(After a break we return to the longest running fan fic on the CV board. The basic premise: Stryfe in a dual guise of Supreme Commander & The Chairman took over the world by force and psychic manipulation. He used Mr Sinister to give him virtual immortality and he's now run the planet for 200+years with his Iron Army named coz they wear Iron Man style suits. The grandchildren and descendants of heroes and villains plus a few long lived heroes of the 2000's fight him. These are their stories...)
New York Iron Hall
The Supreme Commander faced the window, looking down on the city that had changed so much in his lifetime. From the days where the original Spider-Man was beaten to death like a mangy dog to the sprawling mess of concrete, glass and human scum that it was today. “Update on Colorado?”
“Still secured but in enemy hands sir,” General Ahern answered, the smell of whisky on his breath in levels that were almost overpowering to those sitting beside him. “We ha…”
“I don’t care,” stated The Commander as he turned back to the table. “These…insects are rejoicing that they have beaten me, hurt me in some way by taking over an area the size of a postage stamp.”
“Is this why you’ve done nothing?”
You could feel the air leave the room as everyone gasped at General Helfitta’s honest insolence. The Supreme Commander stared down the table at one of his oldest members of his empire. “I am over two hundred years old Falcon. I could simply wait them out. I have time on my side.”
“That is a stupid plan,” grunted Helfitta as he stood. “May I be excused if all you’re planning to do is watch the clock?”
Telekinetically the Supreme Commander slammed the General back into his chair, and then hurled the chair backwards into a wall. “No Falcon. You may not.”
Iron Claw; the Commander’s personal assassin and killing machine, the Commander’s “daughter” Rachel; a product of an awkward encounter between the Commander and cloned genetic composite, Dolph Stevenson; the head of Ferrum, and Generals Ahern and Wholeda sat silently as Falcon slowly got to his feet brushing debris off his uniform
“This is funnier when it happens to Scalphunter,” coughed Falcon.
The assassin known as John pushed through some thick growth and smiled as he spied the metal dome in the jungle.
“Let’s see if Falcon’s information was correct,” John said to himself as he lit up a cigarette.
Ferrum, Lab 7D, Brooklyn Heights
Desmond Fisk, Dr Imck Prince and Dr Maxwell Warren gathered in the lab dominated by the tank in the centre of the room containing a body floating in blue-green liquid. For months the trio had been subject to humiliating menial labour under order of Dolph Stevenson. Cleaning deliberately blocked toilets with toothbrushes. Washing beakers. Collecting leaves by hand. Polishing the floor with tiny cloths. Counting grains of sand.
“I hate this!” growled Fisk looking at his chemical damaged hands that were once unsoiled by work.
“Which is why we’re doing something about it Desmond,” replied Dr Prince as he placed the tray of beakers on the bench; beakers they’d spent the last two days washing for no reason other than if they didn’t the guards assigned would beat them. Dr Warren pointed to his wrist and grunted. He couldn’t talk since he ate a rifle butt a week ago when he tried to stand up for himself gaining a fractured jaw and no proper medical assistance. Fisk checked the corridor; the guards were intently watching something.
“We have about five minutes,” Desmond said as he left the door ajar. “Possibly ten.”
“Maxwell, insert the electrodes into the tank,” Prince directed as he pulled two tubes of green chemicals from his pockets. “I’ll drop the serum into the tank.”
“And if this doesn’t work?” Desmond asked.
Prince shrugged “Then we keep eating stark. But our math is solid; the method has been proven on that rat we caught…”
“Attempting to reanimate the dead isn’t an exact science,” Imck said as he opened a side portal to the tank and poured the liquid in. “Now Max!”
Maxwell Warren tossed the two live electrical cords into the tank sending thousands of volts through the now purple swirled water. Bolts of energy bounced around the tank as the lights faded in and out from the power surge. The water bubbled and frothed.
“What the stark is going on in here?” barked Iron Army soldier charging into the room. Like naughty school children Fisk, Warren and Prince each pointed at each other. Inside the furious tank the liquid turned into steam and Jack Payden blinked for the first time in months as he inhaled.
Loki watched the shackled beast with wonder and fascination. Chained to the wall in enchanted chains was Morbius, the living vampire. For weeks he’d stalked the lands killing several gods before he was captured. And not wanting to kill such a potential weapon Loki made it look like he’d been incinerated to appease those in the hunting party. Now he was stored in a secret basement known only to the new lord of the now homeless Norse gods.
Morbius bucked and lurched forward only to be snapped back to the wall, though the sudden outburst worried Loki. With a subtle wave he reinforced the spell on the chains.
“I’ll take that as a yes. I probably should’ve killed you months ago but you’re an excellent last resort weapon. Whether I use you to avenge my kin or ravage the lands of Lady Doom…” He paused at his lovely little pun. “Either way, you’ll do anything for god blood to sate your thirst.”
“I will drain your bones!”
Loki smiled at the emaciated vampire. “I’m sure you will. And for that you go another day without food. We’ll try again tomorrow.”
Fremont Island, Salt Lake City, Utah
Darius Stane walked along the line of two dozen Iron Soldiers standing at perfect attention. He stopped at the one at the very end, peering at his reflection in the visor.
“Kimberlyn. Open this one.”
-Nano relay engaging. Also please refrain from attempting to name me after the woman you had romantic feelings for-
Darius scowled at the voice of his Supremis armour in his head. A few seconds later the visor flipped open to reveal a petrified young man in dire need of a shave and some tissues. “Oh please, please! Please…”
Darius folded his arms as he waited for a break in the weeping. “Have you finished? Good. Who is in charge?”
“Very good.” Darius smiled. “It only took four days without food and water. But to make sure you shall spend another day here, just to make sure. Close him up.”
-Subject is severely dehydrated. Possibility of…-
“If he dies, he dies.” Darius replied. “I don’t actually care. The suit is more important than the occupant. Open the next one.”
“…Ba…” Hercules dribbled the words as he looked at the card held by Perun the Slavic God of thunder as they sat under a tree.
Ares shrugged his shoulders. “You pulled me from the front line, for this.”
Perun’s smiled evaporated as he placed the card down. “Ares, you asked to be informed on any progress on Hercules condition. THIS is progress!”
Ares looked at his half brother who sat gormless, drooling and barely coherent. “If he was a horse…”
“You’d brush his mane?”
Ares turned to the voice of Daniel Warstar, the Sorcerer Supreme. The young mutant smiled politely as he looked at the massive Greek god. “So how’s the patient?”
“He’s a veg…” Ares stopped mid sentence as Perun glared at him. “Can you not just magic him better?”
“Sure. Would you like a pink dragon with that?” Warstar asked. “Magic as I’m finding out isn’t all ala-kazam and hoary hoggoth hosts. There are rules and consequences on a scale you’d find hard to fathom, stark, I find it hard to fathom and I’ve got the Eye of Agamotto, an Asgardian uru mallet and the Mandarin’s rings! Hercules has one big in thing in his favour which is immortality. Time heals all wounds and what he’s got is time.”
“I am fighting a war,” Ares growled. “I have established a beachhead kingdom surrounded by enemies.”
“Um, you’ve taken over a country nobody in their right mind wanted with a northern border shared with a friendly kingdom,” Warstar said trying not to sound smug. “Look, I’m happy to help but I don’t know HOW to okay. Now I’ve got to head back to my students.”
“You teach children?”
“I’m not going to be Sorcerer Supreme forever,” Daniel said. “I’ve even had visions of my death so I’m just being prepared. Just relax big guy, breath. And Perun you are doing an excellent job man. Need anything?”
“I am well Daniel of Warstar,” Perun hugged him in an all enveloping hug that if he wasn’t infused with Asgardian power would’ve turned him to paste.
“Too tight. Too tight”
New York Central Park
“Are you okay?” Jason asked as he walked beside Samantha Crowe-Toyama, also known as Hellcat.
“I’m pregnant, not sick,” she replied in her Australian accent. Five months ago the pair had met on a mission and it was mutual attraction with one thing leading to another. Inside the great descendant of the Punisher and Black Cat was the growing demi-god of excellent lineage.
“Just checking,” he smiled.
“Any news on your dad?” she took his hand as she asked.
“He’s still pretty out of it.”
“Maybe, you should go and visit him.”
“And leave you and the baby? No.”
“Jason, I’ve fought Thanos,” she replied cheekily. “I’ll be fin…”
“I-Dent cards!” snapped a trio of Iron Soldiers who landed in front of them. “Also prepare for a weapon search!”
Jason clenched his teeth and was about to smack them into orbit when Samantha tugged his hand. He paused and looked at her as she produced two I-Dent cards. “Here you go,”
The soldier checked the cards over. “Luke Cage and Jessica Jones.”
To be continued