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Namor, former Prince of Atlantis, gazed over the newsstands’ magazines with growing annoyance. Their headlines made no sense to him. The pictures were only worse. Who were these people, he wondered, and why did they think the promise of discovering the “Sexist Man in America” should interest him? Egyptian hieroglyphics or Chinese poetry would have been easier to decipher.

Meanwhile, all around Namor, bustled the great city of New York. Cars whipped past, horns honked, and a colorful variety of surface dwellers trudged along on their day’s errands. He watched them go with complete detachment, much like they might view similar scenes on a movie screen. None of it seemed quite real to him.

And, yet, following his self-exile from Atlantis*, this was now supposed to be his new home. The very thought brought a scowl to his face.

* (Fantastic Four v2 #5 - Al)

This chaotic, messy tableaux might have been many things, but home was not one of them. Not for an Atlantean and certainly not for a Prince.

He glanced back down at the racks and a newspaper headline caught his eye. It read Atlantis in bold text across the fold. Picking the paper up, he flipped it open and saw the rest of the title.

Atlantis: Lost City Finds Democracy

Namor wrinkled his nose. Typical. The article practically gushed with praise as it described his ouster and his traitorous subjects’ efforts to form a Republic like their own. A few lines of it was enough and he crumpled the paper into his fist. “Democracy,” he mumbled, “what foolishness…”

“Hey, buddy, you buyin’ that?”

Namor looked up to see the newsvendor staring daggers at him. He was a large man, pot bellied, with a baseball cap on his melon-like head. One of the loud, sloppy cretins the surface dwellers seemed to have in such abundance.

“Do not,” Namor warned, “raise your voice to me.”

“Then don’t wrinkle my papers, asshole!”

In Atlantis such impertinence would have earned the fool a broken nose at least. Unfortunately, Namor was here on the good graces of the Fantastic Four. One of their members, Susan Richards, had recently extricated him from a difficult situation, and honor said he owed her a debt. He would not offend their hospitality by breaking their laws.

Swallowing his anger, Namor reached into his coat and tossed the vendor a few quarters. The paper he deposited in a nearby waste bin.

“Oh! There you are,” called a cheery voice from behind him. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Namor turned to find a young Asian woman smiling up at him. Her name was Yoshi. She was the Richards’ live-in nanny. In other words, a paid servant, although one they treated like part of the family. An odd custom he’d seen more than once among the surface dwellers.

“I found the store stuffy,” he explained. “I decided to wait outside.”

Yoshi nodded and handed him a bag full of produce. “Could you take that please?”

He complied, but made a point to frown while doing so.

“By the way, Namor, I really appreciate you coming along like this. I know it was silly to ask but you didn’t seem to be busy and sometimes I get frightened going out alone. I mean the Fantastic Four have so many enemies, you never know right?“ Yoshi sighed, juggling the other two bags as she spoke, “And then there’s all this terrible stuff about Mr. Richards. The last time I tried to do a little shopping, the reporters practically mobbed me.”*

* (Reed Richards has become the target of a media frenzy as of Fantastic Four v2 #1 - Al)

“You need not fear on that account,” he assured her. “As long as you’re in my presence, they should know better than to approach.”

This much was true. Even among the touchy meta-human set, the former Prince had a particularly poor reputation for his treatment of the press. It was very hard to pursue lawsuits for smashed equipment when your target lived at the bottom of the ocean, after all.

“Well, thank you Namor, it means a lot.”

He nodded faintly. She was not unlikable for a surface dweller, but the idea that he was serving as a bodyguard for the Richards’ nanny kept cropping up in his mind. It was not a pleasant thought.

“Now,” she said with a smile, tugging at his coat sleeve. “If we can just find a cab…”

One of the odd yellow carriages infesting this city had pulled up to the curve. They were called taxi cabs and Namor likened them a bit to the hired coaches certain merchant families used in Atlantis. Nobles, naturally, kept their own.

The idea of paying to be chauffeured offended Namor but there wasn’t much choice in the matter. Yoshi had been dead set against taking the Fantasticar, wishing to keep a low profile. And she wasn’t about to let him fly her back to the Baxter Building with a load of groceries in her arms.

Sighing inwardly, he steeled himself to approach the vehicle. While he dawdled, a man in a business suit pushed in front of him and hopped in the cab’s backseat. As the door slammed shut, the driver began to pull away.

A flash of anger came over Namor.

“Outrageous!” he growled. “Does he think I’ll let such a slight stand? I-

“Forget about it,” Yoshi said, grabbing his shirt cuff again and yanking him towards another cab. “You snooze, you lose.”

While Namor tried to puzzle out the meaning of that phrase, she quickly piled their bags inside and climbed in. The cabbie gave him a funny look as he stood on the curb.

“C’mon, c’mon, if you’re coming!”

Yoshi nodded encouragement and he finally sat down in the seat. The car, he thought, had a vaguely unpleasant smell, like surface dweller sweat and stale cologne.

“Where to?”

“42nd and Madison,” Yoshi answered.

Namor kept his eyes away from the windows as they sped off. The sight of other cars tearing by at such unnatural speeds made him uneasy. It was very different than Atlantis, where a vehicle was not bound so much by gravity. On the surface, if something came hurtling towards you, you could not simply swim over it. You hit it straight on.

The cabbie noticed him staring at the dashboard and must have assumed he was looking at him.

“So what’s with the pointy ears, Dr. Spock? Some sort of Lord of the Rings Convention?”

Namor did not care for the cabbie’s fresh tone or the overly familiar grin on his face. The man looked as though he hadn’t shaved in a week and his clothes were disheveled. An intolerable lack of decorum from a public servant.

“Watch your tongue,” he told him.

The man frowned, glancing back over his shoulder. “What’d you say to me?”

Yoshi tugged at Namor’s arm, shaking her head, but he ignored her. He’d about had his fill of surface dweller arrogance for one day. “I said hold your tongue.”

“Hold my tongue, huh?” He grinned, looking almost as if he suspected he was being put on. “You rather walk?”

“Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”

“No,” he chuckled. “Who?”

“I am Prince…”

Namor paused, the slip hitting him with surprising force. He was Prince of who exactly? Not the Atlanteans, not anymore. The title had ceased to exist. So who was he then? Neither Atlantean nor surface dweller, there seemed to be no ready answer.

The cabbie shook his head as his strange patron went silent. “You’re Prince, huh? Well, ya look different from the last time I saw you.”

“Your manners, mortal, leave much to be d-”

There was a terrible squeal as the cab jerked to a stop. Namor was flung forward in his seat, spilling Yoshi’s groceries all over the floor. He took a moment to make certain she was alright before whirling back to the driver.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

The cabbie paid him no mind. He had already worked his body halfway out the driver-side window and was staring over the tops of the cars in front of him. Traffic had come to a complete standstill.

“Jesus Christ,” he said, “would you look at that!”

Namor leaned forward, trying to get a better look as Yoshi gathered her items off the seat. There was alarm in the man’s voice.

“Skrulls!”

Namor was out of the cab and in the sky within a moment. As he soared above the jammed highway--tossing aside the bulky coat that constrained him--the source of the commotion came into view. A small ship, about the size of a tugboat, had landed in the middle of the busy intersection. The figures milling around it did indeed look like Skrulls.

Although Namor had had only minimal contact with the aliens himself, he knew the Skrulls were frequent opponents of the Fantastic Four. Years ago they had mounted an attack on the surface world and the fledging team had prevented their invasion. Ever since then the aliens had maintained a grudge against the Four.

Meaning their visit here today was unlikely to be friendly.

And yet, as Namor closed in, he wondered if this was his business. He had no personal grudge against the Skrull race and the surface dwellers were not his wards to protect. It had not been so many years ago he had mounted his own military campaigns against them. The mutual distrust remained to this day. Why should he risk his neck for this rude, unappreciative rabble?

Still, there was his debt to the Four. It was the whole reason he was in this vile city.

Susan Richards had come to Atlantis to plead his protection in her husband’s absence. Admittedly it had been part of a ploy to help him to avoid a war among his people. That didn’t mean what she said was false though. The Fantastic Four did have many enemies, among which the Skrulls ranked as one of the most powerful. With their numbers depleted, the team would be at a clear disadvantage in a fight.

Besides, whether the proceedings had been farce or not, Namor had given his word to defend them in their time of need. For him, that was reason enough to continue.

If the Skrulls had thought to catch their opponents unready, they were about to receive a rude shock.

As Namor swooped down towards the sleek red craft, he counted at least ten Skrulls on the street below. They were all armed but did not seem to be using their weapons yet. Of course, most of the surface dwellers had already fled the area, evacuating their cars. Even the handful of police officers on the scene were keeping their distance. The former Prince felt a certain satisfaction at their relieved expressions when he came into view.

They may not have liked him, but they were more than happy to accept his help. Typical of their kind.

Namor slowed his flight and gently floated down to the street in front of the ship. As soon as his feet touched the pavement, several of the Skrulls swiveled their rifles in his direction. Their weapon technology was deadly, he knew, light years in advance of anything Earth had created. One of their guns probably could have taken out the whole block if given the chance.

Such toys, however, made little impression on the former Prince. Turning towards the nearest Skrull, he studied it with haughty disdain. It had olive green skin and pointy bat ears, with a knotty chin that reminded Namor of the outer shell of an oyster. A metallic purple armor covered its body.

“Where is your leader, dog?”

It made to draw the pistol from its hip holster but a slim hand restrained it. A second Skrull had stepped up to the alien’s side. This one was female and looked nearly identical to the rest, except for her tapered build and long, white hair. Judging by her confident pose, Namor guessed she was the ship’s captain.

“Do not waste time with this one,” she told her man, taking in the Atlantean with an eye every bit as disdainful as his own. “He is not worth the effort.”

“You may find otherwise.”

She merely smirked at his bluster. “I doubt it Earthling. Since you are here though, you may make yourself useful and go fetch the ones called the Fantastic Four. That is who we seek.”

So they were here looking for Susan and her friends just as he’d suspected.

“What business do you have with them?”

The captain smiled archly and turned aside, dismissing him with a gesture. “Just be about your task, interloper, and bring them here. The sooner we are done with the Fantastic Four, the sooner we can leave this backwater planet.”

Namor could have easily complied with the aliens’ demands, summoning the team through the comm-link on his belt. But he saw no reason for it. Things would go faster without them. He doubted the likes of these would take much effort.

“Nay, I think not. You’ll deal with me curs and find it more than enough.”

The Skrull soldier went for his gun again but another hand stopped him. This time it belonged to Namor. His fist connected with a satisfying crunch, knocking the creature off its feet.

The others opened fire.

The Skrulls’ lasers converged on a single spot. Unfortunately, their target was no longer there. Namor was airborne again.

The Atlantean weaved gracefully through the sky as the aliens tried to pinpoint him. Their stray shots struck empty cars and the sides of buildings, dissolving metal and brick alike. They never came close to Namor though. He was simply too fast.

As the former Prince dodged another barrage, he touched down on the sidewalk. Grasping a heavy metal mailbox with one hand, he yanked it from the cement as easily as a gardener pulls a dead weed. This he tossed at a pair wide-eyed Skrulls, flattening them against the hull of their ship.

Already, he noted with pleasure, their ranks were breaking. They began to panic. Most turned and fled back towards their ship while the rest fired more and more erratically. Grabbing a street sign from the road, he used it to swat aside a few of these remainders.

At the sight of their comrades being bashed through the air, the remaining Skrulls lost heart. Namor smiled. If these, he reflected, were the worst that Fantastic Four had to face then he envied them. Such a paltry force wouldn’t have withstood a second on an Atlantean battlefield.

It was with these thoughts of victory still in mind, that Namor realized he was no longer standing. He was airborne again, but not of his accord. Before he could take control, he landed on the roof of a car, its windows exploding in a spray of glass. A cloud of asphalt and rubble rained down on him.

For a moment, he was too stunned to react. The dust was thick in his nose and mouth. He coughed, spitting out a clod of brown gunk.

The spot where Namor had stood a moment before was little more than a crater. He’d been thrown to the other side of the street by the blast. Pulling at the rubble that still pinned his legs, he scanned the area for the cause. It didn’t take him long to discover it.

The barrel of the Skrull starship’s cannon was aimed directly at him. He was a sitting target.

Namor stopped moving. He couldn’t outmaneuver it, not in the awkward position he was in. Suddenly, he realized how fool-hardly his bravado had been. The Skrulls weren’t clearing the streets to escape him. They were getting out of range of their own weapons.

“Done are we?”

Namor glanced to his left. The Skrull Captain stood a safe distance away, holding her pistol at a rakish angle.

“Do not feel badly,” she told him. “For an Earthling to die by a Skrull’s hand is no shame. In fact, it is a rare honor.”

They had him dead to rights. Perhaps their weapons wouldn’t kill him; his body’s tenacity was something his enemies had learned many times over, to their great regret. There was no doubting, however, that he wouldn’t walk away from such an attack whole.

“Ready to die?”

Namor looked at the woman, his dark eyes betraying no fear. A smile bent his lips. “Yes,” he said. “But I don’t think it shall be today.”

She smirked and pulled the trigger.

Everything seemed to happen at once.

The Skrull’s weapon fired, its bright red beam heading directly for Namor. It never struck home. As the shot came within a foot of the Atlantean, it was deflected harmlessly into the air. Even as this was happening the ship’s cannon turned a bright orange and began to droop, the metal turned to slag. At the same time, a shape struck the pavement in front of Namor hard enough to send cracks fissuring up the street.

“Well,” it said. “See ya gone and made some new friends, huh, fish lips?”

Now the Fantasticar appeared above them, winking into existence as the Invisible Woman dropped her cloaking shield. Johnny finished welding shut the cannon’s nozzle before flying over to join the team.

“Things were well in hand,” Namor said stiffly as he tossed aside the rest of the rubble. “You needn’t have interfered.”

“And let ‘em blast ya into powder?” The Thing grinned. “Have to admit, don’t sound half bad…”

Susan descended from the Fantasticar, an invisible disc placing her gently on the ground. With a quick gesture, she then used her to powers to restrain the ship’s captain, encircling her in invisible bands. The Skrull fixed her with a vicious glare.

“This is quite the reception, Earthlings. I had heard better of you.”

“Then you should have known not to attack our city,” said Johnny. “Don’t you Sci-Fi Channel rejects ever learn?”

“We didn’t attack anything,” she answered with a hiss. “Your friend attacked us!”

The team turned to Namor. The question in their eyes did not sit well with him.

“They claimed they were here for you,” he said coolly. “I merely acted in your defense.”

The Skrull struggled at her bonds but Susan held her in place. “Lying fool,” she shouted at the Atlantean. “We said no such thing! I told you we sought the Fantastic Four. You only needed to call them here as we asked and this would have been avoided. We were sent here to deliver a message, not to attack them!”

Susan frowned, her expression still skeptical. The Skrull did not sound as if she was lying but they had been tricked in the past. “Then why didn’t you come to us directly? You had to know landing in the street like this was bound to cause trouble.”

“It was our intention to arrive at your base but we were given the wrong coordinates. We set down in some place called Pitt’s Burg but there was no Fantastic Four. The mere mention of your name was enough to set the populace at arms. Finally, we were told to search here.” She glanced from Susan to Namor and then back again. “It has been a most frustrating experience.”

“Well, what’s the message lady? Skrulls offerin’ discounts on Q-tips?”

The captain straightened a bit, trying to regain her dignity despite the restraints. “We are retainers from the Ky-la clan. We were asked to inform you that scion Lyja has survived transit to her homeworld and remains under the care of our physicians.* It was with great reluctance the family contacted you but they wished to express thanks that you returned their blood alive.”

* (Check out M2K Fantastic Four v1 2007 Annual for ’how’ and ‘why’ - Al)

“Aw, Jeebus…”

“Now,” the captain said with a sneer, “will you let me and my men go, or must we suffer still further humiliation for our services?”

Susan exchanged a look with Namor but she saw nothing there but surprise to match her own. There was little reason to doubt the Skrull’s story.

With reluctance she removed the bands.

A short time later, the Skrull starcraft rose from the highway and streaked off into the sky. Its exit proved far quieter than its arrival. The damage left in its wake, however, was impressive. Wrecked cars, effaced buildings, and a crater the size of a small Buick. News film crews were already on scene, capturing the image of the Fantastic Four standing amidst the destruction.

More fuel to the fire, Susan thought. The press would have a field day. Considering what had happened in Pittsburgh with the Vioxx*, they’d be lucky if the mayor wasn’t calling for their ejection by tomorrow morning.

* (That’d be the 2007 Annual again. Seriously, you probably ought to read it. - Al)

Nothing, it seemed, was going their way.

“Wow, just wow. Real great job jerk off,” Johnny said as the Skrulls faded from view. “Awesome teamwork. Maybe next time you can burn down the Avengers’ mansion in our name.”

“Watch your tongue.”

“Seems to me,” Ben replied, “it’s your tongue what needs watching pal.”

Sue could feel the tension in the air. Her teammates had never fully trusted Namor and this was the last thing she needed. Johnny, in particular, looked ready for a fight. Lyja, after all, had once been his lover.

Luckily Namor kept a stoic calm in face of their insults. An unlikely show of restraint, Sue thought. One that suggested just how embarrassed he was by this debacle.

“Everyone, please calm down, it was a mistake…”

“Sure was,” Ben growled, “’cept the mistake was when we took this bozo home. He don’t belong with the Fantastic Four, Suzie.”

“Do not forget you asked me here,” Namor stated, fixing them all with a fierce glare. “Not the other way around.”

“Sue asked you buddy, not me,” Johnny corrected. “We should have let you to rot in Atlantis. We’ve already got enough garbage in this city.”

“Enough!”

With a growl, Namor turned on his heel and leapt back into the sky. Sue’s protests quickly receded as he rose out of earshot.

A disaster. He had done his best to help his friends and the result was this--chaos, destruction, maybe worse. He should have expected no less.

What did he know of these people? Of their ways? What place had he, a man who had led armies and ruled over three fifths of the globe, with a team of surface dweller celebrities like the Fantastic Four?

They were right. He did not belong here.

But if not here, then where?

Next Issue: Whither Namor? Whither Reed? None of your business is where! I mean, whither. Anyways, please join me next time for a brief two issue interlude featuring the not-so-triumphant return of the World’s Most Commercialist superhero team!

Fantastic Forum

Hey, look, an actual letter! A Vol. 2 first! Let me wipe off the year’s worth of dust and get down to finally answering it…

Hey just wanted to drop you a line about your latest issue of Fantastic Four.

This is one of the first issues on them in fan fic which has really caught the essence of those first hundred issues the sheer awe of the job they do. The things that they see.

Reed was great throughout this issue with all his goings ons on the N-Zone planet and I for one am looking forward to the N-space journey.

The thing however I'm most looking forward too when it happens is for all of the F4 to be united and launch into action as one showing why they are the first family of marvel.

Anthony Crute

Thanks, Anthony. Trying to capture the feeling of the Lee/Kirby years in prose has been tough, but I hope on occasion I’ve hit the right notes. I do love those early issues.

Number six was a bit difficult for me, so I’m glad it wasn’t a total bust. Reed’s been an enjoyable character to write (that ‘50s science-hero type is fun to play around with, even if I‘m sort of putting him through the ringer right now) so I’m hoping his adventures in the larger Negative Zone will prove fun.

As for the FF reuniting…well, that‘ll have to wait. Hopefully, the eventual payoff will be worth it. Thanks for writing!

Oh, and for those who might have missed it, be sure to check out <a href=“http://m2k.omegacen.com/marvfanfare/MF59.html”>Marvel Fanfare #59</a> for a cameo by Susan Storm. (It seems like I’m always pointing readers towards Steve Crosby’s stories in these blurbs….and you should all be thankful, because there’s a lot of worse places I could be directing you). Plus it features the criminally underappreciated Hellcat. How can you go wrong?

And, finally, a sincere apology to everyone who reads and writes at M2K for the ridiculous wait between issues in this series. I suck. But, as ever, I do hope to improve. So thanks to everyone for their patience and understanding.