal force. With each attack from either side, the other fighter is thrown across the ocean floor. The weightlessness in the water lends itself to us flying against the force of every lightning charged blow. Every punch I lay on Mar-vell launches him several meters, but each of his punches launches me at least five times that. He is so much stronger than me that I am forced to fight a uphill battle the entire time.

Suddenly, he sends me flying through the waves and raises his hands to send a bolt of lightning. Instead of a bolt, the lightning dissipates in the high amount of salt water and slightly stuns Mar-vell. Without our lightning, we have to rely on our strength alone, or at least I have to. As I try to get back closer to land another strike, twin red lasers split the water and knock me back. Since when did he have lasers?

With all my strength I launch out of the water and fly towards the still submerged fighter. I have a plan, a daring plan, a possibly deadly plan that had come to my mind after watching Mar-vell try to shoot lightning underwater. I dive back under the waves for hopefully the last time and grab the supervillain.

“SHAZAM!” I yell calling down a bolt of supercharged, mystic lightning. The lightning mixes with the water and starts electrocuting us.

Black

“Wake up.” a voice says from the darkness.

I do.

“What do you want?” I ask as the world slowly fades back into view. I am in some kinda glass container, and a large black man with an eye patch glares at me from the other side.

“4 answers. If the answers are correct, you are free to go. If they are incorrect, who knows? And yes, that is a threat.” He says pulling out a table with a computer sitting on it.

“Ok, well can you hurry up? I don’t have all day!”

“Actually you do, Mrs. Danvers.” He says typing away on the computer, “According to a report from Farris Air, you are quite dead as of four hours ago, so please, be quiet. You don’t want to say anything you will regret in court.”

“Just hurry.”

“Question one…”

“Yes?”

“What is your relationship to Mar-vell?”

“Best friends! That’s why he threw me into a skyscraper!”

“Wrong answer, Mrs. Danvers. I suppose you both happen to have similar powers and costume designs accidentally? You are already dead to the public, do not think we won’t make that a reality.”

“Look, I was chosen by a wizard in a cave to fight this guy. I was just fighting him, why am I under investigation?”

“27 cases of reckless endangerment, 2 cases of accidental manslaughter, over $16,000 of property damage, and one case of vigilantism. Anyone who causes this much damage is a possible enemy of the government. This wizard gave you powers? Question two… how do your powers work? Our science department couldn’t find a single abnormality in your mental or physical state.”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Like I said, the wizard gave me powers when I say the word Shazam.” Before I can regret my decision, a mystical bolt of lightning strikes me again dressing me red, blue and gold. As the bolt strikes, the glass container I am in shatters on the ground and sends the man flying backwards.

“Interesting.” the man says regaining his composure, “What all can you do? You will behave without your cage, right? If you so much as cough on me, 200 armed guards will storm this room and shut you down faster than you can say shazam again.” “I wasn't planning on it.” I say throwing both my hands up, “I think I have super strength, speed, flight, and can shoot lightning, but…Mar-vell also shot lasers out of his eyes, so maybe I can do that too.”

“Mar-vell is a Kryptonian, like Superman. He is not a human like you.”

“Wait Superman’s not a human? What? Why is he called super-‘MAN’ then?”

“To appear human. Trust us we tested him?”

“Wait really? I knew aliens were real.”

“Just two more… question four, what is your end goal with you super powered quest? Why are you doing this?”

“Because the wizard chose me.”

“That answer’s incorrect. I told you what would happen if the answer is incorrect. Try again.”

“What do you want from me?”

“The why. Every hero has an origin story, a driving force, but so does every villain. It all comes down to the why. What is your why Mrs. Danvers.”

“I don't know? I’ve just done it once.”

“I believe you do know, but you are not much into sharing, are you. I know your why, hopefully, you will learn it soon. Otherwise, we may not be able to use you.”

“Use me?”

“Follow me.” He says turning off the computer and opening up the door behind him. I follow close behind as we walked down the well lit hallways. We only pass a few agents in the hallways, all of them wearing full masks and bulletproof gear. We pass about 12 other side doors before we get to a single glowing door on the right.

He presses open the door and leads me in. Up in the corner, mirroring my room is a glass container, but this one still holds it’s incapacitated inmate, Mar-vell. The man walks to the corner and presses a few keys on a keyboard of a computer causing it to crawl to life.

“This is what happens to those that break the law.” He says. “Even superheroes have to report to someone, and that’s what we here for. Everything must be in order.”

“So who are you?” I ask walking closer to the prisoner.

“Who am I.” he says, “My name is Nick Fury, but that’s not what you are asking. You want to know who That’s a good question. Follow me.”

He presses a few keys before walking out the door we had come from. As he walks through the door, I am close on his heels back down the corridor. I think we pass nearly 23 doors before we finally come to a red door marked with a large eagle and the letters SHIELD.

Once again Fury presses against the door opening up and revealing a large computer screen with a list of names and numbers scrawling across it. I remember seeing names such as Thor7, SuperMan9,MarVell9,Hawkeye4, and a flurry of others.

“What’s this?” I ask staring blankly at the black and green screen.

“The registry.” Nick Fury says, “If anyone shows as much as too fast sneeze, they will pop up on our list. We base it off power scale which is the number.”

“What’s my power level?”

“Currently you’re sitting at a 6.” He says pulling up my name on the computer screen, and sure enough a green six flashes next to my name, “Not bad for a first day untrained hero.”

“Wait I’m actually on the list.”

“Of course Mrs. Danvers. What you did in Coast City was much more than a super sneeze. You nearly leveled a skyscraper with Mar-vell’s help.”

“That was mostly him!”

“Regardless, you’re still a wanted fugitive, or you were. Now you’re an agent of SHIELD, all crimes forgiven.”

“The hell with that, I’m not about to be a prisoner. I can do whatever I want!”

“True, but you’ll still be a wanted criminal, and trust me, SHIELD treats it’s parahuman prisoners better than HAMMER. Doubt me? I can call up their director and have you locked away for life in less than you can say ‘Shazam’.”

“So I work for the government now?”

“Not exactly, but that’s close enough for now. I’ll contact you when we need you, but other than that, you’re free to go for now.” He says walking over towards a large door in the far wall.

“Wait a minute, what’s the last question?”

“Final question.” He says opening the door revealing a bright yellow light hidden behind it, “What should we call you?”

Captain Marvel will return soon...

Authors: u/c0d95 and Flyman95 Book: Green Lantern Arc: The Silent Planet

Hal, “Highball”, Jordan, a Korean war ace, and test pilot, has been inducted into the ranks of galactic peacekeepers for his ability to overcome great fear. Using the most powerful weapon in the universe, a ring, he can create hard light constructs using his own willpower. Let no evil escape his sight. Hal Jordan is THE GREEN LANTERN.

Outside the Forbidden Sector 666 February 10th, 1958; 07:45 ET

“Lantern 2814.1, you are aware that Sector 666 is strictly prohibited,” Salaak said, curtly, “If you enter the sector, you will face expulsion from the Corps.” Hal Jordan took a deep breath and paused before responding, “I know, Salaak, but Thanos is going to destroy Ryut. He has already destroyed Brix.”

“Sector 666 is strictly prohibited. Entering the sector will result in-”

“Thanos murdered a Lantern and slaughtered the entire population of Brix. Thanos is now on Ryut. It is my responsibility and obligation to follow Cob’s killer. Even if that takes me into a prohibited sector.”

Salaak may come across as cold hearted bastard but Hal knew he was a Lantern and wanted justice. It was a long while before Salaak spoke again, “Lantern 2814.1, you are aware that Sector 666 is strictly prohibited. However, I am unfortunately unable to track your location. It appears there is interference with your ring’s locator abilities. I am sorry but it will require 24 hours to troubleshoot this issue. Until this time you are to enact Lantern regulation Gamma 83.2.B and continue the investigation using your best judgment.” The connection with Salaak was severed. Hal knew the unspoken part of the regulation. He was on his own.

Sector 666 in orbit of the Planet Ryut February 11th, 1958; 14:00 ET

Thanos had beat them there. It appeared that something had crashed the moon into the surface of the planet. The point of the impact had opened the planets core. Magma spilled out into the atmosphere like guts of a wounded animal. Hal looked at the dying planet before him. The planet once green and lush planet had been turned into a literal hell. “Ring scan for survivors” Hal commanded “small number of inhabitants in northeast of the farthest continent from impact. Also detecting unknown number of synthetic life forms”

“Hey,Green, uh, Man? We doing this?” Peter Quill radioed from the Guardians of the Galaxy’s ship, the Milano. There was a hesitation in his voice this is not what he was expecting.

“Listen,” Hal replied, “there are pockets of resistance down there. You are going to go render assistance.”

“And what the hell will you be doing?!?” Quill asked indignantly

“Finding the bastard that did this.” Hal replied.

“That’s suicide” Gamora's voice came through the ring.

“It’s my oath. I’ll escort you on the way in but we don’t know what we're facing. so be ready”

Hal took a deep breath and focused. Suddenly his first love appeared. Charlotte, his P-51 Mustang from the war. He remembered every detail about her. Her sound, her smell, her touch. The ring brought it all to life. Climbing in he prepared for battle.

The Milano descended into the atmosphere with Hal flying escort off her left wing. “Warning,” the ring alerted him, “Multiple bogies approaching from the West.”

“Manhunters,” Gamora broke in “They are Thano’s enforcers. be careful.”

Hal turned to meet the threat. As they approached he had the ring magnify. Three were approaching him quickly. The synthetics were about 7 feet tall Humanoids, Red with blue inlays around the gloves, belt, belt and boots.Each carrying a long staff.

Hal announced over the ring “This is The Green Lantern 2814.1 you are to reduce speed and state your intentions.” They answered with laser fire from the of top of their staffs.

“Well, at least the paperwork will be easier.” Hal Thought

“Pete, fly low.” Hal ordered and broke formation, Hal flew higher. The Milano absorbed fire onto its shields as it attracted attention of the manhunters. Hal pulled back on the yoke. Going higher and higher Hal willed the engine to stall. When the stall horn sounded he pushed the nose back down angling the plane above the attackers. Unprepared and offering a target the manhunters where in Hal’s sites.

The lead center Manhunters disappeared in a green explosion as Hal made his first pass. The two remaining machines angled to follow him. In doing so they offered a target to the the Milano. Lasers brutally ripped into the flank of the manhunters. It knocked out a thruster and sent it careening towards the surface and its doom. The Final Manhunter continued on Hal’s tail firing in an attempt to destroy his construct.

Hal willed the engine more speed. Far faster than the real Charlotte ever could have gone.“You may be able to fly, but I own the skies!!!!” Hal declared, cutting power to the engine the manhunter sped past him of as Hal lighted him up with Charlotte’s six .50 calibre machine guns. The Manhunter never stood a chance as the constructs ripped through it turning its complicated circuitry into scrap metal.

The Milano descended further to the surface landing in the midst of a ruined city. Ryut’s surface was covered in battle scars; huge swaths of land were scorched by their invaders. Hal landed next to them allowing Charlotte to disappear. Smoke and ash filled the air. Whatever resistance had been offered was gone now. Signs of struggle was everywhere. Humanoid bodies, broken defenses and barricades littered the streets. It hadn’t been a battle but a slaughter. As Hal took in the atrocity before him the Guardians emerged from the ramp ready for battle. Rocket in particular was carrying a comically oversized gun.

“I am Groot."

Gamora agreed “You’re right Groot. That was too easy. they let us land.”

“Then let us bathe in Thanos’s blood.” Declared Drax.

“I’m impressed Drax you’re learning metaphors” said Rocket in an attempt to break the tension

“Metaphor?” Asked Drax inquisitively.

“Enough. Ring, scan for survivors.” Hal hopefully.

“One native, life signs fading.” the ring replied Hal used the ring to locate the Survivor. The survivor was a red reptilian esque humanoid. Six feet tall, all muscle, teeth, and claws it was amazing to think that a planet that could produce this species had been obliterated. He would live with proper medical attention. Maybe he can tell them what happened.

Gamora was the first to assess the situation “Groot, get him on the ship and hook him up to life support.

Groot made a stretcher with his tree like limbs and moved the hulking alien to the Milano.

“More synthetics approaching as well as one biological life form.” Announced the Ring

“Identify Life form”

“Scans identify the species as New God.”

Gamora came alongside Hal. “The survivor is bait. He knows we’re here. He’ll arrive with overwhelming force. It’s his way.”

Hal looked at her suspiciously “You seem to be very well informed about about how Thanos Operates.” 1 Gamora looked at Peter. He shook his head, silently. “Thanos is…” Gamora looked down and sighed, “Thanos is my father.”

Hal imagined a sword in his hand and felt his ring form a green sword. He clutched it tightly, ready to fight. “So you do work for Thanos? This was all an elaborate trap?” Hal raised the sword to a defensive position.

Rocket Racoon pulled his oversized gun off his back and aimed at Hal. “Drop the...sword, asshole.”

Peter, Star-Lord, also took aim at Hal. “We already told you, dick. We’re not working for Thanos.”

Green .45 calibre M1911 pistols suddenly appeared pointed at Peter and Rocket’s heads. Gamora put her hands up slightly. “Listen to me, Hal. No one here works for Thanos. I am his daughter, yes, but I have no loyalty to him. I want him dead just as much as anyone.” She looked at the other Guardians, “Lower the guns, guys.”

Rocket growled and lowered his gun, “Ah crap.”

Seeing that they meant him no harm, Hal let the sword in his hand and the guns fade from existence. “How do we stop him?”

Before Gamora could answer, Hal’s ring started to flash. “Ring, report.” ”Hostiles within one klick of your position”

Everyone scrambled for what little cover there was amongst the broken buildings as the loud roar of an engine filled the ash laden air. A massive ship covered the sky moved into position above them. Suddenly, at the city center, a bright beam of light shot from the bottom of the ship into the ground. A towering, muscular being materialized on the planet’s surface within the beam of light.

A large group of Manhunters accompanied a lone humanoid. Golden armor with dark navy inlay covered the purple skin of the hulking figure. The being spoke, a deep, but reserved, voice said, “Manhunters. Is the Book here?”

One of the red-clad androids answered the purple alien, it’s robotic voice carried across the destroyed city, “We have detected no evidence of the Book of the Black’s presence on this planet. We have also attracted the attention of another Green Lantern. Three man hunting units have been destroyed.”

“Excellent. We shall subdue him like the others”

“No man escapes the manhunters” declared the androids with what seemed to Hal like a bit of pride.

“I think it goes without saying,” began Gamora, “but that’s Thanos.” She drew her sword and mumbled a quick mantra under her breath.

“I am Groot.” Groot reporting the status of the victim as he exited the ship.

“First we’ll thin out the Manhunters then I’ll handle the big purple..” Hal began as Drax stood up and shouted “THANOSSS, MY FAMILY WILL BE AVENGEDDDD!!!!!!”

Before Hal could stop him he had sprinted towards Thanos and the manhunters.

“Alright new plan” everyone attack” Hal said with a hint of exasperation. “This is why I work alone. At least they were better than his sector partner” he thought as He and the remaining Guardians charged after Drax.

Thanos looked towards the approaching Guardians and Lantern. His voice rang out over the city, “Ah yes...the fabled Guardians of the Galaxy.”

Rocket grinned and shouted, “Hey Quill! You hear that? We’re fabled!” Both Rocket and Peter busted up laughing. Hal rose into the air holding a green rocket launcher.

Thanos chuckled, “And another Green Lantern. My, I am flattered.” Thanos stooped down and picked up a piece of building rubble and threw it towards the rocket that Hal had launched at him. Debris flew in all directions as the rubble met the rocket and exploded. Thanos raised his hand to block his face from the flying stone fragments.

The Manhunters counter charged to meet the approaching heroes. The Manhunters outnumbered the Guardians five to one and quickly encircled them. Gamora and Star-Lord stood back to back, fending off android attacks. Her swords and his guns made the perfect lethal duo. Rocket stood on Groot’s shoulders attempting to gun down the horde of synthetic beings using Groots limbs as support. Drax moving far faster than Hal would have thought brutally cut down several manhunters in his beeline for Thanos.

“You will pay for what you did to my family Thanos!” Drax yelled out in rage as he leaped at the New God.

Thanos caught Drax by the throat. He looked deep into Drax’s eyes and calmly replied “They served the balance, their sacrifice is necessary” He hurled Drax into a pile of rubble. Green Lantern swooped down and punched Thanos with an enlarged fist. Thanos stumbled back one step.

“Thanos by guardian law I hereby place you under arrest. You shall surrender to me and face trial for murder and genocide on OA.” Hal commanded.

Thanos simply smiled and turn to meet the Lantern. Seeing that he was not going to come quietly Hal. Willed an artillery piece into existence. Taking aim he fired square at Thanos’ chest. Firing again and again, the shells hitting their target where taking their toll. Thanos seemed dazed

Going in for the finishing blow, Hal flew at Thanos producing a mace in his right hand. Swinging underhanded Hal was going to hit Thanos in his armorless chin, this battle was over. But Thanos had recovered quickly as Hal’s arm swung through Thanos caught Hal’s forearm in right hand.

“I recognize no Guardian laws.” Thanos pulled Hal closer to him, dangling him by his ring arm. “Tell me, where the Book of the Black is.”

Hal struggled against Thanos’ grip, “The Book of the what?” Thanos shook his head, annoyed, and rammed Hal into the ground. Picking him back up by the neck. Hal disoriented from the pain weakly attempted a fist construct in an attempt to break free of Thanos’ grip. However, Thanos swatted it away and Hal’s imagination shattered.

Thanos looked at Hal with disapproval, “You Lanterns speak of will. You don’t know what true will is.” He lifted Hal above his head, strangling him, “This planet and Brix are testaments to my will. Now I will ask you one more time. Where is the Book of the Black?”

“Go to hell” Hal gasped desperately struggling to break free. Looking around for help, it was clear the Guardians were being pushed hard and where not going to be of assistance anytime soon.

Thanos continued in an almost bored tone, “ The last Lantern said something similar. You all think these little trinkets the Guardians give you make you invincible. They don’t. I took him to his home planet. I destroyed his ring with the heel of my boot. Then I asked him the same question as I am asking you now. I told him I would slaughter every living creature on the planet unless he revealed the location of the Book of the Black. He claimed not to know. I made him watch. What began as defiant grandstanding, soon turned to promises of vengeance, then pleading, and finally groveling. In the end it was clear he did not in fact have the knowledge I seek so I showed him mercy...”

Drax had regained his senses and drew his blade. He sprinted towards Thanos’ turned back and leaped into the air, shouting a battle cry. Drax brought the blade down, driving it into Thanos’ left shoulder.

Thanos dropped Hal and turned to his new foe. He grabbed Drax by the head and smashed it into the ground. Standing up, Thanos lifted his foot and dropped it on Drax’s skull.

Hal regaining situational awareness sprung up. A green sword appeared in his hand as he swung towards Thanos’ knee. Thanos howled in pain as the blade pierced his flesh. Dropping to one knee, Thanos backhanded Hal sending him flying towards the Guardians.

Thanos chuckled, “There is more fight in you than most. But I am in no mood for games today.”

Gamora moved to engage Thanos now, sword held tight. Thanos smirked as she approached, “Return to your father's side now, little one.” Gamora lunged towards Thanos lashing out with her sword. Thanos swung his fist and struck her in the chest. Gamora flew backwards and collided with a wall. She fell to the ground, unconscious.

Star-Lord moved to stand over her like a faithful guard dog, eyes and guns trained on Thanos.

“Put those guns away, boy. You really think those can hurt me when a Green Lantern ring can’t?” Thanos asked imperiously.

Quill continued staring and for once was silent.

The remaining Manhunters had surrounded Rocket and Groot. Rocket had been knocked off Groots shoulder and lost his weapon. Groot seemed exhausted. Drax was still sprawled out in the dirt

Hal struggled to his feet, ring igniting with green energy. Thanos looked at the man and chuckled to himself, “You continue to impress Lantern. Take a message to the Guardians of the Universe Sector 666 is mine. I know the book of the black is here. They will tell it’s location or every planet in every sector will share this fate until I do.”

“One more thing.” he said turning to Quill ”Be sure to tell my daughter she is welcome back whenever she finally grows bored with you.”

With that he and the manhunters returned to the ship in the same flash bright light that had brought them. The ship lifted in atmosphere leaving the heroes battered and broken in the dust below.

For a while all was quiet as the the heroes tried to process what had happened. Hal sank to his knees. Allowing the ring to slide off hi finger. The lantern uniform faded leaving him in his bomber jacket and flight suit.

Snapping back to reality quill frantically hovered over gamora “come on get up. You not going to let one hit take you out” Quill said desperately. Gamora’s eyes suddenly opened.

“Peter I’m not going anywhere” she said and quill embraced her. Groot had dragged the unconscious Drax over to the rest of the group.

Rocket limped over to Hal. “Guess you guys aren’t really invincible are you? Course’ everyone knows that. You see these rings flying around searching a new owner every once in a while.” Rocket looked at Hal, “you’re lucky yours isn’t searching for one right now.”

“Yes” said Hal standing up, fire in his eyes, “but one is.” Willing the ring to him it flew to his finger wrapping him in green energy, creating his uniform, “Thankyou all for your help but This isn’t your fight. Thanos killed a Green Lantern and Lanterns will bring him to justice.” Hal began to speak to his ring, getting updates about where Thanos could have gone.

“Thanos is my father. That makes this my fight,” Gamora was annoyed, “and besides, we can’t very well call ourselves the Guardians of the Galaxy if we don’t guard the damn thing.”

Hal looked around at the five Guardians in front of him. “Okay,” he nodded while he spoke, “we’re in this together then.”

Drax broke the following silence, “Thanos spoke to one of his robot men about a ‘Book of the Black.’ What is this Book of the Black?”

Hal shook his head and scratched the back of his neck, “I honestly don’t know. I need to contact the Corps. If we are going to stop Thanos we need help.”

Gamora nodded, “Finding out what the Book of the Black is is our only lead as to where Thanos went.”

—— Just Outside of Sector 666 February 11th, 1958; 20:00 ET

The Guardians of the Galaxy and the Green Lantern blasted out of Sector 666 as fast as the Guardians ship would take them. “Ring, contact Salaak immediately.”

“Lantern 2814.1, it seems your tracking software is back online. I trust you were successful,“ Salaak took an audible breath, “You will need to be debriefed in the nearest Sector House as soon as possible.”

Hal shook his head, knowing Salaak couldn’t see him, “Listen Salaak. Thanos is on a rampage. Ryut has been purged of life. Thanos is demanding the Guardians reveal the location something called the Book of the Black or else he will continue slaughtering planets.”

Salaak was struck by silence. “Lantern 2814.1, repeat, did you say Book of the Black?”

“Yes,” Agitated now, Hal growled, “Book of the Black. Now cut the bullshit. Thanos, the New God that murdered Lantern Cob and has laid waste to two planets, is looking for it. He cut through my constructs like they were paper.”

There was a long silence as Hal fumed.

The ring suddenly turned a brighter shade of green as Salaaks voice came through on corps wide alert “All Lanterns this is a priority message. Code Midnight November Echo. All Lanterns not currently engaged in Priority Alpha missions are to return to OA immediately. This is not a drill. Failure to comply will result in immediate dismissal from the Corps.”

Hal said nothing. He had never heard that call before. No lantern in a thousand years had. This was even more serious than he imagined

Dropping into the Co-pilot seat next to quill Hal began typing in the navigation routes

“Where the hell is this?!?” Asked Quill indignantly, looking over the coordinates.

“OA,” Hal replied “if you want to help, this is where we’re going next”

“Okay then, I’ll tell yah, I can’t wait to see how the Guardians of the Universe react to the Guardians of the Galaxy.”

To be continued….

Author: u/JPM11S

Book: Batman

Arc: Case of the Serpent Society

My name is Bruce Wayne. When I was 8 years old, my parents and those of my friends were shot in an alley in front of our very eyes. That day, I swore to myself that I would stop the crime that took my parents from me. To do this, I devoted my life to honing my body and mind into becoming a weapon in which to fight evil. I am vengeance. I am the night. I. AM. BATMAN.

STRYKER’S MANSION - ROOF - June 1st, 1958

‘This,’ thought Batman, lying on the scalding hot roof tiles of Stryker’s mansion, feeling the skin on his back singe, ‘this would be a good death.’ He’d fought the phantasm tooth and nail, dealing as much punishment as he’d taken, but it wasn’t enough. He still failed to prevent Stryker’s murder. He still failed to catch the killer. Maybe, what Jim had said was right, maybe he wasn’t making a difference. And you know what, a small part of him wanted to believe it, the part that was looking for any excuse to abandon his crusade before it was to late. Before he died broken and alone in some dingy back alley of the city.

No, he had to be doing some good, right?

Like ice water through his veins, the need to prove himself shocked Batman back into action. ‘This…’ thought Batman, dragging his pain addled body upright, ‘this would be a good death, but not good enough.’

Batman staggered to his feet, knees threatening to buckle at any instant, his head swimming from blood loss and the pain of broken bones. His movements had aggravated the gaping wounds in his stomach, though he was certain nothing critical had been punctured by sheer mermit of his guts not spewing forth, a small miracle it it’s own right. Batman grabbed at his cape, tearing it from his shoulders and, with the skill of a practiced battlefield medic, tied it round his midsection, the knot tight over the wound, pressure against which nearly made him blackout from shock. But the jolt was enough to give him precisely what he needed to survive, adrenaline.

He nearly fell from the roof as he clumsily climbed down, falling to his hands and knees, staining the grass with his blood. Batman stumbled away, making a line for his car that even a drunk wouldn’t call straight, but somehow he made it, falling into the seat of his car with a groan.

GOTHAM CITY - CRIME ALLEY - June 1st, 1945

The alley was dark and narrow, the bitter taste of stale air and the stink from the overfilled dumpsters permeated the place, the sole inhabitants of which were the rats. They scurried and squeaked about, wading through dirty puddles so they could dig through filth for a morsel of food that would never come. Suddenly, their movements stopped though, ears perking perking about and heads frantically whipping around the place. Someone was coming.

From the brightly lit theater across the street, the three young boys ran in circles around each other, giggling hysterically while they tried to catch each other in an odd game of tag, smiles wide and eyes bright, unburdened. Their families, the Oswalds, the Starks, and the Waynes, smiled at the sight of their playing children, so carefree and joyful, celebrating the 8th birthday of Bruce Wayne. At the insistence of an anxious birthday boy, they had all left early, taking a shortcut Thomas Wayne knew of.

“Haha!” laughed Tony Stark, jumping on the back of Bruce Wayne, “Happy birthday!”

“Ah, yes, happy birthday.” smiled Oswald Cobblepot.

BANG.

Instantly their hearts began to threaten to break out of their chest, the once jovial mood having ended in an instant. The boys whipped their heads around, terrified eye’s landing on a sleazy looking man in a trench coat, smoking gun in hand, standing over the body of Oswald’s father.

“Mother!” shouted Oswald, running to her side, standing protectively in front her, “You won’t hurt her.”

BANG.

Oswald dropped to the ground, his knee shattered beneath the fountains of blood spewing forth.

“J-just gimme the money!” trembled the man in the trench coat, pushing his greasy blonde hair from his face.

“It’s alright,” said Thomas Wayne, stepping forward with his hands raised, wallet in hand, “everyone stay calm.”

Thomas put some foot in front of the other, almost exaggerating his steps as he moved towards the mugger, holding out his wallet. The man eagerly went to grab it, fumbling it in his trembling hand till it dropped to the rain slick ground. The pair went down to grab it.

BANG.

The mugger had panicked, shooting Thomas without thinking.

As he laid there against the wet pavement of Crime Alley, blood pooling around him, Thomas clutched the hand of his now sobbing wife, doing his best to comfort her as the life faded from his eyes. Through her tears, Martha called her son over, wanting to hold him close. The boy obliged, clutching his onto his mother till his knuckles turned white.

Gun trembling in hand, the mugger pressed it against her chest, pearl necklace draping the weapon as it threatened her.

“Gimme your jewelry.”

From behind, Howard Stark grabbed the mugger, throwing him to the ground, his head cracking loudly against the pavement, and…

BANG.

He accidently fired the gun, bullet entering the gut of Martha Wayne, her body slumping to the ground, pearl necklace shattering and going everywhere, beads trailing blood as they rolled around.

WAYNE MANOR - MASTER BEDROOM - June 2nd, 1958

Beads of sweat rolled down Bruce’s face as he tossed and turned in the damp sheets of the masterfully crafted four post bed. Jutting up, eyes wide and alert, he looked around at his surrounding nervously. The nightmare was over. Suddenly becoming acutely aware of the white hot pain in his chest, Bruce flopped back down into bed, a exasperated sigh escaping his lips.

“I see you’re up, Master Bruce. How do you feel?” said Alfred.

“Like I was clawed at and stabbed in the back.”

“I’m surprised you even know what happened to you, given the thrashing you took.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Really, Master Bruce? Based on what?”

“My time in the league.”

“Ah, yes, I do recall you mentioning the ‘training’ you underwent with those bloody assassins.”

Alfred began to walk out, only to stop suddenly and turned around.

“I almost forgot, do you think you could stand by any chance, Master Bruce?”

“Why?”

“You have a visitor.”

“Gordon?”

“While they do both have red hair, sir, not quite.”

WAYNE MANOR - LIVING ROOM - June 2nd, 1958

Having thrown on a white button down shirt to cover up the bandages of his extensive injuries as well as a pair of pants, Bruce hobbled down the wooden stairs of Wayne Manor, clutching the railing as he tried to maintain some appearance of his usual swagger. With each movement, he felt his bones grind and muscles tense as they tried to keep him moving, fact being that it was a miracle he was upright at all. Spotting the person waiting for him down below, Bruce’s heart skipped a beat and his already tight grip on the railing began to splinter the wood. Andrea Beaumont.

“Andrea.” said Bruce to the beautiful redhead, doing his best to keep his voice neutral.

She turned to face him, graceful features beaming with excitement, “Hello, Bruce! So nice to see you!”

Bruce faked a smile, “You too.”

Trying to manage his usual playboy swagger, Bruce moved towards Andrea, giving her an awkward hug in his attempt to hide his wound. He accidently knocked her purse out of her hands though, sending it tumbling to the ground and spilling it’s rather bountiful contents everywhere.

“I’m so sorry,” said Bruce, wincing as he bent down to pick up what he spilled, “just clumsy I guess.”

“You know, I can tell that you’re hurt, Bruce.”

“And how could you do that?

“You’re not exactly hiding it well.” smiled Andrea.

Bruce fumbled everything back into her back, though stopping once he saw a magazine called “The Serpent Society.”

“Since when do you like snakes?” asked Bruce.

Andrea’s jovial smile dropped, though only for the blink an eye and quickly picking up once against as she said, “Since forever. Guess there’s still some stuff you don’t know about me.”

“You’re right,” Bruce plopped down into one of the chairs before the fireplace rather unceremoniously, having now given up on his attempt to hide the fact that every movements sent needles through his body, “like why you left me for example.”

“Bruce…” said Andrea, sitting down in the chair next to Bruce.

“Yes, sorry, where are my manners.” chirped Bruce, though clearly not meaning it, “Where have you been?”

“Traveling the world.”

“Where in the world?”

“Europe… spent a lot of time in Asia.”

“You know, after you left, I went to Asia. Beautiful place. So many… interesting people to say the least. I learned a lot.”

“Like what?”

“How to deal with the pain.”

“Does it really still bother you that much?”

“Yes.”

Andrea shifted uncomfortably in her seat, “Then why didn’t you even try to stop me?”

Bruce’s eyes flared and he said, “Because! What would you do! Your fucking fiance for gods sake just up and leaves and gives you jack shit as to why!

“Master Bruce!” scolded Alfred.

Bruce’s face turned white as he began to apologize to Andrea, “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… you know…”

“No, no it’s alright. It’s just that… I do feel guilty for what I did.”

“So then why’d you do it?” There was a sadness in his eyes.

“Because it was the right thing to do.”

“Andrea…”

“Stop. It’s alright. I shouldn’t have come here. I knew neither of us were ready for this.”

“Andrea, please…”

“Goodbye, Bruce.”

And with that, Andra ran off, click of her heels echoing in the hall and punctuated the slam of the large oak doors of the front entrance of Wayne Manor.

The table broke beneath Bruce’s fists, sending splinters everywhere and startling Alfred.

LATER THAT NIGHT

GOTHAM CITY - LAMBERT’S MANSION - June 2nd, 1958

Having sped through the winding back roads of Gotham in what he had come to call the “Bat-Mobile,” Batman arrived back at the dimly lit area surrounding the gothic stone monstrosity that was Lambert’s mansion. Gingerly stepping out of the car, still bruised and battered from his fight on the roof, Batman took note of the police car parked out front, seeming to be guarding a abandoned building. He theorized that the police had posted someone at the mansion in the event of burglars, or potentially the perp in their wet dream.

Under the cover of night, Batman expertly slipped through the shadows to the eastern mansion wall, as he had done so before. Whipping out his grappling hook, he threw it up, it landing snuggly on the mansion roof. Planting one boot clad foot on the wall, Batman began his attempt to scale the mansion’s side. One foot after the other, he struggled up the building, heaving and wheezing as he gritted his teeth, biting back the pain. It was to much though and Batman tumbled to the ground, landing squarely on his back, the wind knocked out of him. Picking himself back up, gasping air back into his lungs, Batman made a note to himself to upgrade his grappling hook with some sort of pulling feature. Perhaps, more like a grappling gun would suffice?

Casually leaning against the car door, shoving a snack he had brought into his face, John Blake chatted with his partner for the night, the pair making conversation from things ranging from how the city is “going to shit” to the latest ball game. Their pleasant talk was suddenly interrupted though by a thud in the distance.

“You hear that?” asked Officer John Blake.

“It’s nothing, kid.” replied his partner, taking a sip from his thermos.

“Well it could be something.”

“Animal at best.”

“We should go check it out.”

“Tellin’ you kid, it’s nothing.”

“Do we have anything better to do?”

“I got a dozen reasons in the back seat.”

John Blake shook his head and headed towards the noise.

“Hello?” he said, pausing for an answer, “Is someone there?”

He looked around, looking for some signs of life, eyes finding a grappling hook lodged into the roof of the mansion.

“Whoever you are,” said John, fumbling with his flashlight in an effort to turn it on, “you can’t be here.”

John shone it around, trying to find the would be intruder, not expecting to drag a man in a bat costume from the shadows and into the light. Without warning, the man lunged at him, bludgeoning his chin with the heel of his hand. Dazed and knocked off balance, John couldn’t reacted when the bat-man wrapped his arms around his neck, choking the life out of him.

Batman gently laid the cop on the soft bed of grass, pitying the man. He was only trying to do his job, but then again, so was he. Hearing the struggle, the cops friend came running, arthritic knees grinding as the man pushed himself onwards to see what was going on. Slowly unholstering his gun, the cop’s friend stepped forwards, expecting to find some burglar looking to score big time, though greeted by the same way his comrade fell, a pair of arms wrapping around him, the air squeezed out.

While the guards may be incapacitated, giving Batman the clear to enter the mansion, he had not planned on this. He was supposed to in and out without anyone noticing, now he had two bodies lying around, marking he was there.

Entering into the gothic monstrosity, Batman began his search for evidence potentially linking the two murders. It was certainly no coincidence the two friends were killed by the same person on the same day.

45 minutes later

Nothing. Absolutely nothing linking the two murders beyond the obvious. No letters. No journal entries. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Hell, the only thing out the ordinary was some stupid magazine named “The Serpent Society.”

Remembering that Andrea had the magazine from earlier in the day, Batman flipped it open, scanning over the many articles, curious as to it’s contents. He found nothing out of the ordinary, until he came to the editorial that is. It was clever, but he was cleverer. Hidden in the last page of the magazine, Batman found a hidden message, or messages that is. They were all alarming to say the least, talking about the world renowned assassin named “The Phantasm” killing their members and what not, but it was the last one that startled him the most, sending a chill down his spine.

HAIL HYDRA

“THIS IS DETECTIVE JIM GORDON OF THE GCPD! WILL THE BAT-MAN COME OUT WITH HIS HANDS ON HIS HEAD! WE HAVE THE PLACE SURROUNDED!”

Shit.

To be continued...

Author: u/c0d95

Book: Iron Man

Arc: Origins

The theater doors swung open to release a crowd of people. The play hadn’t let out yet, but Bruce had been anxious to leave so the group decided to call it a night. The Starks, the Waynes, and the Cobblepots veered off the main road to cut through an alleyway to make their trek a few minutes shorter.

As they strolled through the corridor of dumpsters and backdoors, the children ran several paces ahead laughing and playing tag. A loud voice rang out behind them and Tony, Bruce, and Oswald turned to see a man with a gun yelling at their parents. Tony’s mother, Maria, yelled out his name as the man with the gun began to shoot.

“Tony! Tony!”

MAY 28th, 1957

“Tony! Wake up!”

Tony Stark raised his head from the table and opened his eyes to see Obadiah Stane, his business partner, sitting next to him and staring angrily back at him. Stark looked around the table to see the board of directors meeting coming to a close.

The board stood and began to shake hands and exchange pleasantries. Tony rose with them and stretched his shoulders. As he stretched, Abraham Zimmer, whom Tony vaguely remembered was the head of the engineering department, approached him, extending a hand to shake Tony’s.

“Mister Stark.” Zimmer firmly shook Tony’s hand.

“Abe! What can I do for you?”

Tony’s use of Zimmer’s shortened first name clearly caught him off guard. “Uh, I just wanted to say that I’m still waiting on an invitation to see what you’re working on down in your, uh, private workshop.” He chuckled as he spoke.

“Well shit, Abe. You’re gonna be waiting a long time on that.” Tony laughed and patted Zimmer’s shoulder.

As Zimmer walked away, Tony feels a tight hand grab the back of his neck. He clenches his body as he hears Obadiah’s voice.

“My office. Now.” Stane’s voice is no higher than a growl.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Tony?” Stane paced the office, yelling, “You can’t fall asleep in the middle of a goddamn board of directors meeting!”

Tony sat, arms crossed, listening.

“The board barely takes a twenty-one year old seriously as CEO as it is. Falling asleep during meetings doesn’t do anything to change that.” Stane stopped pacing and looked at Tony. “I can’t stop you from partying and drinking but it’s starting to affect the company. And that means it’s starting to affect me.”

Tony remained silent.

“Say something for yourself, dammit!” Stane was in Tony’s face, red in his.

Standing up, Tony shrugged and said, “I’m the CEO. I have places to be right now.” He started for the door, looking over his shoulder at the still fuming Obadiah, he said, “Don’t wait up for me, honey.” And he left.

“...she touched my hand, what a chill I got...her lips are like a volcano that’s hot...I’m proud to say she’s my buttercup….I’m in love...I’m all shook up…”

Tony looked out over the crowded house party. Girls were dancing, guys were checking them out, everyone was drinking and drunk, and everyone but Tony was having fun. They drank to each other and to good fortune; Tony drank alongside his peers feeding in the facsimile that his life had become.

The theater doors swung open to release a crowd of people.

The bartender greeted Tony as he eased his way into a stool. “What can I get for you, Mister Stark?”

The play hadn’t let out yet, but Bruce had been anxious to leave so the group decided to call it a night.

“Whisky. Double. Fast.” He isn’t drinking for leisure; he’s drinking to get drunk. It doesn't matter what he drinks.

The Starks, the Waynes, and the Cobblepots veered off the main road to cut through an alleyway to make their trek a few minutes shorter.

The bartender places the drink in front of Tony and he takes the shot in one big drink.

As they strolled through the corridor of dumpsters and backdoors, the children ran several paces ahead laughing and playing tag.

“Another,” said Tony as he slammed the glass down.

A loud voice rang out behind them and Tony, Bruce, and Oswald turned to see a man with a gun…

Tony began to remember less and less as he drank more and more. He hit on and flirted with numerous women as the party wore on.

The girl before him spoke, “Are you the Tony Stark?” By Tony’s estimations she was girl #482.

Tony scoffed, “Baby, I’m the only Tony Stark.” He put his arm around her shoulders.

Girl #482 rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and I’m the only Harleen Quinzel.” Girl #482 brushed Tony’s arm off and walked away.

The last thing Tony remembered that night was watching Girl #482 walk away.

MAY 29th, 1957

A bright beam of light shone in Tony’s eyes. He cursed and tried to roll over but bumped into something next to him. Groggily rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Tony sees that he is in his bedroom and a girl is in his bed. Girl #482 to be exact. How he ended up taking her home, Tony did not know. The beam of light that shone into his face, he discovered, was the sunrise.

Tony rolled out of bed; warm feet hitting the cold floor. Standing and stretching were done in an almost singular motion. Walking to the bathroom took a little more focus as Tony’s head was clouded by a massive hangover.

After relieving himself, Tony pulled some casual clothes on and headed for the kitchen. Since firing his butler, Tony had found himself in the, in his opinion, unfortunate circumstance of preparing his own meals and keeping his own house.

Breakfast consisted of dry, stale, cereal and swig of warm beer. Once he finished choking down the poor excuse of a meal Tony slipped into the garage, leaving his bed guest to find her way out. He backed his custom made luxury sports car out and began his short drive to Stark Industries.

Fifteen minutes later he pulled into the parking lot and made his way behind the building. Tony had a private entrance built to his private workshop when Stark Industries new headquarters was built that only he knew of and only he could use. Using the entrance allowed him to come and go from Stark Industries as he pleased; without being seen or bothered.

Tony entered the workshop and hit the light switch. His answering machine light was blinking; he hit the button and stretched his shoulders and neck.

“Anthony! It’s Justin...Justin Hammer. We need to talk about that military deal. Call me.”

“Hey Tony, it’s me Bruce. Just calling to wish you a happy birthday. Hope you have a nice day… uh, bye.”

“Tony, I haven’t heard from you since the meeting. We need to get on top of the board. Call me.” The last message was from Obadiah Stane.

The lights finished turning on, as the messages ended, revealing a rather large concrete shop filled with partially constructed engines and weapon prototypes. Tony ignored all of these ongoing projects and walked to the middle of the room.

A large steel rack occupied the center of the workshop. The rack formed a circle with tables and assorted mechanical pieces. A smaller steel rack was in the middle of all of that. Hanging from the rack was Tony’s biggest project yet.

“Hello beautiful,” mumbled Tony as he readied himself to work. Out of a drawer he pulled a file that contained his plans for the project.

A suit of armor hung before him. It consisted of a rounded helmet with eye and mouth holes, a chest piece, arms and legs. At the moment, it lacked torso protection aside from the chest piece. The arms, hand and legs were un-protected as well. It was essentially a skeleton. The back contained a lot of exposed pistons and joints that increased the wearers speed and strength.

The boots were a little more clunky than Tony would have liked; they had flight thrusters built in. The gauntlets were the same; flight stabilizers were built into the palms of the gloves.

There was an open hole in the chest piece that would hold the power source. However, Tony did not yet have a viable power source; the hole remained empty for now. Instead, to run his operational tests, Tony would hook the suit up to a car battery. It was less than ideal but it’s what he had to work with.

Because it didn't have any armor plating yet, Tony had taken to calling it an exoskeleton in his private musings.

The phone began to rang as Tony tinkered with a piston on the back of the suit.

“Hello?” Tony didn’t identify himself; if someone was calling this phone they knew who he was.

“Tony. It’s Rhodes,” USAF Lt. Colonel James Rhodes was, perhaps, Tony’s only friend.

“Hey buddy, what’s up?”

“We need to talk.” Rhodey sounded grim. Tony invited him over to the workshop; Rhodey was the only other person who knew of Tony’s secret shop.

Tony continued to work on the suit while he waited for Rhodes to show up. Because the suit was designed to be able to fly, Tony was trying to make it as lightweight as possible. He worked on this issue until he heard the door open and saw his friend coming into the room, some twenty minutes after they spoke on the phone.

“What’s going on, Rhodes? You got me kind of worried.” Tony continued to tinker with the suit as he talked.

“The situation in Vietnam is continuing to escalate. There is talks of a full scale invasion.”

“Why don’t you just drop another bomb? Worked in Japan.” Being a weapons manufacturer, Tony preferred the weaponized approach.

Rhodey shook his head, “It’s not that simple, Tony. We support the South Vietnamese.

That’s not the point. I’m being sent to a classified location for specialized training. When troops are deployed, and they will be, I’m going too. Eisenhower asked for me by specifically,” he paused, “I’ll be out of contact for six months. I ship out tomorrow.”

Tony had stood up from his crouching position while Rhodey was talking. He was wiping oil off his hands with a rag, “So that’s that then.”

Rhodey nodded, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Tony motioned to the suit behind him, “It’s not going to be ready.” He shrugged his shoulders, “I can’t work out a viable power source.”

Rhodey nodded, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Tony.”

Angry, Tony balled up his rag and threw it hard, “Dammit, that’s not what I mean. It’s not going to be ready in time,” He threw his hands in the air, “I thought this conflict in Vietnam was going to blow over.”

Rhodey cut in, “Tony. It’s okay. There’s not going to be any actual fighting. I won’t need the suit. We’re going to go in, wave our guns around a bit and the Cong will surrender.” He looked at his watch, “Damnit, I’m sorry Tony, I’ve got to get out of here. I have a meeting with my C.O. in an hour.”

Tony remained silent. He was building the armor suit to protect American troops in Vietnam and around the world; starting with Rhodey.

“I’ll see you in six months Tony. Take care of yourself.” Rhodey reached out to shake Tony’s hand.

Tony scratched his chin sharply and took Rhodes hand. “Yeah, see you then.”

Rhodey nodded curtly and left. As the door closed behind his friend, Tony picked up the phone and dialed his secretary.

“Tony Stark’s office, this is Shelly.”

“It’s me. I need you to call a press conference for tonight.”

“I will get right on that, Mr. Stark. Do you need-”

Tony hung up. He was going to need all the time he could get to get suit operational for the announcement. His plan was to announce that the project existed and was near completion. By doing so, he could then sign a contract with the military and have the suit implemented before the Vietnam situation escalated anymore.

He knew that he wasn’t going to be able to cover the suit in armor plating in time, but also knew that it would be functional without it. Tony’s primary focus was on getting a portable, self sustaining power source built and integrated.

As the day and early evening wore on, Tony had drawn up a rough blueprint for a possible power source and had begun preliminary work on it. He looked at the clock; he was out of time. The blueprint would have to be enough for now.

Camera flashes and unknown faces looked back at Tony. He stood at a podium in Stark Industries press room. Obadiah Stane stood by the wall, watching Tony with suspicious interest.

“Thank you all for coming. I know it’s kind of late, so I’ll get right to it,” Tony had prepared a slide presentation with the suit’s blueprints. He turned on the projector and put the slide on display, “America was built on war. War has forced America to advance our technology, both at home and on the battlefield. However, soldiers are still dying. With my new project, I hope to put an end to American deaths in war.

“This exoskeleton provides whomever wears it with accelerated speed and strength. It provides some protection against bullets and shrapnel and even offers limited flight capabilities. I have a prototype completed and ready for testing,” at the words ‘completed and ready’ Tony glanced at Stane to see his face contort in anger, “I call it Codename: Iron Man.” The press agents exploded with questions at the announcement.

The US military had contacted Tony as soon as the press conference ended. He was meeting with them in the morning to sign a contract for the Codename: Iron Man suit. Obadiah Stane had tried to confront Tony but Stark had managed to dodge him and was now making his way to his car.

A white, Stark Industries labeled van slowly approached and rolled by Tony. As he retrieved his keys and began to unlock his car, Tony heard the brakes from the van squeak behind him. The van had stopped. He paid that fact no mind. The sound of doors opening and closing did not concern him either.

Tony had opened his car door and started to get in when he felt a strong grip on his shoulder.

“Hey! Who the hell do you think you are?” Tony turned to see the butt of a gun flying toward his face. His world went black as the gun connected with the bridge of his nose. The assailants put a burlap sack over Tony’s head and bound his arms. The van’s rear doors were opened and Tony’s limp, unconscious body was thrown into the vehicle. The doors were slammed shut; the tires squealed and the unassuming Stark Industries van sped off into the night.

To be continued...

Author: u/JPM11S

Book: Batman

Arc: Case of the Serpent Society

My name is Bruce Wayne. When I was 8 years old, my parents and those of my friends were shot in an alley in front of our very eyes. That day, I swore to myself that I would stop the crime that took my parents from me. To do this, I devoted my life to honing my body and mind into becoming a weapon in which to fight evil. I am vengeance. I am the night. I. AM. BATMAN.

He almost gave up.

He was almost happy.

But tragedy struck again.

GOTHAM CITY - ROAD - June 3rd, 1958

Right now…

Batman gripped the steering wheel of the Batmobile tightly, knuckles white as he sent the vehicle twisting and turning through the narrow and worn backroads of Gotham on his way to the city. Here he was alone, left with nothing but the wide open road and the roar of the engine as it barreled along. And most importantly, he was left with his thoughts. Thoughts that were swarming with questions of “what if” and “how” and “why?” What if Andrea never left him? How did she join Hydra? Why did she leave him? The questions roared in Batman’s mind almost as loud as the engine that was being pushed to its limits, uncomfortably close to bursting into flames, ending before it could really ever begin.

GOTHAM CITY - WAYNE MANOR - BRUCE’s BEDROOM - June 1st, 1955

Back then…

The morning light shown on the the pair of lovers laid intertwined under the messy sheets of the four-post bed, their scantily clothed bodies barely concealed. They looked content, at ease in each other's arm. Happy. The man began to stir, coming to slow waking as he blinked the crust from his eyes. Greeted by the sight of the beautiful woman next to him, he smiled, giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead before carefully untangling his body from hers. Standing up, he looked out the large window before him, the thin layer of sweet coating his body glistening in the sunlight, emphasizing his well-defined, muscular body. Cracking his… everything, he dropped down to the ground and began to do push ups, beginning what would be considered an unusual morning routine for the eighteen year old billionaire, Bruce Wayne.

Up. Down. Up. Down. Bruce performed the exercise effortlessly, only stopping when his grunts began to wake his lover, Andrea Beaumont. Rolling to the side of the bed, she hung her head over the edge and said… “No morning cuddles, babe?”

Bruce stared at her, not quite sure what to say.

“It’s alright,” she smiled, “just go make some breakfast to make up for it. I’ll be right down.”

He smiled, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before leaving.

GOTHAM CITY - WAYNE MANOR - KITCHEN - June 1st, 1955

Back then…

The smell of sizzling bacon filled the kitchen as Alfred dutily prepared breakfast for Bruce and Andrea. Unfortunately, Bruce had… failed to cook the food, to put it nicely, with Alfred having to step in before his kitchen was completely obliterated. However, though he may have lacked the cooking prowess of his butler, Bruce did still try to make himself useful, putting bread in the toaster, fetching milk from the front stoop, and setting the table, to name but a few things, all in his underwear to boot.

“Bruce.” Andrea called, entering the bustling kitchen clad in a silk robe, holding a pair of clothes in her hands, “Here, catch.”

She tossed him the clothes, Bruce fumbling them through his fingers as he tried to catch them, though ultimately dropping them in the ketchup he had just set on the table.

“Aw man.” whined Bruce, wiping the condiment from his shirt, “Alfred, how do you get rid of ketchup stains?”

“Run the stain under cold water from the backside, sir. Then with soapy water, gently rub the stain and finish with a soak in cold water for at least ten minutes.”

“Oh… um… okay… I got this.”

“Here, let me take that, silly.” said Andrea, giggling as she took Bruce’s shirt and began to wash it in the sink adjacent to Alfred.

“Mistress Andrea, please, let me handle it.” said Alfred.

“No, no Alfie, I can do it. Besides, you’re still cooking.”

“The food is nearly done. Please, go sit with Bruce and enjoy yourself. He just finished setting the table.” insisted Alfred.

“If you insist.”

She took a seat across from Bruce, who was reading the morning paper.

“Remember Jeremih Valeska, Andrea? Well, Jim just took him down. Glad to see that guy go after all the trouble he’s caused. Plus, I think it’s second arrest this week.”

“I’m assuming you’re referring to Jim Gordon?”

“Correct.”

“Then yes, it’s his second this week. You know, you still haven’t told me how you know him so well.”

Bruce shifted in his seat, eyes rolling downwards.

“Oh, did I hit a soft spot? Bruce, I--”

“No, no, it’s alright.” said Bruce, leaning back in his chair, “The night my parents died, Jim was the detective called to the scene. As a matter of fact, I think it was his first case in the city. He… uh, did his best to comfort me, put his coat around me and what not. He tried to make all of us feel better, as much as Tony insisted he was fine.”

Bruce forced a laugh.

“Oswald was a wreck though. So… yah, when Tony moved away from Gotham and Oswald went to live in England, I was the only one left in the city. Jim visited me often, kept me apprised on the case.”

Bruce’s nails began to dig into the table, leaving small marks.

“He never did find the killer. We kept in touch though. I’m not going to lie, he’s like another father to me.”

“Well well… isn’t that a surprising amount of emotional self-awareness!”

Bruce smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Standing up, Andrea made her way over to Bruce, taking a seat on his lap and nuzzling up to him.

“I know how hard it is for you, Bruce, to talk about your past. I’m proud of you.” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, you wore the ring.” smiled Bruce, noticing the engagement ring he had given her on her finger.

“Why yes I did.”

Alfred set the food on the table.

“Alfred,” asked Bruce, “why don’t you join us?”

“It’s not my place, sir. Besides, I ate earlier in the morning.”

Bruce took a mound of eggs from one of the bowls Alfred had set out.

“Well then let's dig in!”

After breakfast…

Standing in the warmth of the morning light, Bruce and Alfred saw Andrea off as she was picked up by her butler. The pair waved as she entered the car, only stopping when she passed the gates.

“You know, Master Bruce, I can not express how happy I am for you.”

“What do you mean, Alfred?”

“Look around. You have a beautiful fiance, your demeanor has vastly improved, you’re happy, and most importantly, you’ve given up on that godforsaken idea of a mission you have.”

“I haven’t given up on it Alfred.”

“Oh really?” smirked Alfred, “Well then, when was the last time you’ve gone out for one of your ‘experiments’?”

“Probably just before I met, Andrea.”

“And I rest my case, sir.”

“I haven’t… I just… I’m doubting it, Alfred. I know my parents would want me to avenge them but… I never thought I would ever be… happy.”

Bruce gave a weary smile.

GOTHAM CITY - ACROSS FROM THE GRAND GOTHAM HOTEL - GARGOYLE - June 3rd, 1958

Right now…

Having sped through the winding back roads of Gotham in order to get to the city, Batman arrived at his location, the Grand Gotham Hotel. Parking the Batmobile in a nearby alley, he used his recently invented grappling gun to rocket himself up the side of a nearby building, sending him high above the bustling streets below. Perched on one of the buildings many gargoyles, and one of Gotham’s many gargoyles for that matter, Batman peered through the windows of the Grand Gotham Hotel with a pair of binoculars, eyes darting about as he searched for the room the meeting was being held in.

GOTHAM CITY - THE GRAND GOTHAM HOTEL - MEETING ROOM - June 3rd, 1958

Right now…

Leaning against the outer glass wall of the room, Andrea eyed everyone carefully, shoulders tense and brow furrowed. You know for a secret, cult-like organization, Hydra certainly didn’t present itself in the way you may think, and this meeting was certainly evidence of that. Everyone dressed as if they were young, stupid socialites, making idle conversations as they sipped on champaign and laughed their prim and prissy laughs. It was incredibly annoying, to say the least. Maybe they were just overcompensating, or trying to project a strength they didn’t have? After all, after Hydra’s supposed “defeat” at the hands of Captain America, though in actuality it took the entire Justice Society of America, the organization had been forced underground, certainly putting a major damper on the recovery of Hydra.

The bell rung, signaling the beginning of the meeting. Everyone made their way to their prescribed seats at the table, of which was shaped like a half circle.

“First order of business,” said Andrea, taking her seat, “as you can see, since the last time we met, councilmen Marshall Lambert and Alfred Stryker have been killed. Their loss is saddening to us, but we must persevere. As you know, I called this meeting to discuss ways to protect ourselves from the Phantasm, whatever shape that may take.”

“Let’s hire Deathstroke! Have him kill this murderer!” shouted a councilman.

“No, no, Deathstroke is currently out on contract.” said a councilwoman.

“Deadshot then!” yelled another councilman.

“Also out on contract.”

“If we want to hire someone, Crossbones has done good work for us in the past,” said Andrea, chiming in, “However, I don’t believe that is the best course of action to take care of this situation… permanently.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Phantasm is a mercenary, lets not forget that. Someone has to have hired them to kill our members.”

“And…?”

“And what I’m proposing is that we move forward with the Grand Plan. If we make a strong show of force, show them that we’re not weak, that we still have resources, whoever hired them should back off.”

“The chances of that working…”

“God damn it!” shouted Andrea, a fire in her eyes, “Do you have any better ideas or do you have a fetish for dying!?”

“I… well… uh…”

“Exactly.”

“Councilwoman, if I may, the logistics of enacting a plan that grand, completely intentional pun by the way, are astronomical. As much as it pains me to say this, I don’t think we have the resources to pull it off.”

“We have the equipment, we have the men for that equipment, I don’t see the problem.”

“You’re relatively new still, councilwoman, you’ve only been here for what, a few years, so I’m going to be gentle… You don’t know what you don’t know. We’ve had this plan for years! Hell decades! And we’ve never gone through with it! There are simply far too many obstacles in our way to warrant such a thing. It would be a sheer act of desperation.”

“And here we are, desperate, dropping like flies. Councilman, if there was ever a time for a desperate act, it’s now.”

Without warning, the skylight above their heads came crashing down, raining glass on all below as a cloaked figure emerged.

The Phantasm.

GOTHAM CITY - BEAUMONT MANSION - MASTER BEDROOM - June 1st, 1955

Back then…

Old people have a smell. And so do dying people. What do you get when you put those two things together? The stench of the room Andrea’s father was in. It seeped into the soft-wooden paneling, making it so the smell would never go away, a constant and unending terror on the nostrils that made everyone who entered gag. Months ago, Maxwell Beaumont fell seriously ill, becoming bedridden in a matter a days as the illness sapped the life out of him. Needless to say, things were not looking good for him, as much as he may have liked to deny it. His body was ravaged by the disease, his skin drawn across his face and eyes sunken so far in that they seemed to disappear. In an odd way, it was a sight to behold, that a man could balance on the knife’s edge of death for so long and not stumble over one way or the other.

Right beside him, Andrea kneeled, resting her head next to her father’s body.

“How’re you feeling today, daddy?” she asked.

“No different from yesterday, which is good.”

“I mean… sure. I’d love to hear that you were feeling better though.”

“Then I’m feeling better, sweety.”

“I don’t think it works like that.”

“In this case, honey, for you it does.”

Andrea smiled.

“I wish that was always the case.” she sighed.

“Oh not on about this again. Baby, I’m not forcing you to do anything.”

“I know… but…”

“It’s alright, I understand. Hell, I was the same way even. You don’t want to be tied down to something, in this case Hydra, you’re not sure about but you also feel the need to honor your father’s wishes.”

“You’re leaving something out. The biggest reason, as a matter of fact.”

“Yes, you would need to leave Bruce.”

“There we go.”

“But it’d only be temporary! You could go back to him!”

“Years after though! He wouldn’t want me back by that point.”

“And you know what, sweetie, if you two are truly in love, then that shouldn’t matter. If you’re doubting that, maybe you two are not meant to be.”

“I… I… maybe you’re right.”

“Listen, I want you to be happy and I know being with Bruce makes you happy, which is why I’m not forcing this on you. Now aren’t you going to the fair with Bruce soon?”

“Uh, yes actually.”

“Well that’s good, he’s a fine young man. You should go get ready.”

“Okay, daddy.”

GOTHAM CITY - GOTHAM CITY FAIR - June 1st, 1955

Back then…

Underneath the brilliant blue sky dotted with clouds, a rare sight for Gotham, people funneled their way towards the Gotham City Fair, braving the sweltering heat of early summer for the promise of fun. Even blocks away from the main entrance, the bright colors and sounds of the fair overwhelmed the senses, a testament to the thriving city, one of the jewels of America. Getting closer, the sounds of laughing and screaming children came into earshot, though still faint due to the myriad of sounds emanating from the fair.

Inside the fairgrounds, all types of people bustled about, ranging from parents trying in vain to hold onto their ecstatic children, bouncing off the walls from sheer excitement, to the elderly arriving in droves from the senior center. The main attraction of this years fair was the world renowned Haley’s circus, of which Andrea was eager to attend, pulling Bruce along.

“Come on, Bruce!” she said, dragging him by the sleeve to the circus tent, “I want to see the Flying Graysons!”

“No need to drag me though.” said Bruce, trying to suppress his laughter as they entered the circus tent.

GOTHAM CITY - GOTHAM CITY FAIR - HALEY’S CIRCUS - June 1st, 1955

Back then…

The pair took their seats underneath the sweltering heat of the tent, all the hot air trapped in it’s confines making it so everyone figgitted around and squirmed as they tried to get comfortable in the unpleasant conditions, only exacerbated by the crowd of people that everyone was surrounded by.

A few minutes passed and the show began.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” boomed a voice from behind the curtain, “Boys and girls! Welcome to the one, the only, Haley’s Circus!”

The heavy curtains flew open and let forth a wide array of colors and sounds and oddities that flooded the senses, sending the crowd into a roar of applause and laughter that made Bruce tense up, his unease at being surrounded by everyone only increased once they began to yell. Andrea stood up and cheered along with everyone, whistling at what she was seeing. She motioned for Bruce to do the same, who politely declined, opting to stay seated.

“Our first show for you fine Gothamites is one of our best! The one! The only! Flying Graysons!”

From within the blob in the center of the ring the performers had congregated into came the Flying Graysons themselves, a family of three, who as a matter of fact, bared some resemblance to Bruce’s own. All of them smiled wide as they waved to the crowd, the boy most of all. The rest of the performers dissipated, leaving only the family.

“The show is about to start, Bruce!” smiled Andrea.

The family climbed the tall wooden posts situated on either side of the ring, taking their positions as they readied themselves to begin.

“And now” shouted the ringleader, “let the show begin!”

On queue the trio began their routine, flipping and twirling in the air effortlessly, all without a net to boot. The crowd ooed and awed at the grace of the performers, especially the little boy, who was mighty impressive for his age, keeping up with his far more experienced parents as he smiled wide underneath the mess of black hair that covered his face. Dick Grayson sure was impressive.

GOTHAM CITY - ACROSS FROM THE GRAND GOTHAM HOTEL - GARGOYLE - June 3rd, 1958

Right now…

Batman crouched down atop the stone gargoyle, gazing through his binoculars, ankles sore from being in the same position for so long. He felt the typical rain of Gotham make his costume heavy, sticking itself to his person giving no relief from the chill it created. He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore it. All the sudden he saw the Phantasm crash into the room where Hydra was meeting, eyes widening as he lept into action, swigging across the gap between buildings.

“Look!”

“Up in the sky!”

“It’s a bird!”

“It’s a plane!”

“No, it’s…! not Superman.”

“Man, I got so excited.”

“Hello? Police? I want to report a sighting of the “Bat-Man.”

GOTHAM CITY - GRAND GOTHAM HOTEL - MEETING ROOM - June 3rd, 1958

Right now…

“No! No! Please don’t hurt us!” cried one of the council members.

“Your angel of death has come.” said the Phantasm, his modulated voice garbling the words till they came out as unpleasant as nails on a chalkboard.

The Phantasm slowly crept towards the quivering socialites that called themselves the leaders of Hydra, raising his clawed hand to deliver the first of many killing blows. Suddenly, Batman crashed through the outer glass wall of the room, sending bits of glass everywhere as be landed in a three-point stance, sheets of rain beginning to pour into the room.

“Batman.” croaked the Phantasm, turning to face him.

Without warning, Batman charged the would be assassin, who was caught off guard by the sheer intensity of the attack. Cracking, his head against the floor as he was tackled to the ground, a sound came from the Phantasm, something that could only be described as the wind being knocked out of him.

“I’m not going to make the same mistake again.” growled Batman, “This time, no questions. I’m just going to break you.”

Batman picked the Phantasm up by the neck, squeezing, savoring the feeling of the air being strangled out of his opponent.

“No… heh… please…” gurgled the Phantasm.

With a flick of the wrist, a blade shot out from the Phantasm’s gauntlet, it quickly finding its way into Batman’s side as the Phantasm struggled free of the chokehold. Clutching his wound, Batman staggered about, gritting his teeth as if that would help his profusely bleeding side. Letting loose a primal roar, he charged the Phantasm, taking out of a batarang and stabbing it into the Phantasm’s arm, severing the ligament that allowed him to use his hand. Now he couldn’t use the same trick twice.

The Phantasm clutched his arm, crying out in pain as he pulled the batarang from his wound. He tried to flex his fingers, but to no avail. That brief pause in the action was all Batman needed to secure the win. Tackling his opponent to the ground, he began to whale on him, blooding his knuckles on the Phantasm’s mask while he pinned his arms down with his knees. Breathing heavily, hands trembling slightly, Batman picked himself up to his full height, vertigo flooding his senses as he suddenly became aware of just how much blood he had lost.

“Ladies and gentleman,” said Batman, his voice dripping with all the menace he could muster, “for years you have festered in the shadows, away from a world that thought you gone. Today the ends. I will hunt each one of you down. I will bring each one of you to justice. I will finish what was started all those years ago. From now on, none of you are safe.”

GOTHAM CITY - BEAUMONT MANSION - MASTER BEDROOM - June 1st, 1955

Back then…

The soft sound of music wafted through the halls of the house, it’s upbeat and jovial sounds a stark contrast to that the house’s inhabitants. Gathered around his bedside, the friends and family of Maxwell Beaumont, keeping him company as his lease on life got smaller by the second. His daughter, Andrea Beaumont, laid beside him, crying into his woolen clothes and she tried in vain to prepare herself for the wretched event to come. Her father was about to die, and although they had known it was bound to happen for quite some time, given his condition, it didn’t make it any easier.

Maxwell lifted his trembling head, an effort just to pick it up, and rubbed his daughter’s head.

“Please, my love, don’t cry.”

Her crying didn’t cease.

“You’ll be alright without me.” said Maxwell, a thin, but warm, smile struggled to come together onto his drawn face, “I promise. You’re a strong girl, just like I raised you to be. And you want to know how I know that?”

Maxwell entered a coughing fit, his hacking sounds only making it more apparent the end was near.

“I’m alright.”

Andrea lifted her head up, exposing her beat red and watering eyes.

“I’m not strong, daddy. I’m just not. I’m weak and selfish.”

“And why do you say that?”

“Because… because, I said no to you. About Hydra. I put my own wants before yours because I’m selfish and I’m only selfish because I’m weak.”

“Honey, I don’t think it works that way.”

“I will go forward with the Grand Plan, daddy. That’s what you want. I will be strong for you.”

A frown etched itself onto her father's face as a sadness overtook his drooping eyes.

“I love you, Andrea.”

His eyes closed, one final breath escaping his lips.

GOTHAM CITY - WAYNE MANOR - June 1st, 1955

Back then…

Underneath the pale glow of the moonlight walked Andrea Beaumont walked towards the gothic castle that was Wayne Manor, savoring the bitter chill of the night air against her skin, even taking pleasure in it as his numbed her face. As she neared closer to the front entrance, the warm glow of the light shined through the windows and onto her skin, casting eerie shadows onto her person. Making her way to front stoop, Andrea knocked on the beautifully crafted oak doors, only managing one knock before she was met by the smiling face of her fiance, Bruce Wayne.

“Andrea!” smiled Bruce, “What brings you here.”

“I--”

“Where are my manners, come in.”

Bruce open up the door all the way, allowing his beautiful fiance entrance into their soon to be home.

“Bruce--”

“Drink? Non-alcoholic of course, since Alfred is home.”

“I--”

“Or I could get you some of the good stuff? Could be fun sneaking that past Alfred.”

“Bruce!” shouted Andrea.

“What is it?”

“I’m calling off the engagement.”

“What.”

“I said I’m calling off the engagement.”

“But… we…”

“I’m sorry.”

Andrea turned on her heel, running out of the mansion as fast as she had entered it, away from the light and into the dark. The door slammed shut behind her.

Fury engulfed Bruce’s mind, a primal roar emanating from him as he let loose his anger upon everything that surrounded him, topping shelves and bookcases and bloodying his fists on anything he could get them onto. As Alfred rushed down the stairs after having heard what had and was transpiring, he found Bruce relentlessly assaulting a wall, the cavity he has created from his hits speckled with the blood that was dripping from both his hands.

“Alfred!” screamed Bruce, having heard him come down the stairs.

“Call and tell them to prepare the fucking jet.”

“Master Bruce, please, I beg of you, try and catch her before--”

“Did I stutter!?”

“No, sir, you did not.”

“I’m leaving tonight, Alfred.”

“Where are you going?”

“Trip around the world. Forge myself into what I promised I’d become.”

Quietly, as to not let Bruce hear, Alfred sighed, “Oh heavens my.”

GOTHAM CITY - GRAND GOTHAM HOTEL - MEETING ROOM - June 3rd, 1958

Right now…

A bright light shone on the room, blinding everyone, accompanied by the roar of helicopters.

“Batman! Surrender yourself now!”

To be continued…

Author: u/WebWarrior420

Book: Daredevil

Arc: The Devil Can Fly

March 14th, 1958

Hell's Kitchen

Matt trudged through the dark streets, sticking to the shadows. It was late, probably around 2 a.m, if he had to take a guess, so he didn’t need to worry too much about getting jumped or people seeing him. Hopefully the sight of seeing a limping devil like figure would be enough to keep people away, he didn’t have the strength to so much as wave to someone in his current state.

While walking in the general direction of where his baton should be, he chuckled to himself. He just fought a guy with wings who could fly. Hell, even he was airbourne himself in the past few minutes. True he used his batons to swing around but this was something else entirely. He never really noticed it through all the adrenaline and the sheer intensity of the fight. The Matt Murdock of ten years would never have imagined that his training would be used in an aerial fight. The Matt Murdock of fifteen years ago probably wouldn’t have believed what had happened. Life really moves in strange, unpredictable ways.

He still remembered that fateful day, all those years ago; the day that had set of a chain of events leading to where he was right now. He was eleven years old and he was just an ordinary child. No heightened senses, no expert training and perfect 20/20 vision. He was on his way home from buying some candy when he saw an old, blind man crossing the road. Ahead a truck was moving towards him, much too fast. Without thinking, Matt rushed forward and shoved the man out of the way with all his strength. He remembered the truck swerving hard to dodge them, he remembered his vision going sideways as he fell, and he remembered some kind of green liquid splashing towards him, like he had just jumped into a river.

Immediately after that it was pain, pain like he had experienced before in his short life. It was like his eyes were burning hot. He squeezed them shut and cried out in agony. He felt hands lifting him and carrying him away. He wanted to ask what was going on, what had happened to him, had he been able to save the old man, but all he could do was writhe and moan in agony as the pain took over.

When he next came to, he was on a bed with a blanket over him. He heard the sounds of people scurrying by and the faint, musky smell that could only come from a hospital. It was very dark though, so dark it was practically black. As he sat up, he heard a voice.

“Matt! Are you alright?”

He felt a warm, rough hand grab his as he realised it was his dad’s voice.

“Dad . . . where, where am I?”

“You’re at the hospital son, there was an accident . . .”

He was sitting upright now, his senses were coming to him. Except for his sight, everything was still so black.

“Dad, why are the lights off? I can’t see anything”

He heard his dad move around in his seat, when he next spoke, it sounded as if his voice was breaking.

“Matt . . . I’m really sorry . . .”

It suddenly hit Matt then. He was in shock, he couldn’t believe it. Then it started to sink in, the lights were never going to turn on, he’d never be able to see the sky again, he’d never be able to see his dad’s face again.

He slammed his fists on the edges of the bed and cried out in frustration. Then he slumped and started to sob silently. He immediately felt his dad’s arms wrap around him, comforting him.

“I’m sorry Matt! I’m so sorry!”

The first couple of weeks were the hardest. He just still trying to grapple with his new reality. He felt dead and defeated inside. All he had done was try to save an old man’s life (which turned out to be successful, he later found out). Was this the reward he would get? He was angry a lot of the time. It wasn’t fair. Why him? He was just a kid! He hadn’t done anything wrong! The visual world, the only one he’d ever known was just torn from him with his say. It just wasn’t fair!

His dad was patient with him and stuck by him as much as he could. He kept talking to him and helped him move about and adjust to his new life. He also put him in touch with a therapist, who also happened to be a priest. At first, Matt was skeptical and closed off. But gradually, he started to open up. The priest, brother John, helped him realise that he still had a lot going for him, the rest of his senses, his body and his entire life in front of him. He and his dad got him in contact with a Blind People’s group who taught him how to manage things on his own.

Slowly but surely, he started to get used to it. It did suck, and it sucked for a long time, but Matt began to see his blindness as one of his traits, as opposed to his defining trait. He learned how to manage and walk around with a cane. He learned Braille and was surprised to find out how much faster he could read. With time and effort and practise, he learned to read again, travelling wasn’t as scary as he thought it would be anymore, and going back to school and being around people was something that he looked forward to again.

It did suck not to be able to see, but Matt was able to come up and build new kinds of scenes and images for himself. Scenes based on feelings, scents and sounds and how he felt at the time. Sometimes, he noticed that when he focused hard enough, he could gain a very vague idea of the rest of his surroundings from his other senses.

Matt’s dad used to bring him to his training gym after school. Matt didn’t mind that, he liked talking with the other boxers and working on his school work in peace. His dad was his closest friend who stuck by him through and through and he liked bantering with him now and again. So for two years after the accident, he learned to get by and get used to his new life.

Then tragedy struck again, one which made losing his sight seem like getting a small papercut in the grand scheme of things. His dad was dead, murdered in fact, according to the police. His body was found one day outside the gym, beaten and bloodied to a pulp. The only thing that had happened was that he was in a fight, one which he had won spectacularly, Matt heard. Apparently it was some kind of money or betting deal gone south. Matt didn’t care about that. He had just lost his best friend and greatest supporter. He felt well and truly alone and slumped into an even worse depression than before.

It turned out that his dad had left a sizable amount of money for him, with specific instructions on how it would be spent on him. Even when he was dead, his dad was looking after and caring for him. And so, Matt moved to foster care and was able to continue schooling. Brother John met up with him again and helped him get through the grief. Unfortunately, he had to move away later down the line for personal reasons, but by that time, Matt was able to get by.

Later, when he was in his late teens, someone came to see him in foster care. He sounded old, gruff and harsh and only introduced himself as “Stick”. The first time they met, he took Matt to secluded hall and handed him a large staff.

“Now, defend yourself kid”

Matt only just processed his words when something hard hit him in the shoulder.

“Ouch! Hey that hurt!”

“My condolences” Stick muttered, not sounding like he meant it. “Why don’t you dodge if you don’t want to be hit again?”

Matt heard the rush of another staff and was just able to bring his arm around in time.

“Good.” Stick said, before immediately moving and striking Matt in the legs, causing him to fall to his knees in pain.

“Hey! I wasn’t ready!”

“Life’s never gonna let you be ready kid. Now get up and defend yourself!”

Matt gritted his teeth and got up. He wasn’t going to succumb to this man’s taunts and punishments. They continued for an hour more; Matt still got hit way more than he wanted to. But he was able to parry a number of shots and almost got a hit in.

After that, Stick took Matt to the park where he told him to concentrate and see his surroundings.

“But I’m blind!” Matt complained.

“No shit dipstick. You don’t think I don’t know that? So am I, believe it or not. And I was still able to dodge you as many times as I hit you earlier. You can’t see but you can do everything else right? Use that.”

Matt concentrated like he used to before and was able to build a rough picture of his surroundings. They were in a park obviously, there was bench nearby where a couple was sitting. There were a couple of trees around and a lake straight ahead with what Matt thought were a couple of ducks swimming by. Stick grunted approvingly after Matt finished telling him what he could “see.”

“Not bad kid, but there’s still a lot more you can do.”

Stick used to come around weekly. It was always the same routine, sparring with staffs in the abandoned Dojo followed by walks or stops around the city to hone in and work out what was around him. Matt eventually got better and better. He got hit much less and was able to be more aggressive than defensive, although he still couldn’t put in as many hits as he wanted to. He got better and better with using his other senses up to a point where he could almost “see” again. It wasn’t clear vision, not in the same way from what he remembered from years ago. It was more some kind of rough picture, like seeing a loosely detailed outline of his surroundings. Best of all, he could detect things that were behind and all around him. It was like all his other senses had dialed up to eleven to compensate for his loss of sight. Or maybe it was the chemicals which took his sight away in the first place.

Stick never gave a clear answer on why he was training and teaching him. He occasionally muttered something about being the leader of something called the “Chaste” and how they needed to clear the city of evil. He also didn’t talk about himself at all, as much as Matt tried to get him to open up.

One day, Matt was able to land a hit on him and was ecstatic about doing so. Stick only grunted his approval and told him to keep on fighting. After their session, Matt asked if they could maybe take a break and get some ice-cream to celebrate. Stick grunted and went along with it, but then he disappeared and never showed up to training again. Matt was sad and confused by his sudden disappearance and felt a similar kind of loss to when his dad had died and brother John had left.

Fortunately for him, he started university at around that time and was able to concentrate on something else as well as meet his best friend and work partner, Foggy Nelson. Soon, he started work as a trainee lawyer and fought crime in the courts. Sometimes at night though, he used to run and through the streets and remember his training days from Stick to get around. On one fateful night, he stumbled across a mugging and just reacted instinctively. He was able to maneuver around in the darkness and take down his foes with ease. That small fight gave him an idea and he realised he could fight crime in another way as well.

Matt was sprung back to reality as he found his other baton. Great, he had all his gear. He forced his thoughts back to the present day and focused on making his way back home. He couldn’t wait to crash on his bed for the rest of the night, and maybe the rest of the day if he was lucky.

Author: u/JPM11S

Book: Batman

Arc: Case of the Serpent Society

My name is Bruce Wayne. When I was 8 years old, my parents and those of my friends were shot in an alley in front of our very eyes. That day, I swore to myself that I would stop the crime that took my parents from me. To do this, I devoted my life to honing my body and mind into becoming a weapon in which to fight evil. I am vengeance. I am the night. I. AM. BATMAN.

He’s hurt.

He’s surrounded.

But he’s not afraid.

GOTHAM CITY - LAMBERT’S MANSION - June 2nd, 1958

Inside the mansion…

‘The damn officers must have woken up!’ thought Batman.

Heart thumping out of his chest, Batman’s mind raced for a solution to the problem at hand. He was surrounded on all sides by the GCPD and his friend, Detective Jim Gordon, was screaming for “The Bat-Man” to come out with his hands on his head. Needless to say, things were not looking good. Even though he had trained under what were unquestionably the best, most experienced teachers in the world in the martial arts, Batman still couldn’t simply walk out right into the open and fight several SWAT teams, all armed to the teeth, as much as he may have wanted to.

You know maybe, just maybe, Batman could do as his dear friend was screaming. Right now, he could come out with his hands on his bat-eared head and not be littered with bullet holes. Sure he would be surrendering himself to the law that thought him a murderer. Sure he will have failed his mission before it even really began. But you know what? The charges wouldn’t stick once they found out he was who he was. Maybe he’d be thrown into Arkham Asylum, but he could pull some strings and get himself out of there. He could live the rest of his life as Bruce Wayne, well feed, happy. Maybe even be with Andrea, now that she was back.

For a moment, just a fleeting, insular moment, Batman let his shoulders slump, giving into the fantasy that deep down, perhaps what he really wanted, but at the end of day, still let a child watch their parents he brutally murdered in front of their eyes. ‘No, never again,’ thought Batman, eyes snapping back from their lull, ‘will a kid have to cry over the bloodied bodies of their parents. Not while the goddamn Batman is around.’

‘Remember your training…’ thought Batman, trying to recall the words of wisdom of his many masters, ‘Theatricality. Deception. These are tools that let one man engage a hundred. The tools that make him something more in the mind of his enemy.’ For how they left things off, Batman could not deny the impact the training of Ra's al’ Ghul had had on him. Especially right now, as he was about to take a page right out of Ras’s handbook.

Running around the mansion, Batman looked for various odds and ends in which to rig a series of traps at the entrance of the mansion. Since he couldn’t fight his way through the SWAT teams surrounding the place, he needed a way to level the playing field, which in this case meant waiting around till one of the teams came into the building and having them walk into a series of traps. Grabbing a set of knives from the kitchen as well as bags of flour and a few ropes, Batman began to set his plan into motion…

Outside the mansion, 30 minutes later…

The police sirens roared around the monstrosity that was the Lambert family mansion, pulsating blue and red lights casting their glow to the surrounding area, reflecting in the windows. Taking cover behind the squad cars, police officers had their guns fixated on an enemy that would never appear, the “Bat-Man” as they were affectionately calling him. Suspected in the murder of two of Gotham’s wealthiest, the mayor had made it a priority to bring the mad man to justice. At least, Gotham’s version of justice, which didn’t really know what the word meant, to say the least.

Taking a deep breath of the cold, nighttime air, Detective Jim Gordon yelled into his microphone, “THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!”

At this point he knew it was pointless, the “Bat-Man” wasn’t going to come quietly. Glancing around him, Jim took stock of the rather generous force he had been granted, all for just another crazy murderer in Gotham. While he was glad for the detail and how much easier it would make his job, Jim only took it as yet another sign of corruption in the city, something that would be considered a textbook case of metal gymnastics by any rational, sane person, but not to him. No, he’d seen the way the elite in this city acted, the filth they had their hands plunged into. If someone was targeting them, regardless of whether or not it was intentional, they were damn sure going to respond in overwhelming force.

Taking his walkie-talkie from his belt, Jim radioed, “SWAT team one, you are clear to go. And please, don’t wreck the place.”

“Copy that, Gordon.”

Leaping out the armored truck, the heavily armed men jogged towards the front doors of the mansion, jiggling the door handle to try and open it. When it did not yield to them, a more… direct approach was tried. One of the officers shot in the lock, bullet splintering the expense wood around it. Kicking in the doors, the team turned on their flashlights, automatic guns held up against their shoulders, eyes wide.

Inside the mansion…

One foot in front of the other, tip-toeing carefully through the entrance, footsteps sending creaks along the hardwood floors, the men kept their eyes, and guns, primed for any sign of movement.

“You know, they say this bat guy has got wings.” whispered one of the men.

“And claws too.” replied another.

“So why do you think he killed those percenters?”

“Don’t know. Ask me though, he’s doin’ us all a favor. You ever had the displeasure of talking to one of ‘em?”

“No.”

“I’ve run guard duty for some of ‘em. Death threats you know. Of course we get sent out to guard ‘em ‘cuz they demanded it. Some of the snobbiest ass holes I’ve had the displeasure of-- AHHH!”

Nine left.

Everyone whipped their heads around, adrenaline instantly pumping through their veins as they looked for where their teammate had gone.

“Group up,” ordered the commander, “don’t let him pick us off one by one.”

With the precision that only comes from years of practice, the SWAT team huddled up in a circle, each member facing out, gun scanning for a target that was playing it smart. A dangerous target that was playing it smart. Suddenly, the air filled with flour, obscuring their vision and filling their lungs, coughing as a feeble attempt to remove the foreign substance.

Eight left.

Seven left.

Six left.

The flour cleared from the air, the remaining men left with the sight of the bodies of their comrades missing from the field of battle. They weren’t afraid before, but they are now.

Bursting from behind, bits of drywall flying all over the place, a pair of arms emerged, catching one of the officers, his gurgling sounds filling the room and he was violently dragged into the abyss.

Five left.

“Holy shit, man!”

“Keep it together.”

“We’re all gonna die, aren’t we?”

“Not if--”

A black cloak drifted down in front of them.

“It’s him!”

They all opened fire, littering the man with enough bullets to kill an elephant ten times over. When they thought he was properly dead, a brave volunteer crept up to check out the body. Kneeling down, he found only a black blanket. They’d been tricked.

A men’s legs instantly fell out from underneath him as the “Bat-Man” assaulted him, first sweeping the legs and then following up with strike to the trachea, causing him to gasp for air as it was robbed of him.

Four left.

Mustering all his remaining speed, bullet fire whizzing past, Batman hurried to his next target, lashing out with a blow that cracked their face mask and simultaneously, with a practiced flick of the wrist, unleashing several batarangs onto another SWAT member, only for them to clang helplessly against the bullet proof vest. The same officer that had had his face mask cracked by Batman, came up behind him, wrapping his arms around and pulling back, exposing his belly for a clear shot. Quickly, reaching down into his utility belt, Batman let loose a choking pellet, the room quickly filled with a gas that strangled everyone who breathed it in. The officer's grip on Batman now loose as he entered a coughing fit, Batman took the opportunity to shove a batarang into his side, following it up with a kick to his knee that instantly shattered it.

Three left.

Staggering about, waving his hands around as to fan the gas away from him, Batman made his way to the wall, breathing heavily as he slumped down against it, trying to find a brief respite from what was proving to be a grueling fight. So far, he hadn’t been hurt, due not to his physical prowess, as powerful as it may be, but rather his playing it smart, lurking in the shadows and jumping out. Becoming something more in the mind of his enemy. Becoming a monster that could be lurking in every shadow. Just like he was taught. He had to keep it up though, as physically draining as it may be, as one blow to any of his many stitches and they would burst, letting forth what would surely be a fountain of blood. As a matter of fact, Batman considered himself lucky for them having not broken after he took that fall. The gas began to clear, the fight ready to begin anew.

Finally freed from their coughing fit, eyes now red and swollen from the lack of oxygen, the three remaining SWAT officers dragged their weary bodies up from the ground, attempting to apprehend their target. From his position on the ground, Batman took a deep breath and darted up, trying to gain the advantage before his opponents could ready themselves. Hands wrapping around one of the men’s throat, Batman choke slammed him to the ground, something that would prove to have exerted too much of his dwindling reserves. For the briefest second, Batman paused, hands falling to his knees as he tried to catch his breath, though it was long enough for him to knocked to ground with the butt of one of the officers guns.

Helpless on the ground, Batman began to be pummeled by the three remaining men, one of which had picked himself back up after be slammed down. Curling up, legs held tight against his chest and his arms shielding his head, he tried to weather the beating being dealt to him. Blow after blow, the men threatened to break bone, or worse, open up an old wound. His costume offering no protection, it being nothing more than fabric, his body eventually gave in, bone fracturing underneath the powerful blows.

Roaring like an animal, Batman burst up from his near fetal position, a newfound adrenaline rush rocketing through his veins and culminating in a primal roar, the officers stepping back in fear. With a practiced flick of his, as of yet, unfractured wrist, Batman landed a batarang in the gun of one of the officers, rendering it useless as it flew out of his hand. In a single, spinning motion, Batman simultaneously kicked the gun out of another officers hand, and grabbed the gun from the only one left, wasting no time in breaking it across the officers face, sending bits of blood and tooth flying.

Now thoroughly disarmed, Batman and his opponents stood off against each other, both sides bruised and bleeding. Breathing heavily, Batman stared them down, trying to devise the best ways to incapacitate them. He could tackle the middle one, get him down to the ground quickly, but then he’d just be jumped on by the other two and this time, he wasn’t sure he could get back up. Maybe he could go all the way to side, take one of them down. No, then he’d just run into the same problem. A dark gleam of inspiration flashed in Batman’s eyes as an idea popped into his head.

Taking out his grappling hook, Batman flung it at the officer standing directly in front of him, the hook plunging itself into his shoulder and then followed by a powerful pull from Batman, sending the poor man flying into the ground, his face mask and shoulder thoroughly shattered.

Two left.

One foot in front of the other, Batman stepped closer and closer to the men before him, both of which were quivering as the menacing figure of the “Bat-Man” inched closer. Now towering over them, both men threw feeble punches at Batman, only for him to catch each, twisting until he felt their wrists shatter. Taking one of the men’s arms, he broke it, pushing him onto the ground and stomping on his knee until he shattered it, just to make it clear for him not to get back up.

Turning to last remaining officer, Batman growled, “You… you’ll do nicely.”

Outside the mansion…

“No! No! Oh my god no! Please! Don’t!”

The man clawed at the hand dangling him over the edge of the mansion, for what reason, he didn’t know. If the “Bat-Man” dropped him, he’d plummet down to the ground below, the exact fate he was trying to avoid. Perhaps then, it was merely a instinctual response fueled by the panic wracking his body.

He tried to sputter out a few words, “P… please! Do… n’t ugh… drop me!”

Thud.

A sharp howle escaped his lips as he dented the roof of a police car with his fall, shattering the blinking red and blue sirens on top. Immediately, several paramedics rushed to the screaming officer, Jim followed close behind.

“Are you alright?!” shouted one of the paramedics, shining a flashlight in his eyes.

“I’m… I fine.” moaned the officer.

“What happened in there!?” asked Jim Gordon.

“We went in… then… then, oh my god. He picked us off one by one, sir. There was so much blood. Pretty sure he ripped Taylor’s arm off!

Jim’s eyes widened.

“Someone get the hell in there! We might be able to save a few!”

One of the paramedics tapped Jim on the shoulder.

“Uh, sir, we found this on him. Just thought you should know. We think it’s for you.”

Jim took the note in hands, “Don’t come after me.” he read, a scowl coming over his face and eyes filling with rage as he crumpled the paper and threw it as far as his old arms would allow.

GOTHAM CITY - WAYNE MANOR - SECRET ROOM - June 3rd, 1958

There was much more to Wayne Manor than meets-the-eye. Underneath the gothic fortress lay an elaborate and extensive cave system, home to thousands, if not millions, of bats. There were also the many secret rooms of the mansion, one of which, Bruce had modified to be his base of operations, housing the plethora of equipment at his disposal in his endeavors as Batman.

Sitting at the large desk before him, Bruce studied the magazine he had taken from Lambert’s mansion, trying to decrypt the many hidden texts scattered throughout the magazine. The method used to hide the messages wasn’t particularly complex, at least for someone of Bruce’s calibur, but regardless, they did take a while to decrypt, much to Alfred’s joy. At last, a brief break for Bruce’s aleiling body.

‘Just move this letter here… now this… and here we go!’ thought Bruce, leaning back in his chair, ‘Attention members of our illustrious organization! The world renowned mercenary, the Phantasm, has continued to kill our sitting council members. Thankfully, I myself have yet to be targeted. As a sitting council member, I request a gathering of the remaining council at the Grand Gotham Hotel at 11pm to discuss our next step in this incredibly pressing situation. Hopefully, we will be able to lay out a plan to deal with this before we are all killed! Signed, Andrea Beaumont, councilwoman.’

Bruce’s eyes widened in shock, a guttural roar coming from deep inside him as he lashed out against his desk, pummeling it with his fists until it broke.

“Alfred!” shouted Bruce.

“Yes, master Bruce?” asked Alfred, arriving at the entrance to the room.

Bruce threw the translation at Alfred’s feet, who bent down to pick it up.

“Oh heavens my… Hydra is still active?”

“It does seem that way.”

“But how? How could they have survived Captain America?”

“I don’t know.”

“And Andrea, my god, why would she join them?”

“She didn’t join them.”

“Master Bruce, it says --”

“She isn’t one of them, Alfred!

“Then, if I may ask, why do you say that, sir?”

“Because I just know.”

“Assuming you did not make any mistakes in your translation, sir, the evidence is irrefutable.”

“Then I must have made some mistake.”

Bruce sunk into his seat before the remnants of his desk, his hand covering his face as he leaned against the arm of the chair.

“She couldn’t have joined them, Alfred, can she?”

Alfred kneeled down next to Bruce, placing his hand on his knee.

“If she did, sir, there must be a very good reason for it.”

A tear rolled down Bruce’s cheek.

“That has to be why she came to me, Alfred, for help. And look how I treated her. I should have known!”

“There is no way you could have known, sir.”

“No, no… I should have! I was going to marry her for god's sake god damn it!”

“Master Bruce, if you may, let me ask you this. She has a secret, a very precious, dangerous secret, and so do you. If you had to, for some reason, reveal to her that you are Batman, would you? Or would you take the first chance you get to run away?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Bruce stood up, his once sorrow expression concealed by a now harded face, a mask in which to hide his pain.

“I’m going out.”

“You can’t, you’re still far too hurt.”

“I have to. If Hydra is still active I have to do something.”

“You’re not Superman, master Bruce. You can’t take on Hydra all by yourself, especially not in your condition. Need I remind you of the gashes on your chest? The stab wound in your gut and back? Or maybe even your fractured ribs? You have… limits, sir. You can’t leap tall buildings in a single bound. Bullets don’t bounce off your chest, as you’ve become very well aware.”

“All men have limits. They learn what they are and learn not to exceed them. Batman isn’t a man.”

“But Bruce Wayne is, sir.”

“I’m leaving, Alfred, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. I’m not a kid anymore.”

To be continued…

Author: u/sirrobertb

Book: The Flash

Arc: Heat and Light

It was cold outside, and the sun had not yet broken over Central City. Barry Allen’s alarm clock showed 6:30am and began to ring intensely. He reached an arm out and laid one hand heavily on the clock, muting is rattle. After waiting patiently for it to run through its mechanical timer, he let his arm drop and hang over the side of the bed. Ten minutes later, Barry stumbled to the shower and began his morning routine.

The sky was noticeably lighter by the time he slowly pulled on his undershirt. Looking out of his apartment window, he saw the sun peeking through the buildings of the Central City skyline half an hour away. Barry shuffled into the kitchen to make coffee and breakfast. After getting some bacon sizzling on the skillet, he poked his head out of the door and picked up the newspaper, milk, and eggs that had been delivered while he slept.

Over breakfast, Barry crossed off the date, "Friday, January 18, 1957", at the top of the paper. It was his way of keeping track of which issues he had read through. He always at least skimmed it, in case a reporter had come up with anything that would help with one of the cases he was supporting at work. There had been a burglary, and the city planning department was trying to figure out how to better manage the parks at night, but nothing much more. Apparently, there had also been some kind of trouble in Arizona last week: another war memorial had been vandalized; this time Hawkman’s. There had been a rash of that kind of thing all over the southwest for the past couple of months. This was the sixth monument damaged, all of heroes. He didn’t agree with it, but he did understand it. They had risked their lives just like every other soldier, and many said the war would have gone the other way without them. They didn’t deserve to have their memorials vandalized. On the other hand, the sacrifice of every regular joe was just as real, and some people thought it seemed somehow to diminish their sacrifice to give them individual monuments. In an interview, Hawkman seemed unoffended—even sympathetic to the vandals. And besides that, it was kind of … well, weird, to think that those heroes were back here now, in America, now that the war was over.

A stranger’s car horn honked noisily outside, breaking him from his reverie. The clock read 8:42.

“Are you kidding me?” Barry said aloud, to no one in particular. He had gotten up half an hour earlier than usual and was still running late. He grabbed his tie, pulled on his blazer and headed out the door. “Ugh,” he thought, “I’m going to get in after the captain again…”

The roads were wet, but thankfully there was no ice on the ground. It took about half an hour to get from his apartment to the police department offices. He pulled his dad’s old, beat up truck into the parking lot and parked in one of the few spots remaining. As he jogged towards the door, he wrestled with his satchel while trying to tuck his shirt in around his slightly pudgy middle.

Somehow, he managed to slip in through the front door without anyone noticing him. As usual, he took the longer route to the lab, so he didn’t have to walk in front of the captain’s office window. As he approached the lab door, he slowed down. He was almost 20 minutes late, but it looked like no one was the wiser, except maybe David—the only other person who worked in the lab—who was always in at least half an hour early to start processing the previous night’s lab results.

He flung the door open, swinging his briefcase to drop it next to his desk as David and Captain Frye turned to look at him. The captain furrowed his brow in a familiar way. Barry let out a long breath in response; a wordless conversation they had had many times.

“Barry, I was just congratulating David on his promotion to Lab Director,” the captain said, with more than a hint of reproach. He had always liked Barry a little better than David, but David’s punctuality and attention to detail made him a visible standard for capable police work.

“Sorry, captain; I just …” Barry trailed off with a sigh, not trying to come up with an excuse.

“Yeah, I know,” the captain replied, turning back to shake David’s hand. “Again, congratulations. You’ve been doing fine work, and you deserve this.”

David thanked him, and Captain Frye walked out of the lab without nod or glance towards Barry.

He leaned on his desk. “Great job, David; you really do deserve it.” Of course, Barry wanted the promotion too. It came with some perks like a designated parking spot, as well as a bit more pay and responsibility.

“Thanks, Barry” David said. “We got some clean prints from the Pym Warehouse robbery. Want to take a look?”

Hank Pym’s warehouse had been burglarized earlier in the week. Barry knew about it before the police, of course. After his mother’s accident—and after his father had been wrongly jailed over it—Uncle Hank had taken Barry in. He wasn’t his real uncle, but the Pyms and the Allens had been friends for a long time, and Hank didn’t think twice about stepping in to help. In school everyone had always said Barry was so lucky to be related to a famous scientist; and it had been Hank’s influence that helped Barry choose forensic science to try to clear his father’s name.

The burglary itself wasn’t too bad. It appeared that a single burglar had broken in and ransacked the offices, apparently looking for something. Uncle Hank had said that the burglar didn’t manage to take anything especially valuable. Much worse, George Emond, the night guard, had been badly injured when he walked in on the burglar. He was still in the hospital, unconscious, three days later. The department had a few suspects, but needed some concrete conclusions from the lab before they could make any arrests.

They worked through the entire day, barely stopping even for lunch. With the new blood tests that had just been developed out of California, they were hoping some of the samples from the scene would provide something useful.

It was dark out when they reached a stopping point. David had weekend plans and was looking forward to a weekend of recreation. After he left, Barry sat at his desk for a few minutes, mulling over the evidence they had been processing. He didn’t know how David could just “switch it off” like that; whenever they had an interesting case, Barry couldn’t get it off his mind for days—weeks even.

He picked up his satchel and keys, and suddenly had an idea. He would take the Pym Warehouse evidence home and work the case over the weekend! He didn’t have any plans, so he would just spread it out over the living room of his apartment. It wasn’t unusual to take a small project home to work on; and he had enough of his own lab equipment from Uncle Hank that he could use. He would just need to make sure he brought everything back early Monday morning so he and David could go over it first thing.

It took several trips to haul everything to the truck. Most of it was just paperwork that he slid into the front bench next to him. But there were a few other things like a few small tanks of film development chemicals, some lab dye and so on. There were also a few quart-sized steel canisters labeled only “P Y M” and various six digit numbers. Barry didn’t know what was in the canisters. Hank had always let Barry be involved in most of his work, but some of the experiments, he occasionally said, “were too dangerous for someone with such a bright future.” He had never been sure exactly what that meant, but he always knew Uncle Hank loved him and that he had had some real scares in his lab over the years.

Hank had been reluctant to let the canisters be entered into evidence. The police had let him know that there was blood on them, and possibly other evidence that could help them apprehend George’s attacker. In the end, Hank relented. He had sealed the canisters and cautioned the police not to open them. The contents weren’t volatile or anything, he had said, but valuable and rare substances he had just received for an experiment.

Finally, with the truck loaded, Barry headed home. It had gotten even colder. The roads were dry now, but a light dusting of snow fell, covering the forested roads on the outskirts of Central City, giving the woods and farmland a quiet, peaceful mood. When he arrived home, he carefully carried everything up the stairs to his third-floor apartment and arranged them in his living room. He would start again in the morning, but now he was tired; it was time to sleep.

Saturdays were terrific. Barry’s alarm clock didn’t ring. There was nothing urgent to do. He slept, enjoying the feeling of doing nothing. By nine-thirty he finally got out of bed, feeling only a little guilty for having wasted so much of the day.

After a shower and some breakfast, he sat down to work on the case. There were a lot of fingerprints to record and file. The evidence had to be photographed and the film developed. The blood analysis that he could do from home took hours and hours. He worked all day and into the small hours of the morning.

Barry was back home by noon on Sunday and the afternoon looked much like Saturday had. By dinner time, he had completed all of the evidence photography and fingerprint analyses, as well as most of the paperwork needed.

If David was the more disciplined and focused one in the lab, Barry was the more naturally gifted. Whereas David was meticulous, Barry was insightful. And sometimes, like this Sunday, Barry’s insightfulness changed everything about a case. While analyzing the blood evidence, Barry noticed something in the slides of George Edmond’s blood: it turned out there were three different blood samples. One of them was definitely George’s, but there were smaller amounts from not one, but two others, presumably the perpetrators. This was going to be a huge break in the case.

By the time Barry finished documenting everything, it was after midnight. If he went to sleep now, he knew he would be late again. He decided to take everything into the office tonight, and sleep on the cot in the lab. Every once in a while, they had to pull an all-nighter, and the department had some cots and lockers available if needed. He packed up the boxes with his notes and evidence to take down to his father’s truck.

When he opened the door, he was surprised that it had turned so cold. The temperature was below freezing, and small icicles hung from the apartment railing. Barry carefully toted everything down to the truck for what seemed like an hour. When he was finally ready, he set off for the police department.

The night air had become crystal clear when the temperature dropped. There was almost no moon, and his headlights punctured the blackness in tight circles on the road. Things had gotten icy and by the time Barry realized it, it no longer made sense to turn back towards home. He pressed towards Central City. As he drove through the city outskirts, the woods were lightly frosted with snow and sleet. Once or twice, he started, and realized he was beginning to nod off. Fighting to keep himself awake for 15 minutes more, he rolled down his window to feel the crisp, frigid air on his face.

After a few moments, he heard a crackling sound, then a bright flash of light. A lightning bolt struck a tree in the woods barely a quarter mile behind him; he saw the tree explode in flames in his rear-view mirror. He was definitely awake now. Why was there an electrical storm? This didn’t seem like that kind of weather, he thought. A second bolt illuminated the sky and thundered nearby, a little further than before—Barry couldn’t tell where.

Just as he came around a bend in the road, the blackness of the night sky flashed white three or four times, maybe more, in quick succession, accompanied instantly immediately deafening booms. The last flash was different: the front of the truck seemed to explode with light, heat, and sound and the metal felt as though it writhed around him. He could no longer control the vehicle at all. The road curved to the left, but the truck—and Barry—didn’t. In an instant, the truck slammed into a tree. Barry flew headlong through the windshield, glass exploding forward around him. Light and sound strobed in arrhythmic pulses. With each flash, each crash, he noticed seemingly random details of the chaos: his right blinker was on but the casing was broken; his watch read 2:28 as it flew away from him; the shadows from the headlights were forming an illusion of a blurry figure against the trees; the box of evidence and notes still wedged tightly between the seat and dashboard. A dozen feet of the ground, Barry’s arm, then torso, then legs and neck slammed into the tree, wrapping around it with the sickening noises like heavy, wet branches breaking. He was soaked from the the contents of a few small tanks of lab chemicals that had been in the cab of the truck with him. The last thing Barry saw before losing consciousness was one more bright flash of light seeming to strike both him and the four canisters hurling over the cab of the truck, directly towards his body, marked “P Y M”.

Author: u/VerumFalsum Book: Captain Marvel Arc: The Modern Prometheus

—-

Latveria, May 1958

“Welcome to Doomwood.” Victor says gesturing to the smoldering remains of a quaint, eastern-European village, “I know how it sounds translated, but Doom is merely the name of one of the oldest families. Without the Dooms of old, Latveria may have never been founded. Finally, after decades of war, the Dooms have returned to their rightful place.”

“Returned to?” I respond, “You mean forcibly taken right.”

“We are not a dictatorship.” Victor says squeezing his fist turning his knuckles white, “Latveria is merely a semi-feudal monarchy, which is why we’re here. We need to talk to Bram Velsing the lord of this region.” With a spin, he stormed up a Gravel path towards a castle which stood extremely well kept for it surroundings.

The ancient, stone fortress stood alone on the edge of the burning hamlet. It’s spire of green eldritch oak pierces the dark grey European sky. Although it looked beyond ancient, it’s outer walls were lined with a variety of advanced weaponry and defenses as well as a large touchscreen on the front gate. As we approached the gate, Victor lays his hand on the screen which produces a satisfying beep before the doors creak open.

“Bran Velsing?” Victor yells through the echoing chambers of the lord’s castle.

“Prince Victor,” replies the old lord as he appears from around the corner, “I expected you, but who is this?”

“This is Captain Marvel, she's here to get rid of out stormy problem. That’s why we're here. I was going to see if our friend Victoria has given you any weapons we could use.”

“When are the Frankensteins not creating weapons?” Velsing scoffs pulling out a strange looking rifle, “This is what she calls the ‘Thunderclap’. I trust you know how to use a gun?”

“Of course,” I respond grabbing the rifle, “but what does it do?”

“It fires a high-powered beam of continuously, electrically charged water.” He says, “Its high-pressured enough to cut through metal, and hot enough to boil Lac Doom in under a minute. As an added bonus, the lightning is sorcery-based allowing it to damage nearly all life, even the gods.”

“Very good, Velsing.” Victor says giving the royal salute, “One more thing, if you could, do you know the invader’s location?”

“I merely know he left here going west.” He responds, “I would suggest heading to Grata.”

——————

From high above the small town of Grata, black storm clouds impede my flight, but at least I know I am heading in the right direction. Below me, the entire area had been completely demolished by lightning and explosions. From the center of the hamlet, a lightning charged man sits on a burning throne of rubble, and in his hands he holds a staff made of twisted metal.

With a quick dive, I slam into the ground outside of the premade arena and ready my rifle. From the direction of the throne, the sound of rolling thunder drowns out all other natural sounds, and as it approaches, I can see its source. As Mar-vell’s lightning charged feet land on the frozen, frost covered ground, the combination of cold and hot creates bursts of thunder with each step. I can’t play my hand too soon by revealing my rifle, he needs to get closer for it to work.

“Welcome little sister.” Mar-vell yells just out of range of my rifle, “Have you come here to die? I would hope so, otherwise you will be disappointed.”

“You say that, but you won’t even get over here and fight me.”

“I can see that rifle you have in your hands, Frankenstein tech. If the inner workings work how they appear to work, it could probably kill me if I was fifteen meters closer, and I’d rather not let that happen. Put down the rifle and I’ll gladly come over there.”

Right out of range, Mar-vell smuggly glares at me with his arms crossed. At that moment, I did something he somehow hadn’t thought of. With all my power, I leapt the gap and quickly closed the distance. The smirk left his face as the beam of energy slammed into his side, launching him back. As he stood back up, his side was left with a smoldering burn.

“GO TO HELL!” Mar-vell yells charging towards me and breaking the rifle in my hands. There goes my only hope of hurting this villian. With a dive, he slams me into the snow creating a new thunderclap. As I lay on the ground, a flurry of punches slam into my head and stomach.

Slowly, my vision slowly turns to black with the volley of punches,but before I can fully blackout, an idea comes into my mind. I lift my hand, and slam it into the large burned patch in his side. With a burst of pain, his face contorts into a twisted grimace before giving under the weight of the blow. Seems like he does have a weakness I can resort to.

I leap up and drive a second blow into his side. This second blow has even more power behind it and launches him into a smoldering brick wall. Unless I can take him out soon, it's just going to become more difficult to defeat him. It won’t be hard for him to just block a small area on his side.

With a great burden of pain, he stands back up to face me. Instead of getting closer for hand-to-hand combat, he launches a bolt of lightning towards me. Even with my own lightning powers, the bolt still stings my skin as it dances across it. He’s way more powerful than me at a fist fight, but at this range, we’re at even footing.

In return, I launch a bolt of focused lightning at his side. With a quick block, his arm swings down in front of the blast. Most of the lightning dissipates on his forearm, but tendrils of energy still strike his injury. There's no way I can take him out from this range. It may be more dangerous for me, but I have to get in closer.

I dive towards him to try and close the gap, but surprisingly he uses his ranged attack I had forgotten about. With a heavy breath, he sends a wave of frosty air around me. The moisture in the air freezes around me creating a cocoon around me of sub zero ice.

“Humans are sooo… boring,” He says as my vision slowly fades to black, “I suppose it's because this earth is just as boring. I think its time to liven up this place. Death comes and his name is…”

Black

———

The sound of a massive explosion shakes me back to my former, unfrozen conscientiousness. My non-powered form is still dripping wet from my ice prison. I need to get somewhere warm, and fast. Wait…

“SHAZAM!” I yell calling down the bolt of mystical lightning which instantly evaporates the water droplets on my clothing. Magic is always one way to warm up, but I’m definitely still cold in this frozen country. The moisture in the air, instantly turns to steam as it hits my super heated body creating an almost smoke screen around me, but I can still see where I need to head. North, towards the miniature, mushroom cloud on the horizon.

With a burst of strength, I leap towards the clouds. My legs still feel frozen as I lift off, but they still work. Luckily, the endurance of Atlas also seems to help with keeping my cells from bursting.

From up above, I can see the city under siege. Green lightning blasts through the city and weaves between bullets all trying to hit the enemy that is as elusive as a storm cloud. This enemy that dances through the Latverian army shot bolts of white lightning that chain tendrils between the city’s defenders taking tens of them out at a time. The city will fall to the god-powered kryptonian in the next hour if I don't intervene.

With a lightning strike, I land beside Victor who is doing his best to assist his men with volleys of green bolts. His green cloak has been torn around its smoldering, green edges, and his modern suit of armor has black burn marks along its surface. His face is also cut and burned around his intense expression.

“Captain,” Victor says turning towards me, “Remind me to get a face mask next time. Electricity burns like hell. Speaking of electricity, what will we do about your evil counterpart.”

“The Frankenstein’s weapon is gone, but I did manage to hit him. He’s got a bad injury we can exploit if we can get him to stay still for long enough.” I respond.

“Sounds like a plan.” Victor says looking around for the super villain killing his men before turning back to me,”Well…? What are you waiting for?”

“Sorry, of course.” I say as I blast off towards the attacker. He’s as fast as lightning, but so am I, and soon we are racing neck and neck down an abandoned street. He’s smart and he’s flying with his injured facing up, out of reach of most of my attacks, most.

Instead of going above him to attack, I dive down beneath him and wrap him up completely. I only have one shot to make it happen, and I have to hope I’ve calculated it right. One shot all resting on speculation, and one shot that can easily kill me even if it goes right.

“SHAZAM!” I yell calling to the gods, as a giant bolt of blue lightning falls from the clouds. With deafening thunder, the lightning strikes Mar-vell in his burned side sending tendrils of mystic power through his alien skin. Normal, even with all this power, he would be unaffected, but his burn made it possible. The massive surge of arcane power tore through his charred side before bursting out of him in branches of electricity.

The burst of lightning of course doesn’t just strike him, and instead, the lightning chains to me draining the power of the gods from me. As my power of flight is lost, I feel myself dropping towards the ground at high speed with the limp body of Mar-vell falling above me. A sudden jolt comes over me as my head slams into something wet and cold at high speeds.

Black

—-

I wake up in a massive pile of snow and slowly make my way out. The frozen white gives way to a sky of grey snow clouds and a burning village of shades of black and brown. In front of me, the cloaked form of Victor stood over the incapacitated alien, hand sparked with green lightning.

“The highest courts have determined you guilty of all crimes,” Victor said bringing his hand right next to the burn on Mar-vell, “and the punishment is death.” With a quick blast, Victor sends a high amount of green lightning through the enemy. In a green flash, the alien explodes with a blast of mystical lightning. The only remnant of Mar-vell is the black ash outline of the fallen alien.

“No!” I yell leaping towards Doom, but before I can reach him, I succumb to my injuries and collapse to the frozen ground. The snow helps cushion the impact, but the ground was still hard on my ringing head. I feel myself fading as the sound of a helicopter looms overhead.

Black

—-

Once my vision fades back, Nick Fury stands over my hospital bed with a small radio in his hand. Behind him, a giant computer screen flashes a few seemingly unconnected words. All the walls are black with neon tubes that flash blue and red colors, and large maps of the world decorate the entire left side.

“You finally decided to wake up.” Fury says slamming his hand against my bedside table, “We have some more intel about how these countries were getting their weapons.”

“Intel about what now?” I ask severely confused.

“The weapons are being all spread by a single company operating out of California.” He said pointing to the screen that was now projecting three, massive, yellow letters, “Its known as AIM.”