Morden Man

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

Seymour, Indiana

In the small motel room that passed for Rachna Koul’s temporary Seymour residence, Johnny Storm was observing the pieces of evidence the scientist had brought with her to Indiana. There were journals, almost half a dozen of them, and folders full of pictures. It was almost too much for Johnny to take in. His blue eyes ran over the words, daubed in a handwriting that felt faintly familiar to him, trying his best to hear his father’s voice in his head. Every now and then he would have to remind himself that the words weren’t coming from the mouth of his Franklin Storm, of his father, but in the moment it didn’t seem to matter at all.

There was no smoking gun amongst all it all but it was clear that foul play had taken place. SHIELD were keeping tabs on Franklin. The man was a genius, maybe the second most intelligent man on Earth, so if he felt the net closing in around him, chances are that he wasn’t making it up. The pictures of unmarked cars following his every move, the financial irregularities, the autopsy notes that had been tampered with.

Koul seemed to sense that Johnny Storm’s mind was opening to the possibility that SHIELD had murdered Franklin. “Do you believe me now?”

“Holy shit,” Johnny whispered as he inspected one of Franklin Storm’s journals. “You weren’t making it up. SHIELD were up to something.”

“I don’t know that something quite does it justice, Johnny," Koul murmured as she produced the most recent journal. "These journals arrived at my parent’s home last week. In all my years at the Baxter Building, Franklin never even met my parents. I don’t know when he sent them but if he did, it was because he wanted me to know what was going on. The last entry is from the morning Franklin apparently committed suicide.”

Johnny saw Koul’s lip quiver somewhat as she flicked through the journal's pages. The scientist tried several times to read from it and each time her voice died in her throat. Johnny had been so busy thinking about his own strange non-familial relationship with this world’s Franklin Storm that he’d forgotten that he’d been like a father to Koul. He could only imagine how traumatic all of this must be for the scientist.

“SHIELD are watching me. I know that. I feel their eyes on me. Nowhere I go is safe. Not even my own home is safe. It is not enough that they have taken my children from me. Now they are intent upon ending my life. If you are reading this, they have succeeded. Be careful, Rachna. They will come for you and Victor too eventually. They will come for all of us. Be careful.”

It didn’t make for pretty reading – or listening. Johnny gritted his teeth through it. It was either the paranoid ramblings of a delusional man still reeling from the death of his children or a desperate cry for help from beyond the grave. Perhaps it was both. Johnny didn’t know what to think. Coupled with the other coincidences scattered through the documents, it was hard to deny the weight of evidence staring him in the face. Yet the mention of one name amongst the passage Koul recited seemed to pique his interest more than the rest.

“Victor?” Johnny said with a suspicious look. “As in Victor von Doom?”

Koul nodded. “Yes, Victor von Doom. He studied alongside us at the Baxter Building. A brilliant scientist – though he seems to have traded it all in of late and become something of a leftist firebrand in Latveria. Not that I’m surprised. There always was a crusading zeal about him.”

“And you’re sure that there’s not some way that maybe Doom was involved? Not to completely disregard old Franklin’s words there but Doom being behind this all seems to make a lot more sense than Nick Fury holding the smoking gun.”

“What?” Koul sighed as the scientist's face seemed to crumple with displeasure. “No, Victor would never do that. He and Reed were like best friends. They worshiped the ground that Franklin walked on. There was no way he would ever turn on him. Loyalty was kind of Victor's brand.”

To see the way that Rachna had leapt to Doom’s defense was to think that Johnny had insulted Mother Teresa or Mahatma Gandhi. Koul seemed so offended by the prospect of Victor turning on them that Johnny was reminded just how difference this world was from his own. The Fantastic Four could barely sneeze without stumbling into some deathtrap set for them by the iron-masked Latverian. In this world though, Victor was anything but a villain. Though he hated to admit it, having read up of Doom some more since leaving Latveria, Johnny might have admired him – if he’d not had a lifetime of experience that told him that anything and everything connected to Victor von Doom was evil.

The pointedness in his response seemed almost reluctant. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time that old Doom turned heel on us out of nowhere.”

“What am I meant to do? Pretend that I don’t know all of this? I work for SHIELD. I’ve built a career within the organisation that murdered a man who meant everything to me. Am I supposed to walk away from this and act like it didn’t happen? It doesn’t feel right. Franklin sent me this because he wanted the world to know what SHIELD had done to him – because he wanted justice.”

“Or maybe,” Johnny began quietly. “He sent it to you because he wanted to protect you, Rachna. Maybe he wanted you to get out whilst you still could. I mean, it’s right there and black and white, isn’t it? ‘Be careful’ – I really don’t think he wants you to go all Snowden on this one.”

Johnny watched as tears welled in Rachna’s eyes. He wanted to cross the motel room and reassure her that everything was going to be alright, but he couldn’t do that anymore. He wasn’t sure that things were going to be alright. His world were gone, the Fantastic Four had disbanded and one of these days Darkseid was going to arrive looking for retribution for what Thor had done to his herald. The days of distributing hugs and comforting words were gone. Instead he watched whilst Koul’s tears wet the pages of Franklin’s journal.

“What would you do?” Rachna asked as her bloodshot eyes fixed on Johnny Storm. “Tell me what I’m meant to do with this information.”

“Look, I don’t know if I’m the right person to be asking this kind of thing. I’m not exactly famous for my self-restr-”

Koul lobbed the journal across the room. It smacked into Johnny’s chest and then fell to the ground in front of him. “What would you do?!”

“Is that what you want, Rachna? You want me to give you permission to not give a damn?” Johnny shouted. “Or maybe you want me to tell you that it’s alright for you to throw your life away after a man that’s been dead for two years. That it’s worth risking having whoever murdered him coming after you just so you can have a clear conscience?”

There was no answer from the scientist. Johnny suddenly raising his voice had shocked her into silence. There was fear in her eyes. Johnny felt a pang of guilt hit him as he realised he’d managed to terrify the woman that had travelled halfway across the country to confide in him. If Sue were here, she’d never let Johnny hear the end of it.

“I’m sorry,” Storm whispered as he knelt down to pick up the journal. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice.”

Koul shook her head and a weak, waifish voice escaped from her mouth. “It’s okay, I shouldn’t have come here. You left New York to get away from all of this, it was wrong of me to try to drag you back into it. I understand that now. I understood it before too but I guess I just ignored it.”

Johnny handed Koul the journal. As she clasped it with her prosthetic hand, Johnny’s hand remained glued to it. He looked at her shattered features and realised too late that the tears in her eyes were far from the first she had cried this week. That only served to intensify his guilt.

“I mean,” Koul sniffled feebly. “I don’t know why I expected you to care, really, he wasn’t your father after all, and he definitely wasn't mine.”

It was true. It wasn’t his Franklin Storm. But then, even Johnny’s Franklin hadn’t quite been his. He’d died when Johnny was so young that he could barely remember him. For all intents and purposes, Sue had been both his mother and father growing up. Yet stood there staring into Rachna’s teary eyes, Johnny felt the pull of responsibility across time and space – as if the Johnny of this world was imploring him to act. He tugged the journal out of Koul’s hand and waved it in front of his face.

“You want to know what I’d do? I’d keep pulling on these threads until the whole damn thing unravelled. SHIELD? Fury? The government? I’d take them all on – and more – if it meant finding out what happened to the person I loved. And that’s what we’re going to do.”

The scientist’s teary eyes beamed with joy as she heard the words leave Johnny’s mouth. “You’re serious? You’ll really help me?”

“I’m serious,” Johnny nodded. “Though if you ever refer to anything other than base villainy as being Victor Von Doom’s brand again, you and I are going to have a major problem. Do we have a deal?”

A confused expression appeared on Koul’s face but she shook Johnny’s hand all the same. The pair of them made their way to Rachna’s bed where all of the evidence was piled and began to sort through it. Johnny tried his best to lay it out in a way that was sequential. Even once it had all been assembled, there wasn’t nearly enough to get either of them the answers they wanted.

“It’s not going to be enough,” Koul sighed as she inspected it all. “If we want to find out what really happened, we’re going to need people that can substantiate Franklin’s accusations – put some real flesh on the bones of all of this conjecture.”

One of Johnny’s eyebrows cocked at the talk of witnesses. “That doesn’t make any sense. I mean, if there were witnesses, we’d know about it already – or SHIELD would have got to them too. Who could possibly know more about this situation than we do? We’ve got Franklin’s entire back catalogue right here in front of us.”

It was clear that Rachna had the answer to Johnny’s question. Clearer still from her face was that she knew that Johnny wouldn’t like it. He couldn’t bring himself to ask for the name on the tip of her tongue, but eventually the scientist sighed and let her head fall into her hands.

When she spoke from the edge of the motel bed, Johnny’s fears were all but confirmed. “We’re going to have to speak to Hector Hammond.”

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

TFW you're @Morden Man who has worked his ass off planning this Season's MME with @Master Bruce and @Byrd Man and we assholes aren't posting.

@Lord Wraith

I mean, I didn't want to say anything but if this game doesn't reach at least 500 posts, I fully intend to visit a plague upon all of your houses.

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

I feel like the rut of waiting ruined my muse for a bit and then someone saying 'buy Red Dead Redemption 2' kinda killed off my muse a little bit. I'm posting tomorrow, and then I'm aiming to return to my usual status of annoying the hell out of everyone in the OOC. It's just been a tough couple of weeks so rather than escapism by roleplay I've done it via Xbox.

@Sep

I've definitely done the same in the past when I've either not had much going on or things haven't gone my way, so I completely understand. Do feel free to shoot me a message if you want to talk.

Good news about the post too. I've been fiending for some more action from the Rogues.

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

Man here I actually thought for a second you could tag everyone in a game. Nope, just a clever hyperlink by Morden.

@Lord Wraith

You'd think so, but that would make far too much sense – but without our resident town cryer @Sep around, I had to get inventive.

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

See, you gotta be smart. I saw this coming years ago so I just did the obvious move and never bought a PS4.

@Byrd Man

@Everyone You hear that? The man flat out refused to buy a PS4 half a decade ago because he knew this game was coming.

This is the kind of commitment that I expect from you the rest of you.

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

Things seem to have slowed down a little around here over the past week.

I'm putting it solely down to the release of Red Dead Redemption 2 – which (visibly for those of you that I have on Discord) seems to have captured a lot of people's attention. I've put off buying it because I have a lot of work in need of doing and I know if I pick it up it'll completely take over my life.

It'll be good once things pick up again, though, I've really enjoyed what you guys have put together over the first month or so. I'm looking forward to seeing how things progress over the next few weeks.

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

The Triskelion, Washington

The sound of beer bottle opening woke Guy Gardner from his sleep. His tired eyes opened slowly to the familiar sight of Ben Grimm. By Ben’s side was the man that had supported Gardner’s career at every turn: Timothy Aloysius Cadwallader Dugan – or as his friends knew him, Dum Dum. He’d sworn off his trademark hat and traded in his SHIELD uniform for a set of military fatigues, but otherwise he looked the same.

Two years after retiring from SHIELD, the attempt on Nick Fury’s life had brought Dugan in from the cold. Gardner’s heroics against Hammond had earned enough him good-will with Maria Hill to allow Dugan to prize his protege back from babysitting duty – especially now that there was no Fantastic Four left to babysit. Grimm agreeing to come work for Dugan alongside Gardner had been the cherry on the top.

“I’m not going to lie to you, kid, you look like week-old shit. But thanks to you Zhang Chin is sat in a holding cell in The Hague awaiting trial.”

Gardner took the beer gratefully and knocked back a swig with a moan. It might not help him get out of the infirmary any quicker and his doctors definitely wouldn’t thank him for it, but it sure as hell tasted good. And after taking two bullets in Juba, he figured it was well-deserved.

The injured SHIELD agent set the bottle down on the table beside his infirmary bed. “Well, I guess that’s something.”

“You should have been there to see his face when I dropped in on him,” Ben chuckled. “I’ve never seen someone look so relieved in my life.”

“I was relieved you didn’t land on me, you big lug,” Gardner smiled.

A look of faux-outraged crossed the superhero-turned-SHIELD agent's face. “I’ll have you know that my aim is second to none, Carrot Top.”

Dum Dum Dugan let out the kind of hearty laughter a father might laugh watching his children squabbling. Guy and Ben joined him in it until the former had to reach for the side of the bed to steady himself a little. SHIELD had pumped him full of painkillers but there was still some pain in the through-and-through to the side of his stomach. It was nothing another mouthful of beer wouldn’t get him through, Guy thought to himself, as he gestured to Ben to pass him it.

“No blowback on us then?” Guy asked Dugan as he knocked back another mouthful. “The South Sudanese couldn’t have been too happy with us for that little firefight in their backyard. We racked up a bit of a body count.”

Dugan let out a little laugh. “Are you kidding? South Sudan is one long firefight after another – has been for years. It’ll be a long time before they figure out we were there. Even longer before they figure out why we were there. So no, no international incidents this time around either.”

The first extraction mission in Juarez had gone off without a hitch. Some gun-runner that had fallen foul of the cartels that was willing to turn in his suppliers in exchange for safe passage out of Mexico and a fresh start. They had got in and out without dropping a single body, although Ben had been forced to break some poor kid’s arm. The information the gun-runner had given SHIELD put them onto a company known as Advanced Ideas Mechanics.

Ben's smile announced that the two-man team’s success hadn’t gone completely unnoticed. “So what you’re saying is we’re two-for-two?”

“Don’t go getting cocky on me, Grimm. This isn’t the Air Force and you sure as hell aren’t a fighter pilot – or a superhero – anymore. There’s no room for self-aggrandisement in our line of work. Heck, if you'd arrived a few seconds later, poor Gardner would probably be a dead man.”

“Or worse,” Guy grinned as he pretended to claw at the side of his face with his nails. “I could have ended up with an ugly scar like yours.”

Though the comment had been made in good humour it seemed to rattle Ben. A lot had changed in the months since Hector Hammond’s attack on the Baxter Building. The Fantastic Four had lost their only means of returning home, the Surfer had been revealed to be serving Darkseid, and, perhaps most difficult of all for Ben, his face had been badly scarred. Guy at times sought to make light of it in the hope that it might convince Grimm to talk about it, but the tactic had proved unsuccessful to date – as it did on this occasion.

He offered a curt exhale by way of acknowledgement of his partner's misjudged joke. “Yeah, yeah, make fun of the ogre again, very funny.”

An orderly in a SHIELD medical uniform entered Guy’s room and the three men fell silent. As if sensing that it was the wrong time, the orderly smiled awkwardly, stopped on a dime, and left the room without saying a word. Dugan took a few short paces to stand by the window and inspect the Washington skyline – his eyes resting on the newly-rebuilt Washington Monument.

Gardner pushed through the pain to stack his pillows in a way that allowed him to sit up more comfortably. “Any word on the old warhorse?”

“The doctors still have him in a medically-induced coma,” Dugan said as he removed a cigar from the pocket of his fatigues and slipped it between his lips. “They say if he wasn’t so damn strong he’d have given up the ghost months ago. Nick always was as tough as old boots.”

To say that Nick Fury’s toughness was the thing of legend was an understatement. The old man had been running SHIELD since the beginning of time – or least it felt like it. Up until recently he’d showed no signs of slowing down. Then one of his own had turned on him. The director had been gunned down by a SHIELD agent gone rogue at one of the organisation’s own black-sites.

“I never should have left. Twenty years I’d been promising Mary I’d hang up my badge but there was always another mission, always another threat. By the end, when Nick told me about his little theory, I’d thought maybe all the fighting had finally started going to his head. Heck, I thought maybe it had gone to mine. Turns out the stubborn son of a bitch was right – and I wasn’t there to watch his six when he needed it.”

There was regret in Dugan’s eyes. The kind of deep and unabiding regret that strikes people when they make a mistake they don’t think there’s any coming back from. Perhaps some part of the old deputy director had already accepted that his old friend was not long for this world – or maybe he was just worried that Nick would never be the same when he came back. Either way, there was only one thing that needed to be said, and Ben was quicker off the mark than Guy in saying it.

“It wasn’t your fault, Dugan.”

“I hate to say it but Ben’s right,” Guy nodded as he preempted his mentor’s attempt to disagree. “What could you have done? What could anyone have done in that situation? Nick’s the best in the business. If they got the drop on him, they would have got the drop on you too.”

Dugan let out a grunt that made clear he didn’t concur with Guy and Ben and turned back to the Washington Monument. Guy could tell by the way Dugan’s fingers were twitching that he was itching to light the cigar up but he couldn’t – another promise he’d made his wife. Instead it rested between his lips unlit as a comfort blanket more than anything else.

“Just make sure you look after one another, alright?" Dugan sighed. "This game we're in is brutal. One minute you’re here, the next you’re gone just like that. You find someone you trust with your life, you stick with that person until the bitter end. No matter what. You hear me?”

“I hear ya,” Ben murmured as he and Guy shared a solemn look.

Dugan glanced down at his wrist. “Alright, I’d better get going. I’m meeting Director Hill on the hour and that woman is a stickler for time.”

He shoved the unlit cigar back into the top pocket of his fatigues and walked back towards Guy’s bed. With their long, shared history, a supportive hand on the wounded agent’s shoulder was all the goodbye that was needed between them. Dugan offered Grimm a nod as he passed by SHIELD's newest super-agent on his way towards the exit.

“Hey Dugan,” Gardner called out across the infirmary to his mentor with beer bottle in hand. “Make sure you send the Führer my regards.”

Dugan shook his head wordlessly as he disappeared through the exit. He’d always hated that nickname, Guy remembered. He was worried for Dugan – perhaps more than ought to be given he was the one who’d been shot twice – but his sympathy was soon interrupted by Ben’s rocky fingers unexpectedly jabbing him in his stitches. Gardner let out a howl of pain that echoed through the halls of the Triskelion's medical unit.

Ben shot Guy a mischevious smirk. “So, you wanna get some pizza or something? Because I could really murder a pizza or twelve about now.”

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

New Atlantis, Atlantis

Four days had passed since Orm had passed by Sue outside of Namor’s study but she thought of little since. Hours spent studying had revealed precious little about Namor’s ‘mad’ general and even less of his bloodline. Though even the king had spoken of Orm’s exploits at Xebel, the literature seemed to suggest that he barely existed. In fact, much of the literature around the Glorious Reclamation was pointedly short of detail – which was especially conspicuous given the many, many detailed volumes of almost every other period in Atlantean history.

Even today on a national festival set aside to celebrate the Reclamation, Sue found herself unable to answer even the simplest of questions about it. Though usually governed by strict, martial sensibilities, the festival was one of few joyful, expressive gatherings that took place in the nation’s capital – and for whatever reason, the king had insisted that Sue Storm be given pride of place at his side for it.

“Is this completely necessary, Namor?” Sue murmured as she tugged on the traditional Atlantean dress she was wearing. “I feel absurd in this get-up and it’s pretty clear that your subjects don’t appreciate my presence here.”

She looked anything but absurd. In fact, it had not gone unnoticed by some Atlantean subjects that sat beside their unmarried king on the podium, Susan Storm looked every bit the queen. Looking the part and wanting it were two very different propositions – and being wanted was an altogether different one. Though Namor seemed to enjoy Sue’s company, his subjects did not seem to share his regard. From the way they looked at her the very opposite seemed true.

“Nonsense, Susan. My subjects do as their king commands. They would gladly lay down their lives for me if I commanded them to. Enduring the presence of a surface-dweller is not beyond the capabilities of the average Atlantean, I assure you, no matter how pungent the smell.”

The insult was thrown out in such a passing manner that it took several seconds for Sue to process it. “Excuse me?”

“Oh,” Namor said with as near to a sheepish smile as Sue had seen the king conjure up. “I thought you were aware of it. You surface-dwellers give off an odour that is very off-putting to the Atlantean nose. I believe it’s all the pus you ingest from those ugly bovines creatures. Dairy?”

She simply shook her head at the inquiry and turned back to the festivities. From the pedestal that Namor and Sue were sat on, they could see the entire procession of revellers passing through the streets of New Atlantis. The princess Namora had insisted upon sitting a level lower than Sue, whose presence there she considered an affront as ever, but her mood had brightened once the festivities had begun.

The significant military presence did not seem to quell the celebrations. Atlantis had a long, almost Spartan history that made its inhabitants accustomed to the presence of trident-wielding soldiers on almost every street. With tensions high since the Drowned’s attack on Tlapallan, the soldiers seemed more on edge than usual. Sue stared down at them for a few seconds before directing an inquisitive look at the king.

“Tell me more about the Glorious Reclamation.”

A servant scuttered towards Namor and offered him a golden platter covered in food. The king looked through it, his hands dancing above the pieces of fruit and dried fish, before finally he reached for a heart-shaped plant Sue did not recognise. It was purple with thick vein-shaped lines running along it. As he bit into the plant it burst open and sent green liquid squirting down the king’s chin.

The king wiped the juce away from his chin with the back of his hand and looked proudly at Sue. “What is it that you would like to know?”

“Well, your highness, all I have read so far are glowing accounts of your glory in battle," Sue said with a diplomatic smile designed to ensure she did not incur the wrath of the Atlantean monarch's famously changeable mood. "And as enthralling as those accounts are, they are very light on actual facts. The more I know, the better I can advise you. So with that in mind: what was the great treason that the line of Atlan com-”

The proud smile on Namor’s face disappearing stopped Sue mid-sentence. The king stood up from his seat and threw the half-eaten plant down to the crowd of revellers in the crowd beneath them. The Atlantean’s fought amongst themselves for possession of it. Namor watched on whilst Namora and the other minor royals laughed at the commoners. He turned back to Sue and pointed down to the adoring crowd.

“All you need to know, Susan Storm, is that through battle I restored honour to Atlantis after generations of degeneracy – and so grateful are my loyal subjects that every year they celebrate the defeat of Atlan at my hand. What more is there to know? You need only look down at their adoring faces to understand the love my people hold in their hearts for their king.”

There was something there in the king’s gaze. Something that Sue couldn’t quite discern. Was it guilt? Shame even? Namor turned away from her before she could work it out but there was clearly something not quite right there. She considered asking another question when a fracas among the crowd beneath them caught her attention. A young girl no older than twelve or thirteen had managed to push her way to the front and was being set upon by armed guards.

“What are they doing? She’s a child,” Sue said as she leapt from her seat and shouted down at the guards. “You’re hurting her! Let her go.”

The guards looked towards their king for instruction. Namor felt the weight of the crowd’s gaze upon him – but the weight of Sue’s expectant stare seemed to wear on him more heavily than all the Atlantean faces staring back at him. He lifted a finger in the guard’s direction and with a dismissive wave forced them to stand down.

“Do as she says.”

They let the blue-skinned girl go and there was a roar of approval from the crowd. Sue smiled at Namor gratefully and, perhaps buoyed by Storm’s warmth, the king gestured towards the guards to help the little girl onto the pedestal with them. They lifted her up and Sue stretched her hand out and pulled her beside them.

“Are you okay?” Sue asked as she knelt before the little girl with a maternal smile. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

The little girl shook her head. She looked several years younger than her age, badly fed, and the rags that were hanging from her light-blue shoulders looked as if they had seen better days. Poverty was a rarity across Atlantis. The festival had brought beggars from across Atlantis to the capital to take advantage of the good-will created by the festivities. To be brought before the king was an act of kindness so wild that not even the most hopeful Atlantean could have dreamt of it. But Sue Storm had made it a reality for one girl.

Ignoring Namora’s protestations, Namor joined Sue and placed a hand on the child's shoulder. “Have you come to pay tribute to your king?”

A broad smile appeared on the girl’s face and she drew back the portion of the rags covering her arm. Emblazoned on the girl’s forearm was a tattoo of a whirlpool. Its significance was lost on Sue but she noticed the king’s face twist with shock. He opened his mouth to shout a warning to those around him but before the words had left it there was a flash of blinding light. The pedestal and much of the crowd beneath it were hit by an explosion so powerful it sent shockwaves through the entire capital.

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

The Franklin Storm Institute, New York

Three months ago the Baxter Building’s auditorium had been the scene of Ben Grimm’s brutal assault on Guy Gardner whilst under Hector Hammond’s control. Since then, the Baxter Building had been demolished and a new one had been erected in its place. The Franklin Storm Institute had been opened by Reed Richards shortly after SHIELD announced his successful return from space. It had sat relatively unused since then, but today it was a hive of activity – and its auditorium, built in the exact same spot as the old one, was the most alive of all.

Five teenagers sat in spacious seats that were designed to optimise their learning. There were no desks, nor were the seats pointed towards a board, instead the auditorium was built like an interactive lecture hall. The initial awkwardness of being seated in a room full of other teenagers had abated after a few minutes once it had become clear that whoever it was that they were waiting on was running late.

“My name is Jean Loring. You probably know of my family – if you’ve been to Ivy Town, you’ll have stayed at a property owned by my father Gil Loring. Our property portfolio is one of the largest in the northeast.”

Loring was seventeen and stood a touch under five foot eleven. Her father Gil was more than just a property magnate – he was one of the richest men in America. When Loring heard that Reed Richards was starting a new school he had made sure his daughter Jean’s credentials found their way onto the super scientist's desk. If Jean wasn’t such a brilliant physicist, Richards would have been minded to turn her down due to her father’s interference alone – but he couldn’t hold Jean’s upbringing against her anymore than he could hold Holt’s past against him.

“Ivy Town? Like, poison ivy?”

Jean rolled her eyes at the ignorance of the fifteen-year-old sat in the seat next to hers. “What did you say your name was again?”

“Kamala,” she responded eagerly with a smile so broad that it would have hurt a normal person's cheeks to maintain. “Kamala Khan.”

“Khan? No, no, I don’t think I’ve heard of the Khans.”

If Kamala was hurt by the comment, she did a good job of pretending otherwise. “Yeah, well, my family don’t have a ‘property portfolio’ or anything like that and I’m not super smart like the rest of you, so I’m not really sure why I’m here … but I do have some pretty awesome pow-”

When Khan turned back to Loring she noticed that the older girl had long since stopped listening. For a fraction of a second her cheerful demeanour took a knock but one glance at the ‘Franklin Storm Institute’ sign on the wall put a smile back on her face. Opposite her a boy no older than fourteen was trying clumsily to initiate conversation with what appeared to be a holographic projection of code – with a silver head.

“Hey man,” Amadeus Cho said as he offered the hologram his hand. He suddenly realised his mistake and awkwardly retracted it. “You're going for that whole binary aesthetic, I see. Yeah, that's a pretty brave choice. Let me guess, your Instagram page must be popping off, right?”

The hologram turned its head to observe the young man. Its eyes were like empty white pits carved into its metallic head. Cho couldn’t tell whether the hologram had heard him or whether he was even really in the room, but that didn’t alleviate his sense of awkwardness at all. And yet there was something clearly young about it. The silver piping along the back of its head almost looked like braids if you squinted.

>>>#QUERY: WHAT IS ... INSTAGRAM#<<<

The voice which came out of the hologram’s facsimile of a mouth sounded like a dialling code – or several dozen dialling codes all playing at once. Cho didn’t seem at all taken aback by it. Instead the expression on the child prodigy’s face twisted into faux-shock.

“Oh, come on. You’re seriously trying to tell me that you don’t know what Instagram is? But what do you do when you’re pooping? Or when you need to have your self-esteem crushed?”

The hologram stared unblinkingly in Cho’s direction as he considered the question. The dark green ones and zeroes that ran along his body seemed to hastened as if the hologram were running a thousand searches at once. Finally, having discovered an answer that the hologram deemed Cho would consider acceptable, its mouth opened to release the dialling code voice for a second time.

>>>#STATEMENT: THINKER DOES NOT POOP#<<<

Cho’s face dropped as he realised he was uniquely unqualified to respond to the revelation. Perhaps it was the weight of the Thinker’s lifeless gaze that forced a titter from Cho’s lips. Within seconds the titter turned into a giggle, which turned into a laugh, until eventually Amadeus was wiping tears from the corners of his eyes.

“Well, that explains how you stay so svelte. You know, it was really hard to eat healthily while Kirby and I were on the road. You win one soap box competition and the next thing you know you’re being chased across America by the gun-toting employees of a billion dollar corporation.”

Upon hearing its name, a furry head burst through the neck of Cho’s jacket. It stared up at its owner, who smiled down at it proudly, and then let out a whimper upon laying eyes on the Thinker in the seat next to Amadeus. Cho whispered softly to the puppy, lifted it out of his coat, and held it towards the Thinker a little. The hologram and the puppy exchanged puzzled looks as if trying to work each other out. A lick from the puppy’s mouth passed through the Thinker’s head which caused Cho to laugh again.

“Is that thing a dog?” Jean called out in shock from across the room as she eyed the puppy with disgust. “You brought a dog in here?!”

“Firstly, that thing is a coyote, not a dog,” Cho said as he raised a scholarly finger into the air. “And secondly, his name is Kirby. Well, it’s actually ‘Kerberos’ if you want to be exact but that’s a little wordy so Kirby’s fine by the both of us.”

Loring’s pretty features became somewhat less than pretty as her brow furrowed into an entitled frown.

“I don’t care what it’s name is. I’m allergic to dogs, you idiot. You need to get that mangy thing out of here before I go into anaphylactic shock.”

Cho waited a few moments for Loring to deliver the punchline. It took several seconds for him to realise that she was being serious and he looked to Khan for support. The young girl shrugged her shoulders. Cho looked up at the athletically built black guy sat at the back of the room but he didn’t return his gaze. Finally, the Thinker broke the deadlock by standing up from his seat as if to make an announcement.

>>>#STATEMENT: THINKER IS WELL-VERSED IN FIRST AID#<<<

This time Cho didn’t laugh but he couldn’t help but smile when the Thinker turned its head too look to him for approval. “See? You’ll be fine. The second your eyes start swelling shut, my old buddy Think here will magic up some epinephrine for you and you’ll be as good as new.”

“Are you hard of hearing or something, runt?" Loring growled angrily at Cho. "So long as I am in close proximity to that horrible mutt you have tucked into your ratty little jacket, I am at risk of imminent death. You need to get that thing out of here and you need to get it out of here fast.”

Kirby returned Jean’s growl in kind and eyed her distrustfully from across the room. Shaken by the raised voices, Kamala made her way across the auditorium. She gestured towards Cho to let her hold Kirby and he hesitated for a moment. Kirby’s tail wagging excitedly convinced him to trust the cheerful girl and so he handed the puppy to Khan. Kamala pressed Kirby against her face and let out a laugh.

“Awh, come on, Jennie, Kirby's only a puppy! And he’s so cute. What’s Cho meant to do? Leave him out on the sidewalk?”

Loring and Cho both started speaking. Neither gave way to the other and the volume of their voices increased with every word. Soon they were shouting and Kamala was caught between them, half cupping Kirby’s ear from the noise and half trying to get them to stop. The Thinker stood in silence watching the hubbub. His empty white eyes gave no sign of judgement. There was no way of knowing what he was thinking.

From behind Kamala, Cho, and Loring came a whistle that was so piercing that it brought an immediate end to the arguing. The older boy that had been sat at the back of the auditorium in silence had risen to his feet and it was clear from the look on his face that he was unimpressed by what he had seen from the others.

“Could all of you just shut the fuck up? Just be quiet for like five minutes, man. None of you have stopped talking since we got here. Well, except for the green dude but I’m not even sure that he’s a real person.”

Kamala stared down at Kirby between her hands and passed him back to Cho. Both of them took their seats, cowed by Michael Holt’s intervention. Loring remained standing. She glared at Holt and the two were caught in what felt like a silent battle of wills. Both of them refused to blink, choosing instead to glare at the other until the other sat back down or blinked. After several agonising seconds, Jean blinked and returned to her seat.

“Whole room of geniuses and not one of you motherfuckers know when to shut your mouths,” Holt muttered under his breath as he sat down.

Reed Richards sensed the pregnant silence when he walked into the auditorium. He looked across the room at the faces of his soon-to-be students. The Thinker was as unemotive as ever, Loring was simmering, Khan downtrodden, Cho was cooing into his jacket, and Holt looked like he was still only there to stay out of prison.

Leaning in every last bit to his new role, Reed played dumb to the tension. “Well, it looks like I won’t be needing to do any introductions.”

“It’s … it’s really you! You’re Reed Richards," Kamala squealed with child-like excitement. "Like, the Reed Richards. You were on the front cover of TIME magazine when you were twelve years old. You lead Franklin Storm’s expedition into deep space. You're basically my hero!”

Loring let out a loud sigh from beside her but Kamala didn’t seem at all embarrassed by having made such a public proclamation of admiration. For his part, Reed offered the young girl an encouraging smile.

“Thank you, Miss Khan.”

The super scientist had written a speech to deliver to his students on their first meeting. It was several pages long, full of references he hoped would entertain and amuse them, and though he was slightly ashamed to admit it, he’d rehearsed it several times earlier that morning. This morning was the culmination of months of work. He had wanted every detailed to be right – even down to the introductory speech. But stood there in front of the five teenagers, Reed couldn’t bring himself to trot out a prepared speech. Instead he chose to speak from the heart.

“I trust you all know one another – but you don’t know why you’re here. Not too long ago, this site used to be the home of the Baxter Building. It was the name of not only a building, but a special school that Franklin Storm created to help teach the next generation of scientists, thinkers, and leaders how to make the best use of their incredible talents. Well, Franklin is no longer with us and the Baxter Building is no more. In its place stands the Franklin Storm Institute and ... as we have taken to calling this little project: the Future Foundation.”

The five of them represented a new start. Not only for Reed but for this world. ‘Teach them’ – Reed could hear the words of this world’s Reed Richards in his head still. Without the Baxter Building, without the timecraft, and without a route home, the Future Foundation had given Reed something to feel passionate about these last few months. It had kept his mind off what he had lost – who he had lost – and kept it squared on what mattered: the future. And the five teenagers in the auditorium were the future.

“You are all here because you have incredible potential. The five of you have been hand-picked because you possess attributes that mark you out as generational talents – but talent isn’t everything. That’s where the Future Foundation comes in. We are here to help the leaders of tomorrow help answer tomorrow’s questions today. Your learning will be tailored to each of your unique abilities and, as I’m sure you’ll all be very relieved to hear, will not be confined to the classroom.”

Reed looked out at the inaugural class of the Future Foundation with a broad smile. “So what say we get started?”

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

It's highly unlikely that we would ever accept a sheet for a character like Krypto.

Not only is Krypto heavily reliant on Superman given that he has next to no supporting characters of his own, but it would also create a precedent that I think I'd rather we didn't set. I've seen people write characters that can't speak before (Black Bolt, more often than not) with limited success, but I don't think it's really viable long-term in conjunction with the aforementioned lack of an independent supporting cast.

There's a reason Wittengstein said that if a lion could speak, we wouldn't understand him – and I think in Krypto's case, it probably applies.