Morden Man

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

The Savage Land, Antarctica

Images flicked across a screen. Scenes from Metropolis flashed past, followed by footage of Captain America, Clint Barton, and Diana Prince fighting side-by side, still images of Gotham’s caped crusader at work, and Marville’s protector Thor at battle with the Silver Surfer at The Raft. A red and yellow blur tore through Central City leaving a wave of ne'er do wells in its wake. The inventor Tony Stark, encased in his iron suit, patrolled the skies above New York. The images came to a halt as the Fantastic Four appeared on screen. First Jonathan Storm in conversation with Spider-Woman, then with a click, Reed Richards, Sue Storm, and Ben Grimm nursing over him following the scenes at The Raft. With another click the screen turned black and the face of Kal-El appears on the dark screen. He inspects himself for a few moments. With his stubble shorn clean, he cut a more impressive figure than on first arrival on this Earth.

For the past two months, the Savage Land has been the Kryptonian’s home. He had stumbled upon the scientific marvel hidden away by a wall of impenetrable volcanoes – at least, impenetrable for those that lack the strength he possessed in abundance. There existed within the Savage Land’s domain all manner of life, from subspecies of humans long since extinct in the outer world, to prehistoric life forms that defied explanation, and, of course, dinosaurs. All existed in a concert of savagery that lent the kingdom its name. It was, as Kal-El understood, a kingdom in need of a king. And there was no one better equipped to lead it than himself.

There had been some resistance from its inhabitants. The savage Ka-Zar and the so-called “She-Devil” Shanna’s insurrection had proved stubbornly difficult to break. They knew their land better than Kal-El ever would. But the Kryptonian had not concerned himself with that. There were more pressing matters at hand – namely, finding and killing the Fantastic Four and returning to his own world. Every waking moment since he had established his fortress in the Savage Land had been dedicated to studying this world and its champions. To learning how best to bring them to heel should they stand against him. And now Kal-El was so close to launching his opening salvo that he could taste it.

“<My lord,>” Pierre Jardin’s voice called across the Fortress to the Kryptonian. “<It is as you expected. Ka-Zar and Shanna, they are here.>”

A wry smile appeared on Kal-El’s face. “They will pay for their hubris with their lives – as befalls all that stand against Darkseid’s will.”

The Frenchman nodded feebly in response to the comment. He had heard his master use the name Darkseid on a handful of occasions over the past three months. Each time with more reverence than the last. Pierre had learned quickly not to ask questions of his new master or to interrupt him – most of all, to never refer to him as Superman. Why Kal-El had kept him alive, he had no idea, but on some level he thought wherever the metahuman had been, he had deprived of company for a lifetime. A thousand lifetime’s perhaps. Now Jardin waited on Kal-El hand and foot. He acted his master’s emissary to those in the Savage Land with the sense to bend the knee to Kal-El of their own volition.

Ka-Zar and Shanna were not in their ranks. Try as Jardin might to reach them, it was clear that they were determined to fight for the Savage Land until the bitter end. Outside the black crystalline fortress that Kal-El had erected at the centre of the wild lands, Ka-Zar and his forces had assembled for what would almost certainly be their final stand. Kal-El walked towards one of the fortresses’ many windows and stared out at the Savage Land’s amassed forces. Dinosaurs taller than buildings waded through the trees with sabretooth tigers and mammoths striding at their side. Kal’s eyes narrowed as he spotted Ka-Zar beside his beloved tiger Sabu. He could have incinerated him there and then – but that would only have emboldened his followers. He needed to be along them, to break them with his bear hands.

“<I made contact with Sauron and his forces earlier this morning,>” Pierre said diligently. “<They are standing by if you need reinforcement.>”

“Reinforcement? Have I given you reason to think so little of my abilities, Pierre? I could end this charade just as easily as I could break your neck,” Kal grinned as his fingers wrapped tightly around Jardin's throat. ”I have allowed that fool Ka-Zar to continue because it suited my aims, but now that the preparations for what come next have been made, it no longer serves a purpose. And so it will end.”

Pierre’s face turned from red to blue to a dark purple. Only at the last moment did Kal let his servant free. The Frenchman fell gasping for air on the ground. He watched as the Kryptonian strode through the dark, shiny halls of the fortress, servants bowing as he went, to face down the army awaiting him. As Kal reached the double doors, they flew open and a gust of warm air came flooding in. He stood, alone, and glanced up at the hundreds, if not thousands, of flying dinosaurs and birds congregated above them. The ground shook with each pace the army stepped towards him. Yet the Kryptonian remained with arms folded and allowed the hostile force to draw nearer still.

A familiar horn blew from the army’s ranks and suddenly the black, winged clouds above the fortress came alive. They dove in unison towards the Kryptonian. Still Kal did not move. His feet were planted to the ground, eyes unblinking as the winged beasts dove towards him, completely unafraid of their approach. A pterodactyl was mere inches from his face when the Kryptonians limbs came to life. His hand clamped around its beak, breaching it into a thousand splinters, and with the other its head came clean off from its neck. A smile appeared on his blood-splattered face as he wound his arms back.

By the time the second horn had sounded, it was too late. Kal’s hands crashed together and the sheer force of the clap seemed to all but liquidate the flying beasts nearest to him. Others were sent careening out of the sky with burst eardrums. A ruthless, incisive blast of heatwave tore through their numbers as Ka-Zar and his ground troops raced to support their winged allies. The tigers arrived first, pouring into Kal-El one after another without an ounce of hesitation. He swatted them away with blows that sent jaws flying clean from their faces and caved in skulls.

Zabu stayed loyally by his master’s side as the Kryptonian tore his way through the other tigers. Ka-Zar placed a supportive hand on its back, Shanna by his side, as he prepared to address the outsider that had turned the Savage Land into a plaything. He too had once been an outsider to the Savage Land once, but where Ka-Zar had sought only to learn its way and become one with it, this outsider had brought death and destruction in his wake – and he meant to put an end to it whatever the cost. He cleared his throat, shouting in Kal’s direction as the dinosaurs began to reach him.

“You will learn, outsider, as all that have sought to conquer this land have been forced to learn, that the Savage Land answers to no king. It cannot be conquered or tamed. Man and beast will give their lives to protect it – and if we fail, long after we are gone others will come in our place to finish what we have begun.”

The words seemed to have next to no effect on the Kryptonian. He wrestled with a nearby Tyrannosaurus Rex, prying loose a tooth and sending it jutting through its eyeball, before knocking it clean off its feet with a punch. It went flying in the direction of Ka-Zar and Shanna. They leapt out of its path. Ka-Zar knelt and placed a gentle hand against the dinosaur’s head. Its breathing was weak and laboured, but it was still breathing. Zabu roared and stepped to approach Kal-El, but Ka-Zar quieted the beast with his other hand. He watched as the life slipped out of the dinosaur’s eyes and then patted it gently before rising to his feet.

“Come then,” Shanna nodded as she produced her spear. “If death is the only language you speak, the Savage Land will gladly meet you in it.”

Ka-Zar and Shanna shared a tender look and then raced towards the Kryptonian. The wildman thought he could feel his heart pounding in his chest but smiled as he realised it was Zabu’s footsteps sounding from beside him. A wave of roaring beasts from all manner of species clashed into Kal-El with a noise so loud it could have have levelled mountains. Shocks of heat wave and punches so fast they were nearly invisible passed through the horde. Blood turned the outsider’s black spires a stained brown. Yet Ka-Zar remained. His knife in hand and tiger at his side, he made his way towards the would-be conquerer undeterred.

The Kryptonian let the wildman stalk towards him. He saw the blade coming but kept his back to it. At the last second, Kal broke towards Shanna, placing her in Ka-Zar’s path. The wildman’s knife sunk into Shanna’s throat forcibly and Kal watched as his foe’s eyes widened with shock. He tried to tug his arm free, but the Kryptonian’s fingers were prised around his wrist. Shanna’s glugged desperately as she tried to reach for the bloody wound at her neck. She fell to the ground with a thud and Kal tossed Ka-Zar aside with a smirk.

A howl of grief left his mouth as he fought to his feet and charged towards the Kryptonian with his bloody knife. Ka-Zar’s howl was met by Zabu, who appeared from the crowd, and the tiger clamped his jaws around Kal’s forearm. Ka-Zar arrived in support half a second afterwards. His knife scraped helplessly against the Kryptonian’s chest and yet he plunged it downwards into him at every turn.

Kal-El's bloody hand clamped around Kazar's face tightly as his lips parted. “Do you understand now? You could never have beaten me. I am more than you, savage, so much more. You fight for survival, for love, for your land. I fight for Darkseid – the one true Darkseid.”

With a tug, the Kryptonian tugged his arm free from Zabu’s mouth. The tiger’s teeth shattered with the force of the move and Kal forced his hand down its throat. With another tug its innards were wrenched outwards. It fell lifeless at his feet and Ka-Zar roared again in pain as he stared down at his now lifeless companion. He struggled helplessly in the Kryptonian’s grasp, knife flailing wildly, as the tears fell from his eyes onto his cheeks. Kal’s smirk disappeared as two of the tears fell onto his face.

“Command them to stand down,” Kal-El said with a glance to what remained of the army. “Make them stand down and I will spare them.”

Through bitter tears, the bloodied Ka-Zar let out a defeated laugh. “You didn’t listen to a word I said, did you? I could no longer command them to stand down than I could command the wind to stop blowing or the rain to stop falling to Earth. The Savage Land accepts no masters.”

“So be it,” the Kryptonian murmured as he let his grip around Ka-Zar’s face loosen until the wildman slipped free from his grasp to the ground.

Kal’s eyes glowed a familiar blood red. Ka-Zar considered launching for a moment one last desperate volley of slashes, but instead tossed the blade aside. He stepped towards Zabu’s lifeless corpse and knelt beside it. One of his bloody hands brushed the beast's eyes closed and he pressed his forehead against the tiger’s with a solemn sigh. When he turned to face the Kryptonian, there was a look of acceptance in his eyes.

No scream left Ka-Zar’s mouth as the heat vision tore through him. He met his end with a determined silence. His skin turned black and ashen within a tenth of a second and the black dust that billowed to the ground was all that remained of the wildman. The Kryptonian stepped through it, preparing to face down another wave of Ka-Zar’s forces, but found that the beasts had stopped in their tracks. Perhaps from grief, perhaps from fear, they stood unmoving, each eyeing the space where once Ka-Zar had stood. Kal-El’s fists unballed and he lifted a closed fist high above his head. The beasts watched, confused, until the first of the tribesman took a knee. One by one the others followed. The dinosaurs bowed their heads in reverence and beasts rolled onto their back in submission.

Kal-El lowered his fist, wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand, and observed his new subjects with a smile. “Hail Darkseid.”

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

That's exactly what inspired me to put up the Iron Fist CS (Totally not that all my actual favorite street level heroes were taken... not at all... nervous laughter). Don't want to spoil anything, but if I make it to next season with Iron Fist still going strong, maybe you'll see a little more of his inspiration and story coming into play.

@webboysurf

Oh, really? That's interesting. I presumed because of the references to the Hatchets and the Tigers that you were inspired by the Netflix series more than anything else.

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

My favourite character growing up was far and away Wolverine, but I can't remember the last time I picked up a Wolverine comic. I'm not really sure that I'd say I had a favourite character anymore. I'd hate to say that I "grew out" of it, because that's not strictly true, I think I just stopped zeroing in on any particular corner of the Marvel universe.

As for what run I enjoyed the most. I'd have to say that Ed Brubaker's run(s) on Captain America, Iron Fist, or Daredevil are a real standout for me. If I had to choose between the three, I'd say his work on Iron Fist. What he did for that character doesn't get anywhere near enough credit. His Captain America run (especially what he did with Bucky) is fantastic also, though.

Basically, it's a tough one.

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

Seymour, Indiana

Rachna Koul mopped her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand. The SHIELD scientist had spent all morning traipsing around Seymour in search of Horton’s Auto-Parts. In a town as small as Seymour, you would have thought it would be easy to find – instead Rachna had been forced to search for it the old-fashioned way after being stonewalled by the town’s citizens at every turn. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to offend them, but by the way they looked at her she’d clearly done something.

It was late in the afternoon by the time she managed to track down the mechanics. It wasn’t so much a mechanics as a spacious, if untidy garage connected to one of the larger houses in Seymour. A long-since faded sign with “Horton & Sons” was propped up against one of the garage’s walls. A man who looked no younger than eighty was sat beside it.

Rachna smiled at the elderly man warmly as she made her way up the drive towards him. “Excuse me, sir, I’m looking for Jim Hammond.”

As soon as the name left her mouth, the old man’s leathery features hardened. Whatever warmth Rachna might have expected as a potential customer disappeared. Instead his beady eyes studied the scientist with a suspicious look that felt incisive enough to see through solid lead.

The elderly man's mouth opened to reveal a set of teeth that had been stained a deep brown by a lifetime of chewing tobacco. “Jim who?”

“Jim Hammond,” Rachna responded with a cordial smile that the old man was completely undeserving of. “I was told that he worked here.”

This time the brown teeth stayed firmly behind his whisker-covered lips. The man’s hostility towards Koul revealed more than his cooperation ever would have done. Jim Hammond was in Seymour, Indiana and better yet now she knew that people there – or at least the old man at Horton’s – knew that there was more to Hammond than met the eye. Now all Rachna had to do was find him. Something told her that the old man was going to be less than helpful in that regard.

“Well, whoever told you that must have been mistaken," he said with a shrug so half-hearted that his contempt for Koul was obvious. "There’s no-one by that name working around these parts and frankly I’d appreciate it if you l-”

“It’s alright, Phineas, I’ve got this.”

From within the garage, a much younger man appeared. He was in his mid-to-late twenties, with eyes so piercingly blue that even though he’d traded in his perfectly sculpted blonde mane for a buzzcut, Johnny Storm was instantly recognisable. He was wearing a t-shirt that appeared to once have been white. Now it, as well as pretty much every part of Johnny’s exposed skin, was covered in oil marks.

Horton clutched at his walking stick as he shot Johnny a paternal look. “You sure, Jim?”

Johnny nodded. He helped Phineas to his feet and lead him to a lawn chair on the sidewalk by the side of the road. Though the doctors had made Horton promise to stop drinking, the old man took the opportunity to pluck a hip flask from his inside pocket and take a healthy mouthful. Johnny patted Horton on the back and returned to the garage where Koul was waiting.

“So, what brings the biggest egghead on SHIELD's books all the way out to Seymour? I didn't realise they let you people out of the Triskelion.”

Rachna was shocked by Johnny's sudden directness. "What? I don’t know what you mea-"

“Oh, come on, Rachna," Storm groaned as he rolled his eyes hard at Koul's unconvincing acting. "Are you really going to try to convince me that you came all this way just to get your oil changed? Why don’t you save us both some time and tell me what the hell it is you really want?”

Koul’s tanned cheeks reddened with embarrassment. She had many skills but clearly acting wasn’t one of them. Even Rachna would admit that she would make a lousy spy – and the speed with which Johnny had seen through her flimsy attempt at lying spoke to that. Yet she had read Storm's file more times than she could count. There was nothing in it to suggest that Johnny possessed an aptitude for spy-catching.

"How did you know?"

“Look, I might not be as smart as Reed but I’m not a complete idiot. You know how many people live in this town? When I showed up here, they damn near threw me a parade. The second you showed up here and started throwing my name around, I knew about it. Heck, everyone and their mothers knew it. Honestly, I’m surprised it took you so long to come and talk to me.”

"I wanted to get the lay of the land a little first," Rachna shrugged. "I figured there must have been a reason that you chose to settle here – some kind of connection to your past, maybe. Either that or Seymour is a front for some kind of terrorist cell? It wouldn’t be the first time."

The laugh that left Johnny’s lips was so dismissive it almost hurt Koul to hear it. Gone was the angry young man that Rachna had examined on his arrival in her world. This Johnny seemed more at ease and, perhaps even in a way, more relaxed. It was why his dismissive laughter stung Rachna a little more than they would have this time three months ago.

“Maybe I just liked the town? Did that ever occur to you?”

Koul scanned the dusty garage for something that made her feel remotely positive and drew a blank. “I mean, what exactly is there to like?”

“You know, I used to think like you once. I grew up in a pretty little suburb in Long Island. All I ever wanted was to make it to the big city – and fast. Gave poor Sue more sleepless nights than anyone deserves. And then, after our little accident, I got there and guess what? It was everything I wanted and more. The fame, the adulation, the attention from the opposite sex. I was living the dream.”

“Well, what happened?”

“The dream ended,” Johnny said with a sigh. “That’s what no-one tells you, Rachna. Eventually, if you live the high life for long enough, the bill comes due – and God knows mine did. After the craft was destroyed, I tried my best to keep up appearances, to keep going on, but I just couldn’t do it. Living a dead man’s life? Looking his friends, his loved ones, in the face and pretending that I was him? I couldn’t do it.”

There had been murmurs around the Triskelion about the Fantastic Four disbanding. Though Reed still occasionally visited Hill from time to time, no one had laid eyes on Ben, Johnny, or Sue in months. It had taken Koul every bit of resourcefulness she had to track Johnny down. Though from the look on his face, he didn’t seem grateful to her for interrupting the quiet that he had found in his new life.

“And when it came time for SHIELD to resettle you, you chose Seymour? I’m sorry, “Jim”, but something about this doesn’t quite add up.”

Outside of Horton’s an elderly couple passed by and exchanged a few words with Phineas. They shouted a hello to Jim and Johnny waved one of his oil-covered hands at them with a relaxed smile. Rachna wasn’t sure how Storm had done it, but he seemed to have managed to make the small town his home within a matter of months.

“No, I guess for someone like you that wouldn't make sense.”

With a wistful smile, Johnny turned his back on Rachna and approached a toolbox. After a few seconds of rooting around he unearthed a wrench, which he tossed between his dirty hands a few times as he approached the old Mercury Montego sitting in the garage. As if Koul wasn’t there, he popped the hood and started tinkering around with the engine. Rachna watched him work for a few seconds, confused, before approaching the car awkwardly.

“You know, I was close with Franklin. I studied at the Baxter Building alongside Reed, Sue and I were even almost friends at one point, and I saw enough of Johnny and Ben to know that they wouldn’t have begrudged the four of you taking their places. They would have understood.”

Johnny shrugged his shoulders without looking up from the engine. “As touching as that is, Rachna, that wouldn't have made it any easier for me to look myself in the face every morning.”

“So that’s it then?” Racha sighed. “You’re going to spend the rest of your adult life as "Jim Hammond" hiding out in Nowheresville, Indiana?”

“That’s the plan.”

The scientist wore her disappointment on her face. Not that Johnny seemed remotely concerned. He was still fiddling around beneath the bonnet without a care in the world. The cloying heat didn't seem to affect him, but it was starting to affect Koul. Her patience was wearing through with every turn of his wrench. Finally she wrestled it from his hands in an attempt to get him to pay attention to their conversation.

“What if I told you that I knew something that would change your mind about staying in this place?” Rachna said. “Would you want to hear it?”

Johnny sighed deeply and ran one of his dirty hands through his freshly-shaven hair. “It sounds like you’re going to tell me no matter what I say to this question, so go ahead, Rachna, let’s see whether what you think you know was worth driving all the way out here to get off your chest.”

The scientist tried to speak but suddenly found herself unable to. A knot had appeared in her throat. The secret suspicions she had harboured for so long had all but been confirmed to her over the past three months and now that it was time to give voice to them she was hesitating. Perhaps she knew it was because once she spoke the awful truth out loud there would be no going back – for either of them.

“You asked me earlier why I hadn’t sought out Reed? Well, the truth is that I don’t know whether I can trust Reed anymore, Johnny. I don’t know if I can trust anyone anymore. I have reason to believe that Franklin's death wasn't an accident. In fact, it was the complete opposite.”

Koul commanded Johnny's complete attention for the first time. “I think SHIELD murdered Franklin Storm, and I need your help proving it.”

There was no shock on Johnny's face. He let the accusation linger in the air for a few moments without response. Rachna could see the gears grinding in his face as he tried to work out what that meant for himself and the people he loved. His weary blue eyes rested on Koul eventually and he nodded in acceptance. Without saying a word he shut the car bonnet, threw on a leather jacket, and made for the exit with Rachna.

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

I think we settled on Robert Kelly as president and Hamilton Hill as his vice-president.

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

Juba, South Sudan

A hail of bullets peppered the small shack that Guy Gardner was taking shelter in. The SHIELD agent was bleeding from a bullet hole in his side and breathing heavy. He reached down and checked his handgun’s clip and let out a groan. Only four bullets left. He’d spent the others on the militiamen that rumbled him on his way out of the Arrow Boys compound. They couldn’t have been much older than eighteen or nineteen, but they were in Gardner’s way – and despite the years he’d spent on the shelf after Atlantis, Guy still understood that the mission came first.

Today’s mission was sat beside him. Professor Zhang Chin was one of the world’s foremost biochemists – he was also a wanted criminal. Chin had spent decades supplying every tinpot dictator in the Middle East and Asia with the kind of chemical weapons that ought to belong in science fiction. SHIELD acquired information that indicated Chin was about to break with routine in order to expand into the African market. South Sudan’s civil war was to provide the testing ground of Chin’s newest concoction.

Dum Dum Dugan had other ideas.

With Fury out of action and Maria Hill assuming the directorship of SHIELD on a temporary basis, the old hand had been brought in to help steady the ship a little. His first action had been to set up a two-man task group designed to stamp out threats before they happened. Guy Gardner’s name was the first on the list. After a lot of arguing, Hill had relented and allowed Gardner back into the field and so far he’d proved about as effective a crime-fighting tool as SHIELD had – although that was subject to change if he failed to extract Chin in one piece.

“Sneak your way into South Sudan in the middle of a never-ending civil war and smuggle a war criminal out without being seen, they said.”

Another hail of bullets rained down on the shack. This time a few of the bullets passed through the basic metal that was serving as protection for both the SHIELD agent and the chemist. Chin whimpered, bearing his wrinkled bald head in his hands, as another barrage of bullets came flying towards them. Guy looked at him, disgusted by his cowardice, and shook his head.

“It’ll be fun, they said.”

Guy rose and his eyes scanned the horizon. There were six men and only four bullets in his gun. He had to think fast. He took the two on high ground down before they’d even noticed he’d sprung out from behind cover and opened fire on the fire as the white of his eyes turned towards him. Another volley of bullets came towards the shack and Gardner ducked back into cover with a grunt.

“Anytime you feel like telling your friends to stop shooting at us, that would be great. I hate to break it to you, Chin, but if I’m not making it out of here alive, then neither are you, so it would really be in your interest to contribute here. Just a little bit.”

“What do you want me to do?” Chin asked with a slavishness that irritated the SHIELD agent. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I don’t want to die.”

Guy pulled the chemist close and whispered some instructions to him. Chin nodded his head in agreement and Guy dragged him to his feet.

“<Stop!>” Chin shouted in perfect Juba Arabic over the sound of the shooting. “<Stop firing, you idiots! If you hit me you’re going to be in a lot of trouble, do you hear me? Not just you, but your families too.>”

The shooting stopped and Guy appeared, brandishing his gun at the chemist’s forehead, tucked closely behind him. The three remaining Arrow Boy militia eyed the pair of them suspiciously as Guy’s finger tightened around the trigger in nervousness. One miscalculated move and both he and Chin were dead men. As much as Chin probably deserved it, Gardner quite liked being alive – not to mention he didn’t fancy giving Maria Hill the satisfaction. So instead of shooting his way out, Guy was going to try to talk his way out through Chin.

“If you know who Chin is, you know how valuable he is,” Guy began. “But he’s only valuable alive. If you shoot him – or if I shoot him – then we all lose. Do you understand? We all go home empty-handed. If you let me leave here alive, I will make you all very rich men. You hear that? Very rich. Richer than you can possibly imagine. So rich that neither you or your children will ever have to worry about money ever again.”

“<The American says that he’ll make you rich,>” Chin translated upon feeling Guy’s gun being pressed harder against his forehead. “<He said that if you let him leave here, you’ll never have to worry about money ever again. That your chi->”

Suddenly Chin stopped speaking. He made no effort to escape from Guy’s grasp or to offer any explanation, but the SHIELD agent felt uncomfortable about the chemist’s silence. It wasn’t the play that Gardner had drawn up. He jabbed the pistol into Chin’s forehead again to get him to speak but he remained silent.

“You had better start talking,” Guy growled at him. “Because there’s no version of this where you make it out of here alive if you double-cross me. You think you’ve got reinforcements coming? Unless they’re faster than a speeding bullet, they’re not going to save you from me.”

To Guy’s the relief the chemist started translating again. “<He only has one bullet left in his gun and is losing blood quick. Hold your nerve. You want money? Whoever gets me out of here alive will be made a rich man. But I want this pig taken alive. I want him to suffer at my hand.>”

Once the shooting started, Gardner realised his mistake. A bullet nicked Chin’s bicep as it whizzed past the SHIELD agent’s head and the chemist scampered out of his arms. Guy shouted a profanity, swung his gun around, and managed to put down one of the three remaining militiamen with a shot through the cheek.

With the rocket arm that had helped him set state passing records in Maryland, Gardner launched his empty pistol into the second-to-last Arrow Boy still standing. It broke his nose on impact and once in close Guy slipped a blade from his belt into the militiaman’s thorax. A bullet cracked Gardner in the shoulder and he staggered backwards, but he still had the presence of mind to use the Arrow Boy’s body as a shield.

Guy wrestled the AK-47 from the dead Arrow Boy’s hand and sent a spray of bullets firing in his direction. He dropped dead to the ground and Guy let out a relieved sigh. He let his carcass shield fall to the ground and then searched the shanty town for Chin. Even with a headstart, he’d only made it fifty metres ahead on account of his old age.

“Oh no, you don’t."

With a crack, Guy sent a bullet hurtling towards Chin. It tore through his calf and the chemist fell to the ground with a thud. Gardner limped after his wounded prey with a satisfied smile on his face. Chin was writhing in pain on the ground when Guy reached him. He took a great deal of gratification from dragging the old man to his feet and was about to make a joke when the sound of heavy machinery caught his attention.

A large tank daubed in graffiti smashed through several rusty shacks and came to a stop in front of them. Sat atop it were five more Arrow Boys who were brandishing AK-47s in the Gardner’s direction. To top it off, the turret on the front of the tank pointed at the SHIELD agent.

“Fuck.”

The chemist slipped free from Guy’s hands and staggered towards the tank with a laugh. The sense of dread in Gardner’s stomach grew as Chin turned to face him. The elderly man’s saggy features twisted into a wicked smile as he gestured to the Arrow Boys to restrain his would-be kidnapper. One was in the process of leaping down from the tank when a shadow appeared over him. He had made it to Guy and wrapped his arms around his shoulders by the time Gardner could make sight of what was casting it.

With an almighty bang, Ben Grimm came crashing down against the tank. It squashed on impact and the Arrow Boys on top of it were sent sprawling by the impact. Ben tore the tank in two as if it were made of cardboard, bullets ricocheted from his rocky hide as he made his way towards the last few remaining militiamen, and despatched them with a heavy clap that burst their eardrums.

Feigning a point towards an imaginary watch on his wrist, Guy shouted to his colleague. “What kind of time do you call this?”

“You know what they say, Carrot Top,” Ben chuckled as he threw the unconscious Professor Chin over his shoulder. “Better late than never.”

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

New Atlantis, Atlantis

The sound of knuckles rapping against the door of Sue Storm’s quarters interrupted her concentration. She looked up from the book of Atlantean history she had borrowed from Namor’s personal library to see the figure opening the door. It was Namora – Princess Namora, as she was referred to by her subjects – and from the look on her face she was no more pleased to be speaking to Sue than she ever was.

“The king requests your presence, surface dweller.”

Sue sighed, placed an ornate golden bookmark on the page she was reading, and closed her book. Ever since she had arrived in Atlantis, Sue had been reading all she could about its history and culture. There were tomes Namor kept locked away in his library that predated the Great Deluge. It had taken a while for quarters to be built to her specification but now she had almost settled she found the reading therapeutic. She had left her old life and its many problems behind. Though Namora seemed to enjoy making a point of reminder her she didn’t belong.

“You know, Namora, I don’t expect you to ever like me, but the least you could do is use my actual name from time to time. Which is Susan – or Sue – for what it’s worth. Not that you didn’t know that already.”

“Your presence in New Atlantis defiles our great capital. I do not know what power you have over my cousin, but I do know this – I do not trust you or the ‘advice’ you give him. Your loyalties are to the surface world, not ours.”

They exited Sue’s quarters and made the long way out through the Hallway of Sorrows. It was called as such because it marked the spot where Shalako had been murdered by the Mer-people some nine thousand years ago. Every guard they walked past knelt down on one knee, fist touching the ground and head lowered in reverence at Namora’s presence. That particular detail of Atlantean life was still something Sue was struggling to get to grips with.

“Sometimes you talk about the surface world as if it were another planet.”

In one hard, unforgiving look, Namora made clear to Sue how little she thought of the people living above the waves. “It might as well be.”

Once through the Hallway of Sorrows, they passed through the Great Hall. Sue had never seen anything like it. Every surface was coated in gold. The chairs, the tables, even the immaculately clean knives and forks that lined the tables shone with a light so blinding it could blind. The hall had been home to some of the most dramatic moments in Atlantean history – among them Guy Gardner’s mock-trial the last time a surface-dweller visited Atlantis. Though Sue knew better than to mention that particular incident in Namora’s presence.

“The way I see it, what’s good for Atlantis is good for the surface world. I’m here to help foster peace between our two worlds, Namora. The kind of peace that will keep both of our peoples safe. Surely that’s a good thing?”

“There is an Atlantean saying,” Namora said as she shoved open the hall doors. “Those that want peace must find it at the end of a trident.”

Once through the doors, Namora left them to swing back in Sue’s face without a care. Sue caught the heavy doors in time, having learned to expect such things from the princess, and used all her might to keep them open long enough to slide through and jog after Namora.

Once she’d caught up with the princess she offered her a knowing a smile. “We have a similar saying on the surface world, funnily enough.”

The last leg of the journey the pair made in silence. Climbing the tower to Namor’s study was no easy task, not even for one of Namora’s sturdy Atlantean constitution. It was, of course, designed to be difficult to reach. Though Namor was no great reader he valued his privacy almost more than anyone Sue had ever met. The brash, aggressive man she had met on the deck of the Pegasus had proved to have hidden depths. It was why, despite herself, Sue had agreed to stay in Atlantis far longer than their ‘arrangement’ had required.

A dozen guards stood sentinel outside of the king’s refuge. As was custom, they knelt before Namora and the princess gestured to them to return to their feet. As she reached for the handle to her cousin’s study the door opened and an unfamiliar man stepped through it.

Decked out in black and purple armour, the man offered Namora only a smile. His face was hidden behind a silver cowl with orange lenses covering his eyes and yet Sue could still sense that there something unusual about the man. It was only then that she realised that unlike the others, the man had not knelt.

“Princess.”

Namora nodded nervously and stepped out of the man’s path. He smiled at the princess again, though his eyes showed no indication of warmth or kindness, before sneering dismissively in Sue’s direction. With that the armoured man disappeared down the tower’s stairs, taking four of the guards with him, and Namora gestured to Sue that she should step inside.

As Sue shut the door behind her she noticed for the first time there was worry in Namora’s eyes – and despite the way she had treated her since arriving in Atlantis, she could not help but feel moved by it. She cast the thought from her mind as she turned to greet the king. Namor was sat behind a desk that had large, detailed map of the seven seas strewn across it.

“Welcome, Susan, I trust you find your lodgings satisfactory?”

“Satisfactory doesn’t do them justice,” Sue smiled. “You have been very generous to me, Namor, although I can’t say the same for Namora.”

“The princess has been known to bear grudges. Since Namora's encounter with the one you call Gardner she has developed something of a mistrust for all surface-dwellers. Rest assured that in time she will come to accept your position as my servant just as my other subjects have.”

Sue had two points of contention with Namor’s assertion. Though Namora’s disgust at Sue’s presence in Atlantis was more open than the average Atlanteans, Sue was under no illusions that they felt any differently about the subject. Even a king as powerful as Namor could not compel his subjects to love. The other issue Sue had – which she had addressed several times before – was with the word servant.

“Advisor.”

Namor waved a dismissive hand in her direction as if the distinction was completely meaningless to him. “Yes, yes, as you wish, Susan.”

Sue glanced down at map atop Namor’s desk. There were figurines in battle formations, big swooping arrows indicating troop movements, and in-depth explanations as to varying current levels in different battlezones. Though the Atlanteans possessed holographic technology that far outstripped the surface world’s, Namor was a traditionalist. In fact, from Sue’s reading it was exactly his traditionalism – and his considerable might, of course – that helped him capture the Atlantean throne.

Out of the corner of Sue’s eye she spotted one target on the map that was far away from the others. From what she could make out it was on the northeast coast of the United States, perhaps Maine or even New Brunswick in Canada, and it appeared a single cell had been sent there. When she strained to deduce more, Namor pushed the figures atop the map aside and stepped away from the desk.

“Who was that man you were speaking with?”

“His name is Orm,” Namor explained. “He is one of my most trusted generals. During the Glorious Reclamation, Orm lead the siege at Xebel that helped break the back of the incompetents sitting atop the throne. Atlantis owes him a great debt for bringing that den of iniquity to heel.”

Try as she might, Sue couldn't seem to put the worry she had seen in Namora's eyes out of her mind. “Your cousin seemed afraid of him.”

“She is right to be afraid. There is a madness in Orm’s bloodline. Atlantean children pass horror stories of his exploits at Xebel around to this very day – and with good reason. Orm’s cruelty is single-minded, obsessive almost. He respects no title, courtesy, or tradition. Only strength.”

Namor stood before the window of his study and looked out across it. From it all of New Atlantis could be seen. It was a city twice the size of New York, with a hundred times the life forms, and yet it was only a fraction of Namor’s dominion. It was clear from the way he stared out at his kingdom possessively that he alone possessed the strength to command Orm’s respect.

“He sounds like a dangerous man to keep around.”

A devilish smile crossed the king’s face that put the worst of Sue's worries at ease. “Perhaps, Susan, but only for the enemies of Atlantis.”

Sue wandered over to Namor’s side and joined him staring out at New Atlantis. It was beautiful. Perhaps she got caught up in the beauty or perhaps it had been so long since she had thought of the surface world that when Namor slipped his fingers through hers she did not resist. His hands were rough, but warm, and the gentleness he showed in pulling her towards him surprised Sue. The king was about to plant a kiss on her lips when she regained her senses and pushed him back.

Sue clumsily tried to change subject. “How goes the struggle against Black Manta and the Drowned? I overheard one of the guards talking about the attack on Tlapallan this morning. Apparently there were heavy losses? Perhaps it’s time that you considered the peace proposa-”

“There will be no suing for peace with fanatics that murder innocent people. That terrorist’s head will be mine. His band of followers think they can take refuge among the barbarians at Maarzon? They are wrong. With every day that passes, we learn more about their organisation and its movements. With every day that passes, the net encircles them more. As Poseidon is my witness, Black Manta is not long for this world.”

Namor strode back to his desk and took his seat. His mood had shifted, as it so often did, and it was clear from the way he was scribbling onto some parchment that his appetite for conversation had gone. Sue's excitement had given way to guilt, but now dread had taken its place. As she stared out across New Atlantis, she couldn't help but feel that things in Atlantis were going to get a lot worse before they got better.

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

If only to present the other side of the argument here, I have a good portion of my season planned out – twenty-eight posts sketched out to date, with about half of those fully written in the break between Season One and Two. I wanted to tell four very different (albeit interconnected) stories with the Fantastic Four this season and there's no way that would have worked without extreme planning on my part.

I almost always entirely plan my posts, if not my entire season, out. Yet I manage, as I did last season, to factor in interaction as and where it makes sense. So there's certainly no right way of doing things.

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

SHIELD Outpost Nineteen, New York

It was the middle of the night and a routine arrest during a guns bust had resulted in the acting director of SHIELD being woken from her sleep. The cause? An eighteen-year-old boy named Michael Holt. Maria Hill stood behind reinforced two-way glass watching the young man who was currently handcuffed to a table. By her side was Reed Richards. The hair around his temples had greyed somewhat and he looked to have lost some weight but otherwise he seemed in rude health. In fact, he seemed positively excited by the prospect of sitting down with Holt.

“You want to explain to me what’s so important about this kid?”

“Michael Holt is much more than just a kid, Maria. He scored higher on SHIELD’s APTI-SMRT test than I did – on his first time of trying.”

Maria made next to no effort to disguise her tiredness. “Is that meant to mean something to me? Because I’m drawing a blank.”

“The boy didn’t even finish high school. Can you imagine how intelligent you have to be to produce the kind of technology he does without the benefit of a proper education? It’s incredible.”

Reed could barely hide his enthusiasm. Had he not been so focused on Holt, he would have noticed that the tone of his voice had managed to rub Maria the wrong way. Reed had never been a field agent, or law enforcement of any kind for that matter, so the technology was fawning over was still abstract to him. He had never seen it used up close and personal on innocent civilians like Hill had.

“No, Reed, I think ‘criminal’ is the word you’re looking for on this one. Did you read his file? We picked Holt up selling weapons out of his friend’s to some small-time crooks. They were planning a heist. People could have been killed using the weapons he designed.”

“I’m under no illusions about the boy’s past,” Reed saif a grimace. “But it’s not his past I’m interested in, Maria, it’s his future. There’s still time for Holt to turn things around with the right guidance.”

The super scientist meant to provided that guidance. Richards was listless for all of about a week after the Fantastic Four had gone their separate ways, but he soon found his calling. It had been the message from the other Reed Richards that had given him the inspiration he needed. He drew up a list and saw to it that it ended up in Maria’s hands before the hour was out. Michael Holt was at the top of it.

“You know, when you told me you wanted to start a school, I thought your intake would be a little more distinguished.”

Reed looked to the acting director of SHIELD with a grateful smile. “Does that mean you’ll let me take him?”

Hill let out a weary sigh.

“It means that if Holt so much as forgets to pay his cell phone bill, he’s going to be seeing in his twenties from the inside of a padded cell in The Raft. If I agree to this, there can be no mistakes. Do you understand me?”

Reed considered the statement. Everything that had gone wrong for him and Ben, Johnny, and Sue since they had arrived in this world played through his head – being tortured in Latveria, the incident with Namor, and Hector Hammond's destroying not only the Baxter Building, but the timecraft too being chief among them. He figured he was due some good luck. And if anyone was worth taking the risk for, it was Michael Holt.

“No mistakes,” Reed promised. “You have my word on that.”

Hill signalled to a nearby SHIELD agent and Reed followed after them. He could feel butterflies in his stomach as the agent unlocked the door to the cell and gestured to Richards to step through. Holt turned expectedly towards the door and scowled in Reed’s direction, who in turn responded with a collegial smile and sat across the table from him.

“Good afternoon, Michael. You don’t mind if I call you Michael, do you? Mister Holt seems a little formal and … well, given the circumstances, I don’t think that we need to trouble ourselves with formalities.”

Holt looked as bemused by Reed’s easy charm as he was by the super-scientist’s sudden appearance. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I want to help you, Michael.”

Holt nodded his head gently as Reed spoke. At first his dark brown eyes appeared as if they were fixed on him, but after a second or two it became clear that Holt was staring straight through him, almost as if he wasn’t there at all. He seemed agitated. His knee bounced up and down beneath the table restlessly as he tossed and turned Reed’s statement in his head.

“Help me, huh? Well, why don’t you start by doing what I told that dyke behind the the glass and getting me my fucking lawyer?”

There was no malice in Holt’s words. They were designed to shock, not to offend. Even his swearing seemed put on, affected for Reed’s sake, like a performance that Holt slipped in and out of with ease to keep people from getting too close to him. Reed had seen it before. Breaking through Holt’s barriers would be a difficult task – but he knew where the young man would end up if he didn’t manage to.

“The woman behind that glass is the only person standing between you and a prison cell.”

A derisive snort escaped from Holt’s squat nose.

“You think I’m afraid of doing a little time? I’ve got more family in prison than I do on the outside. I ain’t got shit to be scared of in prison. Go ahead and put me in there. Lock me up and throw away the key for all I care, man. Just stop wasting my fucking time.”

“That would an incredible waste,” Reed sighed. “You’re a very intelligent young man, Michael, and I think you know that. The weapons you designed? Quite impressive. Not perfect, but then again what is at your age? Some of my designs were as rough around the edges as yours.”

For the first time Holt’s guard seemed to slip – if only by an inch. Whether he knew it or not, there was a flicker of exhilaration in his eyes when Reed had mentioned his designs. Since SHIELD had gone public with the ‘return’ of Reed Richards and co., he’d barely been able to travel in public being mobbed. He was one of the most famous men in the world. Or at least, he’d assumed the place of one of the most famous men in the world. The regard that Holt held Reed in wasn’t his regard to own, but he used it to his advantage nonetheless. Perhaps sensing the ploy, the young man slunk back into his seat and shrugged his shoulders casually.

“Rough around the edges? What the fuck are you talking about? My designs are airtight.”

Reed smiled. He looked towards the two-way glass and made a gesture to the SHIELD agent waiting on the other side. The agent re-entered the room with one of Michael’s designs in hand. It was a handgun that had been confiscated earlier that night. Except instead of packing snub-noses, it dealt out the kind of repulsor blasts that Tony Stark had made use of as Iron-Man. Reed made a show of inspecting the weapon.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. The makeshift arc reactor you designed is impressive given it was made out of used car parts – but inefficient. These weapons wouldn’t have lasted longer than maybe a week or two. And then what, Michael? What would you have done when your customers came looking for a refund?”

Holt seemed tickled by the suggestion his designs were less than perfect. “See, now I know you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

With breath-taking ease, Reed took the weapon apart. In three swipes, he removed the arc reactor and set it down on the table between the two of them. Holt stared down at his weapon, now in several pieces, and gulped hard. Reed could sense the young man starting to realise that perhaps not everything he’d read about the world’s most famous super-scientist had been hype. In fact, most of it had done him a disservice.

He was about to ask Reed a question when the door to the cell opened. In the doorway stood the woman Michael had described as a ‘dyke’ only moments earlier – Maria Hill – and the SHIELD agent that had brought Holt’s weapon into the room. It was clear from the look on Hill’s face that this time they had designs on more than the weapon.

“Come on, Richards, it’s time to leave. The boy’s obviously not interested in joining your little school. I don’t know why you insisted on meeting him in the first place – I told you he didn’t have what it took. Do you believe me now?”

Reed stood up from his seat abruptly and placed a paternal hand on Holt’s shoulder.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Michael. I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavours.”

“Wait, what?!” Holt shouted. “Where are you going?”

“What was it that you said earlier? ‘Lock you up and throw away the key’? Well, I can’t pretend to be an expert in law enforcement but I believe this is the part where they do that.”

There was panic in Michael Holt’s eyes. For the first time since he’d been dragged in by the SHIELD agents, he appeared to realise the extent of the trouble he was in – and that he had squandered his once chance at redemption. He shouted to Reed as reached the doorway in a desperate attempt to stop him from leaving.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Just wait a second, alright? You didn’t say anything about a school. Look, I know I fucked up, man. I know that. I was only running those weapons to get the hell away from the group home they have me staying in. That place is a hellhole, man. I can barely breathe up in there, let alone think.”

Hill shot Reed an impatient look. He acknowledged it, but looked back towards Holt, and let out a disappointed sigh. Perhaps in preparation for his looming career change, Richards body language became less that of a scientist and more one of a teacher that had been let down by one of their students.

“With a mind like yours that is a great shame, Michael.”

Holt shrugged his shoulders. Suddenly all of the aggressiveness that he had been affecting began to melt away and the real Michael Holt came into sight. Instead of putting on a front or performing, he seemed to give true consideration to what Reed Richards was offering him – and what the ramifications of accepting it might mean. It was a welcome step towards progress.

“So if I go with you, then what? I gotta walk around in a dumb blazer and shorts? Because I think I’d rather do the time than sit in some dusty ass classroom looking like the Fresh Prince.”

“There won’t be any blazers,” Reed smiled as he extended his hand towards Holt. “And there definitely won’t be any dusty classrooms.”

A resigned look appeared on Michael's face and he reluctantly shook Reed’s hand. “Fuck it.”

The nod that passed between Reed and Hill confirmed his gratitude for her intervention. He had worried for a second there that he might not have been able to reach the young man. Saving the world wasn’t enough anymore, Reed needed to teach them – and to do that he needed a white knight. Though Hill had her doubts, Reed was sure he had found the leader his project needed in Michael Holt. For the first time, Richards spoke the name of his project outloud.

“Welcome to the Future Foundation, young man.”

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

Stark wasn't really well-established enough in the game to warrant being slavishly beholden to "canon" on this occasion.