Hank Pym gently laid his ex-wife on the couch in his lab. Janet would be unconscious for a while. Which was a good thing, really. All things considered. He stood and turned.

Ultron stood behind him, still and silent. Waiting. Pym closed his eyes and took a breath. Then, “Do you know who you are?”

“I am-I am Ultron.” it said, cocking its silver head. Its eyes flashed with an azure glow and it raised its hands to examine them. “I have been…asleep?”

“Yes.” Pym swallowed, trying to ignore the bile in his gut. “Yes. For a long time. Do you remember what happened last time you were awake?”

“No, father.”

There it was again. That word. It sounded ugly, mocking, coming out of Ultron‘s-the real Ultron-mouth. Here, it simply sounded as he imagined it always would, coming from a child. He glanced at Janet. They had never had children. There had never been enough time.

Never enough love either, if he was being honest with himself.

“Good. That’s good. I’m a futurist, did you know that? Always looking ahead, always trying to forget the past.” Pym said, looking back at his creation. “That’s what you are-the future.”

“I am the future.” Ultron repeated, flexing its fingers and looking at Pym. Pym smiled.

“Yes. You are.” He held out his hand, and Ultron reached for it without hesitation. “Or rather, you will be, once we’re done.”

“Done?”

“I’m going to teach you how to be a hero…son.”

MARVEL 2000 PRESENTS...

"IRON CHILDREN HAVE INNOCENT SOULS"

Written by Josh Reynolds

Dracula sat on a makeshift throne, cobbled together out of splintered wood and chewed bone. He leaned back against it, fingers laced together beneath his lean jaw. Eyes like dying stars gazed out over the ruins of the church he had claimed for his own. The rat-eyes of his slaves stared back at him, adoringly, hungrily.

He had been silent for close to two days now, staring at nothing. He broke his meditation only to issue commands, to send out foraging parties to attack the isolated human refuges in the ruined part of San Francisco. Weeping humans had been chained to the few remaining pews in the church, crammed in on the rough wooden seats, barely healed scabs dotting their arms, legs and necks. Dracula did not allow his soldiers to take more than they absolutely needed. Waste not, want not as the saying went.

Dracula abruptly shoved the drained body of the young woman out of his lap and kicked her nude form contemptuously with a booted foot, sending her flopping limply down the steps and into the aisle where a dozen of his children descended onto her, tearing at her with piranha-like teeth, trying to get at any last dregs of blood Dracula might have missed.

He licked his stained lips as he stood, the throne creaking. He looked up, eyes narrowing, vulpine features twisting into a cheerful expression.

“You may come down, serpent. Dracula can taste your chill blood, no matter how stealthily you might conceal yourself.”

There was a creak from somewhere above as a weight left the rafters of the church and flashed towards the floor, a green and purple blur that landed in a cloud of dust. The vampires closest stumbled back, hissing and clawing at the air as Death Adder stood, barbed tail lashing. Dracula laughed.

“The mute. How delightful. I can smell the stink of Chthon on you, serpent. It sweats from your pores. You serve the Elder thing. You aided in my revival. Why?”

Death Adder dropped to his haunches and held up a long claw. Then he stabbed it into the wood of the floor and carefully carved a hideous looking symbol that seemed to squirm and dance before Dracula’s eyes. Dracula blinked.

“The Dwarf?”

Death Adder nodded as he stood. Dracula snorted.

“Foul imp. His design, then. His plan to bring me back. Using my own children to do the work.” Dracula tapped his lip with a long fingernail. “He shows initiative. How unlike him.” He looked at Death Adder, one eyebrow raised. “Or does he? The imp never acts without the voice of Chthon in his ear. Why hasn’t he come to me yet? To demand whatever repayment it is that he desires and only Dracula can provide?”

Death Adder ran a claw down his wrist and held the bleeding limb towards Dracula, who stepped back with a cry of disgust.

“Stupid creature! Dracula shall not taste of your corrupted ichors! You! Come here!” Dracula hissed, grabbing the closest vampire by the wrist and pulling her towards him. He grabbed her roughly by the hair and shoved her towards Death Adder. “Drink. Drink that foul stew and speak of what it shows you!”

The vampire shrieked and struggled, but Dracula’s grip was unyielding. Her fangs sank into Death Adder’s wrist and she succumbed to instinct and began to drink, flat, pointed tongue digging at the wound. Death Adder didn’t even twitch until a few moments in when he ripped his wrist away. The vampire stumbled free of Dracula’s grip and sank to her knees, clawing at her throat. Dracula yanked on her hair, forcing her to look up at him.

“What did you see? Tell me!”

“Ahgk-I-ahkk-saw a building…humans…clad in costumes…they have the Dwarf…I-AHGKAAAA!” she screamed and wrenched free of Dracula, writhing as her body bloated and rotted in seconds, dissolving into a foul smelling mess. Death Adder cocked his head, examining her curiously. He looked up at Dracula.

“Demon blood, mute. It eats at the insides like fire. You can lead me to this building?”

Death Adder nodded, springing upwards, towards the roof. Dracula watched him for a moment before his form began to twist and flatten. He twisted his transmogrifying skull towards his followers and screeched, “Take wing my children! Tonight we hunt!” In seconds, a horde of leather winged nightmares took to the sky, bursting from the holes in the roof of the desecrated church, all following behind the swift, loping figure of Death Adder as he leapt across the rooftops.

Down below, in the shadows of an alleyway, three figures watched with varying degrees of fear, loathing and relief as the vampires took flight, crossing the moon like an abattoir cloud.

Howard cursed and rubbed his beak furiously. “Damn. We’re too late.”

“Good.” Shatterfist said, trying not to look at the swarm of bats moving overhead. “Great. Perfect. Let’s go home.”

“Should we follow them Howard?” Aquarian asked. He had enveloped the trio in a null-bubble, hiding them from the powerful senses of their undead prey. “They could be preparing to attack another Red Cross way-station.”

“Unh-unh.” Howard said. He glared up at the flock of bats, his eyes focusing on the biggest of the bunch, a hideous beast the size of a man. “That one in the lead is Big Daddy Fangs himself. He doesn’t go out on beer-runs.”

“Shit. We’re gonna follow them aren’t we? ‘Cause I recognize that bastard with them. That’s Death Adder.” Shatterfist said, running his fuzzy orange gloves over his hair. “I thought he was dead.”

“Well, he looks spry to me.” Howard said. He tugged on Aquarian’s cloak. “Get us in the air kid, but keep us out of sight. We go where they go.”

“He’s a vampire.”

“Scientific vampire.” Spider-Woman said, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. The sitting room of the nondescript brownstone that had once belonged to the Serpent Society but now served the Avengers West as their forward base in San Francisco. Princess Python reclined on the lone couch, a suede monstrosity she insisted Seth Voelker had purchased without her input.

“Honestly darling, does it matter?” Zelda said, rotating a finger to curl a strand of her red hair around it. “A vampire is a vampire is a vampire, right?”

“Yep. Still a vampire.” Hawkeye said, squatting in front of Morbius’ unconscious form and lifting his chin with the tip of an arrow. “Aren’t you Doc? C’mon, open those beady red eyes. I know you’re awake.”

Morbius’ eyes snapped open and he snarled, but the sound died as Hawkeye pressed the tip of the arrow against his chest. “See. I knew you were playing possum.”

“It seemed prudent.” Morbius settled back, twisting inside the coils of the genetically augmented python that restrained him. He eyed the snake warily. “This brute’s electrical dermis seems to have driven my hunger into recession for the nonce. Speak clown or forever still thy tongue.”

“Clown?”

“Garish costume. Toys. It fits, yes?” Morbius chuckled wetly. “I know who you are Mister Barton. We have met previously, or had you forgotten?”

“Nope. Wondered if you had though. Besides, last I heard, you had given up the whole Christopher Lee deal…” Hawkeye smiled thinly. “Guess I was wrong.”

“What can I say? I reverted to type. Most animals do.” Morbius licked his fangs and leered at them. “I would have thought you would have turned me over to the authorities by now. They are probably looking for me.”

“Really.” Spider-Woman said. She pushed away from the doorframe. “And why is that?”

Morbius glanced at her, his eyes mere slits. “I escaped from their custody a few days ago. I fled here, hoping to disappear.” He clenched and unclenched one hand furiously while he talked. Hawkeye watched it, noticing that it was thinner, smaller looking than its twin. Add that to the scars that covered Morbius’ form. Red scabs that looked only just recently healed, including a big gash over his heart.

“Someone worked you over Doc. Got somebody on your tail?”

“If I do, it is my own affair Mister Barton. One I will dispense with at the earliest opportunity.” Morbius grunted. He closed his eyes, picturing their gloating faces. Three stupid, vengeful monsters. Blizzard. Boomerang. Blacklash. Three dead men. He would glut himself on their juices just as he had on the oh-so-clever Agent Crass. (*See the latest issue of Thunderbolts for more on this!*) His eyes sprang open. “Either imprison me or release me.”

“Howsabout no to both?” Hawkeye said. “What do you know about the other bloodsuckers running around the city? It can’t be coincidence that you’re here now.”

“I regret to inform you that it most certainly is. I do not associate with others of my ilk. I am not a refugee from folklore. I am an abomination of science.” Morbius said with a sniff. “To be quite honest, I hadn’t even noticed.”

“Well crap.” Hawkeye sat back on his heels. “I thought we had something there.”

“I didn’t.” Spider-Woman said. Hawkeye glared at her.

“Why are you here again?”

“Because you invited me?”

“I meant at this moment.”

“Because if he gets loose he’ll suck you dry like a can of cheap beer.” Jessica said, smiling. “I’m here for your safety.”

“I feel so much better.”

“Well good. I-” She turned, head cocked as if listening to something. “Do you hear something?”

“Bind, bind, be bound until you count the stars in the sky or grains of sand in the sea.” Doctor Druid intoned, gesturing with gray fingers over the head of the black-suited dwarf standing inside the pentagram. The Dwarf snorted.

“Oh good. A challenge.”

“Quiet, imp.” Druid said. “Be silent until I say otherwise. Now, how are you involved in the resurrection of Dracula?”

“Oh. I can talk now?”

Druid waved his fingers and the pentagram flashed and the tiny man screeched as his tiny form bubbled and twisted, as if it were a costume that something was fighting to be free of. “Answer me, by-blow of fallen gods. Answer me or I will rip that seeming from you and cast you into the depths of Gaea herself.”

“I-Ah!-I-fine! Fine! Stop with the mojo you undead bastard!” the Dwarf yelped. Druid dropped his hand.

“Then answer me.”

“How many times has Chthon tried for rebirth in this century? Two? Three? Every time failed. To put it simply, he’s pissed. Either the hosts were unsuitable or people close to them stopped the ceremony.” the Dwarf said harshly, waving a pudgy hand. “Then, moi hit upon the perfect solution. A perfect host, one double-tainted by the Darkhold and strong enough to bear the essence of a god.”

“Dracula.” Darkhawk stepped out from behind Druid and glared down at the imp. “You brought him back to life just so you could let a demon possess him?”

“Not a demon. The demon.” the Dwarf corrected, smiling widely. “I was all set to get things rolling when you caught my attention with your little incantation.”

“You mean the one we used to trap your munchkin butt?” Darkhawk asked. The Dwarf shrugged.

“You say trap, I say momentarily inconvenienced. You’re not the only ones with help.”

A scrape of sharpness over glass. Darkhawk and Druid both turned, as the glass in the window that looked out over the street began to crack under the weight of something unseen.

Darkhawk reacted first, grabbing Druid by his robe and pulling him backwards as the window exploded and the lithe form of Death Adder swung into the room, claws bared. The Society member glanced over his shoulder and waved a hand, gesturing as if in invitation. A dense, foul smelling fog suddenly flooded the room, a fog full of eyes. Darkhawk dove towards Death Adder before Druid could stop him and the two tumbled back out the shattered window.

As they fell towards the street below, Death Adder twisted in Darkhawk’s grip, his claws tearing easily through the youth’s armor. Darkhawk screamed and the crystal on his chest flashed and slammed the killer backwards into the wall of the brownstone. Darkhawk crashed to the ground and rolled onto his stomach. Every pore burned as the poison spread through his alien biochemistry.

He struggled to rise as Death Adder stalked towards him, none the worse for wear from his own landing. The Society members clashed his claws together eagerly, tail snapping back and forth. It had been too long since he’d killed. Since he’d had blood on his claws. He stopped and raised his talons over the struggling hero.

Back inside, Druid had placed his back against the wall as unseen alarms blared and the noxious fog closed in on him.

“Dracula.” was all he said.

“Indeed lich. Dracula. Bow and I may spare your pitiful existence.” Dracula said as he stepped out of the fog, teeth bared in a face-splitting grin. “Release the imp or be sent back to whate’er cold hell you crawled out of.”

“I think not.” Druid said, his maggoty hands crawling with arcane energies. Dracula laughed, his head thrown back, virtually unhinged as his serpentine tongue caressed the air.

“So be it! Taste the wrath of Dracula!” the Lord of the Vampires said as he lunged forward, swifter than thought.

Moon Knight leapt desperately for the scant cover provided by the haphazardly stacked boxes. The Sentinel brought its purple fist down in the place where he’d been standing only moments earlier and wooden shrapnel sprayed the room.

Moon Knight pressed himself flat against the boxes and ran through his possible options. The EMP pulse in his truncheon wouldn’t even stagger a monster like that, not unless he could whack it in the head. Luckily though, its size was hampering it more than helping. It could barely move and only in one direction. That limited its ability to avoid Plan B. 

‘Rover’ gestured and a burst of energy exploded from one palm shearing through the top layer of boxes that formed Moon Knight’s cover. Spector shook his head and tapped the communicator inside his cowl.

“Frenchie? You still topside?”

“Oui, Mark. Where else would I be?” came the scratchy reply. Spector could hear the soft whup-whup of the chopper’s rotors beneath Frenchie’s voice.

“Smoke break?”

“Not all Frenchmen smoke.”

“But you do. I’ve seen the butts.”

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t making generalizations. You have a bad habit of that, mon ami…”

“Frenchie?”

“Yes Mark?”

“Shoot the giant robot please.”

“Oui, Mark.”

A flurry of missiles burst through the ragged gaps in the roof of the warehouse, exploding as they made contact with the mutant-hunting automaton. The Sentinel squawked and staggered back, crashing against one of the support pillars and then on through it, falling to the floor. It lay silent and limp, smoke escaping out of its joints. Moon Knight slid around the corner of the boxes and peered through the gloom, truncheon in hand.

“Your pet is down Voelker. Come on out.”

“I think not Avenger.” Voelker’s voice echoed through the smoke. Moon Knight tensed as the warehouse groaned around him. It was going to come down and soon.

“I’m not an Avenger.”

“Details, details.” Voelker laughed. “Besides, you’ll go running back to them soon enough, won’t you? Humans seek social interaction among equals. It’s the nature of the beast. By the way, my cloak is working again.” The familiar sound of Sidewinder’s cloak teleporting reached Moon Knight’s ears and he felt a swish of air behind him. He hurled himself forward as a jagged chunk of wood stabbed at his head. Voelker lunged at him again, disappearing before Moon Knight could do more than bat the wood aside with his truncheon.

“Ha! Have to be quicker than that, my friend.” Voelker chuckled. “I could do this all night. But, I have places to go, people to see. You know how it is. So, I’ll leave you to Quincy’s tender mercies…”

Moon Knight cursed and rolled to his feet, the wood bending beneath his feet as the warehouse began to collapse in upon itself. Cottonmouth slammed into him from behind, bearing him down to floor and on through it towards the dark waters below.

“Round three Avenger! Won’t be no round four!” Cottonmouth snarled as he and Moon Knight smacked into the turgid water, disappearing beneath the surface as the warehouse fell in on top of them.

A fist wrapped in stars pounded into Iron-Man’s armor, creating numerous microscopic cracks. The armored Avenger dropped to his knees and blindly fired his repulsors, causing Captain Marvel to jauntily hop backwards.

“Oh come on Tony, you can do better than that.” Genis said.

“What are you doing Genis? What is all of this?” Stark said as he got to his feet, fists clenched, armor repair systems working overtime. Genis was giving off a cosmic radiation that was interfering with every sensor he had, but for the ones connected to the alterna-dimensional tech he’d incorporated into his suit.  Thanagarian, Rannian and Martian technology compensated for the failure of his own. It was his ace in the hole. One he didn’t want to reveal until he had to.

He had to stall. Keep Genis talking until he could contact the other Avengers.

“Why build a city, Genis?” Stark continued, gesturing at the Kree city Genis had apparently built amidst the Sierra Nevadas over the past few days. “And where is Marlo Jones?”

“Marlo? Marlo is…safe. She’s safe.” Genis hesitated. “I built this city for her.” He spread his arms and rose into the air. “For all my people. A haven. A paradise.”

“What people Genis? The Kree?”

“Kree. Humans. Eternals. All of them. All of my parts. All of my soul. We’ve been divided for too long.” Genis said. Abruptly, he whirled, his body flaring like a star. “Shut up Supremor! I know what I’m doing!”

Iron-Man took advantage of Genis’ distraction and slammed into him, grasping him around the middle and carrying him through the nearest building. He projected an energy surge through the Rannian power cells, hoping the other dimensional energies would knock the other man for a loop.

Genis screamed and pounded at Iron-Man as his form burned and wavered. Stark increased his hold. The Nth metal harness extended crimson pseudopods that stabbed into Genis’ flesh, burrowing beneath the star field and pumping more energy into him. Genis could absorb and redirect most types of energy native to this universe.

‘Native’ being the key word. Systems were redlining across his HUD as he pumped more power into Captain Marvel. In effect, he was a giant taser. He hoped it would be enough.

It wasn’t.

Fingers slammed down on either side of his head and his systems abruptly shorted out. Iron-Man collapsed, a dead-weight.

“Oh very good Tony. Nice move. Luckily for me it only takes me a few minutes to analyze energy patterns. Yours took a bit longer, but I think I got them now. Or at least enough of them to do the job.” Genis hefted Tony casually. “Don’t worry though, I’m not going to kill you. Just like I didn’t kill the Eternals. Or Rick. I’m not a very good Kree, Tony. At least not one of Supremor’s Kree.”

Dragging Stark behind him, Genis rose into the air, higher and higher.

“You see, I decided a few months ago to do something drastic. But something that’s been long coming nonetheless. I’ve been pushed and pulled by every empire, despot and lunatic this universe can throw at me and I’m tired of it.” He pulled Stark close, smiling at his reflection in Tony’s helmet. “So I’m going to form my own empire. The new Kree Empire. That’s my capital city below. Soon it will be filled with people. As soon as I practice a bit more on the local wildlife, figure out how to alter the DNA. Then…then, I can bring Rick and the others out of the Negative Zone. We’ll all live Kree or die Tony. Even you.

“Won’t that be swell?”

Next issue: Dracula vs. the Avengers West! Darkhawk vs. Death Adder! The fate of Rick Jones revealed at last! Be here in thirty for ’TWO DEAD BOYS GOT UP TO FIGHT’!