David Banterman, alias Bruce Banner, alias The Incredible Hulk, pulled experimentally at the chains attached to the cuffs around his wrists, listening to the clink.
Adamantium.
He scowled, heavy brows lowering, and moved his hips and legs. The restraints there were also adamantium. His arms were pulled above his head, legs spread wide, and a harness prevented him from using his hips. In short, he had no wiggle room. No way to use his considerable strength or bulk to pry his restraints from the wall and floor. His savage side could probably break the restraints if it got mad enough, but Banner was no longer able to call on that side without consequences.
Turning his head, he looked at the slim figure chained next to him. Unlike him, she was hobbled so tightly she could barely breathe. She'd proven to be far too slippery and their captors were taking no chances.
"Why aren't you dead yet?" he demanded.
Sailor Moon screwed up her face in thought. "Because I'm cute?"
"That's your answer for everything, isn't it?"
"It's worked so far."
Banner growled and pulled on the chains again.
One Year Ago . . .
"Ow." Makoto "Flash" Kino rubbed her head where the bit of plaster had struck her and raised her eyes to the perfectly round hole in the roof. It was about a meter wide and looked to have been drilled there . . . if it wasn't for the charred black edges and the faint smell of smoke in the air.
Re-directing her gaze to the lab station across the table, she watched as Usagi Tsukino poked at what moments ago had been a simple chemistry experiment, now so much slag.
"Toji?" Usagi asked, poking harder at the experiment. "Hey, Toji, wake up. Lazy bum of an experiment"
Flash rolled her eyes. Lately, Usagi had taken to naming everything. Food, her textbooks, her class assignments. Everything. It felt like the setup to a joke and yet, Flash was looking forward to the punchline. That lack of fear was frightening.
"Hey, Flash?" Usagi asked, laying the glass rod aside, "what do you think it would be like to kiss somebody with no nose"
"Disgusting?" Flash replied, beginning to wipe plaster off the lab table.
"No, seriously." Usagi leaned forward. "When you kiss someone, you have to tilt your head so the noses don't bump, right? But if one person doesn't have a nose, do you still tilt your head or not"
Flash looked at her steadily. "Usagi, don't you think maybe you should be worrying about the hole in the ceiling instead of kissing"
"There's a hole in the ceiling?" Usagi looked up, wide-eyed. "How did that happen"
Flash rolled her eyes. "I've changed my mind. You're insane"
"Aw, you say the sweetest things, honeybunch," Usagi cooed. "Hey, where's Ami? Isn't chemistry her thing?" Ami Mizuno was their friend. Their only friend, and a genius. Despite having the body of an acrobat, she was shy and bookish, almost reclusive. It drove Flash nuts, because as near as she could tell, it all seemed to be the product of genetics. She'd simply "sprouted" two years ago. Flash, meanwhile, who was an athlete herself, simply couldn't match her. It was infuriating . . . it made Flash angry. Made her want to smash things.
Smash Ami . . .
Flash pushed the thought away. "Science in general is her thing," she said out loud. "And she already passed advanced honors chemistry. Twice. She said that Haruna gave her half days so the rest of us could catch up"
"Huh. So what do you think she's doing"
Flash shrugged. "Hell if I know. Probably curled up with a book somewhere"
An abandoned warehouse Somewhere in Tokyo . . .
The big green man stood there, eyes half closed. He was listening.
A movement of air was his only warning. Fists the size of a small child snapped up as a blur came at him from the side.
He stepped back, knocking aside the kicks as they came at him with enough force to put holes in light steel. Bicycle kicks, forward momentum kept his attacker off the ground and gave the kicks an extra punch.
One hand closed around an ankle and he threw the figure across the room, only to watch it rebound off a ceiling support and land in front of him in a crouch.
It was a teenager. Her blue hair, too long to be called a bob, too short to be tied back, was pushed back from her face with a white headband. Her workout lycra suit was a dark red and clung to the curves of her body like a second skin. Despite the lack of fat on her body, she still boasted an ample chest, and clearly femmine hips. Her arms, corded with muscle, like the rest of her bare skin, gleamed with a light sweat. Her shoes were half-boots and she wore leather gloves. Her expression was a grimace, and her blue eyes like ice and focused.
For his part, the big green man was dressed in black and wore no shoes. His lips curled up in a slight expression of approval. He was huge, with a face that was hard angles, with heavy brows and a broad jaw. His hair, plastered to his head in a shapless mess, was of a slightly darker sheen than his skin, and his eyes were brown.
The girl seemed to be measuring him, and then came out of her crouch as he reached for her. One hand grabbed his wrist, the other formed a fist and slammed into his belly.
He grunted and reached for her, but she'd planted her feet on his thigh and leapt upwards, disappearing into the shadows of the rafters. He rubbed his belly. He'd actually felt that. Not bad. He looked upwards. No movement in the shadows and he smirked as he raised his fist to strike the nearest support beam. But before his hand could make contact, he felt booted feet hit him in the small of the back and he went sprawling, even as he felt, then watched her roll clear and come up in a fighting stance.
"Thirty seconds," he grunted as he stood. "And I didn't even hear you rebound off the walls. Not bad"
"Thank you," she replied, blushing with pleasure and she straightened from her stance.
Without warning, the green man lunged, fingers outstretched, reaching for her neck, but she only grabbed him by the shirt, somehow throwing him over her hip, and he hit the ground hard. A knee planted itself in his chest, her right hand clamped around his neck and her left drew back for a punch, that as tough as he was, would probably break his nose.
"Yield!" he snapped and she blinked at him. "I yield," he said again, more gently and with a smile. "Well done"
She smiled at him and let go of his neck. "Thank you, Bruce. I am ready for the next lesson"
"There are no more lessons, Ami," Bruce Banner said, squeezing her shoulder, "I've nothing left to teach you." He smiled at her. "Head outside"
As they walked towards the door, he considered his words. It was true, he'd nothing left to teach her, but he hadn't had much to begin with. He had every confidence in her ability to deal with opponents built like himself, and over the past two years, she had proven she could deal with most of the usual scum that infested Tokyo's streets with little trouble. But she was far from fully trained.
And Bruce was out of ideas.
He was in a hospital. He could tell that much from the white walls. But the equipment surrounding him! He'd never seen the like. His brow furrowed as he tried to remember. The mission, the plane, he'd . . . oh no.
"Steven Rogers, Private, 2272462637422," he snapped out in German.
"No need for that, Rogers," said a voice. He turned his head to see an older man sitting nearby. Rogers recognized him, even with the eyepatch. "Sergeant Fury"
"Colonel, these days," Fury replied. "You've been asleep a while"
Rogers processed this. "How long"
A pair of jeans landed on Rogers' lap. "You'll find shoes under the bed," Fury told him. "Let's take a walk"
Once Rogers had dressed, the two men left the room and Rogers studied his surroundings. The walls gleamed with tile and occasionally he heard voices from speakers in the ceiling. Once, they had been forced to leap aside as a black woman wearing a doctor's labcoat and a stethoscope charged by, followed closely by two men. She was snapping orders and the two men one a Mexican and the other . . . Japanese, were obeying.
Rogers harbored no prejudice against the color of skin, and his own mother would have bent him over her knee if he'd ever viewed a woman as an inferior, but this . . .
"Like I said, Rogers," Fury's voice had a smirk to it. "You've been asleep a while"
They exited the building onto the hospital grounds. The air was dry and cool. They walked in silence, moving away from the buildings.
"You're in Sacred Heart Hospital in the Nevada high desert," Fury began. "What's the last thing you remember? Or to be more accurate, what's the last date you remember"
Rogers thought for a moment. "February twelfth, nineteen forty-four. Bucky and I boarded a Nazi plane in Norway to stop it from dropping a bomb on London. There was an explosion and the next thing I know, I'm here"
Fury nodded and removed a cigar case from his pocket. He took out one and offered one to Rogers, who also took one. "These are supposed to be bad for you, now." he growled. "They also want us to stop eating red meat, drink milk from soybeans, and filter the water. Damn hippies." Rogers had no idea what a hippie was, but it sounded bad. They lit up and Fury sighed.
"The explosion was over sixty years ago," he told Rogers. "We invaded Germany in June of forty-four and clawed our way into Berlin, only to find Hitler had committed suicide rather than be captured. Italy ousted Mussolini and Japan . . ." The older man was silent for a moment. "You remember Oppenhiemer? Headed up the Manhattan Project"
Rogers nodded. "Vaguely. Bucky and I helped a German physicist defect and one of the generals we delivered him too mentioned the name." He sucked in his breath as it hit him.
"What about Bucky? Where is he"
Fury ignored the last question. "The project was a success. The war officially ended when we, yes, America, dropped two nukes on Japan in August of forty-five." For a moment, a haunted look passed across Fury's face and then he shook himself. "As for Barnes, we never found a body and we looked for one after finding you. Presumably, he's dead"
"How . . ." Rogers trailed off and puffed at his cigar. "How am I alive"
"We'd like to know that ourselves. Best guess is that between the force of the explosion, the shock of the water and the serum, you went into suspended animation. An ordinary man would have been killed by that. But you . . . you survived"
Rogers bowed his head in a moment of silence for a man who had been a friend and a brother and then pushed the grief behind him. Bucky would have wanted him to keep moving, keep fighting the good fight. "What now"
Fury grinned at him. "Some things have changed in sixty years, Steve, but there's still bad men who need a spanking. To that end, there's an outfit called S.H.I.E.L.D., which is the special ops arm of the United Nations." Rogers gave him a blank look. "The heir to Wilson's League of Nations," Fury clarified. "All the member nations contribute troops and there happens to be an opening in the American contingent. Thing is, you won't be doing this just for America. The whole world has changed, but it could still use your alter ego to remind 'em that freedom and justice ain't just words. So what do you say? Ready to get back in the saddle"
Rogers looked at him and then drew himself up straight. "If there's a need, then Captain America is ready." He came to attention. "Reporting for duty, Sir"
"Good soldier," Fury approved, clapping him on the shoulder. "Good soldier"
11 Months ago . . .
For once, Tony Stark wasn't drunk. Not even slightly intoxicated. In fact, as near as Julia Carpenter could tell, he was stone cold sober. It was a first.
In a way, it was even more worrisome then if he'd been drunk. Tony was always drunk, so if he was sober . . . she sighed. She supposed he had reason.
After all, she wondered, looking out the window of Tony's front room, how often does one person singlehandedly change the world with a single news conference?
"Five minutes, Tony," Carpenter said, giving her suit jacket one last tug.
From the bedroom, Tony Stark emerged, trailed by an impassive figure in red and gold armor. "Julia, can you . . ." he fingered his tie. He was a handsome man, with neatly trimmed mustache and goatee, short black hair, and light blue eyes that twinkled with mischief. He had an athletic build and an aquiline nose.
"Honestly," she huffed, her fingers a blur. "You build wonders of engineering, work on the other side of cutting edge, control a worldwide company, but the great Tony Stark cannot tie a tie"
"We all have a weakness, Julia"
She poked him lightly in the chest. "You have two, Tony, remember that"
He nodded, and hefted the silver and gold cane in his hand. "All right, Julia, let's change the world, shall we?" He grinned boyishly and she felt herself smile back.
"Let's," she agreed.
The stage was set up on the waterfront. The backdrop was a single curtain with the Stark Enterprises logo. In front of it, TV cameras and news crews were nearly ten deep. A row of chairs held local dignitaries.
With slow, steady steps, Stark walked onto the stage, cane in hand. When he reached the center, he stopped and turned to face the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he intoned, gesturing with the cane, "My name is Tony Stark. I am the CEO of Stark Enterprises and I want to welcome you . . . to the future." Behind him, a holographic projection of a massive complex appeared. "What you are seeing is the first of twelve planned space elevators. We intend to have all twelve up and running by the middle of this century. Within our lifetimes."
The crowd began to murmur excitedly.
"For those who don't know," Stark continued, "a space elevator is exactly that, an elevator from here, to space. The economic potential is enormous. Tourism, cheap, quick, ground to space travel, and most importantly, jobs. Lots and lots of jobs"
The murmurs turn to excited conversations. Japan, fighting a recession, needed this kind of shot in the arm.
"As I speak, ladies and gentlemen," Stark said, hands behind his back, "shuttles in Russia, China and the United States are preparing for launch. Onboard each of the three shuttles is a module, which, when combined, will form a space factory and docking port that will eventually become the primary space side of the elevator. In the meantime, construction will begin here in Japan on a complex the likes of which have never been undertaken before. A sprawling artificial island housing hotels, a resort, an amusement park, shopping and homes, linked to the mainland by a suspended monorail, a bridge, and ferries. An Island that will be open to the public in six months." More excited murmurs. At the edge of the stage, a short, broadshouldered man built like a gorilla turned his head to look at Julia Carpenter.
"Anthony seems to be promising quite a bit," he observed. "I confess to concerns that his capabilities to fill them are hollow"
"Don't worry about that, Doctor McCoy," Julia said, "One thing Tony does is deliver his promises. The island will be ready when he says it is, even if he has to pick up a toolbelt and do it himself"
"Now," Stark said with a smile, leaning on his cane. "You may be wondering how I can make these promises. Surely even the most modern construction machines and methods aren't that good. And you're right. They aren't. But at Stark Enterprises, we're about solutions and building the future. In order to accomplish these goals, Stark Enterprises has constructed a new type of system, operable by one person, and allows them to do the work of a crane, cement mixer, welder, riveter, and basic carpenter." He paused. "We could have made it look like anything, but, and I hope you'll forgive us, but once Japan was selected as the primary site, we couldn't help ourselves. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you, THE VULCAN"
The backdrop fell away, revealing a three-story tall rounded rectangle with arms and legs and the murmurs burst into an excited roar. It was a mecha, an honest to god, mecha. "And to answer your next question, yes it can walk and run, no it can't do Karate, though I'm assured that that one's on the drawing table." Stark grinned and the crowd laughed appreciably. "What you are seeing here is the general purpose Vulcan, which, for the initial phase of construction, is all we need. Speciality Vulcans for the underwater phase are currently in production at Stark Japan. Now for the good news. We break ground in two weeks. If you can drive a car and operate a cell phone, you can drive a Vulcan. But, we also need people for driving trucks, carrying, engineers, contractors, plumbers, everything. Hiring starts tonight at 7pm in the parking lot of this hotel. This is the future, ladies and gentlemen, let's build it." There was the roar of applause." Stark accepted a glass from a uniformed waiter and held it up. "To Japan. Land of the rising sun, the birthplace of the next chapter in human history." He drank. "Now, I'm going to turn the floor over to Doctor Henry McCoy, the senior chief of research at Stark Japan, and Julia Carpenter, the Chief Financial Officer for Stark Enterprises worldwide. They'll answer all your questions and provide more details. Thank you"
Stark limped off the stage and sighed. He needed a drink.
"Nice speech"
Tony looked up. Standing by the edge of the stage was a man in some kind of uniform. He was big, but not too tall. His hair was gray and he wore an eyepatch. A cigar was in his hand. Next to him was a much bigger man in civvies, but he held himself like a soldier. They both did. The second man could have stepped off a recruiting poster. Broadshouldered, square jaw, piercing blue eyes and wavy blond hair cut short. But there was no mistaking the eyes. Soldier's eyes.
"Not interested," Tony said. "I'm out of the weapons business, so whoever you are, whatever military you're with, take a hike." He turned to go when the eyepatched man said a name and Tony froze.
He knew that name. It drove him like a whip, even deeper than his own sense of responsibility. He'd never spoken it aloud, not to anyone.
Slowly, he turned on his heel, anger in his eyes. "Where did you hear that name?"
The eyepatched man simply smirked and lit his cigar. "You said, 'whoever you are'. Well, Stark, I'm the guy who knows that name. Just like I know he died in a cave in a backwater shithole, giving you the chance you needed to escape and go from Tony Stark, playboy weapons manufacturer, to Tony Stark, playboy philanthropist. Just like I know that that little piece of circuitry wired into your chest and cardiac arteries is his design and the only thing between you and a very nasty heart attack." He took three quick steps and poked Tony in the chest. "That's who I am"
A metal clad hand grabbed the eyepatched man's wrist. "Please step away from Mr. Stark, sir," the red and gold figure said. "If you do not comply, I will use force." It shoved the eyepatched man backwards a few steps.
"Thank you, Iron Man," Tony said and brushed at his tie. "I've cut all ties with the military, friend," he laid no particular emphasis on the last word, but there was no mistaking the ice in his tone. "So secrets or no, I've got nothing to say to you"
"Oh, but this isn't about you, Stark," the eyepatched man replied. "It's about your red and gold alter-ego standing there at your shoulder. Nice A.I. by the way. If I didn't know better, I'd swear there really was someone inside that metal tuxedo"
"Iron Man is a highly trained, handpicked operative," Tony replied without missing a beat. "If you have a warrant, his human resources file is available for review"
The eyepatched man let out a snort. "His file. I gotta hand it to you, Stark, you got a mind for details. Jordan Black has a driver's license, pays his taxes, maintains a bank account, even buys stuff with a credit card. Funny thing, though. He's an orphan and the orphanage he was at burned down, his school had a fire in the records room, and even the flight school he went to has gone belly up. Every computer record says he's real, but yet, try to find a hard copy outside of Stark Enterprises, and poof! Nothing. Now, that means either Jordy-boy is a fake, or just happens to be a one in a billion chance that his paper trail got wiped out"
Tony stared at him. "Who the hell are you?"
The eyepatched man smiled. "Colonel Nick Fury, senior field commander for the Strategic Hazardous Intervention Espionage and Logistics Directorate." He indicated the blonde man. "This here's Steve Rogers. The two of you are going to be working closely from now on, so I'd suggest you start being friends. When you're done schmoozing, Stark, I'd appreciate it if you'd join me in your rooms for a briefing on your new part time job." He gave Tony a mock salute and wandered off.
Tony watched him go and looked at Rogers. "Just met him and I already hate him. What's your story"
"Volunteered for a secret experiment to create a super soldier," Rogers replied. He had a deep bass that nonetheless was gentle without losing authority, the sort of voice people turned to hear. In fact, he wore authority so casually, it was simply part of who he was. "Fell out of an exploding plane into arctic waters and spent the past sixty years in suspended animation."
Tony considered that. "Used to build weapons. Got a special pacemaker that keeps shrapnel from entering my heart and killing me." He tapped his cane on the ground. "You know Fury long"
Rogers looked at him. "I knew him sixty years ago, Mr. Stark. I fought alongside him and his squad several times during the war. He hasn't aged at all."
"That's a neat trick," Tony reflected and then clapped Rogers on the shoulder. "Why don't we go find some beers and talk about it?"
"I'm not much of a drinker, Mr. Stark."
"Don't worry, you'll learn. And call me Tony."