Hey there! Well, let me do what I do whenever I write a new story. This was originally going to be an entire anthology series about Marvel Superheroes remade into the X-Men Evolution Universe. However, as it evolved (No, this pun was completely intended), I'm gong to go with making it the Avengers in my version of the Evolution Universe.
While it starts off focusing primarily on the first Avengers I became familiar with, it will, ideally, expand until it has a huge rotating cast, primarily fitted into several teams. There's a huge potential roster of characters, and while I like the MCU, it kinda bugs me that its lead to Marvel, at least outside the comics, to only focus on the six from the first film (and also why I find the 'ugh, another Avenger team?' criticism concerning current Marvel books unfair; while it'd be a lot better if they didn't have so many overlapping characters per team, having several books covering the whole Avengers roster is pretty neat, and I hope Marvel straighten it out a bit so that everyone has a book to read where their favourite members are featured).
At first I wasn't sure how to start it. I was thinking along the lines of origin stories, but I'd had an idea for a chapter for my X-Men Evolution story to boost the Avengers cast. Since I was making this, I decided to do what I did with my X-Men story: Get right into the action, origin stories later.
Hopefully, you'll like this, don't really know.
Its the dawn of a new era. An era of Marvels.
Several years ago, it became known to a select few that there were people, extraordinary people, who were capable of great, exciting, amazing things. Be in the result of freak accidents, scientific anomalies, dabbles in mysticism, or a genetic birthright that could potentially change the understanding of evolution itself, the world was introduces to people who went beyond the common understanding of human capabilities. Eventually, this information became public, as some had chose to use these abilities for purposes, be they villainous, or heroic, that shoved them into the spotlight.
Mutants. Menaces. Fantastic beings. Freaks. There's many names for these people, but to those willing to cut past and embrace the unbelievable, these people are superhuman, and they're here now.
And, the Strategic Homeland, Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Department, also known as SHIELD, has been entrusted by the governing bodies of the democratic world to police and process these superhumans. Director Nicholas Fury, however, believes these people are capable of great things, and does not wish to register them like living weapons. He believes, with the right push, they can defend the free world. And so, SHIELD has taken to recruiting these individuals.
The X-Men, mutants who defend a world that hates and fears them, have proven that uniting as one can fight off living Apocalypses, but while SHIELD entrusts these brave young men and women (and the one really old guy with claws and a funny smell), they need something bigger. A team that can handle any threat, big or small, not just relating to troubled misfits but anything from a runaway monster to an invading alien force. A team who won't stand while superhuman villains and criminals pray on the helpless, who won't let sins go unaveners. They want to unite the World's Mightiest Heroes.
And to do so, they need to find those who'd be willing to be part of a group like that.
"For the purpose of record, this interview is recorded." Nick Fury reads as he looks over the file handed to him. His grey hair kept shortly cut with his left eye covered by the ever present eye patch. "This interview concerns applied membership for SHIELD's Super Human Response Initiative, name currently pending; interviewee's name, Barton. Clint. Codename, Hawkeye; who comes up with these names?"
Agent Clint Barton sits in the chair opposite, looking at the wall behind him while scratching his blond haired head.
"SHIELD agent ranked Lieutenant, security level 5; trained with Agent Coulson, and have quickly risen up the ranks. You've served with both Iron Man and Captain America, who both recommended you highly, where you showed your skills and talents. You've also worked with Black Widow, AKA Natasha Romanoff, and Mockingbird, Agent Barbara Morse, both who've also recommended you."
So far, so good; Steve and Tony seemed pretty up for working with him, and Nat and Bobbi are unlikely to give him a bad recommendation; given Fury's strong trust in those four, this should go well...
"But, you also have a criminal record including car jacking, petty theft, breaking and entering, and...Patricide?"
...Or not. Great, another rejection. Realizing he's just going to be rejected again, he starts playing with a rubber band and a penny, not caring any more. He looks behind Fury, noticing the wall picture with a small line on it, resembling from a certain perspective a penny slot for a piggy bank.
"...And your skill set isn't any different from any other agent. While your aim is unmatched, all your other skills are on level with any other SHIELD agent, all of whom lack your criminal record. Hell, Morse outranks you in half of these, and Romanoff."
He holds the rubber band in his hand like a small bow, with the penny placed so that it's pulling the band back. He pulls it back further, holding it in position.
"This Initiative is designed for superhuman individuals; even if you're a good shot, what makes you think you're special enough for this initiative?" Fury asks him, an honest question overall.
In response, Clint just looks him in the eye before releasing the penny from his grip. It flies just past Fury's head, cutting one of the strings for his eye patch as it does, hitting into the picture with enough force to break the glass and lodge into the small line, perfectly stuck, with no extra space taken up.
"Huh." Fury turns back, looking at the lodged penny.
"Pretty badass eh?" Clint speaks up, smirking a bit.
"Your report does not do your skills justice." Fury muses, laughing a little, as he takes out a spare eye patch.
"Lets cut the crap for a second, Director." Clint starts, losing the slightly smug attitude before. "I ain't a mutant, or a god, or anything special. I'm a guy who does one thing, and that's shoot stuff. And, I'm pretty good at it. But, I've been in SHIELD two years now, and mostly its just been guarding scientists or taking down small terror cells. I want more than that. I want to help people, I want to deal with the bigger picture.; yeah, I've done crap before, I'm not a perfect saint, but I want to prove I'm more than that. That penny trick? That's nothing, you've seen me with a rifle, you've seen me with a bow, and I sure bet that Thor can't fire the way I do. Gimme a shot, and I'll dazzle you."
"You been practising that speech?"
"Every night for the past fortnight."
"I can tell; and I can also tell that you want in on this thing now, and honestly, it'd be stupid of me to not give you it." Fury states, standing up. "For now, we're still putting together the whole team, and there's going to be names that won't make the final cut. But, I can tell you, you're definitely going in the hat. But you want to stay in there, you've gotta prove yourself."
"Couldn't have asked for more." Clint nods, standing up to shake his hand.
An alarm clock buzzes inside a small bedroom, as its owner wakes up, shutting it off, moving his naked bed friend and getting up. The man gets up, rubbing his light brownish-blond hair.
He slips on a dress shirt and a pair of atom printed boxers, moving out of the bedroom, before he sits before a TV, eating a bowl of cereal. He watches Animal Planet, his favourite channel, with a documentary about ants, his favourite animal, while his bed partner walks past, half asleep, having just pulled on a yellow shirt over yellow and black striped underwear with her short brown hair a mess. She walks to his kitchen, opening the fridge and leaning over to look around. He briefly glances in her direction, checking her out a little.
To most, they could be any other couple, just two young, reasonably attractive New Yorkers waking up in the morning to get ready for work, but they're not. The man is Dr Henry Pym, a scientific genius famous for his wide range of PhDs, all earned before he even turned 25, and infamous for his many public bankruptcies and failures, while his girlfriend is Janet Van Dyne, the only daughter of the recently deceased Vernon Van Dyne -who happened to be Hank's boss- and a socialite known for her charity work and her avid social life.
What neither are known for, however, is Pym's current R&D projects, or Jan's status as a mutant with insectoid powers.
She notices him glancing at her every so often, smiling to herself.
"See something you like?" She asks, looking up at him.
"Oh, er. Nothing, just, your..."
"My butt?" She smirks, laughing when he blushes like a small child.
"No, I swear! Just, em, the, just the, pattern on your underwear reminds me of bees. Interesting choice, they're a lot like ants. They're organized, and serve a queen. They..."
"Hey, Hank, didn't want a lecture. Besides, I'm not a bee, if anything I'm a wasp. Wasps are cooler." She goes back to looking at the fridge, taking out a carton of milk. "And if you like ants so much, do what I did and get a pair of ant printed undies."
"They're in the laundry." He replies, resulting in a laugh. He may be the dorkiest guy she knows, but Henry Pym is funny when he wants to be.
"So, when's this meeting with my new boss?" he asks, changing the subject. "I kinda need to know, since if its at ten I only have three hours to get a shower and drive there. But if its earlier, I might have to skip a shower and smell like sweat all day. But if its later than ten, I'll have..."
"Its at eleven, and relax. Just because your job is on the line here doesn't mean you have to worry. I grew up with Andreas, he's not going to fire you."
Today is a day Henry Pym has been dreading. Since the death of Vernon, Janet has struggled to manage the empire he left behind, and so has taken to selling the company to old friends and business partners of Vernon's, Fenris Corp, and its owners, Andreas, and Andrea Strucker.
And with that, comes the hard decision of which departments to keep and what to liquidate. And Hank's department is one that's facing this decision today.
"But they're cutting half my department. If they don't think what I've built is worth the money, I'm canned."
"You developed a machine to make ants do your bidding, and a formula to change mass. Andreas is a little blank, but he's not an idiot. And there's the jet pack."
"A jetpack that only works when it wants to."
"You'll fix the 'only works when it wants to' part when they keep you on board to do it." She tells him, as she drinks the rest of the carton, dumps it in a dustbin, before slipping on a skirt, shoes, and a jacket, and kneeling down to face him. "Now, I'm ghonna go home. At eleven, I'll go to the office, talk to the new board of directors, and convince them to keep you. Now, bye." She smiles, kissing him on the cheek as she leaves.
She thinks it should be easy, but this isn't the first time Hank's faced a board of directors decidig if he's worth keeping on board. And since the last big project lead to his prized AI program turning into a monster that nearly killed a lot of people, he's not had the best reputation. But, maybe this time, he might have some good luck, maybe?
But, 'Good Luck' and 'Henry Pym' have never gone well together.
"You're punching too far to the right, you're going to break your arm hitting it at that angle." A tall blond haired man says to a younger dark haired man, as the latter punches two pads held up by a third man, with the former doing pull ups from a metal beam on the ceiling of the large room.
The first man is large, almost a giant in comparison to the other. Physically, he's in his early twenties, but this is hard to tell due to his incredible build. With a jaw line to cut diamonds, and a chest more solid than concrete, he is, for lack of a better word, perfect. The second man, a year or so younger, merely nods at his comment. His chin holds a small beard, the same dark shade of black as his hair. He has a notably slimmer, more normal build than the first, but not exactly out of shape.
He continues punching, bouncing a little more to the left than he was, punching the pads still.
"Yeah, got it." He takes a small second to brush his hair to the side, whipping sweat from his hand as he goes back to punching. "Could you tilt us a little to the left, you're throwing us off balance."
The camera pans out, showing the mat that the short man is standing on his held up by four ropes, tied around the first man's waist. He tilts his body a bit more, straightening out the mat for him.
The two continue their respective exercises for another five minutes of so.
"Hey, times almost up." The third man, a slightly chubby man with dark curly hair, tells the second as he continues punching the pads. "Hey, no elbow. This is boxing, not your mixed martial arts crap."
The young man rolls his eyes, bouncing back twice before turning and kicking him in the chest, knocking him off the mat onto a stack of several more below. He carefully walks off, dropping onto another mat below, landing in a squat before standing back off, throwing his sleeveless hoody off and taking a blue energy drink, poring it over his face and into his mouth. He turns, as the sweat covered green tank top shows the glowing arc reactor in his chest. The taller man pulls up once more, with enough force to throw himself off the beam he was using, before falling down, landing safely on the mat he had hanging from his waist when it hit the floor. He unties it, walking past the other, making the size difference more noticeable.
Tony Stark and Steve Rogers have been working together on-and-off since Steve was unfrozen, banding together permanently when SHIELD started its new Initiative. Neither particularly trusted the organisation (even if it was being ran by someone Steve knew and trusted from his war days), but if it meant saving the world, it was all for the best. And given it meant Stark got to have someone to teach him how to fight without his armour, and gave Steve someplace to live and people to help him adjust to the modern world, it worked out for everyone.
"Vision, you there?" Stark, the shorter man, speaks into a small console, as it lights up and shows a holagram of a green skinned man with a red face; an advanced AI Stark trusted to run things for him.
"Yes, Tony, I'm here."
"Call round the armour, kinda left it at home." He tells him, taking another drink from his energy drink.
"Armour is dispatched; arriving shortly."
"Good. Any messages while I was busy?"
"Rhodey called earlier. He asked if the improved War Machine armour schematics were done yet."
"Call him back, tell him that his new toy just needs some assembly."
"Yes Stark. I'll do that immediately." The voice adds. "Your armour has arrived."
As it finishes, a small red and yellow flying drone lands before him. He opens one pouch on the front, taking out a metal and spandex body suit. He quickly changes into it, before stepping before the pod. He clicks his fingers, resulting in the pod falling apart, as static electricity pulls the pieces up with a magnetic charge. One large piece, built up of several smaller pieces, connects to his back, as it starts to open around and cover his full torso in red and yellow armour, covering up over his front, connecting to his Arc Reactor.
More pieces fly around, connecting to various points on his arms, legs, and finally his head, resulting in the full armour: An almost robotic looking form; red arms and legs with yellow on the biceps and thighs. Metal devices connect to his palm and heel, glowing. Metal surrounds his head, before yellow plates cover his face, making an 'angry' face on the outside, lighting up inside to show him his surroundings with a HUB interface around.
"Yeah, always feels awesome." He states to himself before turning to Steve. "We'll pick this up Saturday, assuming we don't have a mission that day. See you later, Capsicle."
With a nod, he flies away, at speeds to rival the Quinjets he's been making since he was 13.
He flies out of an opening hatch, showing the building to be a large house, shaped like a disk, sticking out the side of Liberty Island.
Steve looks on as he flies off, before turning to return to the main room to join the others.
Janet Van Dyne gets out of the shower in her apartment, dressing in more formal wear.
She puts on her makeup, combs her short, springy hair, getting ready for the meeting.
She looks outside her apartment window at the busy street. She looks at a photo on the wall, from her last big party, the Stark Expo. The one Tony Stark announced opening his own company, Circuits Maximus, and the one that the terrorist 'Whiplash' attacked. It was this party that she found out about her, gift, when she was trying to evacuate. It was also this party when she noticed Tony Stark's glowing chest, and later worked out he was probably Iron Man. Kind of confirmed later when Iron Man started working for SHIELD when they started financing Circuits Maximus.
It was also this party that introduced her to Henry Pym, but that's another story.
She looks at another photo, this one of Pym and her from her last birthday when he took her rock climbing. It was partially so he could study Hawaiian Mountain Ants, but the thought was good.
A bird flies at the window, startling her and making her drop one of the photos. She curses under her breath, as she removes her outershirt, leaving behind a yellow tank top, as she dives down with two, partially transparent yellow wings that resemble bug wings, fold out and extend from her back, flapping. She flies down, using her wings, as they flap a mile a minute, to control her momentum as she grabs the photo, flying back up. She climbs back inside, accidentally dropping one of her shoes.
She sighs as she replaces the photo and the shirt, calmly finishing getting prepared, hoping no one saw. It'd be serious tabloid news if people found out about Janet's 'gift' before she's even decided how to deal with it. Its not exactly a friendly time for superhumans, and so far her only heroic feat has been fighting the monster that took away her dad.
She walks out a minute later, picking up her shoe as no one notices and putting it back on. She calls a taxi, entering it to get to the office.
Approaching a small apartment in the east side of Manhattan in only three minutes, Iron Man flies down, activating the cloaking field he installed to hide from his neighbours as he enters a small hatch at the back. He deactivates the armour as several metal arms pull the pieces away safely, before he removes the internal circuitry suit and changes into a simple pair of jeans and a jacket. He presses a small button on a counter, causing a spiral staircase to descend, which he steps on as it starts to spin around, taking him to the ground floor.
He takes a few steps inside, as the floor lights up, providing light to the windowless apartment around him. He takes a small bottle off of a counter, gulping down a large amount.
"About time." A voice says to him, making him jump, spit take his mouth's contents, and turn to the source as he gets ready to open his arc reactor and release enough thermal energy to melt titanium into whoever's there.
"Rhodey!" He says happily, seeing instead a man his age, give a year or so, with dark skin, shortly cropped hair, dressed in military clothing and looking a little bemused by his reaction. "Huh, I was about to melt your face off right then."
"Yeah, I see that." He replies simply. "So, my new armour?"
"Getting right to it then, huh? No hug?" He quips, getting no reaction beyond an eye roll. "OK then, follow me."
They step back into the spiral escalator, taking them back down to the 'garage'.
"Vision, is it ready?" He asks, as the AI lights up a wall.
"As of two minutes ago." It replies, as a wall opens to reveal a similar, yet bulkier and grey/black armour to Tony's, with multiple weapons attached.
"I remodelled the Repulsars to increase your flight speed so you're no longer being left behind. The armour is now a Titanium/Admantium compound to increase strength while decreasing density and weight. Your weapon systems improved, etc, etc. Congratulations, you're no longer a sidekick, you're a less embarrassing title I've not invented yet."
"Funny. So, can I test it out?" Rhodey asks, putting an arm around his shoulder.
"I just set up a training area; its pretty basic, but..." Tony starts, pressing a small control as metal doors open up, revealing a large metal room, filled with targets to fight and such. "Its no 'Danger Room', but it'll do."
"Oh, it'll do." Rhodey nods, looking around.
The two put on the spandex undersuits, with Rhodey strapping on an arc reactor in the centre. With a click of his finger, Tony activates both sets of armour, which fall apart and pull their respective pieces over the two, dressing them fully in their respective armours.
"Every time. This never doesn't feel awesome." Rhodey laughs, as the two start to step into the training area.
They briefly stop in mid air, fist bumping the other, their respective force fields sparking up as they do so. They break into a run, before activating the repulsars and flying into the room, shooting up activated drones and turrets.
Clint Barton returns to his small home by the beach, placing down his gun holster and taking off his bullet vest. He drops his bag down, as two arrows fall out. He walks to his kitchen, taking a previously prepared turkey sandwich and biting into it, while opening the back door so his pet dog, which woke up the second he entered, can run around his small back garden to stretch its legs and do its business. He switches on the TV, noting that he doesn't care what the news says and switching off.
He finishes his sandwich before taking a bottle, filling it with water and sticking it inside the fridge, takes out an identical bottle, now refrigerated, and placing it inside a small bag.
He then replaces his uniform for simple tracksuit bottoms, as he takes a run outside.
He runs around the beach, jogging lightly, as he stops once he reaches a light house. He turns back, jogging back to his house, going past, and heading towards an amusement park. He stops outside, turns back, and jogs back to the lighthouse again.
He repeats this for four hours with no breaks other than for a second to drink his bottle, only stopping when the tide starts to come in. He returns home, placing on some hand tape as he starts punching a large punching bag. He punches it at least fifty times, until he tears open his own knuckle. He places over more tape to stop the bleeding and continues like this for another hour, until he runs out of tape.
He washes his knuckles, places on some antiseptic spray and covering up with some bandages before climbing onto his small house. He grips the frame around his roof, as he starts to do some pull ups. He keeps doing so for the rest of the day, until it starts to get dark. By which time he's pulled himself up and down at least three hundred times by which time his weight has broken the framing he was hanging from, again.
He walks around back, looking at his private firing range. Three targets, attached to a bench and designed to look like people, sit across his garden. He picks them up, carrying them out to the beach. He places them outside is home as he takes the bag full of arrows out with him down the beach. He places them on the floor, at least two miles away from the targets. He takes out a simple arrow, titanium tipped, along with a combat bow. He folds the latter out, placing the former inside and pulling back, firing at the target.
He fires two more, both at the same time, both hitting the other two in the head.
He fires a few more, getting closer and more powerful hits, all into the heads of the targets, some even cutting through the previous arrows.
He fires for at least an hour, only stopping when he notices how little arrows he has left. He looks to see one left, as it accidentally gets caught in the tide, pulling it out.
With a swear, he runs out into the sea, diving in and swimming after the arrow, bow still in hand. The salt water stings his many open cuts, but he ignores it as he grabs the arrow. He turns to face the targets, now a mile out at sea as the sky is pitch black. He swims with his feet only, aiming with his hands. Ignoring the waves, ignoring the stinging cuts, ignoring the crab attacking something it shouldn't, he pulls back and fires.
Getting a perfect shot.
After returning to land, he sits on the top of his home, beer bottle in hand. He may've overworked himself in this exercise regime of his, but he has a simple motto when exercising: Give a hundred and ten percent, then times it by ten and do it again four times.
Its now four in the morning, and the sun will be rising in a few hours. Clint sits on a deck chair, watching the horizon and taking a few gulps. He has work in five hours, so no point going to sleep. Its not exactly cold tonight either. So he sits there, leaning back, his dog laying next to him on an old blanket, as he empties another bottle.
He's probably pushing himself into an early grave, pushing his body way beyond what is even close to healthy. But, if he wants to be the best, he needs to earn it.
Just another day in the life of Clint Barton.
Henry Pym stands outside the office, looking in through the window. Janet stands inside, talking to the new Board of Directors.
He looks inside, spotting Jan arguing with the Board of Directors. This can't be good.
"...And it's not exactly useless. Imagine how much gold could be made by just making it bigger?" Janet argues inside, referring to his 'Pym Particles'. "Or, it could be used for construction, or manufacturing, or even solve the energy crisis by just making fuel bigger."
The board listen, though soon it becomes apparent she's not very well aware of what these Pym Particles can really do, or the real interests of this company.
So, as she continues, they silently agree on their decision.
"So, what you say? Pym good to stay?" Janet asks, an optimistic smile on her face, only for their answer to not be what she wanted.
"...Lousy, good for nothing." She mutters as she walks out, followed by a blond haired man, a quite large one, as they catch up to her.
"Janet, this isn't anything to be upset about." They try to tell her. "I'm sure this, 'Henry Pym' fellow can get a job elsewhere if his inventions are this revolutionary."
"That's not the point, Andreas. He's my friend, and he's really smart, and none off you are giving him a chance to prove it."
"Hey, I thought we should keep him on."
"Then why didn't you say so in there?"
"Peer pressure?" They joke, but she just pouts. "Look, him and the rest of his department will get jobs elsewhere. Isn't Tony Stark trying to boost his new company, Circuits Maximus was it? And Obadiah Stane is still running Stark Industries after Howard Stark's death, he'll probably give him a try."
She merely glares at this idea.
"Hey, don't give me that look. It's not my company, its my fathers; I just run it. Look, my limo's here, I'll see you later." He waves as he leaves, Pym watching as he does so, knowing what this means for him.
Andreas Strucker walks from the building, entering a green limo. He sits inside, sighing.
"She's always so hard to pretend to care for." He mutters, turning to look at the woman sat next to him, one with similar, but not identical, features as he does; most likely a sibling.
"This, shrinking technology. Does it work?" The woman asks him, as she closes the tinted windows, looking over the file.
"Well, I watched the demonstration last week. It's the real deal." He presses a button, causing a small fridge to open. He takes out two glasses and a bottle of wine, poring the two out.
"So, why fire him?"
"He's a pacifist. We'd never get it away without him becoming suspicious. Things are so much easier to steal and repurpose if the original creator's not there sniffing around, and after that 'Ultron' incident, who'd really question of Henry Pym's inventions ended up in 'terrorist hands'?"
"There's probably easier ways to go about this." Andrea muses, looking over the file. "But, if we're going to take away his research, surely we'll need to keep him from alerting anyone of it being stolen."
"True; of course, dead people don't often go to the police, and who'll really miss a washed up scientist?" Andreas responds, turning back to her.
"Williams or just some random head?" She asks, getting an idea of what he was getting to.
"Eric will do." He smirks, as they hold their glasses up, tapping them against the other as their respective golden rings shine. "Hail HYDRA."
Next time, Pym and Van Dyne become targets for the assassin known as Grim Reaper, Barton gets sent on grunt work, and soon, the team starts to come together.
-As an opening chapter, I think this went really well: Got action, got some character dynamics, got some humour and jokes, and got some nerdy fun going on. Only issue is I feel there's no real plot to it.
-For the characters not yet shown, they'll be introduced soon; characters like Thor and Hulk will be showing up in the next chapter, and more after that soon.
-As for writing this thing. I mostly got ideas from the films and EMH, but made a few of my own ideas as well with some things from the comics. Hopefully I've caught some people's interests with various points here.
-One of the reasons I decided to write this was after watching the rest of Earth's Mightiest Heroes, I REALLY wanted to write Avenger stuff. As I said earlier, I had two different plots that were Avenger-heavy planned for my X-Men Evolution story, but they were more like an X-Men plot In-Name-only. The X-Men were literally there for the sake of it being X-Men. There was this, an Invaders chapter, and a later plot that I was dubbing 'No More Heroes', that was basically the Avengers being kidnapped. BUT, it was also so Avenger filled I didn't think I'd have room for any X-Men, so I got the idea of writing an Avengers story and, when I use this planned arc, have the X-Men one tie in, as if both were happening together.
-I don't remember if I said this, but updates will be sketchy. Writing three stories at a time with 6-10 thousand words per chapter (With College assignments scattered around) may be difficult. BUT, luckily, the assignments are kinda easy if I set my mind to it, and as I tend to write when I can't sleep and there's nothing to read or when I'm on the train/waiting for the train to take me to the college I get some time to work on it.
-This one alone I feel like its the most comic book-styled out of all my stories. Instead of being a 'whole adventure in one' chapter, it's a fair size and sets up later plots for this and later arcs. I may start writing later chapters for my other stories like this, space them out a little. Depends.
-The title theme wasn't originally planned like that, but I decided to use it. Each story now has its own chapter title theme. X-Men has something important to the plot, Spider-Man has it as something someone's saying, and here I have the military all caps/full stop thing going on.
Now, you've read it, you can't unread it. So, to navigate away from this page it will cost you one review. If you Fave+ this story, please also review. I like being a favourite'd story owner, but I proffer reviews so that I know what my readers like/dislike and want to see. I proffer in depth reviews to simply knowing someone liked it, since that way I don't know what they like and can't pander to it. For example, whenever I read a review that says something along the line of 'wow, great stuff' I'll just ignore it. But, when I read one that says 'yeah, its alright, but you could space it out/work on dialog/fix the grammar and spelling/use less swear words', I'll respond, thank them for their honesty, and work on it. I used to write with one full stop a chapter, until someone said I should work on my paragraphing and spacing. Since then, I've been careful to add full stops wherever I can. Obviously, there's some writers who will respond to a single complaint with 'don't like, don't read'. But if they do, just do as they say: If they can't take criticism, then they don't deserve your attention. But unlike them, I proffer criticisms. So, if you have a problem, let me know. I don't care what you say, just review it and I'll be happy.