Supermaxx

The Things We Fight For

_{IC 286.08.16 // Petrichor-8 System, Frontier Planet Alora // Surface Landing, Left Flank of the Battle Line
1603 hours // ♫ Every Planet We Reach Is Dead ♫}

---

The MBM-78 Grizzly stomped down the Galea Dropship's ramp, every step thundering with the sound of two hundred tons of steel. Its racket only ended with it dropped into the grey, sloshing mud of Alora's surface. They'd finally arrived. Teddy pulled back on the throttle and applied the break lever, slowing the Grizzly's plodding advance twenty feet off the ramp. He paused to take in the apocalypse.

According to reports from the fleet, corrosion levels were dangerously high, and a glance along the horizon proved as much. What few trees still stood were shriveled husks gasping out poisonous air. Even locusts wouldn't feast on these crops. And then there were the cities. Dear God above, the cities...

Teddy's eyes started to glaze over only a couple of paragraphs into the 'acid rain' section. He closed the report. The days ahead would be grim enough without knowing the gritty details. Besides, the truth was obvious to anyone who bothered to look: Alora was bleeding to death.

"Let's give 'em hell, eighty-five." Teddy called over comms. For Alora.

The noble Zhejiang al Mortuus-Orbitae had grown on him, he must admit. Watching her apparate atop his mech made his eyes shine with a childish glee. No matter how often he witnessed them, constellation phenomena never ceased to amaze in person. It brought him back to crowding around a vid screen with his siblings to watch the defenders of humanity stand tall against the Aberrants that killed their home. Even now, he could hear the heroic brass and strings they always played in those propaganda casts. Then the seal of the MHA would flash in golden metal, and the baritone-voiced announcer would implore you to speak to your recruiting officer today.

Teddy wondered if a Stardust like Zhejiang understood what she meant to the infantry setting up fortifications below them. Did she see the awe reflected in their eyes? The desperate plea for salvation? He couldn't imagine what that did to a person- to be seen as an avenging angel instead of flesh and blood. Teddy knew he would've crumbled under the weight of their expectations long ago if that were him.

He tightened his grip on the control sticks. "Stay close n' remember to be vocal, okay? Can only have your back if you tell me where you're goin'. I know you're quick so I won't bother tellin' ya to stick right on me. Just gimme a heads up 'fore you get all teleporty. You lead, I follow."

It wasn't long before the rumbling began. Athousand biomechanical aliens descended upon them like a crimson tide. Among the legionaries marched plenty of bishops. Some were the typical Spearmen, designed to crash through a front line like a hammer through stone. They were a blunt weapon. Stupid, predictable, but dangerous if underestimated. Teddy had seen their like more often than he could count. They weren't what worried him.

The disc-headed, blade-armed Outlanders were. They could tear a Constellation apart with a single lucky swipe. Teddy knew from experience just what it looked like when an overly confident connie let themselves get swiped. It wasn't pretty watching an angel die.

Maximus 'Antares' Solignis gave orders to the team as easily as most people breathed, his experience and confidence woven through every word. He and Eorman would hopefully focus on those Outlanders so they never had the chance to challenge the Stardusts.

"Wilco, Antares. Good huntin.'"

The X-66 Prometheus Rotary Cannon spat out a thousand rounds and change over the next three minutes. Teddy kept his groupings tight and tried not to overkill the legionaries, damnably difficult as it was. Those bastards could be leaking out their metal guts and missing three limbs and they would keep on coming. He had to be careful to track the path of the destruction the two Main-class connies were cutting in the back line as well; wouldn't be great for his career if Teddy accidentally misted one or them with a stray round.

Among the swarm, Teddy could see three Bishops had escaped the duo's whirlwind of destruction. Lictor had smartly pulled Newman to the side and isolated one of them, taking it apart amidst a mob of pawns. They seemed to have the situation well in hand.

Aissi, Dombay and Zhejiang were descending on a second spearman on the leftmost flank, Eight-Ball providing them cover fire. Teddy felt his heart beating in his throat, even as a wall of plasma from Alto's strange rifle consumed a dozen pawns. Despite their lack of combat experience, they seemed to be holding their own.

Teddy spotted the Outlander hiding among the second wave of legionaries descending on the gaggle of greenhorns. It was moving low and quick, hoping the tide would obscure its approach long enough to leap on an unsuspecting target.

"Behind!" Teddy yelled, sweeping his Prometheus around. He cranked a switch in the cockpit and the cannon's thump thump thump turned into a screeching, continuous brrrtttt as its rounds per minute maxed out for just a moment. A barrage of gatling fire turned the Outlander's screen of pawns into a fine powder. The toughened crimson bodies of hardened biomass and mechanical armor may as well have been cardboard for all the protection it gave. The Prometheus hitched a moment later, internal cooling systems forcing a halt as the barrels glowed bright orange with heat.

The Outlander pounced, its shield blazing to life amidst the hail of bullets. It couldn't have cared less about the wall of lead- it only head eyes for the connies.

When it needed to, the Grizzly could haul ass. Teddy slammed the throttle against its housing as hard as he could, and the cockpit began to shake violently with the sudden forward momentum. The beta-class Aberrant core in his guardian shield flared to life just as the Grizzly's two hundred and twenty-five ton body slammed into the Outlander's outstretched claws. The two shields flared, energy crackling as they intermingled. The Outlander's core was far stronger, however, and it soon won out- throwing the Grizzly onto its ass with a titanic thud.

"Agh, damn it!"

Looming over him, the bishop raised a bladed arm to drive it straight into the Grizzly's cockpit.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

_{UOU Presents: THOR, GOD OF THUNDER}

ISSUE #7: A Soldier's Plea

---

_{Former Soviet Prison ♦ Siberia}

Somewhere in the frozen north, a bonfire blazed. A prayer to foreign gods rose from an old soldier's throat. A plea for aid. Old Norse was not his native tongue. The words were stumbling, jolted. But it was not the words that mattered, for his soul cried out for liberation loud enough to be heard across the cosmos. Logs at the fire's base split. Runes older than the world carved themselves into the bark, finishing the incantation Steven Rogers had started. As the soldier's consciousness faded, the wind whispered the last of the words needed to complete the ritual. Smoke roiled, and one might swear they saw a shape within.

The magic took time to do its work, especially with the amateurish spellwork at play. Though the fire was doused by the prison's guardsmen, the call rang out still.

Hours passed.

Despite the morning's forecast, it began to rain. Not snow: rain.

White clouds turned to grey. Thunder rolled. The sky split, and lightning exploded in the lumberyard below. A fire far greater than Steve Rogers's first burned, spreading across the entire kindling pile. and then beyond. It burned with all the colors of the rainbow.

"For the first time in millennia, men have called on Asgard..." With a voice like thunder, a god spoke from the fire. A god spoke, and then he stepped out unharmed. Silver armor gleamed in the firelight. A crimson cape billowed in the winter wind. Upon his head sat a winged helm, and in his right hand he clutched a most wicked looking axe. In his left, a shield emblazened in red, white and blue.

"And THOR answers."

He knew not how he came here, truth be told. Minutes ago he had resigned himself to being trapped in Muspelheim for all eternity, only for a doorway to open to...wherever he was.

The strangest thing was the object that came through to greet him. A shield clattered across the ashen stones of Muspelheim, paint chipped to reveal a silver star beneath. Thor had brushed away the top layer to reveal the original design. Familiarity tickled at the back of his mind, yet still he could not place where he had seen it before.

Hints of memory danced against his subconscious. A red-skulled monster. That gleaming shield. Gunfire. Loki...

It was only as he stepped through the threshold that Thor recognized the ancient ritual that called him. A summoning devised by the viking kings of eld, they had used it thousands of years ago to bring Asgardians to Midgard in times of need. Thor thought its art lost when Odin forbade travel to earth. He'd been wrong, obviously.

Something struck Thor in the chest, dragging him back to the present. He blinked, turning toward a group of men rushing across the prison yard, weapons raised. Something else hit him, this time in the cheek. He caught the crunched bullet in his palm as it fell.

"Ah," he realized with a grin. "You are shooting me. Me! Ha!"

Clenching his fist as tight as he could, Thor lifted his axe overhead and struck it against his armored wrist. A shockwave tore across the yard, flinging snow and prison guards in every direction. A siren began to whine a few moments later, and a man spoke hurried words of warning over a P.A system.

High in a guard tower along the wall, a soldier opened up on Thor from behind. His PKP machine gun barked as it threw hundreds of armor-piercing bullets into the god's back. Every round shattered against him, no more threatening than the rain. He didn't so much as stumble under the barrage. With a lazy twist of his arm, Thor launched Jarnbjorn threw two of the tower's wooden legs, sending it careening down to the ground with a loud crash.

On the opposite end of the yard, two guards pulled the doors to the prison shut and slammed the locking mechanism into place. A weave of steel bars meant to keep hundreds of hardened criminals locked inside came down over the door.

They kept Thor out for about five seconds before he hacked them to pieces.

The guards both attempted to run, but the younger of the two proved more cowardly: he shoved his superior to the floor, leaving him behind in the hopes that their attacker would stop long enough for him to get away.

"Сука Блять!" The older guard grunted as his face hit concrete.

Jarnbjorn flew over his head and impaled itself in the coward's back with enough force to throw him thirty feet further. His lifeless body left a long trail of blood behind it as it skidded across the floor.

"Heed me, warrior." Thor placed a boot on the fallen guard's back. "If you wish to see the sunrise, you will tell me where I can find the owner of this device."

With a flourish, Thor presented the shield.

The Things We Fight For

_{IC 286.08.16 // Petrichor-8 System, Frontier Planet Alora // Approaching planet's surface.
1421 hours // ♫ Encased In Steel ♫}

---

Teddy rose from his seat with a lazy stretch, arms extending to the sky. He was rolling his shoulders in their sockets when he noticed Aissi was staring at him. Her mouth moved without actually forming any words for several seconds. All Teddy could do was smile. He didn't know her well enough yet to know how to put her at ease. Thoughtless words could be ordinance to the wrong person, after all.

Eventually, though, she found her voice: thank you.

"No problem!" He said, his grin widening as she made a quick retreat in the opposite direction. "Break a leg, kiddo."

Turning, Teddy approached his Grizzly with slow, deliberate steps. Best not to spook the girl. She took a confident stride as a challenge. The relationship between a pilot and their mech was different for every pairing. Some people thought of theirs only as war machines. Others knew every mech had a soul in its gears and pistons. Grizzly had a particularly curmudgeonly manner. If she thought her pilot too eager she was liable to slip a lug nut, pop a leak in a hydraulic line or a thousand other things. Every 'mechanical failure' was a reminder of who was really in charge here.

"Hey old girl." He greeted, patting her cold hide with the back of his knuckles. "We got a couple'a new cubs with us today. Let's bring 'em home safe, okay?"

Mounting up wasn't as easy as it was twenty years ago. Teddy could still remember the days when he could scramble up to the entry hatch without even touching the ladder. He wasn't so spry anymore, nor was he concerned with showing off for his fairer compatriots. No, he was fine carefully ascending the rungs built into the leg of the Grizzly.

The interior lights flickered on when the hatch swung open, even the string of multi-colored beads he'd hung along the ceiling. He'd done it to celebrate a yuletide roughly...twelve years ago? Disentangling them from the wiring proved too much of a hassle to bother trying to remove them.

A mechanical whirring from the front console triggered from the same motion sensor as the lights. A second later, the whirring was joined by the pouring of hot, caffeinated liquid into a thermos. Aberrant cores might fuel the mech but coffee fueled its pilot. Who could expect him to go into a firefight without it? Psychopaths, that's who.

Teddy fell into the torn leather of his pilot's seat with a contented sigh. It felt like the embrace of an old friend. He didn't bother with running another system check. All he needed was a quick glance at the lights flashing green as he flipped about a dozen switches in a row. Every screen, dial and monitor turned on at once. A powerful roar sounded as the MBM-78 came to life. The cockpit shuddered for several seconds on startup before finally settling to a dull thumping.

"Wonder who we're playin' with today..." He muttered, changing the main screen to the external cameras.

Lictor was talking the F.N.G through her first deployment. Newman was her name. Teddy hadn't gotten the chance to talk to the young pilot yet but he wasn't worried for her. She was duetting with the greatest warrior of their age. A living legend who'd felled a thousand thousand Aberrants while half of this team was still in diapers. The old man had her back. She could count on it.

Relief flooded Teddy when he found Aissi talking to the other new guy, Eight-Ball. He seemed like a nice kid. Making friends in the MHA was hard enough at the best of times. Being integrated with alien tech wasn't gonna make that any easier. Teddy was honestly surprised none of these hardened killers had taken a swing on her yet. Lotta people hated the Aberrants enough to do it, and he expected a whole lotta other folks would look the other way.

He tried not to think of the stats he'd seen on new pilot and connie fatality rates. Your chances of death were a hell of a lot higher first starting out.

"Should be easier to keep an eye on 'em if they're together." Teddy told himself quietly.

With Lictor and Aissi accounted for, that left just one last Constellation. Teddy couldn't hold in the groan that formed in his throat. Miss Zhejiang and her eighteen middle names. A noble hero of humanity, he had no doubt, but she seemed all too serious. A humorless killing machine. Maybe he was being unfair. Teddy hadn't actually spoken to her yet, and she had a reputation as an effective combatant.

Teddy opened up a comm channel with her. "Hey, eighty-five. Looks like we're the odd ones out. How 'bout it? Wanna be dance partners?"

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

_{UOU Presents: THOR, GOD OF THUNDER}

INTERLUDE: The Witness

---

_{Himinbjörg ♦ Asgard}

The Earth made another lazy rotation around the sun. Two hundred and eighty-thousand children were born today. In trade for these new souls, death claimed a hundred and twenty thousand for itself. A few hundred souls entered the embrace of Valhalla: these were the honored dead, slain in battle and unclaimed by other divinities. Three thousand, three hundred and thirty-three others were led to Helheim. These were Hela's daily tribute as decreed in ancient contracts with the other Lords of Hell.

Long ago, the halls of Valhalla overflowed with the spirits of mortal warriors, kings and jarls. So numerous were their souls that Freya opened the fields of Fólkvangr to the Einherjar. Over the last few centuries, worship of the Aesir has dwindled. Other faiths grew across Midgard. Many mortals reject the divine wholly, looking to secular philosophies for comfort and meaning when once they sought the gods.

Heimdall stood in his observatory, the sword Hofund embedded in its stone pedestal at his feet. The bifrost swirled all around him, liquid crystal in every color of the rainbow. Eternally did he stand sentinel here, his all-seeing gaze cast to every corner of the Nine Realms.

He turned his gaze back to the earth, the heart of Midgard. There had been much excitement on that little world as of late. A new age of myth was upon them. Gone were tales of Arthur, Perseus and Beowulf. Soon the bards will sing of men and women in capes and cowls.

He sees them all: the devil fights tooth and nail to stop a revenant from claiming its vengeance; a faceless man is slowly killing himself in the pursuit of truth; a knight from ages long past climbs out of his desert tomb; in the City of Tomorrow, a humble servant embraces his alien heritage and dons a symbol of hope.

These new heroes are not everywhere. In Frankfurt, a neighbor lets a man he recognizes into his apartment building. That man climbs the stairs to his ex-girlfriend's suite, hate in his heart. He has a knife hidden in his sleeve. A tyrant in Bialaya orders the execution of a hundred political dissidents. An old woman shakes with chill in an alleyway, clutching desperately at a ragged blanket.

For a moment, Heimdall closes his eyes. His fists tighten around the hilt of his sword. For eons has he stood at the foot of the rainbow bridge, tasked to watch for threats against Asgard- to sound the Gjallarhorn when Surtur rose from Muspelheim.

Yet in this role he must also bear witness. He sees the triumphs, the tragedies, the quiet in-betweens of every life in all the Nine Realms. Trillions of lives have unfolded before him since he took his post. No matter what he saw, Heimdall was never to lift a hand in intervention without the Allfather's approval.

Head held low, the watchman-god whispers a prayer: "May your heroes answer when you call, for I cannot."

He returned to his duty.

In Alfheim, Heimdall watched the elves of light and dark wage another of their petty wars. They'd been killing one another since time immemorial. The list of transgressions held by either side was longer than the serpent Jörmungandr. Today, the dark elves were the aggressors. Their newly crowned king, Malekith the Accursed, led his legions all the way to Ljosalfgard, seat of the fairy court. Queen Aelsa rallied a host of elves and fae to her defense, though they were outmatched: fae magic was all illusions, befuddlement and torture; it lacked the sheer destructive might of Svartalfheim's shadows.

The city of Ljsalfgard would've fallen days ago if not for the intervention of Balder Odinson. Balder the Brave, they were calling him, for he had slain eight thousand men in only four days. Four days spent knee-deep in elvish blood without a moment's rest. Neither their weapons or magic could harm good Balder, for he was blessed by his mother Freya to never feel pain.

"Heimdall." Odin spoke, and the room shook.

The voice of the Allfather startled Heimdall from his musings, as it always did. Odin walked with silent steps when he wished, and his presence was shrouded from even Heimdall's eyes. Looming like a mountain, Odin paced the observatory. A cloak of living ravens hung across his shoulders- dozens of eyes staring back at the watcher. These were just a small part of the flock Odin kept. Ravens were his spies across the Nine Realms, whispering the goings on of mortalkind to the Allfather.

Heimdall glowered at them. Never had he understood the point of those strange beasts when he was all but omniscient. The king's ways were ever mysterious, Heimdall supposed.

"How may I be of service, your grace?" He asked, head bowed in submission.

"Why must my sons rebel against me?" Odin grunted, leaning upon Gungnir, the Spear of Heaven. "I told Balder he was needed here, in Asgard. Yet where has he gone?"

Heimdall hesitated, unsure if the question was rhetorical. "To Alfheim, your grace."

"To Alfheim," Odin repeated, exasperated.

"The armies of Malekith would have overrun the realm if not for his aid." Heimdall explained, feeling a need to defend his friend from the Allfather's wrath. "Balder slays your enemies by the thousands, even now."

"His courage and skill at arms were never in doubt," Odin said. "It is wits my son seems to lack."

"Your grace?"

Odin shook his head. "I grow wearier by the day, Heimdall. This business with Loki weighs heavy. Once we have lit his funeral pyre, I must sleep. Ordinarily I would not worry, for Thor would always stand vigil. Now that he is gone, however, I fear for Asgard's safety."

Heimdall kept his face as stone. "My watch does not falter, Allfather."

Picking up his spear, Odin turned toward the Bifrost. He walked up to its edge, looking out over the cosmos. Its stars stretched on endlessly in all directions, shining in the dark. His one, good eye turned to that star that gave life to the earth. He was silent for several minutes, his shadow stretching long across the room.

"Where is my son?" He finally asked, his back still to Heimdall.

"Which, your grace?"

Odin snarled wordlessly, and Heimdall took a step back.

"Thor is trapped in Muspelheim. He was doing battle with a wretched monster of Midgard and deemed it too dangerous to leave in the mortal realm, so..." Heimdall trailed off, unsure how to explain the situation without implicating himself. His oath to never meddle in mortal affairs would have extended to Thor's battle as well. Foolish as it was, he could not leave his friend to die. Besides, if Sif ever found out Heimdall had allowed her husband to come to harm, she would have flayed the skin from his bones.

The silence returned. It stifled the air worse than the choking smog of Nidavellir.

"...A blessing of the Norns that Ratatoskr was there assist him." Odin said at last. "His punishment was to be banished to Midgard. If I had intended him to burn in Muspelheim, I would have cast him there myself. Send him the bifrost. Return him to where he belongs."

Heimdall nodded. "At once, your grace."

"And send for Hermod as well. I have need of his swiftness to spread the word of Loki's passing. When I send him to Valhalla, I wish for my family to be present. The whole of it." Odin ordered. Without another word, he vanished as suddenly as he had arrived.

The Things We Fight For

_{IC 286.08.16 // Petrichor-8 System, Frontier Planet Alora // Approaching planet's surface.
1421 hours // ♫ Rockin' Tunes for Diving Into Hell ♫}

---

Two decades on and the waiting remained the worst part. Theodore Howser clutched a dataslate in his hands and tried not to stare at its timer as the minutes to drop ticked away ever so slowly. Five minutes before they'd wade into hell once more. He tabbed back over to a readout of his mech's pre-battle checkup: Hydraulic fluid was topped off, the SmartWorks system was in standby, the X-66 was purring like a pussy cat. All greens across the board. Just like the last time he'd checked it. And the time before that.

"This boat go any quicker?" Theo wondered aloud, trying to hide his impatience behind a lopsided grin.

Time slowed down the harder one focused on it, he knew. Better to find something to distract himself for their remaining minutes aboard the Galea or he'd go stir crazy. He could work on his combat playlist, maybe? Theo flipped over to it on the dataslate, and a long list of songs appeared before him. It was an eclectic mess of old favorites, recommendations from friends and the works of local talent.

It was a small thing, but he liked to remember the cultures these Aberrant invasions were crushing underfoot. That wasn't just a gray mess of dead buildings down there: people lived there. They went to school, played in their regional soccer league, ate bad food at dive bars. And they made music. Aloran compositions mixed traditional horns and drums with more retro-modernist sounds, like synthesizers. One particular song Theo had found was recorded by refugees that escaped the initial invasion. They used the mechanical cries of Aberrant monsters as part of the music, modifying it to produce a truly terrifying noise.

He didn't spend long on the playlist. It was already a cumbersome beast, and shuffling a couple of tracks around wasn't going to improve it all that much. Maybe he could work on a crossword...

The sound of someone speaking drew his eyes up from his slate. One of the Constellations was introducing himself. Douglas 'Rigel' Eorman was his name, and he was here with his partner to oversee the first deployment of their younger colleagues. They both had old, prestigious names, though only the latter really carried himself like nobility. Rigel looked like a frat guy that had aged fifty years, with his rippling muscles and oversized sunglasses. His rank indicated a martial prowess that his demeanor made hard to believe; at least he'd be fun at the after party.

Antares, the partner, showed nothing but open disgust for Eorman. Unlike Rigel's zany antics, Antares carried himself with the usual air of superiority Theo had come to expect from older Constellations. They were taught from birth that their powers made them special- made them better than baseline humanity. Such abilities came with the responsibility to fight and die against the ever-present Aberrant threat.

It always rubbed him the wrong way, if Theo was honest. Service shouldn't be born on a foundation of glory-seeking warrior families.

"Our focus is to develop the talents we've brought along with us, and field test equipment that has just exited the experimental stage of development." Solignis said, his eyes tracking over Theo- no, the woman seated next to him.

Teddy wasn't entirely sure how to react to her presence, at first. When the two had first met, he was ashamed to admit he'd flinched at the sight of biomechanical steel fused with human flesh. The same swarm tech he'd seen tear apart countless friends had been surgically attached to person barely older than his teenage nieces.

Even looking at her now, he felt a heat rising in his throat. This kind of thing didn't just happen. The Aberrants didn't leave human beings alive long enough to experiment on them. No, some fuckjob in a lab coat decided to play God. Equipment. That was the word Solignis had used to describe her.

"You ever notice how they all walk the same?" Teddy asked in a low voice, tapping Aissi on the shoulder. He kept his face dead as a door nail to avoid making a scene. "Legs all the way outstretched, struttin' so long they might fall over any second. Makes their whole upper body jostle around like a, uh, like a rooster."

Teddy placed his arms on his sides like he had a stubby pair of wings. "Y'know, bawk bawk."

The Things We Fight For

Theodore Howser

xxxxxxxxxxxx B A S I C I N F O [Name] Theodore Howser [Callsign] Teddy Bear [Gender] Male [Age] 41 [Rank and Designation] Master Chief Petty Officer [Place of Birth] New Halcyon [Official Statement] "Why'd I join up? 'Cause I've got a bunch of people back home countin' on me: I put food on the table n' keep them safe. 'S more than that, though. There's the kiddos I met out here, too. Teenagers puttin' themselves in the line of fire, seein' things nobody their age ever should. Breaks my heart. They need me. I wanna be the place they can hunker down when things get bad, y'know?" C O M B A T A B I L I T Y [Mech Model] MBM-78 'Grizzly' [Type] Direct Fire Support [Size] 60 ft tall, 225 tons [Core] Epsilon [Description] The Main Battle Mech-78 Grizzly began development by Union General Mechanics in 3006 to replace its last generation of mech, the MBM-60 series. They hoped their 70s series could replicate the reliability of the last generation while taking advantage of advances in weapons technology. The greatest of these advances was the 'SmartWorks' Autofactory System which- if successful- would allow a mechanized unit to forgo resupply entirely, instead relying fully on scavenging the battlefield for material to replace lost ammunition and even damaged mech parts. The latter function still eludes the 70 series, but the MBM-78 makes full use of the former with its ammo-guzzling Prometheus cannon. When firing on full bore, the Prometheus can empty its 30,000 round magazine in less than two minutes. This is not recommended as it will assuredly damage the cannon's barrels if not outright destroy them. The Grizzly remains an unpopular model in the MHA for its expensive Smartworks technology and inflexible weapons selection. The Prometheus is a powerful tool for shredding soft targets from an advantageous position but lacks the penetrative power to effectively combat unshielded rooks and knights; though its Guardian shield and heavily armored hide allow it to take no small amount of punishment from those larger combatants. Given the weight of its weapons load and backpack, the Grizzly is also considered slow and unwieldy compared to other models on the market. [Armaments] The X-66 Prometheus is an eight-barrel rotary cannon with a variable firing rate, with four distinction RPM settings that max out at 16,000 rounds per minute. It utilizes a magnetic accelerator in each barrel in conjunction with traditional propellant to launch its 30mm rounds at hypersonic speeds. The SmartWorks Autofactory System (SAS) is a backpack mounted on the Grizzly's rear. It utilizes bleeding edge matter replication technology to recycle discarded battlefield material and convert it into ammunition for the Prometheus, extending combat effectiveness near indefinitely. While originally designed to manufacture a wide variety of parts, the complicated fabrication process of the Magnetic Accelerator Assisted rounds made that goal unrealistic at best. There are two Augsburg Arsenal Auto Shotguns built into each of the Grizzly's forearms for close quarters combat. They are loaded with 'Krakenshot' flechettes, four inch long daggers shoved into a shell and fired into the soft bits of a target at close range. These completely annihilate lightly or unarmored Aberrants. Included with the SAS backpack is the scavenger drone, designed for retrieving high quality construction material for the autofactory. Guided by the SAS's patented 'PAL' A.I assistant it ranges the battlefield up to eight miles away, and comes equipped with several a full suite of tools for cutting into, prying open or even hacking fallen tech. It has a small personal defense turret mounted on its underside for fending off Aberrant pawns. Optionally, the Grizzly can carry a 'Guardian' tower shield in its offhand for assaulting fortified positions. The Guardian shield has its own Beta-class Aberrant core to power an energized barrier.

Profile [Surface-level Impression] The universe is a dark place and worth fighting for. Theo's life hasn't been an easy one. He lost his ancestral homeworld when he was born and has spent the last twenty years at war. Slipping into nihilism would be all too simple; natural, even, some might say. Theo couldn't disagree more. He's always tried to look hold out hope for a brighter future- to a future without the Aberrants or their genocidal hate. The road ahead is long, however, and in meantime he embraces the little victories of life: a battle survived, a night out with friends, a cool beer and a starry night. He mourns lost squadmates and embraces new ones as friends with equal fervor. Every month he has video calls scheduled with his family, his mentor and some of his old comrades who rotated off the front. [Personal History] Theodore Howser was born on a refugee barge fleeing New Halcyon as it was consumed by Abberants. Life on barge 117-Beta was harsh: food supplies were thin and medicine supplies even thinner. People died in the hundreds every day. those who worked earned more rations than those that didn't, so Theo spent his childhood repairing oxygen scrubbers and cleaning out waste recyclers. Unlike some ships, the refugee barge wasn't a permanent settlement. It was part of a larger fleet that flew ahead of Aberrant incursions, rescued as many people as they could, and then fled for safer waters. 117-Beta spent seventeen years in transit before Theo's boots touched soil for the first time in his life on a planet called Kabral III. Poverty loomed over the Howser family even here. Levi Howser, Theo's father, was paralyzed during the invasion. The cybernetics necessary to repair his spine cost far more than they can afford. Even with minimum medical attention, his bills are astronomical. He's trying to make a career out of dictating novels with a speech-to-text program, but it isn't going well. Asmara Howser worked for a non-profit education advocacy group before her planet was destroyed. She works fifty hours a week as a public educator and another fifteen as a private tutor. Its enough to scrape by even if it leaves her children to fend for themselves most days. Theo decided he needed to ease the burden on his mom, so he decided to pitch in. His application to military service was accepted near instantly- the machine always needed more bodies- and he was shipped off world to Camp Triton for training two weeks later. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life. The regiment's doctor nearly failed him out after he vomited all over himself and passed out during a run. The human body could only take so much punishment and he was already malnourished when he showed up; Theo wasn't ready. Be it luck or providence, it just so happened that the chief medical practitioner at Camp Triton was a Halcyonite too. Major Russom Samir prescribed an expensive physo-gene therapy program that built Theo back better than he'd ever been, and two months later Samir cleared Theo for service. Theo earned the callsign 'Teddy Bear' at Camp Triton both because of his affinity for the MBM-78 Grizzly and for his soft nature; he was 'too soft for war,' his bunkmates would mock. When they took bets on which of them would run or die first, the majority settled on gentle, soft Theodore. He was determined to prove them wrong. Thanks to recommendations of Major Samir and Lt. Colonel Strutzheim, the base commander, Theodore was accepted into the pilot program. No one would've called the boy a prodigy: he made more mistakes than most every single time he climbed into the cockpit. But none could deny his passion. There was a fire in his heart that drove him harder than anyone would've thought possible. The flame followed him through his next two decades of service: he fought on the moons of Pele, liberated Calypso IV, dug in around Rao City for the Hundred Day Siege, rescued the battleship Benevolence from an Aberrant boarding action, and so much more. One of his more notable tours of duty saw him aid in the defense of Thrax in 376. Teddy was grievously wounded when he attempted to engage a Bishop still protected by its barrier. Without a Constellation present, his unit had no hope of stopping it from massacring the tribe of Cain. Still, Theo refused to retreat, and had his men carry out delaying tactics: mine the ground to slow its advance, fainting charges to drag its attention backward; split the retreating tribes people into small groups so it had no easy target. Despite their efforts, Teddy fell. The creature cracked his mech open like an egg, split his head nigh in twain and left him for dead. It was a miracle Teddy survived, though he still has the scar to show for it. He never let the tragedies of his life define him. He never let himself dull to the little pleasures of life, like a hot cup of terrible coffee or a night dancing with a pretty woman. Even at forty-one years old he lives every day with the same passion of his youth, for he knows full well it could be his last. A universe cursed with the Aberrants was a harsh one- but life was about more than its darkest hours. Home World [Planet Description] New Halcyon was a garden world on the frontier of human-controlled space. Its terrain is as varied as Earth's, though the planet itself was slightly smaller and orbited by twin moons rather than one. It was settled hundreds of years ago by Neo-Reformist Liberation Theology pilgrims fleeing the coreworlds from persecution. Over the centuries it developed an average economy stifled by sanctions and isolationism. Most of its settlements were clustered around the original landing site, though some adventurous sorts crossed the ocean to settle other continents and islands. Its population hovered around eighty million when the planet was conquered by Aberrants. [Culture] The first settlers of New Halcyon considered it a paradise gifted to them by God. They christened their landing spot as the Rock of Mercy, and built upon it a massive cathedral. The first settlers were all canonized as saints, and hundreds of statues were erected in the halls of the cathedral to remember their sacrifices. Reformist influence promoted government and economy policy based on their religious teachings, including: the elimination of poverty, equitable distribution of resources and a reform-first criminal justice system. Anti-coreworld sentiment was common enough that the Halcyon government faced regular censor by federal authorities. Notable Contacts Russom Samir [Name] Commander Russom Samir [Relation to Subject] Mentor [Analysis] Russom Samir is a military doctor and Commander (0-5) in the Navy of the Mobilized Human Alliance. Originally educated as a doctor, he signed up for officer's school after spending fifteen years in civilian medicine for one reason: he'd lost his son to an Aberrant attack. He's hopped between dozens of postings over the decades, including a few on the front, but it was during his time as the chief medical officer at Camp Triton that he met Teddy Howser. Russom is a native of the planet New Halcyon, a world lost to Aberrant invasion over forty years ago. It was his shared ancestral homeworld that drew him to Theodore Howser. When they met Theo was a young firebrand with a failing body- broken by the death of their world. The kid wanted nothing more than to join the fight against the things that took a home from him that he'd never seen. That warmed Samir's cold heart enough to stick his neck out for the kid. He ensured Howser received the best medical care available so he could complete his training at Camp Triton. Many of Russom's peers consider him a sardonic man that is difficult to work with, with utterly terrible bedside manner. Still, he cares deeply for his charges, and tries to maintain relationships with those few people willing to put up with his bitterness. He has a service record longer than his arm and has earned many a favor from higher ups by saving their lives. Teddy is one of those friends- the two trade messages frequently and make plans to share a drink or two whenever their paths cross. Theo owes Samir everything for saving his career when he was only a teenager, and he does whatever he can to pay Samir back for his...unique brand of kindness. A critical lack of experienced medical personnel on the front saw him transferred again. Russom's too old to fight on the line, but he can mend wounds and command a small army of orderlies on the deck of a destroyer or in the back of a tent if he has to. God knows he has the steel for it. Aissi [Name] Aissi [Relation to Subject] Friend, sympathy magnet [Analysis] Over the last twenty years Theo's met plenty of teenage constellations with the misfortune to be born 'special.' Handed a sword by their fathers and told to die for the human race, just like their ancestors. Aissi was of a kind with those honored dead in only the fact that she was young and doomed to die: augmented with the mechanical bones of the great enemy, picked apart in some godforsaken lab as her humanity was stripped away from her piece by rotten piece. Theo's blood boils at the very thought. No one deserves such a fate. He doesn't know Aissi half as well as he wished he did. Part of him finds her deeply unsettling. But he knows there's a young woman trapped beneath that alien steel and she must feel desperately alone. Lictor [Name] Joab of Thrax, 'Lictor' [Relation to Subject] Aspirational celebrity, acquaintance [Analysis] The Siege of Thrax left its mark on Theo in more ways than one. It was one of his first true brushes with death and a reality check for a younger man that thought himself invincible whenever he climbed into his suit of iron. Theo vividly remembers waking up in his bunk in the pouring rain to watch grainy video footage of Lictor singlehandedly holding off Aberrant bioforms thrice his size. Thraxans talked about Joab with reverence. He was a war hero, of course, but he was more than that: he was the living symbol of Thrax's defiance in the face of overwhelming odds. The two only spoke a few times during the Siege, and Theo lost contact with Joab after that. Scuttlebutt was that Lictor had gone into retirement, if he wasn't just dead and the MHA was covering it up. Theo was ecstatic when he learned Lictor wasn't just alive- he was back.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

_{UOU Presents: THOR, GOD OF THUNDER}

ISSUE #6: Heart of Ice

---

_{Winchester Point ♦ Alaska}

"This is crazy. Look, I know I called everything before this crazy too. But this?" Keith Kincaid held up his chunk of obsidian in one hand and a bottle of superglue in the other. "This is truly, bonafide nutsoville shit."

That was the eighth and last of the black stones they needed for Ratatoskr's ritual to work. Jane triple-checked her work with a level and measuring tape: every stone had to be precisely eighteen inches from another stone, and they needed to be utterly and completely flat against the door frame. Thresholds played an important function in the World Tree's magic. If anything was even half a centimeter off, the threshold would be broken and their spell could fail- leaving Jane and Keith in deep shit with no one left to bail them out.

"Get it up there. We don't have much time." Jane glanced over her shoulder down the hallway. Still no sign of the creature.

She could hear the distant popping of tiny explosions, and a high-pitched voice squealing battle cries. Jane never would've guessed that she was going to put her life in the hand's of a talking squirrel, but here they were. Only an hour before Jane's world was a little simpler. Yes, monsters were real and they were trying to consume her for biomass. And yes, a guy who could probably brenchpress a tank was fist-fighting said monsters dressed like an extra from Hamlet.

Weird, sure, but not world shaking. Just two nights ago on the Daily Planet, she watched an impossibly fast woman lose a fight to a dork in condiment-themed spandex. A human fireball's bare ass was front page news according to the New York Post. This was just the world they lived in now.

Thor? Thor was different. He wasn't just a mutant with delusions of grandeur as Keith insisted. If he was, he couldn't have summoned the talking squirrel that knew all the secrets of the universe. Ratatoskr had a better grasp on quantum physics than her professor at MU did. The little guy could turn a medicine cabinet into a portal to another universe.

Realm. They were realms, which weren't quite the same concept. Some of the realms were just higher dimensional realities that were technically still part of their universe. Apparently.

"Got it," Keith nodded, slapping his stone to ensure it was securely adhered to the frame. The moment his stone was in place the rune carved into its surface lit up. It burned the color of sunrise.

Jane stepped away from the door, flinching at the heat radiating off of it. "Well, he did say it'd be obvious if it worked."

"Time for the fun part." Stepping to the other side of the hall, Keith retrieved the pair of rifles leaning up against the wall. He tossed one to Jane and checked the magazine on its own.

Fun was a relative concept at the best of times. Some people thought watching baseball for ten hours in a freezing cold stadium was fun. Other people were normal. Jane wasn't sure anyone thought fleeing from the many-toothed maw of a corpse demon was fun.

She ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Every muscle in her calves was burning, but stopping for even a moment meant that thing catching up to her. Not happening. Jane stumbled around the corner, catching herself on the rifle.

Keith stopped beside her and turned, firing off wild pot shots at the mound of gibbering flesh filling the hallway. Every bullet struck home. Blood squirted from the impact wound, mixed with a heaping of puss and something less easily identified. It didn't so much as flinch. "Fuck you!" Keith screamed, letting the empty magazine drop to the floor as he slammed in a replacement.

"Go!" Jane jumped up, grabbing Keith by the sleeve to physically drag him away. He got the message and started running again. Even at her fastest, she couldn't keep up with him: Keith never really dropped the workout regime when he left the army. Jane hadn't ran consistently since track and field; the pain in her side wouldn't let her forget it.

'JOINMEINHOLYUNIONMAYYOURBODIESBESACRIFICEDONTHEALTEROFMYPERFECTION! BENOTAFRAIDFORIAMMORETHANFLESHANDFANGIAMANCIENTIAMTHELAND'

Foul utterances just beyond her perception battered against Jane's mind like waves against a ship. She closed her eyes and focused on the task at hand. She must make her mind a fortress. Bar its gates and let none pass, for there was work to be done- that was Thor's advice. It seemed like a form of active meditation: Be a castle. Let the enemy break upon her walls. She hoped it worked.

Keith's tactic to avoid his sanity slipping away involved shouting every curse word in the English lexicon.

"Here we are!" Jane shouted, pointing ahead: the doorway they'd marked with rune stones was just ahead. It was time to dig in and find the last of her strength. All she had to do was get there. Afterward, it'd be up to the others.

"Last stop on the train to hell!" Keith grabbed the door handle and flung it open, a vanishing into a shimmering haze of blue. Jane leapt in a moment later.

And the monster followed.

---

_{Brimstone Mountains ♦ Muspelheim}

Every breath taken in the realm of Muspelheim burned Thor's lungs. The taste of ash was permanently upon his tongue, he feared. Not minutes after arriving did he strip off his coat, and less than forty-five minutes later his armor as well- he was quite literally roasting inside of it. It did him little good against a foe such as this. All Thor wore now was his crimson cape, fashioned with a rune of protection for a brooch.

And a pair of braise to protect his dignity. He wasn't a barbarian.

Above him, the sky blazed. Roaring fire stretched across a sunset colored sky in place of clouds. Indeed, the whole of this realm was cast in similar shades: looking out from the Brimstone Mountains he saw endless plains of cracked red rock, crossed with rivers of magma and lakes of boiling misery. In the far distance, he could see a great throne looming. Upon it sat the oldest living being in the universe, older even than the concepts of time or space.

Surtur. A primordial king, born aflame, asleep upon his throne.

Thor hoped it stayed that way for another million-odd years.

A shimmering doorway appeared on the mountainside beneath him, drawing his attention back to the task at hand. The ethereal door led to a small stone enclosure surrounded on all sides by steep cliffs. Ratatoskr had chosen their arena carefully, leaving no room for escape.

It slammed open, and his mortal friends came running into the arena at a breakneck pace. They complained of the heat loudly and immediately, but thankfully they had the good sense to keep moving. They crossed the dozen and a half paces to the other side, where a second doorway in the rock glowed to life. Keith ran straight through. Jane stopped at the threshold long enough to look up at Thor and give him a small, wordless nod before retreating through.

If all went according to plan, Ratatoskr would remove one of the rune stones from each door and trap Thor and his prey here.

Not the monster. Not a blasphemy of divinity and flesh.

Prey.

The thing fell onto its rotund belly moments after arriving in Muspelheim. Its horrific, pained wails were pathetic. It choked on sulfur and ash, and writhed in the immense heat of this awful place. If fire was its anathema then Surtur's domain would put its sinful fortitude to the test.

Thor stood from his hiding place among the rocks, looking down his nose at the wretched monster. "T'was foolish of me to ever fear you!" He laughed, drawing its many eyes up to him. "Here, in this awful place, is your truth laid bare: you are no different from any other monster I have hunted. Though you play at godhood, you tremble before your own mortality. You inhabit many bodies yet- the rest are gone, are they not? You are trapped here. Eternally bound to Muspelheim 'til Ragnarök wipes us all away."

'NO'! Its thoughts resounded in Thor's head like the banging of a gong. 'You lie! You remain! Even as hopeless as you are we know you would not abandon yourself to this fate, son of Odin. Your arrogance will be your-'

"Ratatoskr has already seen the threshold rendered inert," Thor interrupted. "And he is oathbound to never open it again."

'No...no....Why? Why would you damn us both?'

"You are a plague upon the realms. Your very existence defiles all you touch. I know not how you learned the tongue of the divine, nor what foul magic rendered your flesh so mutable. But it matters little. Fate placed me in the path of your destruction. It is my responsibility to see your tyranny ended. To avenge those mortal lives you snuffed out in pursuit of...what? Godhood?"

'Evolution. Perfection. It is our purpose. The master has written so into our very essence.'

Thor set his jaw. "You will tell me of your master before I snuff out your life."

Every mouth on the creature chittered with mocking laughter: 'Make us.'

Steel leapt into Thor's hand as he stepped off the cliff-face. He brought his new axe down upon Man-Beast's rotten form, sundering a head off with a single blow.

The woman's head, engorged on wolf-meat, rolled away when it hit the ground. It tried to repurpose its flesh to sprout legs and skitter away, but the heat of the rocks set fire to its blasted form near instantly. The thing melted from the inside, screeching in alien pain.

Thor did not pause his assault for a moment. Jarnbjorn sung with the eagerness of steel freshly forged. Enchanted by the brother-smiths Eitri and Brokkr, Ratatoskr claimed it could cut through anything. This would prove a fine test of that theory as Thor hacked, slashed and cut at the immensity of his assailant.

Man-Beast stretched, thinning itself. The meat of its torso elongated and separated into numerous limbs, clawed hands grasping for Thor's throat. Few succeeded, slicing open thin cuts upon his neck and bare chest. The rest were carved apart. Their remains fell away to the rocks beneath their feet and caught aflame before they could rejoin the whole.

'You fight with such hatred! What have we done to you, God of Thunder, to offend you so?'

"Butcher. Murderer." Thor grunted, slamming his fist into what remained of Russell's face. Now it resembled more of a bloodied chunk of hamburger slapped onto a human skull and cooking in the sun. "They deserved better deaths than this."

'Ha! Hypocrisy turns your condemnation to ash in your mouth. I can feel the blackness of your heart, Thor. The guilt, heavy as an iron blanket on your shoulders. You think slaying me can absolve you of your crimes?

Jarnbjorn tasted Man-Beast's guts and found them wanting, so the axe spit them out upon the ground with a single cut. "It is a start!"

The monster's many hands flowed as one now, rushing for Thor's tree-trunk thick arms. Many of them were lost to the hunger of the axe, but not all. Enough made it past to take hold of his wrists and hold them apart. Render Thor unable to swing his devastating weapon, if only for a moment.

'I have slain six men. You have taken countless lives in your eons. My death will be a single grain of sand on your misbegotten path to redemption.'

Thor raged against the hands that restrained him. The smoke-choked air of Muspelheim seemed to ignite inside his lungs, burning him with every breath. "Mine hands are stained, aye. Perhaps forever so. But my soul is not for you to judge, monster. My sentence is already passed and I intend to see it through."

"Blood e-enough...to extinguish...sun." It mocked with Russell's stolen voice. Its ribs broke through its chest cavity, sharpened to spear points. They plunged into Thor's body at every angle, entering his thigh, his side, his chest. One narrowly passed by his cheek, slicing it open as he bobbed to the side.

"Silence!"

Man-Beast's grasp shattered, and Thor lunged forward, axe held high. Lightning sparked along its Uru-forged edge. It had been too long since the storm raged in Thor's chest, but he could not let its return distract him: the battle was not yet over.

Another strike landed clean into its bulbous shoulder, and this time Thor did not slice it off: instead, he held Jarnbjorn fast, letting the lightning flow into Man-Beast's open wound. The creature spasmed. It stumbled on its too-thin feet. Seeing its struggle, Thor thought to relieve it of pain, and drove his other fist through its kneecap. The thing fell hard onto the stones.

It loosed a howl that could shake the world as it trembled upon the brimstone. "S-s-sssstop! STOP!"

"Your master. Who is it?" Thor asked, placing his boot upon the thing's last remaining head. Russell's.

"Nnnever t-t-tell. F-fates worse t-than...dddeathh f-f-for traitors." It hissed. "Y-you should k-know, kin-kinslayerrr."

Thor turned away from the broken thing to look toward the sky once more. To witness its blazing horizon, knowing he would never see the night sky again. "I was unsure I could best ye. That was why I refused when Ratatoskr offered to witness our battle. If you had consumed mine form, I fear you may have seized Yggdrasil's guardian as well. I can only imagine what a thing like you could do with access to the World Tree."

"Y-youuu could havee...lefttt m-me here. W-when t-those m-mortals b-baited me t-through. D-doomed yours-yourself for n-nothing."

He looked back down at Man-Beast, smiling. "And deprive myself of the satisfaction of your demise?"

It laughed. "A-arrogant even t-to th-the end!"

Thor pressed his boot harder down upon its skull. Its laughter turned to pained cries and desperate pleading for mercy. Then came the crack of bone, and the wet crunch of brain matter to follow. And finally, silence.

"I've had quite enough of your bleating."

HEART OF ICE: THE END.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

Lots of posts to read over breakfast.

Thankyou all.

@Sep

Where are my posts Sep, huh? What about my needs?

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

_{UOU Presents: THOR, GOD OF THUNDER}

ISSUE #5: Heart of Ice

---

_{Winchester Point ♦ Alaska}

The last survivors of Winchester Point barricaded themselves in the infirmary. Thor stacked stainless steel furniture against the door, unsure if it would even slow their foe but unwilling to leave their safety to a single lock. While he busied himself fortifying their position, Jane looked after Keith.

His injuries weren't significant. Some bruising around his ribs and on his left forearm. A minor concussion seemed likely, given he lost consciousness. But he had no broken bones or major lacerations that she could find. Jane gave him a small dosage of pain killers and anti-nausea medication; provided they weren't eaten by a flesh amalgamation tonight, he'd be right as rain soon.

"I'm glad you're okay." She took Keith's hand in her own. Bags hung heavy under her eyes. Since this nightmare began she'd earned a few cuts and bruises of her own. It was a miracle she'd made it this long.

Keith sat up. He cupped her face in his hand and the two shared a tender kiss. "Me too," he muttered as they parted. "I almost wasn't a couple'a times. If I hadn't run into, uh, this guy in the woods-" Keith shot a look over toward Thor, who was doing his best to look busy but was clearly ease-dropping.

Turning, she faced Thor, giving the stranger a once over. His armored boots decorated with little wings, the crimson cloak hanging from his shoulders, the breastplate peeking out of his coat- he was no woodsman.

"Thank you. You saved my husband's life."

Thor grinned. "T'was no great feat of mine. In truth, stripped of my power, these monsters nearly overcame me twice. Without your aid I fear I would have perished as well."

"Sounds like we make a good team." Jane nodded. "...Thor, was it? God of Thunder?" She raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"Aye," he returned the nod. "I am bound to Midgard for the foreseeable future. Full glad am I to find such worthy companions so soon after my arrival."

"Sorry, did you say you were stripped of your power?" Keith asked, flinging his legs off the side of the examination table. "You sure don't look like some helpless kitten to me."

A shadow passed over Thor's face before he looked away. "Indeed. Though my strength might seem impressive to mortals, 'tis merely a fraction of the might I once commanded. It would seem I am no stronger than the average Asgardian now.

Keith threw his hands into the air. "Woe is me, I only have the power of a freakin' god!"

Thor looked perplexed. "Have I offended? I mean no-"

"No." Jane interrupted, putting up a palm. "You're fine, Keith is just...being Keith. What he means is that you're still much stronger than we are. We don't stand a chance against these things without you." She said, giving Keith a knowing look. His expression turned sheepish.

"How many more of those monsters remain?" Thor asked.

"Russ and I killed Joel. Lit him up when he started growing spider legs from his ribs." Jane said, wrapping her arms around herself. "Moffat and Waites are dead, too. They were in the garage when it blew up."

"We got Wilford earlier. And Thor turned Maloney into pulled pork." Keith added.

"I think that just leaves the meatball in the cafeteria." Jane said.

"That 'meat ball' may prove our end, I fear," Thor said. "It has changed its form in such a way that I can no longer harm it with my bare hands. Your flames slowed it but did not destroy it, as they did previous foes. Do you have any greater armaments we might wield?"

The two humans looked at one another. They exchanged a few questions about the state of their equipment: what was and wasn't destroyed during the attack, how much ammunition they had used up, if there was anything they could be missing. Neither came up with an answer they found adequate. Jane's suggestion they call the state troopers was shot down when Keith mentioned the monster's psychic influence over the radio. The flamethrower was their best weapon against the Man-Beast, and it was gone. They had no backup.

"Maybe we should just run." Keith muttered, turning his clammy hands over. "My truck has enough fuel to get to Kenai."

"And what happens when we leave?" Jane asked, crossing her arms. "It'll take hours for us to get there, send word to the authorities and for them to finally get back here. That thing would have free reign to infect whatever it wants. Maybe every living thing in this forest. Or, hell, it could run, and then it'd have half a million square miles of wilderness to hide in."

Thor was still as stone. "It would not." He whispered. "It plans to follow us. It wants me to join it. To render up my godly body to become one with its so-called 'perfection.' Nay, I will not permit it to leave."

"What are you talking about?" Jane asked, worry besmirching her features.

"It speaks to me in a higher language than the mortal mind can perceive: the tongue of the divine. This is how I am able to converse with you, despite never learning your mother tongue." Thor explained. "Most of us speak it for the sake of convenience, but there are some who master its strange arts in pursuit of greater power. It is said the elder gods used this power to speak reality into existence. If this creature consumes enough matter..." Thor closed his eyes. "I fear for Midgard's future. For all the realms, perhaps."

Jane went silent. Keith shook his head in disbelief, though he couldn't speak either.

"So you claim you're some kinda god, right? N' there's a lot like you?" Keith asked, finding his courage along with his voice. "How in the hell can they permit somethin' like this happenin'? Why ain't they doin' anything?"

There was righteousness to his anger, Thor knew. Long ago had Odin stepped away from meddling in the affairs of mortals. 'They do not worship as they once did,' he bemoaned. 'Why should I waste my power on a people that do not believe?'

The memory made his choler rise. He remembered, too, his mother's anger at having heard it the firs time. All of Asgard had shaken when they quarreled that day. If Freya were still head of her own pantheon, as she had once been before the Aesir and Vanir were joined, she would never have allowed it. Unfortunately for her and Midgard both, Odin reigned. The Allfather took his hand from the earth. He left them to their own devices for more than a thousand years. Few Asgardians dared to defy his order. Thor and his brothers had, on occasion, though he was shamed to remember each visitation was only for their own entertainment. Not once had he answered a prayer.

"Forgive me. I require a moment alone." Thor said.

He retreated from the main room of the infirmary to the backroom, which was used primarily for storage. Shuffling through piles of boxes, he eventually found a chair to fall upon. Weariness dragged him down. It propagated through his every pore like a virus. Even his Asgardian stamina faltered. Was this how mortals lived? Every battle ended with exhaustion, barely able to stand? It was a hard thing to imagine, and harder still to endure for the first time in his immortal life. They were made of sturdier stuff than the gods gave them credit for.

"Heimdall, I know you can hear me. And I know Odin has forbade your intervention in mine affairs. This is my punishment, and I intend to carry out my sentence with the dignity befitting my royal lineage." Thor began, clenching and unclenching his fists. "But I do not call upon ye for mine own sake. Rather, you have seen that beast I face: it spits in the face of the divine. In its blasphemy it threatens all of Midgard. The fates have put me in its path, I think. I must destroy it, but I cannot- not alone. Mjölnir heeds not my call. I know you cannot help me, Heimdall, but...Send me someone who can. I beg ye.

Please."

A rift tore open reality before him. A brilliant portal of every color of the rainbow danced on the wall, rippling with potential. A voice boomed through it: "I hear all and see all, Odinson. You will not stand alone."

Thor knocked over the chair with the speed he rose. "Heimdall!" He smiled from ear to ear, his fear melting away at the voice of his friend.

A form emerged from the portal, shimmering. It was tiny, barely rising to Thor's knee. As the light died away it became corporeal: a red, fuzzy creature in a rather dashing green tabard, a leather pouch strung along its back and a pan held in its hand. A squirrel, and one of great import, at that.

"Oh dear. This isn't the pantry." It chittered confusedly. Then it looked up. "Oh my, Thor! My good fellow! It has been so long!"

Thor's face lit up like the sun. "Ratatoskr, how I missed thee!"

Without a second thought he scooped up his tiny friend, who climbed atop his shoulder excitedly. "I seem to have taken a wrong turn on Yggdrasil." He thought, looking around the sterile room filled with boxes of paper and medical supplies.

"Nay, friend, it t'was Heimdall that called you here at my request. I am in dire need of your aid."

"What ever could I do for the God of Thunder?"

"It has been a long story, friend. Let us rejoin my mortal allies and I will tell the tale."

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

<Snipped quote by Pacifista>
Wow, I like this banner implementation with the POV character of the post.

@Pirouette

Yeah, this was fuckin dope