Arc 2: Savage Land

Part 1: Discovery

Anthony Stark, known as Tony to his friends, is one of the richest men in the United States. Thanks to his involvement in the weapons research and other defense initiatives his stock has continued to rise. It is even rumored that he is somehow connected to New York’s local hero, Iron Man. He has a reputation as quite the lady’s man, and who can blame them. He has looks, money, and a charming smile. In short Anthony Stark has it all, fame, fortune, looks, and friends. We recently had the opportunity to sit down with Mr. Stark to ask him some more personal questions . . .

Antarctica

The winds here blew with ferocity unknown in gentler parts of the world. Snow blew into the trail of men like ice picks, penetrating through their heavy winter gear. Many of them were clothed in so many layers of clothing they looked like penguins on the ice. Mounds of snow and ice surrounded them like grave markers. Leading them was the tallest of the figures. He had a long sled tied to his waist and he used poles to help him tread firmly along the way.

The man paused his determined walk, letting the other’s catch up with him. The other figures waddled up to him slowly and stopped gratefully. The lead figure removed his fur lined hood and lowered his lower mask. Ice coated his thin black goatee, but he had a large grin on his face.

“Isn’t this exhilarating?” he asked his followers cheerfully.

“Why are we at the bottom of the world, Mr. Stark?” one of the figures asked, cradling himself in his arms.

The other figures refused to remove their hoods, but the flash of glasses and/or bald heads was reflected still.

“Because we can!” Mr. Stark opened his arms wide. “How many men can just fly out and hike the Antarctic for the weekend?”

“How many want to?” one of them mumbled to another.

“It is good for us to realize how fragile we are despite all our money and power,” Tony told them soberly.

“I think I am done feeling fragile,” one of them whined.

“We haven’t even arrived at the campsite,” Tony reset his mask and pulled his hood back over his rapidly reddening face.

Tony Stark began to march firmly on once more, and since he had the single phone the others couldn’t help but march desolately on behind him. A great fog bank lay like a giant comforter before them, obscuring their already miserable view. Determined the billionaire led them onward. He just began to walk into the fog bank when he suddenly slipped and disappeared from view.

“Mr. Stark!” one of the followers called out in shock.

“The phone!”

They raced forward, though careful to avoid whatever pitfall had made their leader disappear. They reached the thick fogbank and stopped in their tracks. This time they did remove their hoods and masks.

“Unbelievable!”

“Impossible!”

“Oh my . . .”

Triskelion

One-eyed General Fury stood at the edge of the landing pad, looking up at the large helicopter that was slowly descending to land. His craggy and hard face looked pleased, which was a rare event. The helicopter came slowly down, the draft whipping his close-cropped hair about.

It touched down and two men quickly dove in and secured the government transport helicopter. As soon as the blades had slowed reasonably Nick Fury walked toward it himself. A sliding door opened in the side and out came two figured dressed in formal clothes. One was a somewhat nerdy man that Fury recognized immediately as Hank Pym. The other was a pampered looking oriental woman in a short skirt and a somewhat revealing blouse. It had to be Janet Van Dyne. She was constantly by Hank’s side.

Fury proffered his hand and Hank quickly took, shaking it awkwardly. “General Fury, what an honor.”

Nick quickly smiled and then turned to Janet, who took his hand coyly. He didn’t fall for it. “We are truly excited about this chance to apply to work with you in the Ultimates initiative.”

“Do you think you can have the presentation in a couple hours?” Fury cut right to the chase. “I have a rather full schedule.”

Hank looked rather alarmed, but Janet smiled smoothly. “Of course, if you could show us to your testing center.”

“Right this way then,” Nick Fury turned crisply and headed into the large high-tech research facility and base of operations for the Ultimates. Hank quickly turned and took his briefcase right from the hands of a soldier. Janet was already on General Fury’s heels. The scientist quickly dashed after them.

They entered a large steel door and proceeded to a glass elevator. General Fury entered a key and turned it, and then he pressed a green unmarked button. The elevator shot downward at an amazing speed, and Hank gaped like a schoolboy as level after flashed past them. Janet quietly stepped on his toes awaking him from his stupor. He coughed, embarrassed and tried to casually observe his surroundings, but after his junk lab in Pittsburgh this place was astounding.

Suddenly the elevator stopped and the doors opened smoothly. Without a word Nick Fury walked out and they hastened after him. What they saw made even Janet pause in amazement. The ceiling was at least seventy-five feet high. Heavily armed soldiers crawled about the place like ants as scientists in white lab coats dashed about, busy on some important mission. The walls were made of what Hank assumed to be bullet-proof glass letting in the amazing view of the Manhattan skyline. Among all the chaos walked Captain America, dressed in full red, white and blue uniform, just like he had before the two newcomers were ever born.

“Is that really?” Janet finally managed to ask.

“Captain America?” Nick Fury asked. “The original, yes.”

“He died over sixty years ago,” Hank shook his head disbelievingly.

“No, he nearly died, and that is something altogether different,” General Nick Fury corrected.

“But how did he . . .” Hank began.

“Come this way,” Fury interrupted. They followed him down the large level, away from Captain America. Janet stole one last glance at the perfect man. Hank frowned to himself. They continued on until they entered a place where the level was split in two. Entering an area below an enormous loft area that Hank was sure was beyond his current security level as nothing more than a potential candidate.

The corridor they entered was as cold and sterile as a hospital. Florescent lights lit their way with cool white light past various steel doors with small glass windows, or sometimes no window at all. Eventually General Fury opened up a door with an i.d. scan, pin code, and a thumbprint. Hank and Janet looked at each other. This place was serious about security. They were in the least secure area of the Triskelion.

They entered a middle sized lab with various instruments and high-level machines, things beyond what the two of them could afford. On one side of the laboratory was a large bay window that overlooked a sunken over-sized observation area. There were already a few scientists present.

“Dr. Banner,” Nick Fury called. A mousy man with limp light brown hair and glasses turned to them. “These are our two candidates for today.”

“The Doctor Banner?” Hank gushed.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Banner smiled shyly and shook Hank’s hand just as awkwardly. Janet smiled at Banner, but deftly avoided a handshake. The scrawny little man took it all in stride.

“I’ll be back to see your presentation in two hours,” General Fury reminded before he turned and left.

Iraq

Black Widow, Hawkeye, and Black Knight nodded at each other from their various positions. They each had five highly-trained soldiers with them. They all knew at least some of them wouldn’t be going home. They were hot on the trail of some terrorists who had kidnapped a high-ranking Iraqi official. They had finally discovered their hiding place in the honeycomb-like caves out here in the desert, mostly thanks to Hawkeye’s specialized eye implants.

Black Knight and his soldiers would storm in first while Black Widow and her small cadre would cover them. Hawkeye would stay outside and guard the entrance. That was what he hated about being an archer. You were always in the back. He had always lived to be at the front of the battle, taking action when others would stand idly by, or worse run away.

He ran his hand over his close-cropped blonde hair and grimaced. His red eyes had always scared the soldiers he worked with, he had caught several of the Hispanic soldiers yesterday referring to him as El Demonio. He had laughed at them for even believing in such things. Clint was a staunch humanistic atheist. He believed only in the power of people and their emotions. How could God create something capable of hatred and then condemn it. Evolution was the true creator of mankind; he often scoffed at those that believed in intelligent design.

Black Knight loosed his broadsword in its sheath. He would need it any moment now. He held his Uzi in his left hand. The handgun had been specially tailored to his specific needs. His right hand was always kept free in case he needed to use his sword, his true weapon of choice.

He looked at his synchronized watch. Ten seconds until he would race into the cave entrance, Uzi held in front of him. He glanced at Black Widow, her red hair glinting in the too bright sunlight. She was absolutely gorgeous, but more deadly than the spider from which she took her codename. He would never have her. He refused to date women that could beat him up in a fair fight. There were few men that could do that and even fewer women.

His watch beeped in his earpiece and he spun into the cave, his five men close behind him. They descended a slope just as two terrorists came racing up at them. He yelled as he let loose with two quick bursts of his Uzi. With a crimson spray they were down before they could release a single bullet.

Black Knight, known only as Dane to his friends, heard some shouts in the language that he had grown to hate so much. He slowed to let Widow catch up, they quickly gathered the two groups together and scattered to get some cover before more of the terrorists arrived. Several of them came rushing forward dressed in their traditional robes and turban.

“Come out,” one of them screamed in rough English. “Come out or we kill the politics.”

Just as they had planned the six men in the back rose, holding their guns, aimed right at the three terrorists that had come out.

“Lower your weapons or they are dead,” the terrorist ordered. The guards looked at each other and put their weapons to the ground. The terrorists advanced on them. While the killers weren’t looking they passed the rest of the forces under Widow and Knight. The Americans slipped down away from them and down further into the cave as quietly as possible.

They spotted the rest of the terrorists with the prisoners that were tied up and surrounded by guards. Knight and Widow nodded at each other, and suddenly revealed

themselves guns firing even before they were standing. Terrorists fell like dominoes around the political prisoners. There was sudden rapid fire from behind and they both knew it was Hawkeye coming in with his men.

“Dane,” came a voice suddenly in Black Knight’s earpiece. “Get your butt back here now, we have a situation.”

“I’m in the middle of a situation here myself, General” Knight growled as he drew his sword and began instead to cut the terrorists down.

“Get over with quickly,” the voice barked.

“Got it,” Knight grimaced as he used his robe to untie the politicians. “No fun this time.”

Just as suddenly as the slaughter had begun it was over. The terrorists lay in a bloody mess on the cave floor and the remaining soldiers were escorting the politicians back to the cave mouth. Widow turned to Knight and brushed her ear as she pushed back her auburn hair. Knight frowned and nodded. The two raced ahead to talk to Clint, they were heading back to America.