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Avengers # 34 |
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Black Panther |
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Captain America |
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Quicksilver |
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Andromeda |
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Sunfire |
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Karnak |
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Moondragon |
New Order Changeth, Part One
"Some Assemblage Required"
by Thomas Deja and Derrick Ferguson
“I'm surprised you wish me to take any role in this version of the Avengers, let alone one of such prominence.”
The bald black man in the elegant suit looked over his shoulder at his companion. “Why do you question your position so, Steven.”
“Look around you, T'Challa. This present administration has done much to make the United States highly unpopular. If you're serious about making this team representative of the Avengers' status as defenders of all nations, I have to be looked upon as a liability.”
“Nonsense,” T'Challa, Monarch of the Nation of Wakanda and leader of the Black Panther Cult, took a coal black bodysuit down from the closet and put it aside. “Considering what I do, your being here is more vital than ever.”
Steve Rogers adjusted the heavy red gloves of his uniform. “I'm sorry, old friend, but I don't see how.”
T'Challa walked over to the man in the blue chainmail. “I will be bringing in many new personages to be Avengers, Steven—personages who will represent different races, different creeds, different belief systems. The complexion of the team will change so radically, it will seem new and strange to the general populace; many of them will feel threatened by it.”
Steve allowed himself a tight, bemused smile. “Why do I get the impression you intentionally chose the word ‘complexion'?”
T'Challa, a man known for his grimness, allowed himself to return the smile. “For my vision of the Avengers to take root and grow, I need someone at my side who represents the best that the team can do. And who better than you, a man who has proven his valor throughout the ages?”
“Besides,” the monarch added, “I can think of no better man to help me lead these heroes into battle than he who has been a friend of the Panther Throne since World War II, and who has been nothing less than a brother to me for as long as I can remember?”
Steve paused, then nodded. “You honor me as always with your friendship, T'Challa.”
“What we have, Steven, runs deeper than friendship. I have always thought that, even when relations between us were strained.”
Steve took a moment before walking to the small desk on the far side of the room. Scattered on top of it were a number of manila folders. He picked up the first one and rifled through its papers. “So the rest of our crew is in the conference room waiting for us?”
“Certainly. Jarvis has put out an exquisite tea service.”
“We've got them hooked, then. I can't think of a single recruit who could resist Jarvis' finger sandwiches.” Steve studied the photo in the folder while T'Challa donned the ceremonial uniform of the Black Panther. “I'm somewhat shocked at who you got to agree to join. Sunfire, for instance.”
T'Challa sighed. “Our young Mr. Yashida, yes. He refused my invitation several times.”
“How did you get him here?”
“We had to be...uniquely persuasive.”
Once Upon A Time....
The place Shiro Yashida had found himself was not known to many people. It certainly wasn't known to the general populace of the world; the changes in society that made being a prominent figure in the greater scheme of things dangerous demanded that the small shack deep in the woods surrounding Osaka remain a secret.
The fact that Shiro had been entrusted with that secret had not been lost on him. He was a hero to the people of Japan, but that meant nothing in practical terms. For the Emperor's representative to tell him meant he was kept in the highest of regards.
He was self-conscious as he approached the simple shack of paper and bamboo, a place he was told the Emperor came to meditate. After all, the present holder of the peacock throne most likely expected him as he once was—handsome and well-mannered, a fine example of the Japanese ideal. He silently prayed that the Emperor would not be repulsed by his present form, barely human and perpetually aflame with atomic energy.
With deliberate slowness, Shiro ascended the stone steps that led to the shack and got down on his knees. He brought his head to the tatami mat at the entrance and waited.
“Welcome, Yashida-san. You may enter.”
Shiro rose from his prone position and entered the shack. The place was bare, save for a worn mat of reeds. Sitting on the mat in a lotus position was a young man who looked half Shiro's age, a veritable boy with a touch of baby fat in his cheek. Shiro bowed, and waited for his greeting to be acknowledged with a curt nod of the Emperor's head. Once that was done, Shiro kneeled before him, careful not to look directly at his face.
He felt something swat him on the shoulder. Shiro looked up to see the Emperor scowling.
“Do not play at being a commoner in front of me, Shiro Yashida. The fact that you are here puts the lie to your behavior. Rise and look me in the eye as befits a samurai, and answer me truthfully.”
“My apologies, your eminence,” Shiro mumbled as he did as he was asked.
The Emperor paused, templing his fingers in his lap. “Now, I have been told that you have been granted the privilege of membership in the Avengers. Is this true?”
“Yes, your eminence.”
“I have also been told that, despite the generous offer of the King of Wakanda to help you regain your human form, you declined this honor.”
Shiro felt a twinge of unease the moment the Emperor used the word ‘honor.' Luckily, he did not show that unease on his face, opting instead to just respond, “Yes, your eminence.”
The Emperor rose quickly from his lotus position and slapped Shiro with a paper fan. The fan, upon making contact with Sunfire's plasma form, promptly began to smolder. The Emperor waved it about vigorously before Shiro could properly recover from the utter shock of the young man's actions. “How dare you decline this invitation.”
“I do not understand,” Shiro said in stumbling tones. “I thought you—”
“You thought I would not realize you do not wish to go because you do not wish to be contaminated by dirty Westerners,” The Emperor said, cutting his guest off. “You may think because of my age I am a fool, Yashida, but I know how your crippled little mind works.”
“But my efforts would be best focused here, where I belong.”
“Your efforts,” the Emperor said carefully, “should be where they best serve the interests of Japan. And being our representative in an organization of reknowned heroes, being an example of the Japanese ideal for the masses is far more important than patrolling our nation. That is why we have Big Hero Six.”
“But, your eminence...I am a role model—”
“You will still be a role model. A role model for people worldwide, an example of the finest Japan has to offer.”
“They do not wish Japanese role models,” Shiro spat out.
The Emperor turned and raised an eyebrow. “Have you seen the entertainment our friends in the West consume? They watch our cartoons, read our comics, consume and remake our movies...the time has never been more right for the introduction of a true hero of Japan into their culture.”
“I do not think I would fit in.”
“You are not here to think, Shiro Yashida. You are here to follow orders.” The Emperor slowly circled the hero. “You are ordered to contact the Avengers and tell them you accept their generous offer. You are ordered to pack for America immediately. You are ordered to be on your best behavior both as a hero and a gentleman. You are, most of all, ordered to keep your views on Americans, Africans, Europeans, Russians, other Asians, or any race for that matter, to yourself. Is that clear?”
Shiro tried to think of a way to refute his emperor. Several times he made to say something, then stopped, afraid that what he was about to say was inadequate.
Ultimately, what he did was bow his head and mutter, “As you wish, your eminence.”
It was to his credit that only a fraction of the hostility he was feeling came out in that simple utterance.
“I'm still unsure,” Steve said. “He's a notorious racist.”
“How can a man be a racist,” T'Challa countered, “When he hates all people equally?”
The Captain considered this before admitting, “There might be some truth to that.”
“Besides,” the king of Wakanda said before pulling the cowl of the Black Panther over his head, “Have not the Avengers taken in those with problematic personalities before? The Swordsman, for example, or Hawkeye?”
“True.” Steve continued to sift through the folders. “Although I think putting him under the same roof as Moondragon and Quicksilver...well, it's a recipe for trouble.”
T'Challa allowed himself a faint chuckle. He sat down next to Captain America. “You worry too much, friend Steven. I worked carefully to make sure this team will be properly and fairly balanced. Every member will have his or her own opposite number to keep things running smoothly.”
“Even Moondragon?”
T'Challa nodded. “Especially Moondragon.”
“I do not see,” the tall, statuesque woman with the bald head sniffed to the shorter man with the elongated, tatooed skull, “how you are going to stand it here for long.”
The man shrugged and continued to look out onto the grounds of Avengers Mansion from his vantage point on the veranda. “I do not see how I cannot. The religion—the primary precept of Inhuman society is that of Unity through Diversity. In all our time interacting with human society, we have found groups such as the Avengers best reflect our beliefs.”
“But the humans have never welcomed diversity, Karnak” the woman pointed out. “Indeed, they fight wars amongst themselves due to one tribe being the same color as the other. How can they live in harmony with Gods like ourselves when they cannot live comfortably with themselves?”
“I am not a God, Heather Douglas,” the Inhuman said simply. “And, neither, I would wager, are you.”
The woman drew herself up to her full height, her eyes flashing in anger. “Of all the people the Wakandan has gathered here, I would think you would understand. You're as far above them as I am, with your meta-abilties.”
Karnak turned to face Heather Douglas, who was known to the public by her sobriquet of Moondragon. “You are mistaken. As part of my vows, I never underwent the Terrigen Rite. In truth, I am closer to the humans that you are.”
“And given what little I have observed of your behavior,” Karnak added in a tone of voice that was genuinely without reproach or judgement, “I am proud of that fact.”
“Why, you impertinent little troll,” Moondragon sneered.
“If you will excuse me,” Karnak said, “I wish to seek out my kinsman.”
“I feel that Karnak's presence will help smooth out the growing pains that usually accompany a new Avengers team,” T'Challa offered.
“He's a good man,” Steve admitted. “All the Attilan Royal Family are. What are we going to do about Crystal, though?”
“Apparently, with the new initiative Black Bolt has put in place that calls for the Inhumans to no longer be isolationists, she shall be summoned back to Attilan to spearhead the training of these new missionaries.” The Panther attached his cloak with a simple silver clasp.. “It should give her more time to be with her daughter.”
Steve nodded. “That would be for the best.”
“We are both men who have had to do without families, Steven,” the Panther observed. “I do not wish those Avengers with families to miss out on time with their loved ones.”
“Even this Andromeda?” Steve asked as he picked up another folder. “I'm a little wary about the idea of the daughter of one of our older foes being a visible part of our team.”
“I am surprised at you, Steven. With our history of giving second chances—”
“Oh, I'm well aware of our history of ‘outreach,'” Steve countered. He allowed himself a moment to remember the time, years ago, where he agreed to lead a team composed of people the public considered villains. “But she's such an unknown quantity.”
“Rest assured, my friend,” The Panther replied. “that she comes highly recommended.”
Once upon A Time...
“I was never a good Avenger.”
“There are many who would disagree with you.”
“There are many who would be wrong to do so.”
Namor Mackenzie the First, King of Atlantis, led T'Challa into the courtyard of his palace. In a place full of marvels, the seemingly endless expanse of coral and marble and inlaid white gold dwarfed them all.
And the architecture was dwarfed in turn by the sight of the Atlantean Army standing at attention, weapons ready for whatever command their leader gave them. Their number spilled out of the courtyard into the land beyond; by T'Challa's estimation, they were in the thousands.
“You have always been a trustworthy ally, T'Challa,” the Avenging Son of Atlantis told the Black Panther. “And I agree that Atlantis would benefit from having a representative on the Avengers. I cannot be bothered to serve on the surface, but I will give you one I trust to act in my stead.”
“You honor me,” T'Challa responded.
Namor led T'Challa forward to the front line of the troops and the woman at the head of the first platoon. She was uncommonly tall—at least six feet—with deep brown hair that complimented the blue of her complexion. Unlike other members of the Atlantean Army, who wore tunics similar to the Romans in design, she sported slacks that came to mid-calf made of a thick, black material and was topless save for a chestpiece apparently made from the gold-plated cartilage of a shark. She held her trident as if it was an extension of her arm, and stared ahead with an intensity T'Challa found fascinating.
“This is Andromeda,” Namor told the Panther. “She is the leader of my personal guard, and is the better of any five men you see before you. She will accompany you in my stead to sit at the Avengers table.”
“Sir, may I address the King of Wakanda, sir?” Andromeda suddenly said, her eyes still focus on a point beyond the two monarchs. Her voice was deep and resonant, the kind that could be heard across a crowded room during the noisiest party known to man.
“You may.”
“Your Highness, I have been told of the immensity of the honor I have been given, and I wish to thank you for the opportunity to serve my nation and yourself. You will find that my prior experience on the surface world will allow me to acclimate much quicker than the average Atlantean, and that my skill in a number of martial arts will—”
“That will be sufficient, Andromeda,” Namor said gently. He turned to T'Challa and added, “Does she meet up with your standards, my friend?”
“This will be a good team,” The Panther told Steve. “For the first time, it shall be a team representative of the Earth we claim to represent.”
“With me as the token white male?” Steve said, pulling on the cowl that effectively made him the ultimate representative of the American Ideal. A smile belied the seriousness of the question.
“There is Quicksilver,” The Panther admitted. “Although I suppose one could claim that, since he was adopted by a Transian, he is technically Gypsy.”
“Do you think he's begun fighting with Sunfire yet?”
“I am certain he is doing that right this minute.”
Shiro's eyes flashed as Pietro took a number of finger sandwiches off the plate. “You insult me.”
“I do no such thing,” the silver-haired mutant code-named Quicksilver countered. “I merely state a fact. You do know what facts are, don't you?”
“Claiming that our mutancy gives us a kinship that transcends our blood ties—that is an insult!”
Pietro downed the first of the sandwiches. “Once again, Jarvis, you have outdone yourself.”
Edwin Jarvis, who had been the one constant through the numerous changes at Avengers Mansion, acknowledged the compliment with a nod of his head before continuing around the room to refresh the other member's tea. “It was no trouble at all, Master Pietro.”
“Have you read the work of Dr. MacTaggart?” Pietro asked Shiro.
“You read?”
“Now that was uncalled for,” Andromeda said before accepting another cup of tea from Jarvis.
“Thank you,” Pietro said.
“He has the physique of a librarian, after all,” the Atlantean added innocently.
Pietro glared at the woman. Shiro laughed and said, “Just because we both have a wrong chromosome in our make-up does not make us kin, Maximoff.”
“There are some, including Dr. MacTaggart” Pietro claimed as he turned away from Andromeda, “who insist that the chromosomes you refer to aren't wrong; they're right, the first step humanity is taking towards their next stage—a stage similar to that reached by my cousin-in-law and his people, where humanity will not conform to any set somatype.”
“There is nothing to be afraid of, Shiro Yashida,” Karnak offered. “We Inhumans have found much value in a society of clearly disparate individuals.”
“Says the mongrel who chose not to subject himself to mutation.”
Pietro's free hand balled into a fist. “Now that is enough,” he said through gritted teeth. “Mock me all you want, Sunfire, but you do not mock my kinsman like that.”
“I do no such thing,” Shiro countered, meeting Pietro's gaze with stony resolve. “I merely state a fact.”
It was at that point that the door burst open.
Captain America stood up and took the circular shield down from the wall. With its concentric bands of red and white centered around a blue field with a star, it was as distinctive a symbol of America as any other. He took a moment to contemplate it, realizing that to many people it also representeds something else.
It represented what kind of man became an Avenger.
He slid his arm through the leather straps and flexed his fingers while the Panther watched.
“Are you ready, Steven?”
“As I'll ever be,” Cap replied. “How's Ross dealing with the press?”
“As well as he is able,” the Panther told his friend. “He may not appear it, my friend, but he is the best at his job.”
“I wouldn't doubt it. You wouldn't have kept him around if it wasn't a fact.” He stood aside to let the Panther take the lead. “You first. It's your team, aft—”
The sound of the anteroom door being slammed open was so loud it was heard by the two men. As one, they shifted into their battle stances, ready for whatever chose to interfere with this important day. No look passed between them as they rushed from the muster room.
The sight that met the two men was curious, but not unexpected. There, amidst overturned chairs and an apparently ruined tea service, were T'Challa's new recruits standing their ground before a familiar assemblage of heroes.
The mighty figure who stood in the doorway, his position between Crystal and the Scarlet Witch, raised his hammer to point at Captain America. “What is the meaning of this?” Thor, the Norse God of Thunder roared.
“The meaning should be clear,” spat out Moondragon. “You've been replaced.”
Next Issue: The Thor-led Avengers have just crashed the new team's party, and they're understandably upset at their position being usurped! What will happen when the Panther-led new line-up mixes it up with Thor's super-powerful line-up in an all-out “Style Clash”? Find out as “The New Order Changeth” concludes next issue.