Nueva York, New York
13TH Street
2099 A.D.

High above a glittering cityscape, a dark figure manifested through a haze of convulsing light suspended in the chill air of the night. The ominous figure of purple and black stared over the city’s polluted sky from miles above, absorbing the beautiful sea of the glimmering cloud-scraping towers’ plentiful lights. From where he hovered, the city even in its magnificence appeared filled with ants, small trains of traffic through both the sky and the hardly-visible ground of a metropolis that, without any more land to steal, had instead built upwards, spearing whole levels of a city into the very clouds.

The purple-garbed time traveler lowered himself gently, his hovering form gracefully drifting downward as if the softest travel of a leaf. The regal image of Kang lowered himself through the air until his metal-encased boots touched gently down upon a street. He fell past countless windows, admired thousands of lives in but moments, and smiled plainly.

He found himself, as he landed, in what seemed to be local slums. His cold, calculating eyes carefully appraised the land that lay before him; these careful eyes carefully continued this task from his first appearance into the sky high above, as a man might fondly appreciate his property. “Curious,” he spoke aloud, in grim fascination with the splendor he saw above married to the squalor he now found scattered at his boot.

“Where are your heroes?” he asked aloud, rhetorically, a smirk playing on his face as he passed a drunken homeless man that lay curled up on the street. He carelessly hung his pistol by his side, confident in his prowess and seemingly fearless of repercussion while wandering amongst the detritus of a world that, high above, gleamed its imagined perfection.

Crossing the street inquisitively, his highly polished boot brushed aside rubbish, considering the nature of the world presented before him. A look of recollection spanned his face, and his head craned upward to appreciate the sight of cars that flew high overhead and trains that soared across the city’s heights by way of intricate top-mounted rails. Symbols such as ‘Stark-Fujikawa’ gave him pause, a grim awareness of a long hated enemy chilled his bone, but he disregarded the thought and continued his slow, purposeful stride.

That passed-over homeless man, dirty and filthy, emerged from the debris, cardboard crushed under him crackling as he removed his weight from the once comforting refuge of refuse. His greasy blond hair clung to his face sickly, as the strong-chinned man reached into the depths of his garbage-stained and hole-ridden overcoat to pull free a large blaster weapon and leveled it for the Lord of Time, before pulling the trigger. “We’re here,” the homeless man belatedly answered the warlord’s early question, firmly, surprising the time-spanning conqueror.

Anticlimactically, a shimmering sphere erupted around Kang in response to the fired bolt of energy, and immediately dissipated from view as the charge failed completely. Turning imperiously, Kang leveled his own weapon and sneered. He fired twice into the man’s body, sending the homeless would-be hero collapsing back into the refuse he crawled out of.

“I knew you were coming,” the homeless man taunted. “I’m not the only hero who will—” he didn’t manage to finish his threat, as Kang fired once more, into the man’s head, removing it firmly from the man’s torso with a scent of burning flesh.

Kang considered his words calmly, and turned around, amused by what his systems had warned him of – police were en route, and here they had arrived before him. “These are the heroes your martyr prayed for?” he mocked callously, appraising the armored men bearing the letters ‘S.I.E.G.E’ on their exoskeletons as they rushed into clearer view, descending from their lofty spires to handle a threat they seemed foolishly confident they could manage.

With but a wave of a hand, their systems found themselves suddenly disabled. He launched forward on them, trapped within their own suits of armor, and tore through them carelessly by way of a staff that appeared suddenly in his hands, using its bladed tip to impale and slaughter the soldiers sent against him while they screamed for mercy, unable to resist, imprisoned in armor that had moments before been their salvation.

Kang smirked again. “I hardly even have need of an army. Your world is laughable. Yet – we can never be too firm, or sure, now can we?” he admired himself aloud, lost in amusement, a portal swirling into existence behind him and a sea of shadowed figures soon spilled forth into a world from which they have never known and would soon seek to claim.

Marvel 2000 Proudly Presents...

# 5- "The Once and Future Kings"
Written by Bowie Sessions

The Realm of Limbo
Outside Time and Space

In the void of realities, seven men stood in the whitewashed throne room at the Nothingness of Nonexistence. Six stood around a man curled into a ball on the ground, clutching tight his star-spangled shield as he whispered one word and stared into the ether. “Bucky.”

Mockingbird and Mr. Immortal tended to his side, while Yellowjacket cleared his throat to get the rest’s attention. Immortus, swathed in robes and a massive helmet, leaned forward from his massive throne. “Tomorrow is troubled,” Immortus explained simply, and his clear, commanding voice demanded their focus. “The time stream has been violated again. He has arrived at the turn of the 21st Century.”

The red, white-and-blue dashed hero was toweled off by Mockingbird, drying away the icy cold water from his shaking body as best she could. Her attention focused forward, as well, the rest of the team fixated entirely upon their conscripting ‘guide’ through this war they found themselves battling.

Yellowjacket smiled widely; completely ambivalent to the prostrate American Legend curled by his feet, he smacked his fist into his open palm in excitement. “So you finally want us to take down Kang?” Enthusiasm was clear in the hotshot hero’s voice.

This set Vision into his own rebuttal. “Immortus stated we operate in the shadows; an open assault would be a faulty inference. We will be given a mission to dismantle his own. The survival ratio of our seven engaging Kang is ...”

“Never tell me the odds,” Yellowjacket interrupted him briskly.

Immortus, smiling, waved them quiet. “Nevertheless, he’s right, Yellowjacket. You do not have the strength or experience necessary to encounter the Conqueror. Fortunately for you all... there’s someone in 2099 who does.”

At this, Kang closed his eyes, and began to concentrate. With a gesture of his left hand, poised outward and open, a glow shone forth; a shimmering crystal which casted light brilliantly, performing a flow and sweep of its radiance, before it manifested itself above his head, forming a lifelike image that filled the entirety of the void’s expansive throne room. Sitting back, Immortus focused further, and the image clarified instantly, before beginning to move.

In front of them, they could see a massive, sprawling landscape of gleaming buildings, soaring cars and levels of streets. They saw reflected a city that had built itself high into the scientifically cleansed clouds. Bizarre attire and overly large goggles bedecked its inhabitants, living in what would initially appear to be a Metropolitan utopia, hiding what lay at its city’s feet. “The year is 2099 A.D. The city is named ‘Nueva York’, what remains of New York City. It is a future borne from a society where, for nearly a hundred years, superheroes have all but disappeared. Many believe them to have been nothing but myth. Understandably, this means their world – as technologically advanced as it might be – has no true resistance to Kang’s efforts. They will be conquered within days. You must stop it within hours, or their timeline will be altered beyond any repair.”

“No pressure or anything,” Mr. Immortal muttered quietly.

The blonde gymnast, Mockingbird, looked up from the mentally shattered Captain America to refuse. “No, not yet – he’s still in shock. He’s not ready. We can travel through time, so let’s just wait a few days and ... and then we’ll go.”

“The timeline’s a woogy thing, darling. It’s sort of a whatever-now-is or never deal,” the divergent Hank Pym explained, his arms crossed as he waited for their marching orders.

The Lord of Time looked amused as he readily agreed. “Yes. The chronal aperture will only remain extant for a short time; past that, and we won’t be able to follow the wake he leaves.” His eyes remained closed, as the picture changed. An image appeared – it was a specific towering building, one that’s peak crested higher than all the others beside it – Alchemax. The view followed forward and pierced the wall of the building, scanning into a massive room filled with technological marvels. The image stopped on a long, metallic arm.

His eyes opened, and the image lingered for only a moment longer before dissipating into the crystal that then seemed to disappear in the closing of his hand. “This is your target. The scientist Jordan Boone, the lead researcher of that lab, has access, knowingly or not, to the greatest chance their reality has against the threat he poses.”

Mockingbird continued to denounce their urgency. “We can do this without him; he’s in no state to...”

“Good luck,” Immortus interrupted, finishing the discussion firmly and causing their bodies to wash in light.

Nueva York, NY
13TH ST
2099 A.D.

Light crashed through the decimated street that welcomed the seven time-lost heroes and their guide Libra; detritus fluttering through the air to escape their sudden arrival. The sounds of battle rumbled in the distance, the distinct noise of screaming and crying carried far and clear. Klaxon sirens blared before they each were rendered inert. The sky bustled with motion, all rushing to one district that seemed only a scant few blocks further on.

“It seems the matter is upon us,” Arcana whispered darkly, her eyes misting white as she focused on the distant conflict.

It was the Vision, though, who distracted them. He pointed at a homeless man with a smoking hole in his chest – or at the very least his shirt, as well as tears at the neck of his shirt, though he appeared to have more of a head than he had moments ago. “He is not dead.” This received an almost instantaneous response; Yellowjacket kicked the homeless man, at Vision’s apparently surprised beckoning.

“Eh?” the voice rumbled from amidst them, while most of the stunned crew still gathered their wits about them. The dirty, shaggy-haired homeless man curled up amongst filth, seemed to look about as if surprised.

“The energy emanating from his wound matches Kang’s technology,” Vision explained simply as he hovered, attention spread elsewhere. “It would be a fatal would. The damage to cloth suggests entrance and exit wounds inconsistent with the body’s health. Initial study suggests regeneration due to-“

The homeless man simply stared in shock at the group of them, his eyes gleaming, unblinking, by the spectacle presented before him. Mr. Immortal, led on by the others, interrupted Vision and questioned both the Robot and then in turn, the derelict. “Well, how the hell is he alive? Who is – hey, dude. Who are you?”

His answer was responded to with silence, at first. “You’re not supposed to be here!” he suddenly yelled out, standing up, eyes bulging as he grabbed Mr. Immortal by the shoulders to focus his verbal assault. “You are out of time! You are lost! You can’t be here! You can’t be here!”

The assembled group had stopped, more or less, the entirety of what they’re doing to focus on the insane homeless man in front of them. As if by a slow chain reaction, they all turned to stare at Vision, expecting some kind of answer. Vision, floated, staring into oblivion, his focus again roused by the impatient Mockingbird. “Who’s the hobo? What’s he talking about? Vision! What’s he talking about?”

After a brief moment, Vision slowly rotated and stared at the homeless lunatic, and the scene of him clinging dangerously to Mr. Immortal. “As I sought to inform you moments before, target is designated Craig Hollis. Known in modern timelines as Mr. Immortal. His discussion topic unknown. Extrapolating theories--”

“I know who I am!” Mr. Immortal yelled out. ”Who’s he?”

“Target is designated Craig Hollis. You are both Craig Hollis, at different intervals in the timeline.”

That awkward silence flowed among the group for some time. “How can I...” Craig asked, touching him. “Isn’t the time-space continuum supposed to collapse when we do this?” His eyes focused oddly on the event in front of him, puzzling out what features laid behind decades of unkempt hair and weeks of unwashed skin.

“I never met me before! I didn’t know me when I was you! How can you be here?! You can’t be here! You must leave! You have to leave because I wasn’t here! I never came here! I don’t remember me!” the man, the future-Immortal, raved wildly, as he shook Mr. Immortal, his younger self, angrily. “This is wrong! This is wrong!” he began to scream and reached for his time-lost counterpart’s face.

The younger Immortal hurled a fist for his older self, who took the blow and fell back against the wall. The rest of the team was silent for a long moment, and eyes fell on Libra.

“The laws of all reality are still far beyond yours to grasp; but as Immortus can battle Kang, so too can ... Mr. Immortal meet himself.” The smirking time bandit bowed his head to them, and then waved. “Not my fight. We trust you… but you still might want to stop dawdling.” With his dismissal, he disappeared from their sight and certainly returned to the Limbo from which they all left.

As they prepared to move, their main burden was Captain America, who still kneeled while clutching his shield, forced to stand with the help of Mockingbird and the loyal Black Knight. “We must endeavor to make haste.” With his free hand, he pointed the Ebony Blade forward. “There.” Beyond the point of his sword, towered a massive monolith of a building; and upon it was the distinct letter ‘A’ as seen in their offered vision.

With their target in sight, Yellowjacket jumped back into action. “Yo, Arcana, you gotta be the conveyance. Convey. But quiet like.”

With that order, Arcana began to meditate and levitated as she whispered incantations. “Vizh, go play recon. Fly into that ... Archaeopteryx building or whatever and float around until you find that lab. You give a signal,” Yellowjacket continued, directing their flow.

Scanning the group with his eyes, he looked for more to distribute while Arcana readied. “Immortal, ignore your double, man. Head on straight, alright? Focus. Now, you and Mockingbird, slap some sense into Cap. Fat load of help that waste of space is being.” That received a sneer from both of them – for a variety of reasons, to be sure, but none of it seemed to faze Yellowjacket. As his orders finished, a light ensorcelled them and they disappeared from view, then floated higher into the air, slowly gliding across the sky in the direction of Alchemax.

“I can’t believe that was me. How does that even work? Why would--” Mr. Immortal’ words fell silent as they flew. What they saw below, as they ascended, none of them quite expected, and rendered him speechless, for the moment all thoughts of the confusion behind them fleeting away.

Destruction had visited the world they just moments ago saw gleaming in perfection through the proverbial looking glass. A massive tower lay in ruins across an esplanade far below, people – like ants – no doubt crushed below it. Plumes of smoke rose from the destruction. A massive portal hung in the air, letting its soldiers out to the Earth some five feet below it, pouring like abbreviated and well-armed rainfall. Scattered across the streets, countless civilians kneeled in worship to the majestic Kang, who gloatingly hovered over their heads and they bowed before him.

Even with the Black Knight sneering in rage, he – like the rest – settled down. They somehow remained focused on the mission at hand, heads turning to ignore the horror before them. “...how long has he been here?” Mr. Immortal inquired with a dark pain evident in his voice.

“Mere moments,” Black Knight responded calmly, though gravely. “My sword sings to ensure that is all it is.”

“Maybe ten minutes,” Yellowjacket clarified. “Maybe.”

The rest looked away even harder at that realization – of all he accomplished in such a short time. The army amassing at his feet – horror, awe and amazement mingling in their bellies at the realization of just how swift and deadly this Kang acted. The husks of police officers that smoldered on the streets did little to dissuade them.

They floated higher, nearly entered the building, but waited. It was only seconds before Vision walked out through the wall. Not bothering to explain more, considering unnecessary discussion beneath him, the android turned and phased back in through the wall once he made the simplest of beckoning gestures.

The rest found a more dramatic manner of entrance.

Inside the labs were countless technological marvels; but the most distinct was the one hidden by a large tarp, obviously the arm and console of the device they had seen through their proverbial looking glass. At a separate console sat a tall, lanky raven-haired scientist with a sharp goatee. Upon his white lab coat he had the name ‘Boone’ stenciled, clearly identifying him to the Vision, whose pale hand rested on their target’s shoulder. “You are Jordan Boone,” the artificial man stated obviously.

The scientist was startled, and physically jumped in shock. His heart raced and voice wavered from the initial surprise. He turned to look at the ‘man’ that stood behind him. “Who are – you’re ... not a who, are you?” asked Boone, who apparently desired to never be outdone in explaining self-evident facts.

Unfortunately for Jordan’s desire for answers, their conversation was abruptly ended when a massive blast of light heralded the entrance of the suddenly visible time-lost Avengers, destroying the wall on their way in. Arcana’s hands glowed with ancient runes that faded moments after their entrance, making it clear where it came from. They seemed, more than not, just as surprised by their entrance’s excesses as their new host was.

“What the shock is going on? Pardon my language, but am I actually being held hostage by some Avengerites? Is this what my life has been reduced to? I could swear we have security--”

The group, unaware of whatever he might be talking about, moved forward on him and interrupted his panicked meandering. “You’ve just been volunteered to help save the world, Jordy,” Yellowjacket explained. Behind him, Black Knight’s hand gripped his sword hilt, and Arcana’s hands swirled with energy while Mr. Immortal and Mockingbird helped the shell-shocked Captain America walk forward, when all the Living Legend wanted was to sit down.

Boone narrowed his eyes and he looked around the gathered, stubborn in the face of insurmountable odds. “If you think you can just bully me into somehow violating my...” His words slowly dwindled into silence as he noticed, and began to stare understandably once he realized, that Vision’s pale hand had pushed itself through his chest, and obviously through his heart on the way out. The immaterial limb hung in the air freely.

“Professor Boone,” the synthezoid began to explain, “The mission given to us requires strict urgency. I am certain you understand that, as you so succinctly stated a ‘not who’, I have little reservations in acting with lax moral standards. My hand is currently intangible; but if I were to materialize it, you will die. To avoid such an unpleasant future, I suggest you promise to comply. This will guarantee us all a pleasant future.”

Ever a pragmatist, Boone instantly complied. “Yes, of course. How can I help you gentlemen? I’m, of course, always interested in the prosperity of my world. It’s currently foremost in my mind, in fact.”

Curiously, Black Knight was the one to explain it, his eyes furtively glancing about behind the helmet’s slits for eyes. “Cease your prattling,” he ordered gruffly and moved past them all to grasp the canvas covering the device they’ve come for, and ripped it free, exposing the massive metallic arm connected to a large control console that lay dormant. “With this, you will find our champion. The lone chance of your world’s survival.” A certain awareness seemed to register in the Knight, as if the champion of science hidden somewhere in the helmet shone clear for a moment.

At this, the realization of what they were here for, Jordan’s eyes widened. “It’s ... not a good idea to let him out,” he advised plaintively, glancing around the assembled group in his lab.

“Sorry, buddy, but I – and my buddy Vision with the ghost hands over there – just gotta insist,” Yellowjacket smirked, crossing his arms. “Whatever is in there, that’s what we’re here for. Plain, simple. You get him out or we get a little messy.” Suggestively, he tapped at his wrist mounts, where the lasers would fire from; as if Boone might know that obscure fact.

The rest of the group – excepting Vision and Black Knight – looked far less severe. Arcana glanced behind her, at Immortal and Mockingbird, who remained focused on comforting the traumatized Captain America. She nodded to them, receiving a look of support from Mockingbird before she faced forward. “We must insist,” the sorceress confirmed.

With a long, deep breath, Boone sighed and moved towards the control console. “Very well. Do you all have a volunteer? He’s going to need to bond to someone...” the scientist drawled, slowly, his eyes glancing to Yellowjacket, who had clearly affirmed himself their leader, as the machine’s preliminary stages were put online.

“What’s the volunteer for?” Yellowjacket asked, demanding, his eyes shooting unnecessary threats at their commandeered assistant.

With a heavy sigh, Boone glanced to an empty space in the air meaningfully, before he looked back to Yellowjacket. “To avoid losing you all. The project is Virtual Unreality; while there’s certain overlaps, what happens there is fundamentally false; at best, it’s projected. Think of it as a computer scan of a picture. There really is a picture somewhere, but it’s only falsified for the computer. The computers, however, can then print out that same picture and make it real. We need someone to be the new medium for transfer; the real Thanatos – that’s the name of your conscript you’re begging for - wherever he is, requires a host so as to materialize here.”

“So, you’re the volunteer,” their leader asserted, not at all distracted by the long diatribe, his answer as sudden as if he had been ignoring it completely and just waiting for a breath to speak during.

Jordan laughed. The mad scientist genuinely, hysterically laughed. “Me? No. It’s suicide. Now, I’m willing to risk my life to avoid my certain death – as your android so motivated – but I’m not willing to sell my life just because you’re bullying me into it. No, no. If you intend that, go ahead and shoot me now. Should I go ahead and depower the machine?” the scientist inquired, voice clipped and threatening as his finger moved to the shut-down sequence.

“No,” Mr. Immortal interrupted. “I’ll do it. So it might kill me. I’ve had worse,” he explained further as he stood up and walked away from Captain America, smiling supportively to Mockingbird who remained with the Sentinel of Liberty.

A silence crossed the group, which – if nothing else – suggested a tacit agreement. The machine began to activate, and with a bright blast of energy, a swirling portal coalesced. “Don’t panic,” Jordan suggested, as the massive craning arm swerved to grab Mr. Immortal by the back from behind. “To be sure he comes I’m going to have to give him some bait. It means dangling you into a world of impossible chaos, pure untainted creation… and there might be, ah, turbulence.”

Though resistant at first, especially how it gripped him, he tried to remain still and compliant; even as fear mounted some, in his chest, faced with the unknown beyond that wall of sizzling energy. Then, suddenly, the arm rushed forward. “AAAAAAH---!” Mr. Immortal screamed in terror, and his cries silenced suddenly as he disappeared into the seeming ether. There were several moments, before the arm pulled back from the swirling matter, just in time to see the hero covered in now Roman armor, his centurion’s helmet and breastplate without mark of legion, a distinctive bracer on his left arm and, holstered on his leg, a blaster pistol that set the rest of his period clothes awry. With a mighty jerk of his hand, the fingers of the ‘claw’ tore free, while the rest crudely bent as needed to allow him to leave its iron grip.

When he landed, it was on one knee, and with a wave of his hand a massive spear materialized in it, the weapon seeming to gleam with power. The anachronistic Centurion stood slowly upward and looked amongst them. His face had changed – as had his muscular body, a scar visible barely beneath the eye slits. The spear aimed towards them and he curiously examined them all.

“Why am I back?” he inquired coldly, awaiting those he addressed, his tone clearly superior.

The group’s eyes flitted about one another before Yellowjacket gave a meaningful nod to Black Knight, who he seemed to want to pass the buck of answering the question to. Loyally, Black Knight nodded to the fellow anachronism and explained matters. “The fearsome Conqueror of all Time and Space; Kang. He threatens your realm, and of it, you alone have been seen as worthy to abate his wickedness in this, and perhaps all other worlds.”

To their surprise, the Centurion smiled brightly, a wicked, dangerous smile. It grew from cheek to cheek, each end point of his smile hidden behind the metal of his helmet. “Kang. Kang is here?” Without hesitation, the massive ‘hero’ of this time raced for the hole in the wall that Arcana made moments before and leapt free of it – as he did, a massive flying disc with the symbol of the Omega emblazoned upon its base and foothold rushed towards him, catching him in his fall. Without hesitation, his vehicle, him aboard, rushed towards the sound of the distant battle and off into the dull, but city-lit night sky.

Yellowjacket, wincing, stared out the craterous hole in the wall at the figure disappearing into the city’s horizon. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

The sound of battle likewise had inspired other heroes of the era; though he did manage to prove to himself, unaware of the challenge at all, that he was not the one destined to stop Kang in this timeline. Bedecked in an altered Mexican Day of the Dead costume, the Spider-Man of 2099 swung desperately out of the way as the muscles over his spinerettes forced free more webbing to allow him his brachiation through the city and from the endless stream of energy blasts that chased the racing hero back away from his altruistic intentions.

Miguel O’Hara landed on a far wall, safe from the invading hordes of Kang that had spilled onto Earth, and breathed deeply, trying to summon up his courage. “Think, Mig. Those people need some help,” he psyched himself up, glancing over his shoulder to the prison camps that were being jury-rigged throughout the city’s streets, corralling up its citizens for ‘pacification’. His every attempt was ended quickly and suddenly by the near-death experiences of outrunning laser fire, which the scientist in him reminded was luck and not speed – he can’t go faster than light.

It was a passing blur of motion that distracted the scientist-turned-hero from a moment of reverie to stunned fascination, which itself gave way to horror. Above him he watched as the distinctive figure of an enemy he could not himself survive, rushed beyond him and towards the heart of the nation, leaving him in stunned silence for several moments as the disc bearing Thanatos’ distinctive Omega symbol raced beyond them.

“Ohshockme,” S-Man whispered with a gasp, eyes widened beneath the black mask.

The blurred figure of Thanatos burned through the sky, his disc that he rode upon proclaiming the proud Omega sigil to all those below it. The man had a singular destination, the purple-masked Conqueror, the chronal master Kang. The massive figure, grown somehow to a towering twelve feet as he raced through the sky, stood and postured upon his ride. His arm pulled back, the massive spear gripped tight as his eyes bored through the helmet.

Below them both were the arrayed armies of Kang; the small invading force he bothered to bring with him, along with his newly captured four city blocks, dozens upon dozens of men and women lined up, their heads bowed to the cement. Few looked up. Few enough that a Lieutenant of his who’s eyes passed to the sky in consideration saw only a moment before the murder would be complete. “No!” he cried out, and raised his blaster rifle in a snap movement and aimed it for the Roman-clad Thanatos, firing for him even as Thanatos’ spear loosed from his hand, hurling towards the Conqueror.

The bare second of warning gave Kang enough time to turn slightly, which transformed the spear from impaling him through the heart to slide through his lung. Kang gasped loudly, shocked both by the action – and by the fact that the spear tore straight through his force field and his body armor to impale him. “In – inconceivable!” he claimed, angrily. He did not have long to bluster.

“Time to conceive,” Thanatos responded wryly as the disc collided with the surprised Time Lord, and stopped at the man’s patent force field. Thanatos hung at its outer edge, and gripped the spear which pierced through it as if it was nothing, and tore it free from him. The gunfire he received was unappreciated. Leveling his weapon, he discharged a massive explosion of force from his pistol, which decimated the first dozen who raced into the sky to meet him.

Behind him, considerably desperate but nowhere near as fast, the Avengers had finally managed to catch up to the racing figure. They rode in a sphere of Arcana’s make, while Vision flew at its side, racing out to see where he’d gotten to; and only mildly surprised to see he’d done just what they’d asked him to. “This is a good thing he’s all... fighting for Team America, right?”

“I didn’t like that movie,” Arcana mentioned calmly, to the confusion of Yellowjacket, who seems perplexed at her reference, but otherwise, his attention focused on the battle that raged before them.

Mockingbird was their voice of reason. “Forget them! We need to help the people down there. Get them free from danger. They’ve got a fighting chance now, with their General stopped – put us down, Luna!”

“The Spear of Longinus,” Kang meanwhile observed, with his rifle aimed to Thanatos. Without hesitation, Kang discharged angrily his incredible rifle, his aim slightly awkward from his right side, so wounded. The blast rocketed free of his field, but Thanatos whipped his shield up in time, deflecting it off his cestus’s supreme defense. “Impressive. Nevertheless, futile. You pose little threat to my aims, anachronism.”

Thanatos’ face lit up and he laughed uproariously at the chiding insults from the warlord, as he pressed himself up against his aggressor’s force field. “You want to conquer this world? You’ll have to come through me, Traveler. This is my world,” the Centurion barked and allowed his Omega disc to slide him backwards in the air. With a slam of his spear to his shield, a golden sphere of energy coalesced around the titanic mortal, whose blue eyes narrowed behind the nose of his Centurion helm.

Below them, emboldened by the first blood of their ‘God King’, the people under the rifles of this foreign horde revolted, and bravery surged through the otherwise compliant crowd as they took this as their chance.

The Avengers joined with them, saving them from what might otherwise have been effectively suicide. Mockingbird remained with Captain America, who stood in silence, staring and occasionally shuddering as the world before him reminded him too much of the horror that just occurred to him, shocking him further into his shell.

Arcana performed expertly, eliminating much of the threat as her spells disarmed the entire forces, evening the odds significantly. Meanwhile, the Vision decimated their machinery, disabling their technology with swipes of semi-solid phased limbs. The most vicious assaults came at the hands of Yellowjacket, and Black Knight, both seeming to be missing an important amount of moral certainty as they destroyed Kang’s highly advanced forces.

Up until now, Spider-Man kept back from interfering thanks to the sprayed fire of Kang’s conquering army and their superbly effective energy rifles. However, rendered now useless, he swung in to assist, his webbing and heightened reflexes doing their own part to help pacify and subdue the enemy forces. “Who the hell are you people?!” he asked, as much to the soldiers as to his unwitting allies.

Up above the melee, Kang, wincing with pain, examined his aggressor. “Tend to the children,” Kang ordered his lieutenant, and hung his rifle casually over his back, pulling free from a gauntlet that somehow microscopically stored it, a single gleaming sword, sharp and dynamic. “We’ve met, haven’t we?” the Conqueror inquired, eyes tightening on Thanatos, who politely did the same, holstering his pistol.

Thanatos smirked, as he savored this moment, familiar eyes staring into Kang’s, despite the Conqueror’s lack of understanding. “Oh, have we ever. Many times now. But never have I had such a grand opportunity as I do now, Kang. Don’t worry – I’ll make your death take as long as I can. So we can both savor it.”

He didn’t waste time. Kang, whose field seemed to glow as it reformed, his wound seeping blood over his armor still, was quite surprised as Thanatos leaped from his disc forward at him, his shield pressed forward. Their two protective fields collided, but Thanatos’ force drove them both away, in through the near skyscraper. The walls gave way to the two titans, one towering and one merely commanding in his presence, as they destroyed that which laid in their way. Gone from the sights of the lesser mortals who inadvertently brought them to this realm, the two would-be Kings tore apart a monolith of engineering that broke through the clouds above.

The chaos of battle had been, at least temporarily, aborted; Kang’s soldiers, like their former captives, sought shelter as pieces of rubble began to fall from the sky, crashing into the street hundreds of feet below.

Yellowjacket shot valiantly skyward, precise aimed shots taking out smaller chunks while The Vision did his damnedest to deflect them with his increased strength, his body morphed into diamond hardness. Once again, Arcana managed, with the moment bought for her to concentrate by the distractions of her allies, to do the greatest damage control of them. With a mighty shield formed to protect from further collisions, massive chunks of steel, falling shards of glass and concrete slabs bouncing off them almost casually, while sweat glistened from her forehead under the duress of focus.

Mockingbird and Black Knight did their parts as well; she rendered basic aid those already injured, as best she could, and Black Knight policed between those that would further escalate violence.

The building shuddered as the discharge of light and the clash of weapons that resounded like thunder even over the din of the combat below. There were office workers who had been watching from the windows in fascination, fear and trepidation. Now, however, they ran desperately out of the way, racing away as Thanatos’ massive form shrank to fit into the seven foot ceilings, and face off against Kang opposite him. The two warriors eschewed their powers and their greatness instead for their two mighty weapons. Kang, obsessed over war-torn cultures, wielded his massive sword and his shield then materialized with expert skill. Thanatos, however, bearing his own small shield and his massive Spear of Destiny, readied himself, smirking. Both men shook their shoulders, brushing free the dust and rubble from them before the battle joined; each blow answered with an almost inhuman finesse from the two warriors, kings and conquerors.

The spear cut through all in its way as if it was nothing; tearing through floor support structures like they were but paper mache. One such sweep brought the weapon whirling back towards Kang’s neck, who barely ducked back in time to watch it stick into a desk and shatter it instantly. Kang’s sword whipped downward to deflect the blow further and, with any luck, deny the spear’s return. Even the Lord of All Time began to look concerned, fighting to get closer. “Who are you, Centurion?” he asked, aware of the irony as the Scarlet Centurion himself. “No weapon can pierce my fields.”

“Well, obviously, one can,” he answered simply as he tore the spear free from under the sword, which did nothing to damage the legendary blade. The spear turned and pulled back its blade along the sword’s in a flash of motion, causing Kang’s saber to rend in half. The spear flipped about again in his hand and jabbed forward through Kang’s raised shield.

With a quick leap, Kang managed to avoid being impaled, and instead a piece of cloth was torn with but a slash of flesh revealed and damaged by the impossible weapon. Disarmed, boxed in and without reach for the long-weaponed enemy across from him, Kang chose instead to violate their unspoken rule. “Then it will be mine.” With one hand he grasped the end of the spear, and with the other aimed his palm for the face of Thanatos and released a blast of white light. A blast that rivaled that of a low-yield nuclear bomb was released directly in Thanatos’ face, which was easily deflected by the field that Kang bore. It was so powerful that it devoured its own sound; a muffled blast sounded more by the destruction it wrought than its own action. The building, or what part of it they were in, was incinerated instantly; floors above and below destroyed easily. And the tower, which possessed at least a hundred floors above their battle, simply toppled over like a domino, looming a massive shadow onto the streets below.

“Oh my God! Look!” Mockingbird screamed, gesturing skyward. Vision, pragmatic as always, went intangible in case things went the worst possible way, as the screams of those that looked up to see what she meant. They saw the shadow rushing for them from several dozen floors above them – and they would begin to run, as if that made any difference with a building of its size toppling down; they had no chance of survival, but the human desire for it overrode logic and most futilely fled in panic.

Arcana whispered her strengthening of the shield, but knew it useless. “My shield won’t hold against this!” she warned, cringing already at the fate that might await them, as devotedly she refused to abandon those beside her who couldn’t flee. She wished, quietly, she had time to cast a massive teleport spell ... but it was beyond the sparse seconds they had.

It was the most unexpected of heroes who made the difference. Yellowjacket eschewed his weapons and menial crowd control. Instead, his body suddenly began to bulge and he started to grow. As the tower raced downward, he expanded upward, rapidly. His costume accommodated him as the mad Hank Pym did his ultimate civic duty. “Just keep that shield up!” he roared, his massive voice booming as with every millisecond he exponentially doubled. By the time the building’s falling half reached the street below, he had grown to almost a hundred feet; his legs spanned across the street, rooted deeply into the cement, knees braced for impact. The sound of the building crashing into him, as his massive hands reached to find a place to take hold of it, was difficult to describe by anyone hidden in the dust and Arcana’s protective field below. It sounded like it was; a bag of bricks effectively dropped on him, his arms spanned to try to stop it from crumbling around him. He stumbled for a moment under the impact which bruised and perhaps even broke a few things in him, but with a mighty, struggling groan he held onto its base and gripped it as solidly as he could, leaning it against the remainder of its own foundation to alleviate some of the weight. All around him, shattered pieces from the sudden impact with the size-altered hero pelted the shields of Arcana, who barely managed to keep them up under the duress, especially with Yellowjacket threatening to buckle against them under the strain.

“Move those people!” he yelled angrily. “I can’t hold this!”

The dust clouded the area. No one could see past a foot in front of themselves as it rushed over the assembled mass. It began to settle, despite the screams of suffering that sounded in the distance, and Kang, who lost his grip of the spear in the blow, kneeled in the decimated ruins of the building to lift up a Roman helmet that spoke of his enemy. A slow smile crossed the face of the bleeding tyrant; his eyes alight, watchful for the sheen of that miraculous weapon.

The very weapon that he then found pointed to the base of his neck, turning slowly to appraise it, as well as the face of the battle-scarred and gray-templed Rick Jones that held it to him, body covered in his distinctive golden Roman armor. “You are still a man, and the Destiny Force draws its powers from all the potential of mankind; you could no more destroy me than you could ever enslave the human spirit. Know that even this destruction has seen your failure. Know this as I perform my own little Waterloo,” the maddened Jones said with a smirk, as he prepared to finish off the accidentally kneeling Conqueror.

“Napoleon did not fall at Waterloo, Mr. Jones. And nor will I at my own routing. Only his army died,” Kang corrected him. Without so much as a blink, the Emperor Kang disappeared; no doubt shifted in the timeline away from the menace that had promised him his death. Thanatos roared mightily, a vocal howl of suffering at the death – the vengeance – stolen from him in its final moments. The Omega Disc, as if on command, hurtled through space to find him. Stepping onto it, it rose into the sky and flew him towards the sound of battle. His spear, coated in the blood of the Unstoppable Kang, shone with impatience as he approached the final hold-out of these heroes, who even now focused more on the handling of one building than the entirety of civilization.

Looking down upon the ant-like heroes and citizens, he watched as the masses fought back with a fiery passion against the retreating forces of Kang’s abandoned army. He smiled down upon them as, once more, he grew in size. Towering to nearly fifteen feet, the spear barely moved in size. With it clasped in hand, he pulled free his pistol in his shield-clasped arm and directed it below. While a soldier of Kang forced himself forward among the fracas, a massive bolt of energy tore free his head wholly, leaving the bodiless soldier to collapse to the ground. “I’ll start here.”

Without their leader, and with such a sight before them, many of Kang’s abandoned army broke ranks to flee. It only gave him a better target, and he eradicated those that scattered before him callously with the aim of his mighty pistol.

The group was shocked by the horror that just erupted before them; the forces of Kang, who had began to rally in a military standard, while tactically planning their escape, were wiped out whole sale before their very eyes. The face of Captain America shook with every blast of the pistol that resounded like thunder, massive explosions rocking forth that called his mind to the countless artillery barrages, the screams of the dying as he sought to do his duty. A duty which left him as he stood frozen silent, helpless to do anything but watch the murders performed in front of him.

“Where the hell is our portal? We’re done here! Kang left,” Yellowjacket muttered with self-interest as he breathed carefully, worried about the state of his rib-cage that he comforted, eyes alive at the devastation being wrought by the ‘hero’ they freed.

“No,” Black Knight adamantly refused. “We stop Thanatos.”

The rest were quiet for a moment, but Vision, of all people, agreed plainly. “They may not consider it a success until we resolve the issue of our time pollution; we must remove Mr. Immortal – and the person possessing him - from the time stream. By any means necessary.”

With a long silence shared between many questioning gazes, Spider-Man, far from their debate, had the chutzpah, likely because he didn’t entirely understand the depth of the problems they discussed. “Hey, Thanatos,” S-Man greeted pleasantly the conquering ‘hero’. He had scaled the nearest wall just so he could face the would-be Conqueror, who stared cruelly back to him. Behind him, the Vision flew closer, intending to argue his own case if needed.

“Remember me?” S-Man asked familiarly, “Me and my friends over there, tenuous though that phrase might be, wanted you... oh, to get the shock out of here. We can put you back into VR and call it a day.”

Thanatos just smiled. “Really? You’re done now? I’ve done my part? You have no further use of me?” With a quirk of his head, the towering conqueror asked rhetorical and mocking queries, his arms crossed as he examined his questioner’s face.

Then, just as easily, Thanatos flew over to face the android. With a brave motion, he lowered his spear and moved it forward to poke, casually, the chest plate of Vision. Even such a brisk touch dragged a deep furrow of a cut through the synthezoid’s ‘skin’. “I believe I’ll have to turn down such a magnanimous offer.

“Now, this is the part where I should offer you to serve me or to die; but I know the Avengers would never surrender. I will save you the insult to your dignity and thus sully your worth, by not asking. Bask in my kindness.”

With a disinterested flip of the spear, the blunt end of it struck the Vision, discharging a blast of energy that seemed to render the robot unconscious; promptly the robot fell to Earth below, gravity seeking its claim. The Centurion they faced glided about the assembled Avengers on his Omega-emblemed disc, without a sign of concern. Painted on his face, visible easily behind the single nose-piece that hung down the center of his helm, he wore a wide and mocking grin.

If ever there was a call to arms, this one clearly stood out, as the crash of their synthetic teammate to the ground rallied and shook them. The collapse found itself punctuated with a call, when Yellowjacket loudly cried “AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!”

Their leader transformed himself, straining his body to the limit between this and the crisis before as he once again attained a massive height, towering beside buildings as he launched himself for Thanatos. With ease, he grasped the large Roman in one hand and began to squeeze, as if he was intending to pulp him.

With casual disinterest, Thanatos hurled out his shoulders to break the grip, causing Yellowjacket to scream in pain at the trauma done to his shattered hand, recoiling as if stung. Immediately after, he was stung, when the massive spear shoved through an oversized finger, making a small hole through his flesh that gushed blood over the armor of the enemy. Flung away reactively, the Omega disc flew to meet him; he landed in mid-air and used his momentum to flip the disc around, then leveled his firearm back at Yellowjacket, releasing a charge with severe prejudice. A sudden, vicious blast should have struck. Instead, red runes highlighted the air in front of the Yellowjacket, and the streaks of energy blown from the pistol’s tip dissipated useless against it, shattering the magical wall in the process but protecting the hero behind it.

Floating in mid-air, their sorceress’ hands swirled with eldritch powers rich in deep auburn hues, and Arcana stood opposite the cosmically-empowered Rick Jones, fearless. “Perhaps you can humble physical might. But this is magic, Pretender. And this will be quick.”

Then, suddenly, she disappeared from sight. Thanatos’ head swiveled in pursuit of her, while the Yellowjacket struggled to regain a sense of himself, over his broken hand. “Where are you?!” he cried out angrily, hovering high in the air while most of the team had nothing to do but stare and pray. The sole exception to this was S-Man, who clambered up the walls quickly to get a position, being careful not to reveal himself overtly.

“Right here,” she greeted pleasantly when she announced herself from behind him. Instantly, a strobe of white light bathed Thanatos, stunning him. His eyes flickered, as light danced before him, blinding and dazzling him. The light turned him slowly to stone, yet the action clawed much slower than she seemed to anticipate. She looked shocked – frustrated, as the gray craggy surface seemed to stop somewhere along his left shoulder, leaving only part of his side transmuted to rock. “It should have already worked!” she cried, as she tried to summon a new spell.

The mad conqueror grinned broadly behind the helmet. “You witness true power,” he warned. Her hands whipped into a dangerous flurry of motion, light erupting from her body as she prepared a incantation – but it would not see fruition, as the massive God of a Man hurled that massive rocky fist for her, knocking her head back and giving her oblivion when his punch found her with a sick crack. She plummeted towards the Earth, limp and without control.

Desperate to save her, Spider-Man abandoned his climb to launch himself forward like a spring. He grasped Arcana mid-fall and swung down to the Earth, where he deposited her. Meanwhile, Yellowjacket reacted angrily, eyes distraught at the sight of yet another fallen teammate and he raced his healthy fist forward for Thanatos. The Would-Be Conqueror, however, easily slid away from the overly telegraphed motion, and with a simple grip of the passing giant’s wrist, his superhuman strength tossed the massive Yellowjacket into a nearby building, his skull connecting firmly with its side. The titan, limp, crumbled to the street below where people scattered to avoid his towering height.

“Enough already!” Spider-Man barked out loudly and turned to fire a spray of web from his forearms, erupting from his powerful sac-filled muscle. The superhumanly tensile cord caught not Thanatos, but his sled, and with a mighty yank ripped it free from the superhuman Centurion, this strange permutation of Rick Jones, and the titan fell to Earth.

In true fashion, the powerful villain landed on one knee with barely a flinch, standing up carefully. He aimed his spear for the face of Spider-Man as the hero swung by. “This you’ll regret, web-slinger,” he warned, but his intentions were considerably silenced. With a sharp gasp, his eyes widened beneath the mask and he stumbled forward. The man’s gaze fell slowly, and he saw a black sword stabbed through his stomach. Slowly, shock turned to a furious rage, and he swung around fiercely – the sword ripping through more of his flesh and free of the Black Knight’s hands, trapped in his own flesh. It was obvious who stood behind him, and the Black Knight clenched his gauntlets as he stood fast, resolute, but unarmed. The Knight, with blood seeped onto the blade, raced forward in a berserk rage, his fists racing for the impaled titan.

Thanatos caught the savage son of Percival’s fist in mid-swing and with a mighty kick, he sent the Black Knight away, flung far and skyward. His intention was suddenly obvious as the propelled body moved with an impossible, unavoidable momentum, even for Spider-Man. The heavily armored Knight crushed the bug into the building he had taken to, the sick crash followed by yet another as the combined bodies fell to the street below. With a steady hand, Thanatos reached behind him to rip free his sword and surveyed the group that remained before him with a mocking smile. In quiet silence, Mockingbird stood beside the crumpled Captain America and the unconscious Arcana, the two weak heroes his only remaining threats.

Understandably, he scoffed, and walked forward. He pulled the Ebon Blade from his stomach and used it to slice free the webbing from his flying disc. He stabbed the blade into the Earth with a vicious, inhuman strength and stepped onboard his platform, beginning to ascend. “I have more important things to do than kill a gymnast with sticks and a mentally handicapped Sentinel of Liberty. Besides. He will ever have my respect.”

He began to ascend into the air, but Mockingbird finally acted. She abandoned Captain America and raced forward to grasp the sword. With the speed she gained, it was clear she had intended to take the sword with momentum – but she stopped dead with a hard grunt of effort as the blade refused to budge, buried too deep into the ground for human might to move it. Hearing her struggle, Thanatos looked down and laughed, then aimed his pistol idly. “Fine. If you insist, Bobbi.”

The light seemed to come on in Captain America’s eyes, staring up from his kneeled position, his heart racing a thousand beats a second; Mockingbird was fighting for all their lives, the only Avenger left. A gun was trained on her, the finger placed into the trigger well. The weight of his shield was felt by him. Captain America knew he must act. The sounds of the battlefield still stirred in him. The dead, the dying, the sight of his trusted sidekick destroyed before him as he plunged for the cold water – it all welled up in him, and made him hesitate. The one thought that finally broke him free – an epiphany that shook him. He was the only one left, and it was now or never. Everything hung on him, and he couldn’t disappoint them again.

With his arm swung backward, he swung his body around to gain momentum and stopped on a dime, left leg kicked out and the shield hurtled from his arm – the red, white and blue disc racing through the sky, it’s stripes a blur as much as the spokes on the star at its center. Thanatos had barely a moment to see it even coming, his hand poised to fire. The shield nicked his finger, jerking the gun as it fired to shoot wildly ahead of its target and in doing so incinerating several feet of concrete. The shield raced on to slam into the Centurion’s opposite wrist, causing even the would-be God to cry in pain at the perfect metal’s impact, jarring bone. The Spear of Longinus fell from his hand to the ground below, and the Sentinel of Liberty rushed across the newly made battlefield, his every moment deliberate and swift. With an incredible effort, he leapt skyward to capture the shaft of the legendary blade in mid-air, coming down on his shoulder, tucked into a roll. When he came back up, without pause, he’d turned to face the still-reeling Thanatos as the Centurion tried to aim the pistol for him; but already his eyes had found their target and his arm had hurtled forward, fingers slipping open to allow the shaft of the spear to fly.

The Roman Spear that had slid through Christ’s side so too, now, rushed through the heart of the armored Thanatos. For all of his cosmically empowered armor and form, the Spear rushed through him as if he were tissue; with a crash of metal his armor gave in, and with a sick wetness his flesh surrendered. The spear punched out his back, and the Titan fell from his perch, eyes wide and lips speckled with blood. The man that would be a God crashed a dozen feet below in a limp pile, his helmet fallen from his scarred face.

Captain America strode forward and slid his fingers around the shaft of the spear still impaled into Rick Jones, whose unfamiliar face stared up with its fond memories at the living legend, the man he had worshipped, and who had just stolen his life. “I just wanted to be Bucky,” he whispered weakly.

His idol twisted the spear and ripped it out, allowing the wound to bleed freely, and his heart to beat its last. “You only get to die like him.”

The spear in his hand, Captain America walked away. Behind him, the form of Thanatos stopped twitching, before suddenly his wounds began to heal – and with it, his body was replaced with that of Mr. Immortal, dressed in bloodied and damaged Roman armor but returned in full. The confused Immortal sat up and looked around, at the destruction wrought around him, the strewn bodies of his teammates and stared. “Cap!” he called, at the slowly leaving figure. “What happened?”

The man stopped in his tracks and slowly pivoted to face his questioner, and smirked darkly, blood dripping from the stolen spear, “We won,” he said simply, as behind them, a light appeared and from it Libra.

Though stunned, Libra focused his power so augmented by his Lord and allowed shimmering light to overlap his team, despite their injuries and horror.

“It’s time.”

When Spider-Man would awaken, minutes later, his silence would speak for his awe and horror at the battlefield left to him, the only living man left behind.

THE END

Next Issue: The team finds itself thrust into the middle of the Kree/Skrull War, back in the hands of the primary AVI scribe, Chris Munn! Don’t think this is the last you’ll see of the Destiny Force. Kang’s only getting started!

Time Out!

Since I don’t have the usual fan mail to respond to, I just wanted to express:

Despite the delays it took, I was really honored that Chris Munn let me contribute to this project. It’s a truly incredible idea, and I feel proud just to be a part of it.

Thanks to Dave for getting on this, thanks to Cory for being patient before that, thanks again to Chris for letting me totally traumatize an American idol, as if the man hasn’t been put through enough. I imagine our hero, ol’ Winghead, would be spinning in his fictional grave, but it was still deeply enjoyable to get a crack at writing it.

So stay tuned. Things’ll settle sooner or later, and I am looking forward to what I’m sure will only be bigger and better issues in the arcs to come.

-Bowie Sessions