Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel
Here we are, the end of the arc and the first part of the journey.
Some introductions and seeds for the future planted in this chapter. Hope everyone enjoys it.
Marvellous World
Chapter 18: Aftermaths
One day after
Peter's Uncle Ben had worked hard for most of his life, double time when he had to start raising his brother's son. Richard Parker left an inheritance that covered Peter's entry into college. But Peter still worked to cover expenses, and to help his Aunt out. Freelance photography wasn't a brilliant paycheque, but it gave Peter a place to keep his ear to the ground for trouble throughout the city. The paper he worked for, the Daily Bugle used to be one of the newspaper giant's of the city. Out of necessity for modern times it branched out to international offices, streaming platforms and mobile apps. But the office was like a nineties press office, still very much in that era. The Editor in Chief after all was one of the journalism giants of that era. A gifted writer, media personality and political broadcaster, Jonah Jameson was Peter's boss and the man he presented the photos too. And today he was hopeful that the events of the previous night would alter Jonah's opinion of Spider-man and other costumed heroes.
"Robbie I want you to send an update through the app, we can at least get our online members aware of this. Headline: 'The Superhuman Escalation!'"
It wasn't the headline Peter was expecting. Jonah still had his aggressive features, his white and black beard didn't hide the scowl in his mouth.
"BRANT! WHERE'S BROCK!" his voice echoed out of his office.
Once or twice, Peter had actually covered his ears.
"Still checking the WDRA angle, Ben just sent you a rough draft," Betty, the Intern whom recently became Jonah's had grown used to her boss's anger.
"I read it Jonah, it's the opposite of the headline," Robbie Robertson said.
The assistant editor in chief, and remarkably Jonah's best friend. He was the counter to Jonah's anger, always polite, always calm, and much more open minded too. Jonah grumbled as he checked his emails, looking over a word doc sent by one of his journalists, Ben Urich.
"High praise for mutants and vigilantes," he dismissed.
"Come on Ben's better than that, he's simply covering the work those people did, they saved a lot of lives Jonah," Robbie said.
"Tell Ben to rewrite, we need to highlight the possibility of escalation, keep people vigilant. A mutant naming himself the Saviour created some kind of monster that killed an estimated fifty people and put a hundred more in the hospital. Super humans came into the mix, and the fighting grew much, much worse," Jonah explained.
"True, but sometimes things get worse before they get better...Jonah, I think people could do with a little bit of hope," Robbie said softly.
"Those people saved a lot of lives, they were really brave," Peter said, regretting it slightly when Jonah glared at him.
"Plenty of pictures of ambulances, group shots of heroes, but next time Parker get off your rooftops and fire escapes and take pictures amongst the crowds, the paramedics, the wounded. Before you give people hope, you need to show them just how bad things are," Jonah explained, his voice nearly calm as he scrolled through the file.
"'Could this be the beginning of a heroic age?' Tell Ben that's one of the only parts of this article I'll alter, the rest of it, it's to the point and yeah...it'll probably give people a little hope, but the pictures, there's too much action in them Parker, this group shot is the only thing worth using," Jonah huffed.
He showed off the photo, one Peter was particularly proud of.
Five seconds after
Sven let out a few deep, tired breaths. He looked at the heroes in front of him, gathered like a real team. Cap pointed out areas for the heroes to focus their choices. As more fire fighters, paramedics and civilian and military volunteers joined the fray, they followed the commands of Captain America.
"Hey, we could use some help here," one of the army medics called out.
His call for help was answered by Angel and Beast, both of whom began helping him to lift rubble. Cyclops held the hand of a survivor, pulling her out of the rubble. It was an image that Peter's camera would capture only from a distance. But it would stand out in the young woman's mind, an odd costumed, mutant helping her. Spider-man and Gargoyle helped with bandaging wounds, within the confusion, Thor disappeared and Donald Blake coordinated paramedics. Optimus too disappeared, though some would speak of an ambulance without a driver taking them to the hospital.
Ben Urich emerged from the rubble of a building, looking upon Captain Ultra, Darkhawk and Luke Cage, all of whom helped wounded or assisted paramedics. Blogger and high school student Kamala Khan video recorded Carol Danvers helping wounded cops. Hell's Kitchen resident Foggy Nelson joined a pack of volunteers, followed by the gangs of Yancy street. Currently unemployed Dr Steven Strange advised volunteers, his hands meant he was incapable of physical labour, but he helped anyway. A man in a purple shirt cautiously helped.
Sven looked up and saw Faith and Yukimura.
"Well done my student," Yukimura said.
"This wasn't my victory," Aeon stood up.
No one seemed to look at him, or raise their eyebrows, or show any reaction as his armour crumbled to pieces. Sven was quickly taken as a casualty, his arm broken, yet still very much attached to him. He knew that one day, he might permanently lose the arm if he wasn't more careful. Faith supported him, holding his side and smiling at him.
"You saved people Sven, you managed to save people," she said.
"I know, but it isn't enough," Sven said.
Faith slowly nodded her head, closing her eyes for a moment to let out a single tear.
"No, it isn't is it," she muttered.
Sven looked over at Faith and smiled.
"Having you in my life is enough, saving people, doing good is something I do now because I want to Faith," he stated.
"I know why you feel you should, I think I finally understand now your wish to be a hero," she explained.
"And your desire to seek truth," Yukimura said.
He produced from his back a book, Sven's notebook. Finally he gave it to Sven, and again Sven felt that he knew what he could do from now on. When he reached the ambulance, he looked out one more time at the heroes. Not just costumed men and women, but all those whom had put on a uniform, or stood up. However brief it had been, he was glad to have counted himself amongst them. And one day, he would count himself amongst them again.
Three days after
Bobby stretched his arms as he finally left the infirmary. He walked out into the main hall, finding Hank, Scott and Warren sitting with the Professor.
"Well done all of you, you all performed admirably during this crisis, I am so proud of each of you. You pushed your abilities and yourselves to achieve extraordinary things," Xavier said.
"But Professor, we lost Todd and Emma, and Dazzler's gone on her tour," Warren said.
"I understand how frustrating that was, but just because they aren't here now, doesn't mean they won't someday join us. This school should be a choice as much as it is a sanctuary. The X-men are known now, they've been seen, and some people have seen the great good you can all do. But I won't blame any of you if you decide that you've had enough," Charles explained.
"'Happiness stems from doing good, and helping others' Plato," Hank quoted.
"I'm not going to stop Professor," Scott said.
"Maybe not yet," Warren muttered.
"Thank you, all of you, I'm glad our new recruit isn't going to be alone," Charles smiled as he looked up at the stairs.
The other X-men followed his gaze. Scott in particular was awestruck by the sight of Jean in her X-men uniform, her hair sticking out of the back of her cowl. She smiled confidently, set on her new course in life. Charles felt his head for a moment and the X-men looked to the ceiling as the loud speaker went off.
"Boys, you might want to suit up and get to the Blackbird, Cerebro just picked up a mutant signature, projection mutation in Kenya," Doug said.
"I'll get down to the chamber and get the details, Cyclops you'll be in charge for this mission," Xavier said.
Scott nodded his head and rushed with the other teens. Charles watched his students go, behind him the form of the Machine man.
"Go forth, my X-men," Aaron heard Charles whisper with pride.
Seven days after
A few days drinking, repairing the invention, and some more drinking. Tony was as sober as he was going to get, especially considering what he was doing today. The young lady at the reception didn't recognise him without his stubble. Tony though was sure that one of the regular carer's convenient break time was an excuse to contact his real employer, Peggy Carter. At least the imbedded agents recognised him.
The old man was sat by the window, looking out at the garden. He had been well groomed today, a contrast to the last time Tony had visited. The carers were lucky to be able to approach him with so much as an electric razor.
"Dad," Tony said as he entered the room.
Howard looked over his shoulder and huffed.
"Read the papers today boy? What's happening to my company? They won't let me out to fix it, it's another attempt to take it, they won't be satisfied until they've destroyed Stark industries," Howard explained.
His tone was just like how Tony remembered his father when he ranted and lectured. He knew he'd face more when he told Howard the truth, if he believed him.
"No one's taking over the company dad, I'm selling it," Tony said.
"Selling? Yeah right, you'd have to have my approval for that boy," Howard laughed.
"Dad, you haven't been able to legally run the company for years, and I'm not a kid anymore (maybe I should have kept the beard)."
"Enough jokes Tony, where's your mother? It's supposed to be our date night," Howard said, looking around the room.
"Dad mom...she's a little busy, look I wanted to talk to you and," Tony sighed and turned away from his father.
He took a deep breath, his hand shaking, trying not to replace his grief and frustration with his thirst. Part of him wanted to yell and curse god for what had happened to his father. More tragic than the way the demons in the bottle had messed his life up, dumb luck of the draw cursed the brilliant minded Howard Stark with dementia. He wanted his old man back, wanted him to remember that his wife was dead, to remember that Tony had done great things with the company.
"Well spit it out boy, that sexy number with the rack promised a foot rub later," Howard grinned.
Tony was tempted to correct him, but he just laughed. He sat on the chair beside Howard and looked out of the window.
"Did you read the front page news, the events in New York?" Tony asked.
"Oh I read them, all sorts of things crawling out of the shadows. It looks like hope, but there's the thing about light, it can cast shadows. Whenever we released a new product, we always tried to put into account the escalation," Howard explained.
"I know, release one weapon and be mindful of a counter, or the enemy getting a hold of it. That's part of why I sold the company, so that I could get the money for a new project," Tony said.
"A new long run money making scheme?" Howard scoffed.
"No dad, a non profit, I wanted to build a network, an organisation...that'll find these people. Mutants, metahumans, aliens and gods, I want to find them Dad, and help them to be the best that they can be. Not just for themselves, but so they can give back to this incredible, marvellous world that we live in. That day in New York was when I realised, good was what people wanted to do. People want to defend the world, they want to avenge wrongdoing. I've bought up a facility across from the city, started contacting other similar organisations, Hank Pym's charity and some school in Westchester," Tony explained.
Howard remained silent, looking at Tony as he spoke. A smile had crossed the old man's face, hearing the passion in his son's voice.
"The aim is to bring people together, because there are some things that no single person can do alone."
Tony looked at his father, a confident and excited smile on his face.
"I wanted to call it the Maria Stark Foundation!"
Howard nearly stood up, his eyes watering for a moment. Then he went rigid, looking out at the window. Tony tried to rouse his father, but Howard just kept looking out. He continued to ignore Tony and seemed to become a blank slate. With a shake of his head, Tony rose and walked out of the room. A single tear rolled down Howard's face.
"She would be honoured, and proud of you son!"
Two days after
Everything seemed faster, it was difficult to keep up with sometimes. A homeless man gave him a coat to cover his costume, and his shield fit snug enough underneath it. He still couldn't shake away the feeling of guilt he felt for escaping from that place. Walking down a street that was unfamiliar, yet still he was more free than the people he had left behind. So many people, so many who needed his help. He looked up at the tall buildings, so different from before he went to sleep. It was like an old painting had been modified, or one of his drawings edited.
Steve looked across the street and saw a couple walking proudly. They never would have been able to do that years ago. Perhaps things were better. Yet still he couldn't shake the hostility there had been to those teenagers in the yellow and black suits, to the alien who transformed. Had the world really changed after all these years? Or had some other new form of intolerance come up. He heard a conversation in the park between a group of kids, they were complaining about the dip in quality in writing and artwork in a comic they read. Characters they knew for years suddenly turning gay, white and straight men being vilified whilst soulless 'diverse' characters were introduced. Comics and films had been political during the war, but the war was over. Is that all art was now? A way to make a political statement, what about stories of the heart? What about stories meant to show that people could work together? That people did get along, that there were no barriers and prejudice. Wouldn't that be an ideal story? An ideal world?
"GET THE FUCK OFF OUR STREET MUTIE SCUM!"
He turned his head, looking over his shoulder. A man was being harassed by two others. The one being victimised had grey skin and arms that seemed to be elongated.
"I'm just walking across the street, if you're worried don't be, my mutation is perfectly under control," the man said.
"That's what they all say, then we have incidents like the Omega kid," the other man said.
"I'm sorry but that is profiling sir!"
"Sir! I'm a woman!"
Steve widened his eyes with as much surprise as the mutant. Despite the woman's tone, it wasn't obvious, baggy clothes, masculine face and short hair.
"Maddy drop it," her companion said.
"No Triss, he's trying to accuse me of being an ignorant bigot..."
"That's exactly what you're being," Steve said.
The words just came out. He nervously tilted his head as the two women looked at him. Even the mutant was taken aback by his statement. But Maddy was beginning to fume, glaring at Steve.
"He made a mistake, and if you try to take time to think about it then you'll know that it is an understandable mistake," Steve said.
"He's right you know ma'am," someone spoke behind Steve.
He approached on Steve's left, an African American man in a polo shirt with a logo marked VA on it.
"It's good to have pride, but when all you're doing is using what makes you different to lord over others, or to pick a fight, or to remain ignorant as to how you're behaviour can be...then it's you who becomes the bigot and if you are the champion of diversity you're obviously trying to be, then you know it," the man explained.
Their words didn't seem to reach the woman as she walked off in a mood. Triss though mouthed an apology.
"Someone's probably recorded that, she'll end up as a meme in no time," the man chuckled.
Steve didn't understand completely what he said, though he still put on a smile for him. He was just glad he wasn't the only one who spoke up. The man turned to face him, offering him his hand.
"Sam Wilson," he introduced himself.
"Thank you Sam, I'm Steve."
Steve nodded to the man, recognising the temperament of an old soldier when he saw it. He walked over to the mutant and offered him his hand.
"Hi, I'm Steve, nice to meet you," he said.
"Angelo, thank you!"
A girl with a gold lightning bolt on her chest captured the image on her phone, uploading it through her account.
4 hours after
That same girl, Kamala Khan was taking pictures of Carol Danvers, capturing images that the government would use to promote Carol as the 'face of the super hero community'. But Carol knew she had a long way to go before she could be the icon of anything. She watched Optimus drive off, joined by an ambulance and a Volkswagen beetle.
"Oh man, we missed it," a voice came out of the Beetle.
"We were busy scouting Bumblebee, at least we should have been," another voice also came out of the ambulance.
"We cannot abandon the humans Ratchet, especially when we have the power to help them," Optimus said.
"But the humans are the ones who took our friends," Ratchet said.
"I know, but I think we have found potential allies, including one whom may very well know where our friends are being kept!"
The trio of vehicles drove past one of the shopping districts, where a man in a grey trench coat stumbled. Underneath the coat, he wore the clothes given to him at the asylum. Jake Lockley trembled in fear, he shouldn't be out here. Marc Spector though knew he would never get another chance like the one the incident had given him. All that fighting, all those buildings torn open, the asylum amongst them. They weren't the only patients to escape after all. He stopped for a moment to take stock of things, to try to keep Jake back in the box. He was afraid and would hurt himself, but Marc could be objective. Could Jean-Paul still be living in the city, or did he go back to France. Maybe he could let Steve out for a little bit, just to get some cash. All of this was going through his mind until he saw the looters. Idiot kids seizing an opportunity, they weren't his problem.
'Monsters, trying to steal the hard earned living of the innocent,' a thought began to rise in his mind.
'Oh no,' Marc gripped his head, now wasn't the time for this.
'Hear them laugh, hear them revel in it, monsters, monsters to slay!'
'No, no, stay down, we don't need you right now,' Marc thought frantically.
"The innocent must be protected," Marc seethed.
No, he wasn't Marc anymore.
"And the monsters must be slain!"
The knight had risen.
Felicia looked down from her spot on the roof. The crazies really had come out. She grinned, standing and balancing off of the ledge. She'd have to call her mother later, right now she wanted to enjoy the free air, maybe steal some better clothes. Her sharp eyes caught sight of a red and blue blur, she rushed to get a better view. Then she saw him, swinging across the rooftops. Her heart fluttered and she leant her chin on her hand dreamily. She remembered she had one very good reason to stay in New York.
6 Hours after
Peggy watched the monitors, listened to the reports coming in from the agents on the ground. No one had anything to report, no one had seen him. Danvers had let the aliens go, let Steve go, and she had returned to Pym's facility. Peggy shook her head, she'd need to try and convince the world to follow another icon. She couldn't afford to have Steve ruining things, especially if he united all of those super powered individuals. Coulson and his daughter were ecstatic, they were a little too eager to hero worship. Shaking her head, she walked out of the command centre and made her way to her office. Empty, taking a seat by the window she looked out at the new world and then at the photo that showed the old one.
'It isn't enough,' she thought. 'They won't be enough for what's coming.'
Her phone suddenly rang, and Peggy immediately knew who it would be. Cautiously, she picked the phone up and composed herself.
"I was wondering when you would call, whatever it is I don't have time for it," she said.
"You always have time for it Miss Carter, or are you going to be one of those managers who pretends they actually work?"
"The same could be said for you," she retorted.
"Touché, but enough of the verbal sparring, you know I hold all the cards, you remember our deal?"
"Yes, I haven't forgotten, what do you want?" she asked.
"Not much, I've heard whispers that this will be declared the heroic age. Well, what are heroes without villains?" the man asked.
"You are not seriously suggesting that I..."
"Miss Carter, I need a little help on this crossword of mine, six letter word: 'one whom has complete knowledge or skill in something, or control of another,'" there was a smirk in the man's statement, Peggy could hear the amusement in his voice.
She hung her head low, utterly defeated again.
"Master," she said.
"Ah, thank you my dear, now I'll be sending you a list of names. And be sure to keep an eye on that Stewart's boy!"
One day after
Gary sat in the agency safe house. They had fitted him with some kind of collar to suppress his powers. But he could still recall it, the knowledge of many worlds, the knowledge of what he was destined to be. The words of the heroes rang hollow, because he knew they would fail. The Avengers would stick to human lives only, even fighting each other for their politics. The X-men would abandon the dream and fight solely for their survival. Everything was destined to go as he had seen, unless he did something about it. Next time, he would see that the heroes join him in his crusade. He'd change the world, even if he had to force people to change.
'I will be their saviours,' Gary smiled, looking at his hands.
He couldn't feel his powers, but he knew they were there. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the door open. A black armoured hand pushed the door, only for the armour to retract into the sleeve of a blue jacket. Gary looked up, an agent in under cover clothes perhaps. He wore sunglasses over his eyes, his blonde hair rough and stance even rougher as he put his hands in his pockets.
"How long will I be kept here?" Gary demanded.
The agent remained silent, looking at Gary. Underneath the sunglasses, red orbs shined furiously.
"Gary Stewarts, you caused a lot of pain yesterday, and a year ago," the man said.
"A year ago?" Gary suddenly stood up. "What are you talking about? A year ago I was...how could you possibly know about that?" he panicked for a moment, then realised who he was. "I'm not like that anymore, I'm the Saviour of this universe don't you see? I'm a hero, the one who is in the right, my past doesn't matter only the future I will build with my own hands. Do whatever you want to me, I'll just come back, death means nothing to people like us..."
Gary's words were cut off when the man swung his arm around. His right hand had been surrounded by a black armour, a curved blade stretched out of his knuckle. Slowly, Gary's head dropped to the floor, followed by the body. The armour slid back into the man's sleeve and he walked away from the body. He stepped over the unconscious form of Agent Coulson, and the dead body of Agent Grand Ward. The former would call both deaths in, and he would become a target. But still there was plenty more left for him to do in the city, he had an old friend to visit.
A week after
"The Heroic Age!"
"Tony Stark forms the Maria Stark foundation, stunt or genuine?"
"US Senator calls for Registration act."
Sven had plenty of news to catch up on. Faith had given him the newspapers and he'd read the Bugle article regarding the events of a week ago. He was drawn also to other sources of news, bird men in the city, a break in at an MRD facility, rumours that Captain America had returned and talking cars. Weird things were happening, and he wasn't afraid.
"Thank you," he said to the nurse whom had rolled him out of the hospital.
He got off the wheelchair and stretched his arms, grimacing slightly as the break hadn't completely healed. The nurse muttered something about him being silly before walking off. Sven carried the news papers, but felt for his dad's book in his pocket. He had some ground to regain, and some distance to cover, but his confidence in his search was renewed. That and his determination to help others too.
'I'll become like you dad, a hero,' he thought.
"Sorry," he said after he bumped into a few people.
There was a rush of volunteers and visitors to the hospital, so bumping into someone wasn't difficult. A man in a blue jacket brushed past Sven, and the red markings appeared on his skin. Sven froze, looking over his shoulder. The young man continued walking, turning his head to Sven. The sunglasses he wore were tilted down his nose, revealing to Sven his glowing red eyes. Sven began squeezing through the people to reach him. Two people walked in front of him, then a third. He moved through them, touching the shoulder. A blue jacket, but not the face he was looking for.
"Can I help you?" the stranger asked him.
"No, sorry," Sven said.
The stranger huffed, 'weirdo' he muttered before moving on. Sven stood still, looking around at the people who passed him by. He knew he hadn't imagined it.
"Cade," Sven whispered.
Same time after the incident-That night
The dinner was exquisite, the music great and the company beautiful. He'd been eying her for some time, the enchanting lady in the green dress. Lifting his cane off of his lap, he looked at her through the green gem, her hourglass figure, her blonde hair. She seemed to take notice of him too, smirking at him. The charity event was for the unfortunate souls in Latveria, being ruled over by a dictator who put his luxury before his people. He didn't care for such things, the occasional donation did well for his company, but he himself enjoyed a lavish life. His clothes were a reflection of that, a fine black coat, an even finer vest and green tie.
"And now it gives me great pleasure to grant our 'philanthropist of the year' award to...once again," the host got a few chuckles out of her statement. "Mr Wilson Fisk, with special congratulations on his marriage."
There was almost a boom on the stage as a giant of a man walked onto it. He wasn't sure if it was fat or muscle that was hidden beneath the bald man's white suit. Fisk stepped up to the microphone, his face firmly set in a calm expression.
"Thank you Miss Fairchild, but I didn't do this for an award, as for the recognition is it my hope that the rich community dedicate their fortunes not to staying rich but to helping the lesser communities of the world. In particular their own homes, many lives were lost in the mutant incident last week, I implore people to instead of assigning blame to look towards preventative measures, for the future," Fisk explained.
His voice was gravely, quiet almost, but when he spoke people listened. Applause and cheers came from some of the members. The man with the cane however retreated to the bathroom. He was more focused on his own luck, on getting lucky tonight. The gem was his good luck charm after all.
"Tonight is the night it seems," he said, looking at the gem again.
It flashed green and the man's eyes became lifeless. He stood still, stiller than a corpse, all the colour leaving his skin. Cold vapour came out of his mouth as the colour began to come back to his face. In the reflection of the mirror, a blue skinned man with red eyes stared back at him, unseen by the other men who walked into the bathroom. His eyes glowed green and he turned on his heels, looking himself over.
"It will suffice," he said to himself.
Twirling his cane, he grinned as he walked out of the bathroom.
"Time to cause a little mischief!"
End of Arc 1
Next Arc 2: Heroes and Villains, Chapter 1: Rising Evil
Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
Next time, you can't have heroes without villains, a host of new versions of old characters introduced as Coulson and Sven Reilly try to solve the mystery of the man who killed Grand Ward and Gary Stewarts, Spider-man copes with new crazies (including a crazy ex-stalker) and the three big guys ally against a returning evil from Thor's world.