MV1 presents ... Earth's Mightiest Heroes!
Captain America! Vision! Ms. Marvel! Yellowjacket! Quasar!
MANHATTAN - Five Blocks West of Avengers Mansion - Night
In a window of a high-rise office complex within sight of Avengers Mansion, a man stood watching Earth's Mightiest Heroes. Beside him on the carpeted floor was a custom built long-range sniper rifle, locked and loaded, and a wireless phone. Binoculars were pressed to disbelieving eyes, locked onto the Mansion's grounds.
The wireless rang. The man answered. "Go."
"I have not heard from you in three days. What is your current status?"
"In position. Scouting the grounds, watching for patterns."
"What have you learned?"
"Security looks lighter than I bargained for."
"Lighter? Are you certain? This is the Avengers we are dealing with."
"Hey, I just saw a man dressed in a raptor wannabe costume crash through the back wall. If Smoochy can get in, I can get in."
"Just make certain the target is neutralized. You do not come cheap."
"Talent never does, bub."
AVENGERS MANSION - Office of the Government Liaison - Night
"I do not recognizssssse you, but that issssss of no mind. You are here, so you shall die! So proclaimssss the Ssssstar Sssssstalker!"
As his body was slammed through his already smashed desk, Forge thought, "I'm not going to make it out of this alive." He was bleeding severely, his cybernetic limbs torn from his body and strewn about the room as the large walking reptillian-esque creature pummeled him thoroughly.
Forge was using his powers to throw every bit of electronic weaponry at the Star Stalker he could think of and nothing was working. Guns, knives, electricity, swords ... none of it worked. His cybernetic leg was strewn about the floor in a hundred pieces. Not that it made a difference. This hulking figure dominated the room and his long tail routinely spilled out into the corridor, blocking Forge's most logical escape route.
It didn't help that Forge had no idea who the hell he was fighting. Reptillian jaw and tail, but a spiked back and wild yellow eyes. From the Star Stalker's taunts, Forge figured him to be alien, but why he was here, attacking the Avengers, the former X-Man had no idea.
'Call in the Avengers,' his mind scolded him. He should have done it immediately, he knew, but the Mansion's defenses should have recognized the attack and sent out a signal, shouldn't it? Sending out the distress signal would've been redundant.
And it would've meant he needed help. Forge swore at his pride as the Star Stalker's tail lashed into him hard across the chest, shattering at least two ribs. It was pride that kept him from sending that call. He'd blamed the Avengers for the death of his team, Freedom Force, and he'd been at odds with Captain America since he arrived. Calling them in meant admitting he needed them and that was something Forge wasn't yet ready to do.
"Aaaargh!" he screamed as the elongated reptillian jaw bit down hard into flesh.
"Yessssss, there isss blood and bone to you ssssomewhere!" the Star Stalker taunted, clicking his sharp teeth together, stained with Forge's blood. "Better than the metal and wiresssss."
As the ten-foot tall alien slithered his tongue forward, tasting the wound he'd just caused, Forge reached into his pants pocket and pressed the distress signal on his Avengers identicard, alerting the team to the emergency. Just before he blacked out, he wondered why Henry Pym, the only Avenger currently in the Mansion, hadn't heard the commotion and come to help.
AVENGERS MANSION - Sub-Laboratory of Henry Pym - Ten Minutes Ago
"What'cha working on, Yellowjacket?"
Henry Pym didn't look up from his work as he answered, "Evaluating the data sets for the most recent Pym Particles tests. There's a repeating breakdown occurring in certain structures that are alternately shrunk then grown that do not occur when the objects are first grown, then shrunk."
"Fascinating. Can I ask you something?"
"Of course," Henry answered, still buried in his data sheets.
"How come you went for ants and yellowjackets anyway? Why not scorpions or spiders or snakes? Don't they have interesting things to say to you?"
Annoyed, Henry looked up to find a small man standing on the edge of his desk: Ant-Man. His heart sank. "Who are you?" he asked angrily, pushing back in his seat. Since "Ant-Man" had first appeared to him a few days ago, Henry had wondered if it had all been something he'd imagined.
"Why, I'm Ant-Man, of course. Don't you recognize me?"
"Of course I recognize you," Henry blurted, his work forgotten. "I created you. I am you."
"Hmmm, are you sure?"
"Why do you keep coming to torment me?" Hank asked, feeling unnerved. He had a history of mental breakdowns and anything that even hinted that his reality might not be the reality caused a sick, clammy feeling to descend upon him.
"Whoah, slow down, hoss," Ant-Man said, throwing up his hands. "Who's here to torment you?"
"Then why are you here?"
"To help you, of course," Ant-Man said. He pointed a finger from the corner of the desk at the normal-sized man. "I'm very curious to know why you always allow for multiple you's to exist?" Ant-Man began pacing back and forth across the length of the desk. "First you were Ant-Man. Now Scott Lang is Ant-Man."
"Are you Scott Lang?" Henry interrupted.
"Of course not," Ant-Man answered, stopping to place his hands on his hips. "I'm Ant-Man. I already told you that." The small man began pacing again. "Then you were Giant-Man. Now Bill Foster is Giant-Man. Next came Yellowjacket. First you, then Rita DeMara. See a pattern here, mate? What's with that?"
Henry rubbed his eyes, feeling suddenly tired. Thinking about questions like this made his head hurt. "I don't know what you mean," he mumbled.
Ant-Man answered, "I think it's because you're afraid to be remembered as a wife-beater."
"What?" Henry asked, his anger snapping so suddenly it scared him. He lashed out at Ant-Man, but the diminutive man had already leapt off the desk.
Ant-Man's voice came to him, but Henry could not see him, and he started to wonder again if he was just imagining things. "You're so wrapped up in how you'll be remembered that you let others wear your identities in the hopes that they bring you some glory. You favor the ex-cons, too, because if they can turn their lives around, that means you might be able to, too." Henry frantically searched around the laboratory for his alter-ego but he couldn't find him anywhere. "By the way, Giant-Yellow-Ant-Jacket-Man, the Mansion alarm is ringing. Maybe you should stop thinking so much about yourself, huh? Go save some lives, old man."
MANHATTAN - Lantissimo - Fifteen Minutes Ago
"Namor."
"Captain, thank you for coming."
Steve Rogers reached out and shook Namor's hand as the Sub-Mariner rose to his feet to greet him. "This is an elegant restaurant," Steve said, taking his seat and looking around. Even with the generous Avengers' stipend Steve didn't think he'd be able to eat here on a regular basis. Around them sat the wealthiest elite of New York City - many of whom were quick to turn up their noses at Steve's decidedly inexpensive suit.
"Do not fear," Namor droned, looking to his menu as he ran a hand down the front of his decidedly expensive business suit. "They serve hot dogs and American pie." Beat. "The two will set you back fifty-two dollars, but they are well worth it."
Steve didn't know how to respond, so he didn't. Reaching for his own menu, he began to wonder just why Namor wanted to see him. They hadn't parted on the best terms, after all. Both men had feelings for Carol Danvers, their fellow Avenger Ms. Marvel. Steve and Carol were ... involved, he supposed was the right word. Carol felt Namor had taken a blast by Nefaria intended for her because he had feelings for her, and not because it was sound battle strategy.
"It was sound battle strategy for me to take Nefaria's blast," Namor said without looking up from his menu.
Steve nodded. "I know that. You know that."
Namor's eyes looked up from behind his menu. "Does Carol know that?"
Steve let out a sigh. Of course this is what Namor wanted to talk about. "She believes it to a degree," he answered honestly, "but also believes you were motivated by feelings for her."
Namor nodded, looking up as a young, attractive waitress approached. "The usual, Christine," he said, handing her his menu. "My friend will have a hamburger, medium, no toppings, on a wheat roll, untoasted, and fries, lightly salted. We will both drink water. Please, do not forget the extra ice in my glass this time."
The waitress couldn't help but give a sideways glance to Steve. "Hamburger and fries, sir? The chefs here at the Lantissimo can make any dish." Steve nodded, not really hungry, and Christine departed, her mind already imagining the looks on the chef's face when he read the order, than the customer's face when he realized he'd just bought a $40 burger.
"The head chef at this establishment is a mutant," Namor informed Steve casually. "He has the power to control the preparation of food. I found it to be the most ridiculous and purposeless power I had ever come across, of course. How does one fight enemies with the power of food preparation? It's ... comical. I started to wonder if his power would allow him to effect a human body in such a way as to be advantageous during a fight - and then realized that there must be thousands of mutants walking the Earth with powers that are useless against the likes the Avengers face."
Steve gave Namor a moment to continue, but apparently the Sub-Mariner had no more to say on the subject, so Steve asked, "What did you do when you realized that, Namor?"
A smile made its way to the hard face of the Prince of Atlantis. "Why, I opened this restaurant, of course, and hired him as my main chef."
A small laugh escaped Steve's lips, and he leaned back in his seat, shaking his head. "Can he cook better than Jarvis?"
Namor's smile broadened. "Almost."
"Jarvis will be glad to hear that."
Namor nodded, turned serious again in the bat of an eyelash. Such was the way with Namor, Steve knew. He thought of Mark Twain's comment about the New England climate, how if you didn't like the weather you should hang around for 20 minutes because it was bound to change. Such was often the case with his old friend.
Namor coughed, clearing his throat. "Captain, this is not easy for me to say ... but I am ... sorry for my actions the other day when I questioned your motive and stormed out. I let my personal feelings interfere with the functioning of the team. The truth is ... the truth is that rarely a week goes by anymore that I do not fall for the beauty of a different woman. There has been pressure put upon me to wed. I am the Prince of Atlantis, as you are aware. Many Atlanteans believed it was only a matter of time before Susan Storm realized her love for me. Why, after all, would a woman not want to be Queen?" Namor shook his head. "All of us Atlanteans have such a high opinion of ourselves," he mumbled, then continued aloud. "It falls to me to keep the royal line active, and given all that has happened over the past few years ... there is a growing fear that I may die before I have given Atlantis the gift of a future King or Queen. My heart still grieves for Marrina, but time has dulled that ache. Without the royal bloodline active, there will be many that seek the throne under shady motivations and false pretenses. Atlantis would be plunged into a dark era of war and strife, the likes of which felled the Roman Empire."
Steve listened intently, not entirely certain what to make of Namor's pronouncements. It was rare for Namor to open himself up like this to anyone, and Steve was unsure as to why Namor was choosing to do so now. Was Namor letting him know that he would still pursue Carol? That he intended for her to be his Queen?
Namor answered the unanswered question. "Feelings run deep within me, Captain, as you well know. The Sub-Mariner does not forget easily. Carol ... is a fine woman. Her beauty and intelligence are matched by a strength that attracts me to her."
"What are you saying, Namor?" Cap asked with an edge in his voice that shouldn't have been there. 'Easy soldier,' Cap scolded himself.
"I'm saying, Captain, that I am not in love with her. I was, for a time, I will not deny. I cannot help but be attracted to her, mind you, but my actions the other day ... challenging you to a fight over her ... quitting in anger ..." Namor bowed his head. "Foolish," he scolded himself. "Pride is a dangerous emotion. My feelings for her, coupled with the stress Nefaria had put all of us through..."
"Namor," Steve began.
"No," the Sub-Mariner raised a hand. "There is nothing for you to say, and nothing for me to do but to ... ask that I be reinstated into the Avengers at once so that I may reclaim my pride and honor." Namor fidgeted slightly in his chair, and his voice dropped several octaves. "Captain, with all that has happened in the world recently, from Onslaught until now ... we, the Atlanteans, have heard rumblings of war from the surface."
"Namor, there have always been-"
"Not like this," Namor cut Steve off. "Three days ago, a young Atlantean female was-"
Before Namor could finish, Steve's indenticard warning went off. He pulled out his card and his face turned into a serious frown.
"What is it?" Namor asked.
"Something's attacking the Mansion." He stood to leave, then stopped for half of a beat. "Namor, we will continue this discussion about your people at a later time."
BOSTON - Fenway Park - Five Minutes Ago
"I used to come here as a kid," Carol Danvers, the Avenger Ms. Marvel, said to Quasar as they sat in the bleacher seats of an empty and dark Fenway Park.
"When you needed time to think?" Wendell Vaughn asked, trying to figure out why they had stopped here on their way back from South Africa.
Carol looked at him sideways. "When I wanted to watch baseball."
"Oh," Quasar answered, feeling not a little bit stupid. "So ..." he said, letting the question go unasked.
"What are we doing here?" Carol asked for him. "Why haven't we gone straight back to the Mansion? I ... I guess I wanted to talk."
"You're thinking of leaving the team," Quasar said. "I know how you feel. I'm leaving at the first opportunity."
"Why?"
Quasar shrugged. "Being a full-time members of the Avengers is all-consuming. Is it any wonder that none of us have successful personal lives?"
The question, coming from Wendell, surprised Carol, but she found there was accuracy in the words. "Vision and Wanda ... Hank and Jan ... Clint and Bobbi ... Mantis and the Swordsman."
"It's not just them," Quasar continued. "None of us, really, have had a personal life worth talking about. Notice how there are never really any husbands or wives or, God forbid, children running around?" Quasar paused, wondering if he would actually say what came out of his mouth. "How are you and Cap doing?"
Carol slumped in her seat and let out a deep sigh. "I don't know. Not good, I think. I feel like such a fool."
"Why?"
"Office romances almost never work," she said, staring off towards left field. "Especially among high-end professionals like us. We're all married to what we do more than we will likely ever be tied to those we love. Look at Namor's actions against Nefaria. He jumped in front of a blast to save me."
"But-"
"Wendell, if you say the words 'battle strategy' I'm going to go nova on you," Carol spat, then kicked the chair-back in front of her. She counted to ten, calming herself. "I understand all of that, but let's not kid ourselves. Some of what he did was out of his feelings for me. And Steve ... I care for him, Wendell, I truly do, but love? I don't think so. Not anymore."
Quasar let the words hang in the air for a few minutes, as the two heroes sat in silence. Curiosity, however, got the best of him. "So are you leaving the team?"
"The way I see it, either I stay and Cap and I split apart, or I leave and we try to make a go of it." Carol slumped forward. "The truth is that I don't know which option I would prefer."
Quasar's reply was never voiced, as their Avengers identicards began to ring the distress signal. In a shot, the two were back in the air, heading hard for New York.
AVENGERS MANSION - Office of the Government Liaison - Night
Yellowjacket zipped quickly around the Star Stalker, firing electric bolts across the alien's hard scaly skin. The confrontation with Ant-Man was momentarily forgotten.
"Fight me like a man, sssssssuperhero!"
"Just sssssso you can kill me?" Yellowjacket mocked, ducking beneath the creature's wildly swinging tail and sending a quick series of bolts down the Stalker's spine. "I don't think sssssssssssooooooo."
"Rrrraaaaarrrghhh!" the Star Stalker roared, punching wildly into a series of filing cabinets.
"Nnnngh!" Yellowjacket was hit hard by a sudden migrane as the cabinets were dented and knocked over. Limply, his body dropped to the floor, his head clearing just in time to roll out of the way of the Star Stalker's clawed foot. Looking up, Henry was glad to see that the large creature was storming past him toward the cabinets. Knowing he needed another minute to clear his head, he fired a few low-level blasts towards the cabinets. The bolts hit the metal, then ricocheted up into the Star Stalker.
"You cannot hide from me!" the beast roared, tearing into the files, shredding them easily.
As Yellowjacket turned to check on the unconscious Forge, he told himself he wanted Star Stalker shredding those files because checking on Forge was his number one priority.
It was a lie.
The files in those cabinets represented years of research and data accumulated by various government liaisons. If the Ant-Man that kept visiting him wasn't real, if his mind was once again coming unglued, Yellowjacket wanted the files that contained details of his past breakdowns destroyed.
As he checked Forge's pulse to make certain the man was still breathing, he knew it was futile. There would be back-ups of back-ups of all material relating to the Avengers, he realized, but if this was one less copy he needed to worry about -
"Little man cannot hide from the Sssstar Ssssstalker!"
Yellowjacket spun around and saw that the alien had found him, and stomped across the room. "Hell," Henry thought. Forge was still alive, but barely. He needed medical attention at once. Star Stalker slithered his tongue and sent the remnants of Forge's desk sprawling with a sharp backhand. "Time to dieaaaiiieeeeee!"
Flames engulfed the Star Stalker's body, causing the alien to scream in primal pain.
Surprised, Yellowjacket looked to the source of the flames in the doorway. "Jarvis?" he said, surprised.
"Fire is this creature's weakness, Master Pym," Jarvis replied, pouring more flame from a flame-thrower onto the creature. "I am certain the other Avengers will be here- oh, dear."
The Star Stalker righted himself, and began to move towards Jarvis, the flames lapping hard against him. "I have adapted," the Stalker announced. "The flamessss hurt but they can be overcome!"
"We'll take it from here, Jarvis," Captain America said from behind the butler, who quickly stepped back to safety. The Captain and Namor burst through the entrance and the Sub-Mariner flew across the room slamming hard into the creature, knocking him against the wall.
"Cap!" Yellowjacket yelled. "Forge needs help!"
"I have already called the medics," Jarvis said from the doorway as he handed the flame-thrower to Cap.
"Captain, the flames!" Namor shouted as he pushed the off-balance Star Stalker down into the pile of shattered cabinets and loose paper. Cap saw what Namor had done and sprayed fire towards the paper, catching them on fire, letting the flames engulf the attacker.
A deathly scream erupted from the Star Stalker and he thrashed about, seeking to free himself from the burning. Namor stood back, waiting for another shot should the Star Stalker rise to his feet.
Cap flinched as a body shot itself past him, automatically retreating his body into a defensive position. He watched as a woman bounced once in the middle of the floor, then shot herself across the room, directly at the Star Stalker. A tube filled with tranquilizers appeared in the lithe woman's hand, which she shoved right down into the Stalker's throat.
"Uck!!" the Stalker roared, then collapsed face-first onto the ground.
All eyes turned towards the unexpected visitor. "This one apologizes for being late," she smiled.
Mantis had returned.
AVENGERS MANSION - The Rear Grounds - Night
"I will kill you all!" the Star Stalker roared.
"Maybe next time, sexy," Ms. Marvel smiled at the bound creature.
Captain America, Yellowjacket, Ms. Marvel, Quasar, Namor, and Mantis stood in the small green area behind the Mansion. Carol was surprised to see Namor there, and the two did their best to look everywhere but at each other.
"Where did Jarvis find a flame-thrower?" Quasar asked, still believing Yellowjacket was pulling his leg.
Yellowjacket smiled. "Never underestimate that man's resourcefulness."
"Thank you for your assistance, Mantis," Cap said, strapping his shield across his back. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your arrival?"
"This one has been on the trail of the creature for weeks," Mantis looked to the Star Stalker. "His plans to wreak destruction upon the Avengers reached ears who would not see the Avengers destroyed. This one would have come to you directly, but her investigation uncovered a possible larger plot against the Avengers."
"You're welcome to stay, to rejoin the team," Captain America offered. "If there's trouble coming-"
"This one cannot stay," Mantis shook her head. "The Star Stalker needs to be brought to justice for his acts, and this one will see him there. The trouble that is hinted at this one will root out. Perhaps it is nothing more than talk; perhaps it is something more. This one will return when she has more information."
Cap nodded, "Understood."
Quasar coughed, drawing attention to himself. "Could I come with you, Mantis? I've decided to take a leave of absence." He turned to Cap, "I hope this is okay."
"Of course, Wendell," Steve answered, not hiding his disappointment well.
"This one would welcome your company, Quasar."
"Fear not, young hero," Namor pronounced, slapping Quasar on the back. "For I have decided to rejoin the team."
"You what?" Carol asked, a little too loudly.
Namor finally met her gaze, "I promise you that-"
Cap stepped in. "We need the help and Namor's apologized for his abrupt decision to leave." He locked eyes with Carol, and his gaze told her they would discuss this later. "I trust he will be welcomed back. Anyone who has a problem with this can excuse themselves from the team."
Carol wanted to lash out, but bit her tongue. Steve was right, this wasn't the place, but she would let him have it in private. What was that last crack about? Did he invite Namor back to try and drive her away? Fat chance of that.
'Too many questions,' Carol thought, staring back at Cap. 'Too many questions that will soon have answers. Carol Danvers is tired of being brushed aside.'
"Hey," Yellowjacket said suddenly, "before we head to the hospital to check out Forge, does anyone here know where the Vision is?"
AVENGERS MANSION - The Quarters of the Vision - Night
The Vision's body lay inert on his bed as smoke billowed and swirled around him.
"My, my, my," a laughing voice mocked from the corner, "this is an interesting challenge." The man jumped onto the bed, staring down at the Vision. "I wonder, can a machine have nightmares?"
Nightmare tossed his head back and laughed, determined to find out.
AVENGERS ASSEMBLE! Comments to bousquet22@earthlink.net
Thanks for taking the time to read my first issue of MV1's Avengers. Seeing that I'm the fourth different writer or writing team in four issues, I'll spare you from any grand pronouncements. My goal here is to deliver some quality stories on a consistent basis. The first priority is to tie up some of the lingering sub-plots that have been introduced in the book, mainly the Star Stalker (check), Henry Pym's "Ant-Man problem," and concerns over the line-up. Hopefully I'll be successful in building off what the writers before me have done while still being able to introduce elements that I'm interested in writing. I'll be honest - in most cases I have no idea how the original writers intended to play out these sub-plots, so if you dislike the resolution, blame me.
Even though I've written over 100 stories for MV1, this is the first time I've written a story inside MV1 continuity in quite a while. I hope the rust doesn't show through too much. I'm looking forward to writing this book and these characters and I hope you enjoy the ride.
What can you expect? Plenty of what makes Avengers great - tremendous threats and dramatic character interaction - and some new twists and characters to add flavor to the mix.
Thanks for reading. Please send any comments either to the mv1talk list, or directly to me at the address above.
NEXT ISSUE: AVENGERS 443: "Capitol Offense" - The Avengers are called to appear before a Senate committee meeting, and gain a new Government Liaison in the process. More with Pym's potential breakdown, Vision's potential nightmares, and Carol and Steve have a long talk.
Mark Bousquet
22 May 2003
Northern Bear Productions