Every single fiber of muscle in Quicksilver’s body had to strain themselves, struggle to hold as he had to fight every single urge he had to deck Cyclops and the others. Instead he let out a torrent of insults so fast that nothing could audibly come out of his mouth, and dashed off just to get away from the visor wearing fucker.

He just wanted one night, ONE FUCKING NIGHT, where he didn’t have to be Quicksilver. Where he could just be Pietro, go out and enjoy himself for once. He could not even finish a fucking beer before everyone had to go calling and begging for him to come help. Like every single X-Men were a bunch of toddlers and he had to go actually be a fucking grown up to show them how its done. The best part is when he tried to do what he felt was right, he got chastised, chewed out. Did they think he even joined them because he fucking felt like it?! Pietro was sick, sick of the way he was treated, sick with worry about his sister where ever she was, most of all just fucking sick of everything!

It took a bit of time but finally Pietro found himself out in a beach alone. He didn’t know where exactly and he didn’t care. His top pulled off as Pietro just laid back on the sandy shore just looking out at the quiet ocean ahead of him. A six pack of beer rested beside him. He almost ran off with it from the small corner store but before he could somehow make everything more worse. He just threw money on the counter as he darted past. Was it enough? Did the guy even notice? Pietro had long since not given a fuck about any of that.

Cranking open a beer Pietro mindlessly chugged down, keeping himself upright with one hand firmly planted into the firm but still soft sand. He couldn’t think straight with his conflicted feelings of confusion, rage, mild sadness, and an overall clueless thought about what to do next. He’d rather die at this point than go back to the mansion and get a lecture from the boy scout pain in the ass Cyclops. What the Hell did Xavier see in that asshole anyways? Another swig, another feeling that trying to decide anything at that point was fucking useless.

Pietro started to realize that someone was nearby as he finished the beer. Only he couldn’t be arsed to do anything besides belch and toss the empty beer bottle aside. “Look at you... it’s all just so... pathetic...” Quickly Pietro recognized the voice. His eyes shot wide open as he turned. The white dress of the woman held sway over her dark blue skin and red hair. Her lips perched in a smirk as Pietro gritted his teeth.

“Easy. The rest of the Brotherhood are still in Boston. Its just me.” Mystique calmly assured Pietro who didn’t buy it. Though he didn’t have any idea how she found him, or why they would go after him. Still Pietro’s eyes impatiently darted around the beach waiting for the first sign of a set up. Nothing though was coming, and Mystique clearly knew he was waiting for something that wasn’t coming.

Quietly she took a seat next to Pietro, who slid over away from her. “It must be so terrible...” Mystique started, glancing out to the same ocean Pietro was before. “You, one of the great heroes of the Latverian struggle. Reduced to the physical and emotional whipping boy of the X-Men.” Mystique gently placed a hand onto Pietro’s thigh. Its calming effect started to break through his differences. Still Pietro was trying to figure out what game she was playing.

“You know, its funny... To see someone finally realize the entire hypocrisy of Xavier’s little dream. Peace doesn’t come from holding hands, asking nicely for people to stop being mean, all that hippie crap.” Mystique scoffed at the last bits. Pietro had a hard time disagreeing with that idea. “Mutants and people will never co-exist, people of different colors for thousands of years couldn’t co-exist. No matter how much the X-Men refuse to see it.”

“Trust me, they don’t see a lot of things.” Pietro noted as he opened another beer, this time though opening a third which he passed to Mystique. “Hell, they had me go stop some asshole who was going to put Nightcrawler and Firestar into some mutant cure shit. Cyclops was too busy chewing me out while they let the guy get away!” The last Quicksilver saw of Herbert Landon the guy was slowly getting away. Since he was sure Cyclops was too busy having his head up his own ass he probably never noticed and let the guy get away.

“Hmm, frankly, you’re too good for them, and I think we’re all smart enough to see it.” Mystique noted, glancing over at Pietro. Looking him up and down and humming to herself in thought. “You know, maybe you need something new.” Getting up Mystique gently grasped Pietro’s arm. “I have an idea...”

Driving Pietro away, who mostly spent the night drive trying to find out where he was going before just taking a nap after giving up. He knew taking a ride from the leader of the Brotherhood had all the set up for something terrible. Though the shape shifter kept herself looking different from her blue hued normal appearances. Pietro couldn’t be bothered to put the top of his X-Men uniform on. Laying in the back of the car shirt less and probably looking as miserable as he felt.

When the car finally came to a stop Pietro opened his eyes to them having pulled up to a very unusual place, a small barber shop. Mystique led him inside where she greeted the barber and told him what to do as Pietro started to wonder again what the plan was. At this rate though he kind of enjoyed not knowing what was happening. Still the barber gave him a haircut that felt like all his anger falling away. His chin length hair getting trimmed down short, like he used to have it as a child. Treated so the brown hair dye he had been using for some time was coming off. Revealing his striking white hair under years of being hidden away under chemicals.

“Hmm, now this...” Mystique said as she leaned in while Pietro got a first good look at himself after the haircut. He had to admit he rather enjoyed the look. “This is someone who could use a fresh start. Someone who could have people listen to him and not the other way around. Do you know what I see looking in this mirror?” She leaned in close to Pietro’s ear.

“A true leader.”

Pietro started to grin at the idea, he liked the idea of people listening to him instead of having to take crap from others. The thoughts danced merrily in his mind until he started to see something else in the mirror. Something he hadn’t seen in a long time but hoped to never see again. It wasn’t something physically in the room, but it was the thing his mind created while Pietro looked in the mirror.

It was Erik Lansherr, looking back, grinning.

Nothing. Her attack had done absolutely nothing.

America Chavez jaw metaphorically dropped as she stared in awe, her eyes fixated on Hyperion who simple shrugged off her hit as if it had been nothing. Sure the blow had caused him to stumble slightly, mostly due to the fact that she had taken him by surprise, yet in a mere second he had recovered. Then, he proceeded to mock her. His comments, while that of a positive nature were patronising. He knew he was stronger than she was. He knew that her attack hadn’t matter.

Deciding to make use of the opportunity presented by him talking, she swung her fist once more. Yet despite her moving at superhuman speeds, she found her arm caught by Hyperion. His firm hold on her kept her in place. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t act. All she could do was watch him as he smile, his eyes bulging with adrenaline. America didn’t know what it was, but to her it seemed like Hyperion was enjoying this.

Before she could take any more of a beating, Hyperion turned back towards Ant-Man, pulling America with him as he prepared to catapult her through the air. However no such action occurred. Instead America found herself saved; saved by a giant fist hitting Hyperion square in the back. The blow caused the two to tumble, with Hyperion losing his grip. Realising that she didn’t have long to act, she landed firmly on her hands and knees, before propelling herself back upwards into the air.

She moved fast, appearing as a streak of red, white, and blue to the rest of the room’s inhabitants, circling the fight from above. It would seem that Ant-Man had, as his very appalling pun explained, had turned into some sort of Giant-Man. America was impressed, raw strength was definitely needed against someone like Hyperion. Yet that wasn’t the only thing. She thought back to a few days ago, during her confrontation with the Hulk. The thought of the battle still pained her; so much catastrophic damage had spiralled from that fist-fight. She moved her mind past that and focused on the facts. In the end, hitting the Hulk didn’t help in the slightest. The only way they ended up “winning” was because of the interference from the Norse God Loki. Now, unless today was America’s lucky day, she didn’t see that same interference happening twice. No, blunt force wasn’t what they needed here. They needed to be smart. Find his weakness. Find his weak spots.

She decided to convey this to her newfound partner.

“Ant… Giant Man!” She slowed near him as she spoke. “Any idea on how we take him down? I’m pretty sure that if a punch from me won’t do it, then a regular beat down won’t be enough for this chico”

Archangel flew through the sky looking for a specific landmark in the upstate New York woods. After he was a good length into the forests he touched down and looked for something now on foot. He finally came upon a hidden bunker that looked like it hadn't been opened in years. After becoming a student at Xavier's Institute and seeing what was called the 'Danger Room' as a teenager, Warren used his wealth to build a smaller version for personal use. He'd only used it a total of three or four times before deciding to keep his head down until after he took control of the company. Plants and vines were grown up all over the latch, luckily Warren had a sword with fire emitting from it. A button in the handle conserved power and it returned to a normal broadsword looking blade. He sliced through the shrubbery and entered through the latch punching in a number code to get through a secondary door which lead to a ladder that went probably twenty meters underground. It dropped into the center of a dome like room roughly the size of a middle school football field and about seventy-five meters high. Warren didn't have to worry about anybody else getting to the ladder.

"It only took me twenty minutes to get here at my top speed. Should think about giving myself an actual headquarters, maybe build another wing..." he began to think to himself before cracking a smile.

"LET'S GET THIS SHOW ON THE ROAD!" Warren yelled activating the Angel Room's voice controls, "Three enemies, two capable of flight, Central Park setting."

Configuring settings... said a voice over the com link.

Central Park had been created to near perfection. Archangel wondered what sort of old files the system would dig from to create the enemies. Three holo-droids came up from a port in the ground, two turned into red and black Sentinel like robots standing roughly fifteen feet tall. Both could fly. The holo-droid on the ground turned into a Bruce Willis looking soldier with a machine gun. It was about to get real.

Warren flew through the air facing the pair of robot attackers and dodging the bullets from below. He pushed the button to ignite the flames on the sword. When one of the robots got in close enough Archangel flew lower into the trees and slices at one of the arms of the robot nearly taking it clean of with the one strike. Propelling backwards after landing the strike with the fiery sword, he stabbed through the other robot and rode it's husk down to the ground where the soldier had run out of ammo. Warren flew up in a large gust of wind pushed from his wings and knocked the soldier down and put the sword to his neck.

"I think I won this round. We need to update the files. And I need to add on to this underground structure..." he said out loud, "Now... I need to get back to the office and read up on this Doctor Johnathan Sweet..."

~KL~

The patrons of the Bar with No Name held their breath as Fred Myers’ boomerang whizzed through the air towards Mirage. That was until the gleaming white projectile shot right pass the yellow clad “supervillain” entirely, resulting in an eruption of laughter from pretty much everyone. Including some of Fred’s own crew, with James, AKA Speed Demon, giving him a thumbs up and nodding in a very mockingly manner.

All Fred could do was shake his head disappointingly. When would people learn?

As if to prove his point, Mirage was struck from behind, the boomerang knocking the has-been to his knees. At once, Fred charged forwards, swinging his leg around as he approached his target and launching his foot as hard as he could into the guy’s stomach. It was this action that erupted the bar into chaos. The monstrous Hippo roared loudly after watching his partner Desmond take such a beating, as well as swinging his arm once more towards Speed Demon. This time the walking mammal managed to hit him, with the speedster having been distracted by Fred. The blow from Hippo sent him flying across the room, causing him to crash straight through a table of tough looking thugs. Obviously they weren’t too happy, with their drinks smashing all over the now broken table, as well as themselves. The group rose to their feet in anger, attempting to make a grab for Speed Demon.

While this had been going on, the rest of Hippo’s gang had started to make their move. It was only now that Fred could get a good look at them, and boy was he disappointed. First came Leap-Frog. Yes, that’s right. A supervillain actually named Leap-Frog. Sure, Boomerang wasn’t all that great a name, but at least he didn’t run around wearing a frog costume. His mask was currently off, revealing the face of a slightly chubby and balding Latino man who was probably in his late 40s. His name was Vincent, if Fred could remember correctly. Not like it would matter in a few minutes when Fred had kicked his ass. The next and final member was a man Fred could only assume was the Big Wheel, evident by the stupid helmet he was wearing. The guy had gone on a crime spree in some kind of ferris-wheel car, only for Spider-Man to send the thing toppling into the Hudson River. Fred was honestly surprised to see him, although thinking about it, who else would be stupid enough to team up with Mirage and Leap-Frog.

The two charged towards them, evidently looking for blood. Before they could get near however they were hit by a wall of water. The wave knocked them to the floor, taking out a few more tables of now pissed-off criminals in the process. As the two slid about on the floor, they were surprised to find the water drawing back and erupting into the shape of a giant fist. Big Wheel’s scream faded abruptly as the watery fist engulphed him, his suit sparking slightly after contacting the surge of water. It was then that the water seemed to shift once more, taking the form of Fred’s “friend” Morris Bench, AKA Hydro-Man. The watery man gave Fred a smile, and was about to speak before a glass came flying towards him. It shattered across his back, causing him to fall forward in pain. The criminal whom had frown it charged after it, leaping at Morris, only to find himself submerged in the man’s liquid body.

Leap-Frog had managed to avoid Morris’ hit, with him instead propelling himself towards the spot where Fred was stood, his mechanical boots churning as he did so. Luckily Fred was ready for him. He rolled out of the way to the left onto the floor, narrowly avoiding the attack.

Moving frantically across the floor, he made a grab for his boomerang which had landed a metre or two away from where it had struck Mirage. Unfortunately it was the only weapon Fred had on him right now, given that the rest of his equipment, as well as his costume, was back at his apartment. The same could be said for Herman Schultz, AKA Shocker, who was currently punching his way towards Speed Demon, whom was speedily trying to deal with the men he had crashed into. Fred had assumed that the Shocker would be useless without his gear, and luckily that wasn’t the case. It would seem that his last encounter with Spider-Man had hardened the man even more than Fred had expected.

Now wasn’t the time to think about that however, as Leap-Frog was soon upon Fred once more. He towered above Boomerang, stomping his “Frog Boots” towards him. The mechanized boots thudded loudly against the floor every time he missed, displaying to Fred exactly what they were capable of. He really didn’t want to get hit by one of those bad boys. Boomerang in hand, he swung forward, slicing Leap-Frog’s leg. The blade cut deep, causing Frogman to wail loudly in agony. As he began to fall forward, Boomerang grabbed an empty glass from a table above him and smashed it wildly into Leap-Frog’s head.

The lack of movement told Fred that Leap-Frog was down for the count, giving him the opportunity to get himself onto his feet. From here he glance up at the brawl unfolding before him. At the centre of the fight was Hippo; roaring loudly as per usual and dealing some heavy damage to all that neared him. He wasn’t the only one however that seemed to be doing well; Hydro-Man had risen high above his opponents, the lower half of his body currently made up of a tower of water. He swung his arms about below him, converting his fists into balls of condensed water as they hit people. To his right was Speed Demon, who whizzed about from thug to thug in a blur. His punches were fast, causing his combatants to not even be able to land a single blow on him. All the while he laughed manically, mocking his targets. Finally there was Shocker, who again seemed to be doing surprising well despite lacking his quilted costume and equipment. He tore through criminal after criminal, his fists now dripping slightly in bloody.

Fred was extremely impressed. Who knew his little crew could be this useful?

A sound from his right caught his attention however. It would seem that Desmond had finally stated to stir after Fred had hit him several minutes ago.

“You’re… you’re an asshole Boomerang…”

The man’s eyes widened as Fred leant down towards him, with Mirage catching sight of the bloody boomerang that Fred currently had twirling between his fingers. The look on his face was enough to cause Fred to chuckle slightly. He moved his arm back slightly, preparing to throw it. This in turn simply caused Mirage to squeal slightly in fear. However instead of throwing it, Fred slowed his arm as he brought it forward, simply tapping the boomerang against Mirage’s forehead through the hole he had on his mask.

“Mate, you just keep that thought in mind when you watch me slice through the ligaments in the knee of your friend Hippo ova’ there. Okay?”

As Mirage continued to whimper, Boomerang rose back to his feet. His eyes locked onto Hippo ahead of him, who was still working his muscular magic in the centre of the bar fight. Smiling, he gave his Boomerang one last twirl in his hand, before charging forward into the fray.

Loki took a deep breath as he sat on the sofa of his hotel room, watching TV while trying to calm himself down from the seething anger that boiled in his veins. While he had accounted for Ross to refuse his offer the sheer arrogance and zealotry that the human solder had displayed had reminded Loki far to much of some of his former peers from back in the day; Those that had always thought the worst of him and made damn sure he knew how much they hated him and everything that he stood for. They had paid in the end and Ross would be no exception, even if it might take a while for all the pieces to be in place to set things in motion.

The show in question was actually a program dedicated telling the story of various creations of the industrial era told in a story alongside the writings and events of those involved. Very few people knew it, but Loki couldn't help but admire the industrial era; It was a age of great chaos were the winds of fortune both foul and fair could catch the sails of anyone brave enough to step up and try to chase their visions for the world around them. The fact that it was on the tail end of the industrial era that he had been released and saved from his torment only added to his fondness for the age and he couldn't help but lament the fact that he had missed out on being there. How thought provoking it would have been to have walked the streets of London beside John Snow and discussing the merits of his theories on water born contagions... alas it was not to be.

When the call come in, Loki sighed as he answered the call from the newest version of Captain America. After letting the man say what he needed to say, Loki simply replied "I wasn't aware that there was a training exercise going on. I'll be there soon." before going back to watching his show once the call was over. There was only a minute or two left anyway and despite the fact that he could have been with the Captain that very second if he so desired that quip about the puff of green smoke made Loki decide that the training exercise could wait a minute or two. It was only after the credits of the show started to roll that Loki got up, dusted himself off, made himself invisible and then teleported towards his desired destination.
.......................................................

Those who were already at the training area and fighting would have had a hard time missing the loud bang and the flash of light that was the arrival of Loki, green smoke falling off his form to pool at his feet as he was already in a combat stance, looking around and trying to get a idea of what the situation was and who was fighting whom; The fact that he had appeared between the duo of the giant man and the teenage girl that had fought against the hulk and their currently unnamed opponent would no doubt make it a little bit harder to miss him. Interestingly, Loki had popped into existence facing the girl and the giant man, his back turned to the third party.

@Natty@Sep@Gowi@FacePunch

The beginning of any high schooler’s Senior year was a stressful time. While the ACT or SAT were out of the way, there were still college applications to fill out and submit, the stress about financial aid or if he or she would ever be accepted in the first place. Carol’s family was in this weird limbo: they were not wealthy enough to support both Carol and her younger brother at the same time, but they were not poor enough that they could rely entirely on government assistance. And even if they were, Joseph Danvers Sr. was too proud to ever consider the latter option. Even with the potential of the merit based scholarship that Carol could earn with both her grades and her standardized test scores, the plan was always to send her little brother to college.

Carol was fuming over her father’s decision. She was the obvious choice to send to college. It probably would cost less for her to go to college than her brother, especially with any scholarships that she might earn. But Carol would not allow her father to dampen her dreams of college and reaching the stars. If her father was not going to support her, Carol was determined to find some other way.

Periodically, the United States military would show up at high schoolers nationwide in order to promote the enlistment of the young, bright minds of the current generation. By offering means of covering the costs of a collegiate education, the military might seem like the only other option for those who are not fortunate enough to be able to afford college on their own or with the help of their parents. One school day, the Air Force visited Carol’s school. Since she knew that the first ‘a’ in NASA stood for Aeronautics, Carol hoped that the Air Force might give her an edge in pursing her dreams about space. Plus, what could be better for being rebellious against a girl’s father than to sign up for the military, especially a father with an outdated view of what a woman’s role in the household.

After Carol took a handful of information pamphlets from the Air Force table, she began walking away towards her next class when suddenly a blond haired man in a dark suit approached her. Any sane person would at first have wondered how anyone at the front desk of the school could have let someone like this man into the school. However, the man visibly had a ‘visitor’ pass clipped to his sports jacket. In his hands he held a couple more flyers and pamphlets for the Air Force.

“Ma’am, I believe you dropped these.” The blond haired man politely commented as he handed the pieces of paper to Carol.

“Thanks. They must have fell without me noticing.” Carol responded as she looked at the mess that she was already carrying. It was entirely plausible that some of the papers had fell from her hands.

However, almost as soon as he had appeared, the mysterious man began walking towards the entrance to the school, no doubt intending to hand in the “visitor” badge and leave. This encounter did not even cross Carol’s mind until she got home and began looking through all the different handouts and flyers that she had received from the Air Force table. However, in that stack of paper, Carol discovered a small business card that the abbreviation S.W.O.R.D. printed on it, while the reverse side had a telephone number printed on it and the word ‘Damocles’ written in blue ink just below the list of ten numbers.

For a moment, Carol sat on her bed, staring at the card. She wondered whether that man slipped the card in with sheets of paper that he had picked up when he handed them back to her. Then, against her better judgement, Carol decided to try to call the number. What was the worst that could happen other than the FBI or CIA bursting into her house? Wasn’t like weirder things haven’t already happened to her.

After listening to some elevator music as she waited for her call to be answered, Carol suddenly heard a voice on the other side of the line. Her heart was beating since there was not going back if Carol said anything.

“Thank you for calling the United States Space Command? How may I help you?” The woman greeted Carol with a cheerful voice, something that one would not expect to hear from any type of customer service, let alone one attached to the government. However, Carol sensed that something was fishy about this. Didn’t USSPACECOM merge together with the United States Strategic Command almost a decade ago?

“Um…” Carol hesitated, not entirely sure that she should be doing this, “My name is Carol Danvers and today at school I received this business card that has the abbreviation S.W.O.R.D. written on it. Your number was also printed on the back. I just wanted to know what this all was about.”

There was a short pause as Carol could hear the person on the other side of the line shuffling through some papers and the clicks of the computer keyboard as she typed.

“And what is your password?” The woman then asked, almost as if she expected Carol to know what she was talking about.

“Password?”

“Yes, what is your password?” The woman repeated.

“Um…” Carol stalled as she looked at the card. She was at loss for what the woman wanted. What password? Since the handwritten word on the back of the card was the only thing she had to go on, she decided to try it. “Damacles?”

“Thank you for your verification, Ms. Danvers. Do you have a pen and paper at hand so that you can write down our
address?”

The first day of school. Honestly, besides maybe (and that is a big maybe) half-days, this was the easiest day of the school year. You would first go to a designated classroom, which were divided up by last name, so that you could get your class schedule and your locker combination. Then you would sit through short, 20-30 minute introductions to each class that were presented by that class’ teacher. By the end of each class period, each student would have a syllabus, a textbook, and an expectation on how the class would turn out. And then, everyone went home for the day, until the next day, when real first day of classes began.

Peter fiddled with the his locker padlock. Yet another number that he was going to have to devote to memory. He opened up the locker door and began swapping his books between his backpack and the locker. Things would be interesting this semester, academically speaking, since he was taking two AP courses. Last school year, he only had AP European history plus a handful of honors classes. So far, Peter had found a pretty good balance between school time and ‘Spidey’ time so that his GPA did not suffer very much. He hoped that adding one additional AP class would not be too much of a difficulty spike.

“Hey, Pete. How did the first day of class treat you?” Harry Osborn asked Peter, poking him in the rips with his elbow. Even though their families were almost as far apart as they could have been in respect to their financial situation, Peter and Harry had been best friends for almost as long as any of them could remember. His father, Norman Osborn, was an important man of business and science. Did he undertake in some shady business? Of course. Peter even had to stop some of Norman’s schemes every now and again whenever they went out of hand. But he was still Harry’s father. Plus, he wasn’t like the other animal-themed villains that Peter seem to keep running into. He cannot just punch his way to victory over Norman.

“It was fine.” Peter responded, shrugging his shoulders.

“Fine?” Harry almost mockingly exaggerated the concern in his voice, “School just being ‘fine’ to Peter Parker, Midtown High’s boy genius? Do we need to make a quick stop at the nurse’s office before going home?” If Peter did not know better, he could have mistaken that last comment as Harry’s expression of frustration about how his dad would hound him because Harry was an underachiever at school. If it was not for Peter’s help, Harry might not have made it through the honors courses that his dad forced him to take. Peter would not have been surprised if Norman wished that his son was more like Peter.

“Well, you know, it’s not the same without…” Peter trailed off from his train of thought. However, without even finishing his sentence, Harry knew what he meant. Losing someone close to you can take a great toll on anyone. First Uncle Ben, then it was Gwen, Peter’s love of his life. Somethings are just harder to let go of.

“I know, Pete. But I’m sure that Gwen wouldn’t want you to feel miserable for the rest of your life. She would want you to be happy.”

“Yeah, but sometimes it's hard to break old habits.”

After Peter had grabbed the books he needed to take home, Peter and Harry began to head out. On their way out, they saw a wall flyer that was advertising the Fall Formal.

“They’re already promoting that dance? I thought that it was at least a month away?” Harry asked aloud.

“They’re doing a Christmas on us by advertising that dance earlier and earlier each school year.” Peter joked with Harry. After briefly discussing how things just felt strange without Gwen around, they needed something to lighten up the mood.

“Oh, that reminds me, how did that blind date that your aunt set you up on? You didn’t suffer too much, I hope.” Harry changed the subject when the Fall Formal somehow made him remember the Peter’s blind date with Mary Jane.

“Actually, exponentially better than I expected. I definitely underestimated Aunt May’s ability to pick out potential dates. Not that I really want her to arrange my marriage, but at least things didn’t go as badly as I thought they would.”

“And you were leaving me in the dark this whole time? Spill the beans, Pete!” Harry desperately begged his friend.

“I’ll text you the details. Don’t fret, Harry. But I gotta run. If I’m late getting to the Bugle, Jolly Jameson might have a cow.”

SHIELD Agent Victoria Parrington had been looking up files on General Ross before Agent Maria Hill interrupted her to remind the Valkyrie that she was late for her training session with the newly put together Avengers team by her friend and comrade Captain America. “Hm…” Victoria contemplated Ross’s hidden agenda. It seemed his grudge against Banner was due to his daughter’s involvement with the scientist. She could appreciate why he was the way he was over The Hulk. But Bruce and Hulk were two different entities. Just as she was. She was one in the same with Sigyn, the Norse Goddess of Fidelity. Little by little her past life memories slowly filtered through. Ross had to understand that Banner could not control the Hulk.

Victoria turned to Maria upon entering her corner section desk area that she used as a dedicated workspace before she became the Valkyrie. Back when she was your normal run of the mill SHIELD agent without any special super powers. Ah…the good old days when things were not so complicated. Now, she had Ross lording it over her in attempts at using her as a type of “Hulkbuster”; a renegade Asgardian back from her old life running about, her past life husband trying to make a new life for himself and to make amends…sort of. She would give anything for a normal life but fate dealt her another cruel hand. Perhaps this time she would find some happiness before the next Ragnarok.

Maria peered over Victoria’s shoulder to view the monitor. “Why are you so interested in Ross?” She inquired of her recovered comrade. Agent Parrington rose from her seat, adorning the usual black catsuit like leather SHIELD uniform the women wore. It accented their feminine curves rather well. Victoria was a natural Asgardian beauty with eyes as bright as the stars themselves.

“I merely want to understand his obsession with Banner. Misunderstandings are often the root cause of these more recent skirmishes. Take Tarene and Loki for instance...” Valkyrie replied with a somewhat heavy heart. Her soul reached out for the poor misunderstood Tarene. Someone she had much in common with – losing her home, family and everything to Loki. Ross blamed Banner for everything. Ross blamed her for allowing The Hulk to get away. As if she had any chance of stopping the green tank. She wasn’t about to argue with someone who could squash her like an Ant-(wo)man.

Maria nodded. “I came to tell you that Wilson is expecting you in the training room.” Victoria had gotten used to Sam’s beckoned call. And most of the time she answered. Because she looked up to him, she respected him. He taught her how to handle her new found wings. Something that was now, very precious to her. Victoria had let the time run away with her as she noted the clock reading on her computer screen. “…Truth be told…I was going to hand in my resignation earlier but……” She trailed off thinking back to the Enchantress’s proposal. Something seemed off about the very idea. She half wondered if Amora would continue to harass her until she conceded.

Maria was taken aback then. “But why? You’re the senior agent on the Avengers team. Cap’s relying on your SHIELD discipline and loyalty.”
Valkyrie shook her head. “I saw the other enlisted team members; he doesn’t need me.”

“If you saw who they were going up against right now…you’d change your mind…” Maria brought up the camera feed to the training room. Victoria frowned slightly. “Hyperion.” Or Agent Milton. Someone she knew within SHIELD. She hadn't the pleasure of working with him directly before.
After watching the beatings Hyperion dished out, a faint smirk appeared on the corners of Valkyrie’s mouth. She could not escape the thrill she felt when using her Asgardian might. Even when “rescuing” the Hulk, when going up against giant serpents and Amora. Although terrible and drastic such events as they were, she could forget about her personal struggles for just a little while. Perhaps going a few rounds with the superhuman, ne-high invincible alien would provide her an escape from Amora and Ross.

“Alright. Let’s do this.” Agent Parrington gave Agent Hill a mischievous smirk. She then exited the offices and made her way swiftly to the training room.

There she entered just as the green smoke dissipated to reveal Loki. She could have let the sight of him enrage her. But he was not the enemy. Not today. Instead she flashed him a playful grin as she walked into the room with an air of grace about her. Her SHIELD uniform glowed with a white aura and transformed into the full glimmer of Asgardian golden armour around her arms, chest and legs and her trusty sword Dragonfang in one hand and her tall heater shield in the other. Complete with winged circlet across her forehead.

“Two Asgardians walk into a bar…...” She walked to under near Chavez and acknowledged her with a nod. “With a time travelling superwoman and a gi-ant.” She readied herself in a defensive stance, bringing her shield up in front of her body. “Needless to say, the bar did not survive…” She flicked her long wavy brunette hair over her shoulder and pointed Dragonfang toward the power house that was Hyperion.

“You may be a God among men, my friend. But I was a Goddess once. And I know how easily Gods can fall.” She looked over to Loki, Hank and America in turn. They needed to work as a team, if they were to win this. “Never go for the obvious kill.” She reminded her team mates.

Her eyes looked Agent Milton up and down with a glint of rapture behind her eyes. She was going to enjoy this challenge. A pattern began to emerge here - she could not get away from men who wanted to hurt her. Perhaps there was still one out there who would not want to.

“Together.” She let her beautiful white feathered wings sprout forth from her back and her body lifted off the ground as she propelled herself toward the invulnerable target. A whirlwind vortex emerged from her wake. She relied on Loki's element of surprise in the heat of battle, he was the only one of the team she had directly witnessed in action thus far, she could at least read his movements.

Rain drops splattered against the glass windows on the triangular roof of warehouse that was located within the turf controlled by Silvermane. A figure, shrouded by both the darkness of the night and the torrents of rain, climbed up the side of the building and sneaked up to these windows. This thief placed a device that almost seemed like a mathematical compass. After turning the knob on the device until there was a click, the robber pulled off the equipment off the window, resulting in a cleanly cut hole that could allow a single person to comfortably fit through it. Once a line of rope was firmly attached to the roof, the masked figure descended into the dark warehouse.

Crates filled the room. It was no secret that SIlvermane was not getting any younger as each day passed. Therefore, the leader of one of the Maggia crime families had used his ill-gotten fortune to find some means of extending his life, if not even to make him immortal. Herbert Landon’s research was one attempt to achieve this ever-youthfulness. However, due to the intervention of Spider-Man and the X-Men, along with Landon’s ulterior against mutants, this opportunity dried up before Silvermane could reap any rewards from it. However, this Maggia crime lord was not stupid enough to keep all his eggs in one basket. This warehouse, along with others spaced out within his criminal territory, housed other possible alternatives.

After carefully searching the room for a few minutes, the figure finally found the crate that he, or she, was looking for. Taking a crowbar, the thief pulled open the top off the wooden crate, which created an echoing crackle. However, since there were not any personnel around at this time of night, no one could hear the noise. Even if someone did hear what the robber was doing, that guard would have arrived too late in that room to do any good.

From the bottom of the crate, the figure pulled out an orange and yellow, egg-shaped gem that almost fit perfectly in the palm of the thief’s hand. After stashing the valuable item inside a small, protective bag, the thief returned to the robe which was used to safely land on the floor of the warehouse. Once the robber was back on the roof of the building, this individual pulled out a small handheld communication device.

“Professor, I have retrieved the stone.” The thief spoke into the device with a feminine voice, “I will return to base as soon as possible.”

---

In a Hospital Elsewhere

Herbert Landon laid in his hospital bed. Half of his body, which was mutated by the chemical that he had designed to destroy mutants, was covered with bandages. Due to the experimental nature of these chemicals, the doctors were at lost for how they could help this man of business and science. All they could do was ease the pain and allow his ‘injured’ side to heal.

However, his body was not the only part of Landon that was hurting. His ego was, too. After his accident and the incident involving it, Roxxon, in an attempt to distance themselves from this mess, discontinued Landon’s research and fired him. His credentials as both a scientist and a businessman were ruined in one fell swoop. Scarred beyond repair, Landon had lost all of his dreams in a single day.

Landon heard the click of his hospital room’s door. Peering over, he saw a man wearing a white, doctor’s coat, who had messy brown hair and a mustache.

“I thought you doctors did not have any clue on how to cure.” Landon, as he rolled over away from the man, chided the him, assuming that he was just another doctor who was attempting to help him.

“I’m not that type of doctor.” The man responded to the injured and mutated man. “I have a proposition for you, Mr. Landon.”

“And who are you?”

“My name is Doctor Miles Warren. Specialty, genetics. I have formed a little, well, social circle of like-minded scientists and bright minds.” Miles Warren pulled out a small business card that had ‘Intelligencia’ printed on its front, flashed the card in front of Landon, and then placed it on the side table next to Landon’s bed. “It’s a little group where we collaboration with one another so that we can reach achievements that none of us could have ever imagined doing alone.”

Miles Warren then turned to leave. However, before he exited the hospital room, he turned back towards Landon to get one last word in. “Why don’t you consider this offer while you get better. Then, once you’re out of here, just let me know if you’re in.”

“I can’t believe Deke kicked us out!” Fred Myers complained aloud as he stumbled along the New York street. Behind him the rest of his motley “crew” followed, all of which looked worse for wear. That wasn’t all too surprising considering the brawl that they had just walked away from after all. That the excessive amount of alcohol they had just finished drinking. This was apart from Speed Demon however, who continued forward with a smile on a face a recently stolen hot dog in his hand.

Fred was about to monologue further about the hardships of this evening when Herman spoke up.

“I can’t believe that we actually won that fight!” He gave a short cheer as he spoke, although it was short-lived due to him wincing in pain from his badly swollen lips.

“I can’t believe that no one’s vomited yet” James stated, his eyes flickering intensely between them.

All in all, Herman did have a good point. It had been a good fight, and of course the best team came out victorious. After Fred had introduced the sharp end of his trusty boomerang to the back of Hippo’s knees, the big guy had fallen fast. After that, the rest of the losers in that place had gone done easy. It would seem that Big Wheel wasn’t all that useful without that giant ferris wheel car of his. Although truth be told, he was never really useful with it either. The rest of the bar’s drunken patrons followed suit, leaving the floor in a mess of blood, booze, bodies and broken bar stools. So obviously Deke, the barkeep, wasn’t all too happy.

Despite its abrupt end due to them getting kicked out, it had honestly been a good night. The thought of it caused a grin to spread across Fred’s drunken face.

“What the…_hic are you smiling at?” Morris inquired, his speech beginning to slur slightly.

At that Fred began to stop, deciding to enlighten them all on his thoughts. He turned on the spot and faced them, his grin widening.

“Well mate, I just realized that maybe you guys really do have what it takes to complete this heist after all!”

At the word heist everyone simultaneously groaned.

“What the hell is it with you and this heist?!”

“We just want to…_hic h-have a nice night,”

“What the hell does the Owl have that’s worth stealing anyway?”

Fred rolled his eyes at the all the questions that his peers threw at him. The ungrateful bastards! After everything he’d done for them? He was about to just scoff and leave it for another time, when that final question met his ears. What did the Owl have? The mere thought of it made Fred smirk. And the mere thought of what they’d make of it made Fred laugh aloud slightly. After a couple more blank looks and complaints, he decided to tell them, like the loyal boss he was.

“Boys, I happen to know that ol’ Owly happens to own a painting.”

“A painting?” Herman laughed loudly. “Why the fuc-“

“A painting of Doctor Doom himself.” Fred continued, cutting him off. “Without his mask.”

Silence filled the New York street as the words left his mouth. The three of them stared at their leader in shock, their eyes and mouths widening.

“So what do you say, mates?” Fred followed up, gesturing at them encouragingly.

At that remark, Herman balled over, hands on his knees, vomiting loudly onto the street floor.

“Now there’s the vomit!” Speed Demon stated cheerfully as he raised his phone to take a picture.

An amused smile crossed Hyperion's face as Ant-Man managed to dodge under his optic blasts. Not an impossible feat, especially considering they were low-powered non-lethal attacks. Yet common men capable of such speed and agility were few and far between. The incident brought up fond memories of a particular gladiator Zhib-Ran had done battle with on the coliseums of Arie in the Shi'ar Galaxy. The youth had coped with the eye beams for a time; that is, before Hyperion crushed the boy's skull between his fingers. Ah, the good old days. The alien reminisced momentarily. Hyperion brought his attention back to the moment at hand and responded to Ant-Man's comment with as much snark as he could muster. "What can I say? I appreciate a challenge." It was then that Hyperion made the mistake of turning his back on his enemy. This mere mortal was far more powerful than he appeared. Zhib-Ran had mistakenly assumed Miss America to be the greater threat between the two of them. That hypothesis turned out to be incorrect as a fist the size of a grown man smashed into the alien's exposed back.

Hyperion lay sprawled across the cold training room floor for less than a moment. He sprung to his feet with an unexpected amount of acrobatic skill and agility, added by his natural ability of flight. The human's atrocious puns were teetering on infuriating, having lost their boyish charm quite awhile ago. Zhib-Ran allowed his opponents a brief moment of respite to recuperate and strategize. During that time, Zhib looked over the pair and examined their own weaknesses, putting his enhanced senses and X-ray vision to good use. The giant appeared to share many of the same weak points on a human being but were now larger and more durable. A single punch with sufficient force to the trachea and maybe a followup to the diaphragm would rob the brilliant scientist manchild of his oxygen. Chavez was a different story. Everything about her vitals were off. They were similar enough to fool most of this planet's primitive technology, but Hyperion acute vision and hearing allowed him to pick up on the subtle differences between her and other earthlings. That could be explained by her extra-dimensional origins. What Zhib-Ran was wondering was if certain nerve attacks would be more or less effective due to these biological differences.

There's only one way to find out. Milton supposed.

The hair on the back of the conqueror's neck stood on end as a loud bang and a flash of light announced a shift in the battle. There Loki, the Trickster God, stood facing away from him. If Loki were any other foe, Hyperion would've taken the opportunity to strike while his attention was averted. But a Norse God of tricks was not to be dealt with conventionally.

The final challenger approached from the training room's front entrance. Agent Parrington. The Valkyrie. She was paraded as one of SHIELD's most powerful agents. Zhib-Ran had familiarized himself with her exploits and abilities, but had yet to officially meet the woman. He had to admit, she looked taller in the video logs. The woman clothed herself in her golden Asgardian armor and gave the team a joke and a brief pep talk before leading the charge. This certainly makes things interesting.

Without any warning, Hyperion vanished from the Avengers' sight. He reappeared a milisecond later behind them, firing off a pair of supersonic beams of concussive energy from his eyes into Giant-Man's back. He followed up the attack with a speed blitz toward America; his end goal being to grab her and slam her against the far wall. Finally, Zhib-Ran placed his back against the wall and finished with a thunderclap, hoping to take out an invisible Loki. Afterwards, he would turn his attention to Valkyrie. The string of brutally efficient attacks hadn't accounted for her arrival and could be interrupted and potentially countered, should the Avengers prove to be better than Hyperion first thought. "I was wondering when you'd all get here! Now, I'd say this is a fair fight."

Midgardian beer was woefully weak ... at least, that was what Tarene had concluded. In truth, her body metabolised the alcohol far too quickly and nothing was strong enough to have even the faintest effect on her system. She ended up drinking double-whiskey as if it were tap water. Coulson had long since gone and she'd found herself in the company of some bikers who, with their gnarly beards and huge upper-arms, almost looked faintly like Asgardian's, even if the trick only worked when you squinted your eyes really small.

They were astounded by her ability to drink large volumes without any real effect and finally they asked for her story, those who were sober enough to hear it. It wouldn't matter what she told them anyway, they'd be too drunk to remember the following morning anyway.
Toward the end she was still trying to figure out her story ... she wasn't sure exactly. The beginning of her tale was always easy. Chosen from a young age, she set herself apart among the others in Asgard, rose through the ranks, fought alongside Sif and Thor and Fandral and Hogun and Volstag. She'd punched Loki in the face on more than one occasion and then there'd been Ragnarok ... thats where things went pear-shaped. She survived, sifting through the charred remnants of Asgard. Exploring Vanaheim, Muspleheim, Jotunheim, back to Asgard, Alfheim, back to Asgard again ... Then she'd wound up on Midgard, drawn to it somehow, and it was Mjolnir that had called her. Mjolnir had pulled her to the alien realm and whispered to her. "Lift me Tarene. Claim me and wield my power to crush those who seek to harm this realm and all others".
...

"Then suddenly a ghost from mine own past appeared ... the God of Lies, Loki, Son of Laufey of Jotunheim ... he claimed he was reformed, that he wouldst protect this realm ... but I've seen him destroy Asgard with mine own eyes, he tore the realm asunder ... he used the Bifrost to try destroy Jotunheim ... I wouldst not let him claim this realm and yet-". And yet it was the Midgardian's who claimed he was their champion and that she was their enemy.
"The blood of good men, innocent men, stains mine own hands but that is the way of war is it not? If a few thousand lives were all it took to save Asgard, wouldst I not have made that same choice again? Ist that not what the Odinson would have willed? To save Asgard- Sif and Volstagg, Hogun, Fandral, Odin, Thor- All of them."

Loki couldn't truly be reformed ... could he? What if Midgard was his? His kingdom? And it was the Midgardian's who had aided him in destroying Asgard? Suddenly her head ached, and it wasn't from the alcohol, not entirely, though it was finally kicking in, making her pleasantly tipsy.
"Thine beer is more like the piss of a Bilgesnipe, yellow and stinking" she complained, it was far easier to hate the Midgardian piss-beer than it was figuring out what Loki was now. Was he true or was this another one of his many, many lies and crimes?

Suddenly a pain shot through her, lancing through her chest like a bolt of lightning and it felt like it was tearing pieces away, ripping out important cells and scratching on her ribs as it clawed its way out. A caged animal ripping itself out of her. She shrieked and blacked out from the pain but for a brief moment, before she lost consciousness, she knew she'd lost something far more important that her senses.

She'd lost Mjolnir.

A beam of purple ionic energy whizzed past Hawkeye, barely missing the purple-clad archer since Hawkeye leapt out of the way. Even when he was able to get off an arrow after he returned to a kneeling position, the projectile seemed to do nothing to Simon Williams. No matter how many different things they tried, nothing harmed the man who was irradiated with ionic energy. He seemed as if he was indestructible.

“So, what’s the plan, Batman?” Hawkeye joked about how the Rider was a pastiche of the fictional caped crusader.

“We are on the verge of being exterminated by a man of pure ionic energy and you retort to jokes and buffoonery?”

“Hey, how else are we supposed to keep us from soiling ourselves?” Hawkeye pulled out another arrow and let it fly. As the arrow darted towards Simon Williams, it began emitting an ear-piercing scream that was directed in front of the projectile, a weapon designed for desperate crowd control. Although at first it seemed as if it did not affect the man composed of iconic energy, an astute eye could have seen that the ionic energy had begun to destabilizing.

“It’s called manning up.” The Rider retorted after he recovered from the ear ache that Hawkeye’s screeching arrow caused, even though the bulk of the sound had been siphoned away from the archer and those around him.

“Yeah, and what does that make her?” Hawkeye pointed to Mockingbird. The Rider just gave the purple-clad archer a glare after hearing this accusation of sexism. However, instead of making a counter-response, the black-caped crime fighter retrieved several spherical devices from his belt and smashed them against the ground, causing a cloud of smoke to rise up around him and the surrounding area.

“Not Batman my ass.” Hawkeye mumbled under his breath.

“You know, he probably heard that.” Mockingbird shook her head at her partner, hoping that he would not tick off the only help that they had at their disposal.

“Hey, it’s not my fault that there’s an uncanny resemblance!” Once the smokescreen had dispersed, Hawkeye and Mockingbird found themselves in a quite different situation. The ionic energy that gave Simon Williams his powers had now grown unstable. His body was twisting and turning in ways that no human body should have been. The sight was so bizarre and uncanny that Hawkeye, Mockingbird, and even the Rider could only stand where they were and watch.

“What’s happening to me?” Simon Williams shouted as he fell to his knees in pain. His body continue to twist and turn until his body seemed to have been torn asunder. Even after his body had separated, they could still hear the man’s screams of pain until the ionic energy, along with his body, had dispersed into the air.

“Okay, what the hell just happened?” Hawkeye asked aloud, not quite expecting an answer.