10 Minutes Ago...
The being observed from on high, watching its quarry.
It was much like watching a stone go skipping across the surface of a lake, the being thought...except of course that the “lake” in question was actually the Pacific Ocean...
...and the stone was gliding in self-propelled fashion rather than skipping...
...and the “stone” was in fact a man-made scientific installation large enough to house the dozens of humans who lived within it.
The being was composed entirely of energy at this point in its personal evolution. It - “he,” probably, as it had once been a human male, and still seemed to default to male self-perceptions - he existed within an armored containment suit that not only held his crackling form together, but granted it a humanoid shape as well. The being now had only the approximation of a face upon its coruscating “head,” and this approximation of a face didn’t allow for much in the way of true facial expressions. It did, however, allow the being to evidence anger or grave dissatisfaction, which the being admittedly felt most of the time...and that approximation of a face certainly bore a whale of a scowl at the moment.
The being had an enormous distaste for the human tendency to meddle with nature, was the thing, and the self-propelled scientific installation currently riding the ocean’s surface a thousand feet below the being’s armored “feet” was designed to allow its occupants to do an alarming amount of just such meddling. Oh, they would naturally claim that they performed their meddling with the finest of intentions, but they were nevertheless human, and therefore doomed to muck up anything and everything they touched. This particular installation would allow its crew to tamper with the ocean world in cutting edge ways far beyond anything previously known, and while the being was generally far more concerned with safeguarding the heavens than the seas...well, in this case, he and his new associates - protectors of all four of the ancient “elements” - had all agreed that erasing the installation from the blackboard of the world would, in the end, serve all their agendas.
There was only one problem facing them in their current quest, although it was also part of the reason their mission was so important.
The problem was that the self-propelled ocean installation down below was not only home to scientists and maintenance crew and medical personnel...it was also now home to the newly reconstituted West Coast branch of the finest assemblage of superhuman champions the world had ever known: the mighty Avengers.
The being scowled even more darkly, and spoke several rapid bits of heavily-accented English into the communication unit built into one of the wrists of his armored containment suit. His allies responded, and the being nodded, and began to descend toward the stone that, if he and his allies had their way, was now skipping its last few moments away across the sea’s glimmering skin...
====================
9 Months Ago...
“You’re talking about a lot of alterations in mid-stream. We’ve already got about half of the actual construction of the facility completed.”
“We’re talking about some alterations, sure, but since you’re basically assembling this new Hydrobase from modules you’re building off-site and then shipping in, we think it’s still very doable.” The speaker was a tall man, but it wasn’t the clearly athletic physique outlined by his snug-fitting black t-shirt that drew the eyes of any observers, or the shock of thick brown hair being ruffled by the sea breezes tumbling in from the shoreline - it was the odd, ruby-colored lenses of his rather unique “sunglasses” that caught attention from others while hiding his own eyes completely from view.
The man at his side, equally dark-haired and athletic-looking, albeit possessed of much less remarkable sunglasses of his own, cleared his throat and spoke up. “Scott’s right, Walter. We’ve had Hank McCoy and Bill Foster review the specs you provided, and we also had this Parker guy and Scott Lang take a look, and they all agreed that what we’re proposing could be done. And given where you’re at in the construction process, it wouldn’t even require you to undo anything that you’ve already designed or built so far. It would really just mean adding a few living quarters, expanding the proposed gymnasium area, adding a couple of small temporary holding cells just in case, and modifying the launching pad area to include a fairly small hangar. You wouldn’t even have to increase the actual airstrip, since the Quinjets have vertical take-off and landing capability.”
The man with the red glasses broke back in. “And Dane’s just hit upon another reason why we think this proposal would be so valuable for all of us. Listen to what he just said: we’re talking about a cutting edge scientific installation, and the people we have to evaluate it on our end are guys like Hank McCoy and Peter Parker. They’re brilliant men, no question, but Hank isn’t even working in his primary field here - he’s more a biologist and a biochemist at heart - and Parker is untested. Bill Foster is good, but Scott Lang is only a part-timer... The point is, before Onslaught, you know as well as we do that tasks like these would have fallen to Tony Stark or Reed Richards...but they’re gone. The Avengers and the X-Men - the whole world, actually! - we need as many top scientific minds in our corner as we can get. If we go ahead and reopen a West Coast branch of Avengers, we don’t just want your new Hydrobase as its new base of operations - we want you. We want Stingray joining the group in the field as the team’s tech expert, and if nothing else, we want Dr. Walter Newell on board even if it has to be in the absence of Hydrobase and Stingray. You’re uniquely positioned now in this post-Onslaught world, Walter. You’re an experienced super-human for all intents and purposes when you put on the Stingray suit, and you’re also one of the finest scientific minds that Dane and I know...and between our two organizations, we pretty much know them all.”
The man sat back and toyed with his tall glass of ice water, not drinking, not looking away. The long speech seemed to have tired him a bit, more than several hours’ worth of intensive exercise probably would have, but he held his intense gaze on the man seated across from him.
Dr. Walter Newell ran a hand through his own thick hair, a lighter brown than that of both of the other men at the table, but equally unruly in the playful sea-winds. “Look, Scott, Dane...I appreciate everything you’ve said. I understand the logic of it, and I’m sincerely flattered that you’d think of me as someone who could possibly even begin to fill the shoes of men like Tony Stark and Reed Richards. I even have to admit to some temptation...” He trailed off, looking out from their table at the warm little seaside Mexican restaurant he’d chosen for this meeting, and took in the broad green sweep of the Pacific Ocean. “I can’t wait to be out there again,” he said, gesturing at the water, “and I can’t wait to get some of our new research and projected operations underway. But as much as I’ll always claim to be a scientist first, and a ‘super-hero’ second...I do miss it when I’m away from it.” He turned back to them, these new leaders in what had seemed for the last year to be a frightening, rather leaderless world. “My wife worries about me a lot whenever I stick my toe back into the Avengers pool, but I can’t pretend I don’t miss it when I’m away. More and more, actually, the older I get, which seems strange - like the opposite of what you’d expect.”
Dane Whitman, leader of the Avengers, leaned in intently. “So, then...?”
Newell frowned. “Part of it is the funding. Hydrobase is hardly a cheap, affordable undertaking, as I’m sure you can guess, and it was like a second career just getting all the various pieces of financing in place: corporations, universities, even several governments have come on board, but as you both know, once someone kicks in six or seven figures of their income, they want to dictate to you what you can and can’t do. I’m afraid that if we accept your proposal, and add ‘Avengers HQ’ to the list of roles we’ll be fulfilling, we’ll lose too many of our current backers to even be able to finish construction, let alone go fully operational.”
Whitman remained in his forward lean, his food completely forgotten. “But for every backer you lost, wouldn’t there be more coming in to take their places? And here’s a critical component that can probably solve this particular issue all on its own: you’d have the Avengers’ backing...which means you’d have the backing of the gargantuan fortune left behind by Tony Stark. His estate has provisions for Avengers funding that would astound you. I can’t even imagine having that kind of money, let alone knowing how to handle it effectively, but Tony had platoons of lawyers and accountants working for him, and his will sets aside millions for use in furthering the Avengers’ overall mission statement. There are criteria to be met, sure, but we’d have some say in that. I would have some say in that. In a lot of ways, as current Chairman of the Avengers, I can exert a hell of a lot of influence on our spending. To be honest with you, I’m pretty sure that even if all of your backers took a powder, we could fund the entire Hydrobase project ourselves, and still have plenty of cash left over. I mean, if that’s really your only major concern with this...?”
Dr. Newell smiled. “Well, there’s also the crew...and my wife.” His smile turned into a big, sweet-natured grin. “But to tell you the truth, the crew are mostly action junkies who pressure me to do more Avenger-ing all the time, and I suspect they’ll be more excited by the idea than anything else...and I can talk to Diane. I actually had been wondering if this might be why you guys asked me to meet with you, and I’ve already thought a lot of this through.” He held up his bottle of Corona, the little wedge of lime bobbing inside the condensation-speckled glass. “Pending anything crazy and unforeseen...I am tentatively in.”
The other men raised their own drinks in response.
“To Hydrobase,” said Dane Whitman.
“To the West Coast Avengers,” said Scott Summers.
“To a better tomorrow,” said Dr. Walter Newell.
And the three men toasted the future...
====================
8 Seconds Ago...
Diane Newell spoke into a microphone device that carried her generally pleasant tones - now anxious and clipped - to every set of ears on Hydrobase.
“All hands, this is the Crow’s Nest - we have incoming, presumed hostile, on multiple vectors. Several ‘buoys,’ ‘gulls,’ and ‘divers’ have all been disabled, and our force-screen has been breached. Avengers, please assemble on the upper deck. Everyone else: combat readiness.”
Nearly palpable tension filled every nook and cranny of the high-tech command center. Diane felt several nervous sets of crewmember eyes on her as she stayed glued to her instruments, awaiting the next change in status while several hostile small bodies - almost certainly super-humans of some stripe - converged from several different directions on the installation she now called home.
One of the screens at her fingertips lit up, and began transmitting data to her, including a visual feed, which was, at the moment, in motion. This was communication coming in directly from the Stingray suit, now on-line.
Diane Newell grew even more tense, and she looked out at the unfolding situation through her husband’s eyes...
====================
7 Months Ago...
“You intend to leave the company of the Inhumans, Ditmil?”
“I cannot stay here any longer, Queen Medusa. You have shown me hospitality, and I thank you for that, but I was foolish to think I could reconnect with my humanity by staying among Inhumans. I was foolish to even want to reconnect with my humanity. I recognize your courage and strength as individuals here, especially your Royal Family...but as a society, I have come to see you as cowardly and weak, hiding away in the shadows, afraid of the world and how it might judge you. Time passes you by, Your Majesty, and you accomplish nothing. The only Inhuman who might have taught me anything of value was the one called Aireo, outcast by you and made renegade.”
“Aireo? ‘The Skybreaker?’ But you never even met him, Ditmil. And what good could he possibly have taught you even if you had - he is a terrorist!”
“No, I never met him, you are correct...but I have heard the stories. And to think that Karnak related them with the intent of using them as cautionary tales! They serve as no less than inspiration, Your Majesty.”
“Inspiration? Ditmil, please...this is about your environmental concerns? Aireo cared nothing for the environment, nor did his associates in that appalling ‘Force of Nature’ alliance! That was merely an excuse to plunder and kill and destroy! Surely you know that.”
“Perhaps in his case, yes. But what if one were to combine Aireo’s approach with a truly sincere and passionate concern for the environment?”
Medusa, Queen of the Inhumans, gave a sad sigh, and lowered her fine head, as if suddenly weighed down by the lush and bountiful floods of deep red hair for which she was known. “Then one would be left with a terrorist deluding himself about his true motives. If you want to raze the world of man to the ground, Ditmil, as revenge for the loss of your family and your own humanity, then at least have enough honor left to call it what it truly is: you are little more than the destroyer my husband and some of the others feared that you were all along. If that is the case, I am sorry I was never able to reach through to the good that I thought I saw in you, and I will say my prayers for your eventual victims.”
“I recognize that you attempted to be kind to me, Your Majesty, and I have appreciated your support. However, I must renounce my allegiance to your king, and take my leave. I have my own pathway to walk, and it leads far from this place. Farewell, Queen Medusa...and one last thing. Please abandon the name Ditmil Pirvat as I have now done; it belonged to a man long dead. I will now use, and answer to, only my once and future true name: I am the Star-Thief, now and always...”
And the glowing energy being, once a human scientist named Ditmil Pirvat, was up, away, out, and lost in the twinkling sky in an eye-blink, before his gracious hostess of the last year had the chance to even say her own goodbyes.
====================
6 Weeks ago...
“Hey, Lorna? Do you mind telling me what that voicemail was all about? ‘We might have a problem?’ What exactly is that supposed to mean? You and your hunk of beefcake have only been here for a week - how is it we have a problem already?”
“Look, Greer, it’s not-”
“Okay, so maybe I gave your fiance more than a casual quick once-over when he was getting out of the pool, but what was I supposed to do - cover my eyes? So he’s built like a Greek god, it doesn’t mean I’m after him. I do have some self-control, you know.”
“Greer-”
“I am so sick of this reputation that keeps following me around, like I’m this home-wrecking super-slut who wants to hop into bed with every guy in a cape I work with. To tell you the truth, I think it all stems from insecure women, and men projecting their own weird ‘furby’ fantasies onto me, okay?”
“Greer.”
“Just because I work in a bikini, I’m some kind of loose broad, is that it? How come no one accuses Hank McCoy of being some kind of skirt-chasing male bimbo, huh? He works in a bathing suit, you know.”
“Greer!”
Greer Grant, the tawny cat-woman called Tigra, reared back, finally realizing that the slender woman with the striking green tresses before her had been trying to break in to say something. “What?”
Lorna Dane, ‘Mistress of Magnetism,’ offered a twitchy but rather endearing smile. “The problem I wanted to talk to you about - sorry, potential problem - has nothing to do with Alex.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Oh. Um...oh. Well, then what...?”
Lorna stretched her neck and collected her hair in her hands, creating an impromptu ponytail, and then released it again. “It actually sounds kind of silly when I say it out loud.”
“Well, I can’t read minds, so you’re gonna have to say it out loud if you want me to know what it is, girl.”
“Hmm, I guess you’re right. Well, the problem is...it’s just that...well, I’ve always been...”
“You’ve always been what?”
“I’ve always been...okay, I’ll just say it, I thought we might have a problem because I’ve had these bouts of sneezing and watery eyes, and itchy skin and...”
Tigra looked absolutely baffled. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’ve always been allergic to cats.”
“Say what?”
“I’ve always been allergic to cats. Like...massively allergic.”
“And you think...”
“Well, I did. I’ve been having all these allergy attacks, and so yeah, I thought maybe it was you. And that would be a problem, right? I mean, what if we were on some stealth mission, and I got into a big sneezing fit, right?”
Greer started to laugh. “You know, on the one hand, I do see what you mean, but on the other, that’s maybe the dumbest superhero problem I’ve ever heard!”
Lorna joined in. “I know! But there’s good news - it’s not you.”
“It isn’t?”
“Nope. I didn’t know this until yesterday, after I left you that message, but the Newells have two cats on board.”
“Yeah, you didn’t know that? I go and play with them sometimes, they’re adorable.”
Lorna shrugged. “I just didn’t know. And so at all our briefings, when I’d get all allergic, it wasn’t because you were at the table - it was because Diane was, and she had cat hair all over her pants.”
“So...so we don’t have a problem.”
“No. I asked Diane to be sure to come into the meeting this morning cat-free, and I sat next to you on purpose, and no allergies at all. Although...tell me about Alex having the body of a Greek god again?”
“Honey, please!” Tigra burst into her infectious laugh again. “Let’s just call it what it is. I recognize your solid couple-hood and all, and I don’t trespass on the real deal...but that boy’s got a career modeling underwear if the Avenger thing doesn’t work out for him.”
Lorna joined her in laughter again. “I told him the exact same thing once. He said he’d die of boredom, though.”
Greer nodded. “Ain’t that the truth.”
“That’s right, you’ve done the occasional modeling gig, huh?”
“Yeah, a couple of charity things for good causes. And wow, it’s even more boring than you’d think.”
“Well...sad comfort then, I guess, that we have such solid job security these days, huh, and don’t have to resort to that.” Lorna’s smile turned melancholy.
“Yeah. Sad comfort, all right. You know, if it’d bring the heroes back, I’d commit to a lifetime of striking poses under hot lights and leering crew geeks, you know?”
“I know. Me, too.” Lorna surprised herself by reaching out and squeezing her new friend’s strong, tiger-striped hand. “Me, too. Hey, I hear you’re hell at racquetball - care to play me for some high stakes?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Loser takes the winner’s next three public appearances?”
“Ooh, interesting! I wouldn’t mind skipping a couple of these lame shopping-mall pep rallies that Dane has us all doing. You’re on!”
“Great. Let’s do it!”
The ladies adjourned to the gym area, and ninety minutes later, Lorna found herself obligated to stand in for Greer at not three, but six pending public appearances. An ill-advised double-or-nothing upping of the stakes had her stifling curses, but as some small consolation, she did at least get treated to that terrific Tigra laugh again...
====================
5 Months Ago...
The energy being and the blazing woman bobbed in the air several feet above the surface of the rocky atoll. The tiny landmass was uninhabited but for the occasional seabird, and was the perfect meeting place for their purposes, as neither they nor the party they were there to confer with had any special need for firm real estate. They waited without speaking, mostly oblivious to the south Pacific breezes.
They didn’t have to wait for very long. The surface of the water nearby began to bulge upwards as if being displaced from below. The bulge grew, swelled, and finally burst, revealing a sleek, shapely, humanoid woman with pale blue skin and a gorgeous deluge of hair that was as white as sea-foam. She stood on the water itself, a small fountain gushing upwards just enough to hold her aloft; it seemed self-replenishing, and her position wavered scarcely an inch up or down as she all but hovered.
“Silk Fever,” she said, nodding to the fiery female specter floating before her. “Well met.” Her voice seemed somehow soft and distant.
The blazing woman hailed her in return. “Bloodtide. We thank you for meeting us here in this trackless place. This is the Star-Thief. He is a new ally.”
The sea-dweller narrowed her eyes at the energy being, his form crackling and spitting and seething inside his containment suit.
“Star-Thief, this is Bloodtide, of whom I spoke.”
The Star-Thief pressed his palms together and bowed formally. “Lady Bloodtide, it is an honor. Silk Fever has spoken highly of you. You impressed her greatly during your time of mutual incarceration. She has told me of your exploits with this group, Fathom Five. It seems to have shared much with her own Force of Nature, if a bit ‘ocean-centric’ in its specifics.”
“What are you, Star-Thief?”
“I do not...what am I?”
“Are you a human? Beneath this form of green fire, are you a human? I do not care for humans. I will not work with a human.”
The Star-Thief shook his head, leaving after-images burned momentarily into the air. “I was once a human. That time was long ago, and that man is dead to me now. I am perhaps even less human at this point in time than our friend, Silk Fever here. And like you,” he added, “I do not care for humans.”
The Atlantean mutate put her hands on her hips, looking rather unconvinced. “Why have you called me here? What do you want with me?”
The burning woman known as Silk Fever spoke up. “You will recall my own group that I spoke of? The Force of Nature?”
“Yes. You said that they claimed a passion for the well-being of this world, and a dislike of humankind to rival our own.”
“All true...although as the Star-Thief pointed out to me, that passion for the environment was as much an excuse to justify their mercenary stances and their thirst for destruction as it was a true concern for the planet.”
“And? What has this to do with me?”
“The Star-Thief had the idea to form a new Force of Nature. A group of true environmental zealots, made up of members completely removed from humanity. Several of my former allies were far more human than we, far more human even than I was then, and as you saw during our time in the Vault, I have only journeyed farther away from my own human form. I am now this at all times. I can no longer return to the old form of flesh I once wore. I take in my sustenance in the form of energy almost exclusively, and like the Star-Thief, I require no humanly food, no sleep.”
“This cheers me in some sense, as you showed me friendship while we were imprisoned...yet I ask again, what has all this to do with me?
“The Star-Thief has convinced me that my former group’s mission was quite just, and it was only some of the membership that was flawed. We want to return to the way of environmental zealotry, and we wish to populate our new group only with those who care nothing for human concerns, like property and money. We have no need of it, nor should our new prospective members.”
“And I...?”
“And you,” said the Star-Thief, “absolutely fit our requirements. As you know, the Force of Nature was peopled by those who could represent the four ancient ‘elements’ of the surface world: earth, air, fire, and water. In my vision, I shall represent a fifth element, that of outer space. The void. Our friend Silk Fever is fire. And we wish for you to be our icon of water.”
The sea-woman remained silent, impossible to read, and for a time, the only sounds were the sighs of the ocean and the strange gurgling of the fountain that she rode. “You know,” she finally said, “that Fathom Five has been scattered, and all but destroyed. Llyron and Dragonrider languish in an Atlantean prison. Manowar is held captive for twisted study in some human scientific installation...and the Sea Leopard is gone missing. My fellows are fallen or vanished, and I now roam this seascape you call the Pacific because I am declared outlaw in Atlantean waters. Tell me...” She cocked her head at them, and with a gesture of one hand, she somehow called a splash of water up from the fountain she rode, and instead of falling back down to rejoin the sea, it danced in the air, spiraling around her wrist like a large liquid bracelet. “Will your activities that you plan...you have no intentions of shying away from the surface world or its defenders, have you? You will not confine your activities to this ‘outer space void’ or the water-world, will you, simply because the surface-dwellers are under the protection of groups such as the Avengers?”
The energy being known as the Star-Thief and the blazing woman called Silk Fever exchanged a glance that might almost have qualified as amusement.
“Quite the contrary,” said the Star-Thief.
“Yes,” added Silk Fever. “Interesting, actually, that you should mention the Avengers...”
====================
4 Weeks Ago...
“Fearless leader. You rang?”
“John - hey, have a seat.” Alex Summers - codenamed Havok - the newly appointed leader of the West Coast Avengers, gestured at a chair in front of his desk, while he took a seat on the desk itself. The big blond-haired slab of muscle in front of him - one of the Avengers, named John Walker and carrying the codename of the USAgent - gave a half-frown, then shrugged and sat, wearing the expression of a troublemaking child called in yet again to the principal’s office.
“So, John...I’m not a big believer in dancing around issues. It’s not productive, and it wastes a lot of time. So let’s just get down to it: I’ve been here for a little over three weeks, and it’s been clear from day one that you’d already made up your mind not to like me.”
“I don’t dislike you, chief.”
“You don’t.”
“Nope.”
“Then why all the constant attitude, and the surliness? It was like I’d managed to offend you before I ever even met you. Dane Whitman told me you might have a problem with anyone other than you who got put in charge of this squad, and in the absence of any other explanations, I guess I have to assume he was right. Is that it? Do you resent me getting to be the leader of the WCA?”
“In a single word: yep.”
“Well, look, John...let me break this to you: even if I were to just resign, and go away, you still wouldn’t get the job.”
The USAgent glared at him. This was not a pleasant sensation, even for a hardened combat veteran like Alex Summers, as John Walker looked big enough and strong enough to fold up a manhole cover and stick it in his back pocket.
“I’ve spoken to Whitman at length, and he doesn’t feel comfortable handing over command of this group to you. And believe me, it was discussed. Both him and some of the others did honestly consider you for the job, but the consensus was that you’re still too much ruled by your emotions to be calling the shots. I’m sorry to be so blunt about it, but I’m not going to lie to you or sugarcoat things. No one doubts your skills or your strength or your bravery...it’s more a case of doubting your ability to control your temper and your judgment.”
“And you got a better handle on all that stuff.”
“Look, man - I’m not some greenhorn who got this job just because his older brother is in good with Dane Whitman. You may think that, but it isn’t true. First of all, I may not have any US military experience on my resume, but I was learning combat skills and tactics with the X-Men at the same time you were in boot camp...and if you think the X-Men don’t teach the hell out of combat, I’d invite you to spar with any of us.”
“Uh huh. Bully for the X-Men.”
Havok forged ahead, undeterred. “Second, I have leadership experience, as you well know. I was in charge of the government’s X-Factor mutant strike-force team for over a year, and that group included clowns and hotheads like Quicksilver and the Multiple Man...so if you think your tough guy, chip-on-the-shoulder act scares me, you need to guess again.”
“If I was trying to scare you, Summers, you’d be looking to hunt down a clean pair of trousers right about now. I don’t care enough to get that into it, okay? I’m not all broken up about this - I just don’t like it, that’s all. The Avengers have always passed me over for command, and it gets old.”
Alex sat back, nodding. “I understand. To be honest, I wanted to have this chat to make something clear to you. I see a lot of good in you, a lot of growth compared to what I’ve heard about you from a few of the other Avengers, and you also got a pretty strong recommendation from someone whose judgment means a lot to me.”
“Oh, yeah? And who might that be?” Walker made a big show of examining his fingernails.
“Val Cooper. Oh, I see that got your attention. You like Val, don’t you.” It was a statement, not a question.
“I like Cooper just fine, what’s that got to do with anything? She’s a tough lady, she’s smart, and she knows how to work a tight little business suit, which I personally am A-okay with. And I actually do appreciate it if she’s got something decent to say about me.”
“Hey, she was the one who recommended you as the stand-in for Captain America back in your Super-Patriot days, and she told me in a very recent conversation that if she had to do it all over again, she’d do it just the same. And what you may have forgotten - assuming you researched us, and knew it before - is that Val was our official liaison and handler in those same X-Factor days. I worked as closely with her as you did at one point. So when she gives someone the thumbs-up, that means something to me.”
“Okay. Great. So...?”
“So, the point is, we have Val Cooper in common in a way, so I hope you’ll hear me out here, and really listen to what I’m saying. Because we have something else in common, too.”
“What’s that.”
“I’m going to tell you a story, John.”
“Yeah? You got any with a bunch of college girls having a late-night pillow fight in their dorm room? I tend to like those.”
“Maybe later - I did have some good times when I was at Cal... This is a different kind of story, though. You’ve met Hercules, right? He might have touched upon this particular subject if you ever spent any time with him.”
“Tried not to, actually. Pretty good fighter, but man, what a gas-bag.”
“Well, this is a story from Greek mythology. It’s about a guy that you and I should both know about...because we’re just like him. And if you can see that, you’ll see that in a certain way, we’re also just like each other, John.”
“Really.” The skepticism was almost tangible.
“Just hear me out, that’s all I ask.”
“And if I end up not seeing it your way?”
“I already told Dane Whitman and my brother both that I’m not going through another X-Factor situation. I don’t want to have to grapple with every Pietro-sized ego on the squad - either everyone’s on board, or I’m out. So if you can’t throw your weight behind me, I’m ready to resign. Your cooperation means that much to me. You should also know, of course, that as I said...they have a list as long as your leg of people they’d give the top spot to ahead of you. Your only choices right now are whether you want to get in line behind me, get in line behind someone else, or don’t get in line at all.”
The two men stared at each other for long minutes.
Finally, the USAgent cracked his neck, shifted his weight, and sighed. “Fine, then. Go ahead and tell me your little fairy tale.”
“You might like this, actually. It’s about a fighter. A great warrior. Imagine a guy so huge and so strong and so bad-assed in battle that he’s considered the greatest fighter of his homeland...by far.”
“Okay.”
“Then imagine that word of his mad combat skills starts to spread. He gets known even outside his own little homeland. Other kingdoms nearby hear of him. He starts getting offers to join fighting squads and to track down local monsters and such. He starts to travel, and to be introduced to lots of other people, and lots of other great fighters. Kind of like me joining the X-Men or you joining the Avengers.”
“And...?”
“And when Helen of Sparta - the finest woman in all the Greek lands - gets kidnapped, he’s even invited to join the Spartan army when they head off to Troy to get her back. He’s one of the few guys that the Spartans actively seek out, you understand.”
“I get it, yeah. So what.”
“So when he arrives at Spartan Central, before they hit the boats, he’s in the company of the greatest heroes in the Greek world: Odysseus, Diomedes, Achilles, who’s sort of a half-god, even. But the thing is that this guy has the unlikely name of Ajax...and the problem he runs into when he gets to this assembly is that not only is there another big-time Greek hero who also happens to be named Ajax, but this other Ajax is even bigger than our guy, even stronger, and even more of a bad-ass. There are only probably five or six guys in the known world that are tougher than our Ajax, but this other guy, this second Ajax, he’s one of them. So to avoid confusion, all the gathered Greeks decide that to differentiate the two mighty guys named Ajax, they’ll call the bigger one Ajax the Greater, and they’ll call the smaller one - our guy, who, mind you, is still pretty much a giant among men - they’ll call him Ajax the Lesser. Can you imagine? This guy’s spent his whole life kicking pretty much every ass in his path without even breaking much of a sweat, but suddenly he’s being called ‘the Lesser.’ How does that sound to you? How would that make you feel, John?”
“It...it sounds like a big steaming crock, is what it sounds like. It’d piss me off something fierce, tell you the truth.”
“Exactly! Me, too. And you know what? You are Ajax the Lesser, John. And so am I.”
“You want to run that by me again?”
“Think about it. Ever since you first went to see the Power Broker, haven’t you pretty much been in the shadow of Captain America? You’re a warrior, John, tremendously capable, and out in regular society, you’re a giant among men...but haven’t you always been regarded among the super-types as something like a ‘Captain America-Lite?’”
“Can’t say as I much care for that kinda talk there, chief.”
“I totally understand...but I’m not the first one to ever say something like that, right? I know you’ve heard that stuff: Cap-Lite, the pale imitation. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You know you’re not.”
“Okay. Well, it’s the same for me, John. Exactly the same.”
“Yeah? How’s that?”
“I’ve always been laboring in my brother’s shadow. Scott Summers, Cyclops - leader of the original X-Men, and leader of all the X-troops assembled ever since. Mightiest energy-blaster we mutants have. Forget my own powers, forget that I could slag a whole municipal district in about seven seconds flat - I’m still just the younger Summers brother. ‘Little Summers’...’Cyclops Junior.’ Believe me, John, I know exactly the kind of crap you’ve taken - it’s been no different for me. No different at all.”
“Huh. Never really thought about that angle.”
Alex shrugged. “Hell, to be honest, even the WCA is like a collective Ajax the Lesser compared to the east coast branch. You see what I mean? The west coast branch is this phenomenal collection of heroes...but it always runs second to the New York group in the minds of the public and the super-community, right? They’re the ‘real’ Avengers, and the WCA is like the junior varsity squad.”
John Walker sat up straighter and rubbed the back of his head, thinking almost visible thoughts. “Ajax the Lesser. You know...damned if that isn’t exactly how I always felt about Cap. Not that he wasn’t great - that’s not it at all...”
“But that any greatness of your own got lost in the glare of his spotlight.”
“Well...kind of, yeah. Yeah!” The Agent looked up at Alex Summers now with a small smile that looked like dawning wonder.
“So let me ask you,” said Alex, “do you want to take your chances with someone new in the command chair instead of me, do you want to bail out entirely...or do you want to see what we can do when a couple of Ajax the Lessers throw their hands in together and resolve to show this world what kind of colossal ass-kicking we can get done? Say the word, John, and like I said, I’ll mosey on back to the X-Men, and let someone else take up the reins here...but I’d rather work with you. I think we can understand and respect each other. When it comes to a resident super-soldier in the Avengers ranks now, you’re it, and I’d be honored be a part of this squad with you. I mean that - if you think I’m just blowing smoke here, go call up Val Cooper and ask her what kind of a guy I really am.”
“Well...if I want to call up Val Cooper, I’ll do it just ‘cause I want to do it. But for this...a man needs to know his own mind, and I don’t got to have some polished gal in Washington show me where the bear took a dump in the buckwheat.” He stood up and extended his hand. “Okay, Summers - Alex - you got yourself a soldier. I’m in. One ‘Ajax the Lesser’ to another. Not that you don’t still gotta prove your worth in the field and all...but for now, I’m in.”
Alex Summers grinned brightly enough to light the room up by several degrees, and he shook the large hand proffered his way (and tried not to wince at the can-crushing grip it brought to bear). “Outstanding, soldier. How about we adjourn to the commissary, and I’ll buy you a drink? And I promise not to tell Hercules you called him a gas-bag if we run into him at any of the big meetings.”
“Hey, I’m not afraid of that blowhard! Although I guess if you don’t want to go out of your way to tell him, that’d be okay...”
====================
3 Hours Ago...
“Soon enough, my sweet.”
Three misshapen lumps of earth, vaguely humanoid in shape, shuddered together on the small rocky hillside, bobbing slightly and wailing softly, as the woman floating above them attempted to soothe them. She looked like a semi-transparent female shape cut from a cloudy sky. Miniature clouds even seemed to drift through her form as she hovered, the real sky a much clearer and brighter blue behind and above her.
“I know,” she cooed, “you are impatient. You are like an ancient force in so many ways, as am I, and yet you are also so like a child.”
Two of the lumpen shapes beneath her toppled slowly together, and seemed to begin a process of gentle fusion, melding together into one larger form, even as the third shape began to grow a third arm from its midsection, joining its other two in a beseeching gesture.
“Yes, my sweet. Soon. Our dear friend Bloodtide has vouched for these two strangers. I know you care little for their fiery ways, but Bloodtide is convinced of the rightness of their cause, and I must confess that I also appreciate what they have said. I have spoken to you of the time when I was merely human, and gave myself over with great passion to the causes of the environment. I know you cannot understand my words as such...but I know, too, that you do grasp my emotion, and my meaning. It speaks to me, this alliance...this array, with each of us representing some ancient ‘element’ even as we strike out on behalf of the planet that cannot strike out for itself. You are the earth, my sweet, as I am the air.”
The shambling earth-creatures fell together and became one.
“You will see: these Avengers will soon arrive, and just as our new friends have foretold, they will disturb things below that are better left as they are. They would risk poisoning these waters and these lands and this clean sea air...and would that not poison us as well, my sweet, and this world we so love? We cannot have that. No. It is as the woman of fire and the man of the void have said: we can sit back no longer. We must serve as the fists of this planet. We must stand, and defend. We will turn these Avengers away. We will dismantle their new ocean-going home, and render them broken and impotent upon the waves, and upon these rocky shores...yes?”
The earth-creature swayed, and winds drifted through its cavern of a mouth, creating sounds like distant voices.
“Yes, my sweet. Soon, so soon...”
====================
2 Days Ago...
Bonita Juarez loved her role as a bringer of aid. She had performed countless hours of community service and social work in her early adulthood, and after a strange meteor granted her super-human powers, she had gone on to take part in dozens of world-saving and disaster-averting missions as Firebird, one of the mighty Avengers. Membership in this latter group actually afforded her the chance to make contributions on a global scale, and in ways that would never have been open to her otherwise. She valued this more than she could say, and knew almost boundless gratitude for these extraordinary opportunities. Bonita was a truly humble soul...and yet while she was very vocal in her appreciation for all that the Avengers had allowed her to know, there were, however, occasional drawbacks.
For instance...oh, how she disliked the press conferences.
She especially disliked those rare occasions when she actually had to speak to the public, and field questions from reporters, but even when she merely had to stand silently by, looking heroic and Avenger-ish, she found herself feeling restless and impatient to a degree that seemed unbecoming.
At the moment, she was definitely nearing such levels of discomfort.
This was certainly a necessary press conference, she recognized that: it was vital that the new west coast branch of the Avengers and its traveling, ocean-going headquarters on Hydrobase be embraced by the public, so the initial presentation was critical. Walter Newell and their new leader, Alex Summers, were actually doing a fine job, too - both men had a certain intensity about them that led to them being taken seriously, but both also had an endearing quality that was going a long way toward winning over the crowd.
The basics of the new scheme were fairly simple: Dr. Newell’s new Hydrobase was meant to be largely solar-powered and mobile, and as the headquarters of the newly-reformed Avengers branch, it would travel across the ocean surface - under the new WCA protocols, it would actually patrol up and down the west coast of the United States, just far enough off-shore to be considered in international waters (although there was also discussion with the Mexican and Canadian governments underway to see if Hydrobase should also push even farther north and south on its trips along its route so as to encompass more territory, and mark the new Avengers as less nationalistic, and more humanitarian in general). The base would travel at variable rates and variable overall distances from shore, so as to minimize chances that unfriendly types could predict its exact whereabouts with much certainty.
Furthermore, on its inaugural run up the coast from San Diego, Hydrobase was set to stop adjacent to the Farallon Islands, about twelve miles offshore of San Francisco, as Dr. Newell’s people believed they now had the means to remove the many barrels of nuclear waste dumped alongside the Farallons from the mid-1940’s until 1970, when such dumping practices were outlawed. Until now, it had been deemed safer to just leave the barrels undisturbed rather than risk massive contamination by attempting to remove them with uncertain technology, but Dr. Newell’s people were convinced they could now clean the area safely.
All of this seemed to be getting a good positive reception with the crowd, but Bonita couldn’t help but feel her mind starting to wander. She liked the fact that since the base would be removed from any city environment, no civilians would be endangered should one or more super-human criminals come calling...but she already missed being on land, and feared that the feelings of dislocation would only grow. She was a child of the desert at heart, and even the urban seaside landscapes of Los Angeles had seemed a bit of a stretch from her native New Mexico - would she be able to cope with weeks or months away at sea? She felt the ocean winds stirring her long, thick black hair as Hydrobase idled a few miles off the coast of San Diego, preparing for its maiden voyage, and as she was well aware of just how important it was for the world to have its heroes - now more than ever in the wake of the Onslaught Event - she tried to calm her mind by calling up visions of the rocky desert terrain of her homeland.
The Pacific Ocean rocked Bonita Juarez gently in its arms as the fiery southwest sang to her in her mind, and Hydrobase readied itself to carry the Avengers off to a new chapter of destiny...
====================
1 Second Ago...
The Avengers came flooding out onto the main deck of Hydrobase. Unknown assailants had battered their way in through the facility’s high-tech force-screen defenses, and now rocketed inward toward the heroes.
They saw a blazing woman like a human pyre come screaming in from the west, right out of the ocean-side horizon.
They saw a pale blue humanoid woman come jetting straight up out of the sea, riding a fountain that propelled her first toward the sky, and then, impossibly, curved sideways to carry her toward them where they gathered on-deck.
They saw a male figure in green armor of some kind come falling down out of the sky toward them like a meteor, trailing some sort of fiery energy in its wake.
The broadcast voice of Diane Newell directed their attentions eastward toward the landmasses of the Farallons, and they saw three cumbersome shapes gliding their way closer on vast, pterodactyl-like wings...and a moment later, those Avengers gifted with greater vision capabilities, like Tigra with her sharp, sharp cat’s eyes and Stingray with his technology-boosted scanners, registered an almost transparent woman accompanying the large, lumpy fliers through the air, riding an unnatural, concentrated gale-force burst of wind.
None of these incoming figures was immediately recognizable to the heroes, so they circled up like an Old West wagon train and prepared to meet the invaders...
*NOW*...
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NEXT ISSUE: The newly formed West Coast Avengers defend Hydrobase against the newly formed Force of Nature!
====================