Lance and Fury exchanged heated looks for a time. Outwardly, it was a meeting of two men of indomitable will. Men who had stared into the abyss and found it wanting. Inwardly however, was very much a different story.
'Be calm. You are in no danger here. If we must, we can slay them all and escape. Their knights cannot stand against us, so their footsoldiers would doubtless fall in droves.' Saber stated calmly. There was no doubt or hesitation in that statement. No remorse at the thought of killing his way out of his problems at need. This was characteristic of the one who had deadened his heart in order to continue being a knight under Arturia. It was most efficient way to solve the problem. Lance couldn't say the tempation to just fight it out didn't exist - after all Saber was just him under slightly different circumstances. But he was still hesitant to jump immediately to such a scorched earth way of doing things. Perhaps it was the time he had spent acclimating to modern life. He just felt that - at the very least - a truly heinous crime would have to be committed to spur him to that kind of action.
Which left him with the advice from the other two voices in his head.
'SlAy tHem alL!' Cried out his Berserker, the mindless killing machine that had forsaken all the values Lancelot had held dear for love.
'Looks like some black bag shit to me. SHIELD's a government agency so if you piss him off he might just dissappear us or call the Avengers or some shit.' Eddie pointed out helpfully.
'Black bag?' Lance asked with some strain in his tone. He hated interacting with Eddie Brock. Despite having stolen the mans body, acknowledging the existence of his consciousness somewhere within left Lance feeling as though he were wading through oil. It felt wrong on a fundamental level. He wondered briefly if that feeling was normal for two minds forcibly melded together. He supposed he could explain the lack of the sensation with his other passengers if he just remembered that they were all still 'him'.
Still, he would have to weather it this once. He needed help, and Eddie - unfortunately - had the greatest understanding of what was going on.
'Under the table. Behind the scenes. You know, the guys who do the dirty work that you goody two shoes types refuse to touch.' Eddie sneered.
Lance suddenly felt himself pale, and the idea of killing everyone and running away began to hold greater merit in his mind. He wasn't afraid of the so called criminal element, and he would face anyone in a fair fight. But if there was one area Lance had always found himself lacking, it was in planning. Plotting and backstabbing, politics and backroom deals. These were the thing most of the Knights of the Round Table would have, just as Eddie said, prefer no to acknowledge at all.
But that was just it. Most of the knights. Among his fellows there was one man that Lancelot knew he would never be able to stand against should his ire ever truly be raised. One man who, by using everything at his disposal, could play a situation as easily as one might play chess.
"Agravain..." Lance muttered, his brows furrowing slightly.
"Friend of yours?" Nick asked, raising an eyebrow and maintaining his air of unflappability.
"In a manner of speaking." Lance said with a wince. He and Agravain had... not gotten along. During his lifetime even just the barest touch of the darkness Agravain was lord over was enough to distress him. It was such machinations that had eventually seen him harden his heart and fall down the path that led to Saber after all. They had disagreed on matters of policy often, and loudly. Thinking back on it though, if Arturia had held to Agravain's wishes more often, would things have gone differently? Would Camelot still exist?
"T'is no matter. If I explain, will you leave me and my charge in peace?" Lance said, offering an olive branch. This was the best he could do given his current situation. Agravain would have lied. Tristan would have charmed and beleaguered them - speaking much but ultimately saying nothing. But him? He was Lancelot. He was forthright and honest because, at the end of the day, nothing lived to tell the tale that came at him from the front.
'Also, we are terrible at lying and not very charming conversationalists.' Saber chimed in to his thoughts.
'...that to.' He admitted.
"That depends. I can't promise to let you go if you turn out to be a threat now can I?" Fury said mockingly. Lance wondered if he knew how quickly his head could become separated from his shoulders. He must at least believe himself to be safe or he wouldn't push his luck so.
Lance weighed his options. He supposed that as long as killing everyone present was on the table he should fear no duplicity from this man...
"Fine. As you no doubt already grasp I am Sir Lancelot Du Lac, Knight of the Round Table. Several months ago I was summoned from the Throne of Heroes by-" Lance narrated quickly hoping to get this over with but then paused when Fury raised a hand in the universal gesture for stop. It annoyed him to have to obey the mans commands but he held back his irritation and stopped, darting a glance back to Laura who remained crouched in the shadows of his entryway. Her eyes were narrowed in concentration, and her hands flexed open and shut rapidly as if in preparation for a fight.
Silly girl. She should know that any knight who required his squire to fight would be ashamed of their own weakness. She merely had to wait and he would usher her away from these men.
"What exactly is the 'Throne of Heroes'." Fury said, leaning forward slightly as he awaited an answer.
"It is..." Lance paused, trying to find the best way to describe the Throne.
"The Throne is... a record of sorts. When a Hero's deeds echo across the land, their myth, their story becomes immortalized upon the Throne of Heroes." He said at last.
"So then Iron Man would be there." Fury posited, putting his hands together and pointing with both index fingers at him.
"Who?" Lance asked, mildly curious. If this Iron Man could obtain a position on the Throne in this modern age so completely devoid of inconvenience then -
"Iron Man? Red and gold armor? Flies around in a suit that costs more than the GDP of some countries? Breaks them regularly? Kind of a dick?" Fury supplied somewhere between amused and incredulous. From his tone Lance took it that the man was somewhat famous. Naturally Lance - who had no interest in most superheroes - had no idea who it was. Though the description did tickle his memory...
'The red knight that chased us from the shelter.' Saber supplied tiredly.
Oh. That would explain why he could barely remember him. He was so far below what Lance would consider 'competent' or a 'threat' that he had spent most of the encounter trying to avoid hurting the civilians around him.
"No. You misunderstand - only Heroes may ascend to the Throne. Men and women so legendary that they have become permanently enshrined in the collective consciousness of mankind." Lance tried to explain, but grew increasingly confused by Nicks stormy expression.
"So, what, there's a whole reality where you and King Arthur and all your other little pals hang out? And they're all as strong as this Black Lancelot? You still haven't explained why there's two of you either." The one eyed man said with a click of his tongue. Lance blinked at him for a moment before finally grasping why he was so worried.
"You need not fear the Throne. There is no possibility that you will suffer invasion from that direction. In the first place the Throne is a final resting place for legends. None of us are what you would call 'awake' while we abide there. It takes a summoning to manifest one of us, and the mystical might required to summon just myself for a few seconds would be impossible to maintain. The dead are not meant to walk the earth, and so the earth rejects us as a matter of course." Lance offered, seeing just a shade of Agravain in this man. Certainly they weren't friends, and likely never would be, but Lance could at least sympathize with his worries.
"Then how are there two of you." Nick stated flatly his body tensing as though he expected repeating his question to anger Lancelot. Truthfully he had been glazing over that exact question on purpose. Mostly because he didn't know how to answer it.
"I was summoned... wrong." Lancelot began with a wince.
"Uhuh." Nick grunted sarcastically, clearly unimpressed.
"The men who summoned me banded together to draw me forth, and then bound me up in this body. As a result they drew forth not only me, but that... other... me." Lance added slowly. He ignored Nicks disdain, and did his best to skirt the fact thay he had stolen this body.
'Yeah it'd make you look like a real prick if that were to come out wouldn't it?' Eddie grunted from within his subconscious.
'Haven't you literally eaten people?' Saber asked blandly.
'Yes.' 'yEs'
Lancelot chose not to acknowledge the extra voice that had answered, but had to acknowledge Eddies point regardless. Even in his own time he was fairly certain Merlin or Arturia would have stomped out any existence as twisted as he, regardless of the circumstances.
"There were two of you? Funny, that doesn't come up in your myth all that often." Nick asserted irately. Lancelot could actually see the man thinking through all the ramifications of the Throne in real time. He had assumed that anyone with knowledge of magecraft or its existence in this era would have a passing knowledge of the Throne if not exactly how it worked or what it did. Now that Nick was acting like this, he was beginning to wonder if explaining was such a good idea after all.
"Once one ascends to the Throne, it gathers records of your entire existence. Not just 'me' but the entity known as 'Lancelot' across all dimensions. Every version of myself and every disparate opinion I ever made are collected there. The... Black Lancelot you are worried about is from a timeline where I... he is evil. Suffice to say that I regret that even that small portion of myself sank to such depths." Lancelot explained, darting a glance to Laura and changing what he was going to say mid sentence. He had no issue recalling the events that led to his Berserker's madness - but he felt no need to put those actions on display for a stranger to judge either.
"I see. Alright, last question then. What do you plan to do now?" Nick asked after taking a moment to compartmentalize what was no doubt a massive investigation into Lancelot's history. He peered at Lance with a sudden calmness that practically cleared away his early irritation.
"Seek work." Lancelot said, snorting lightly. What was the man expecting him to say? It wasn't as though he held any interest in bring back Camelot. His comrades had lived and died as heroes - he had no need to besmirch their legacy by digging it up and starting all over again. Although speaking of their legacy...
"Possibly visit Britain." He added as an after thought.
-ooo-
Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD, a man best known for being the best spy that ever lived, stared at Lancelot with a cool detachment. It wasn't that he didn't believe Lancelot - his micro expressions alone were enough to tell Nick the man would be a shit poker player. But the question he had to ask himself was this;
Could he allow an individual such as Lancelot to roam free? He didn't have enough knowledge of the mans capabilities to accurately decide. He did know however that he was mostly unworried by the team of agents he had brought with him. So he had to take what he did know, and decide what he wanted to do with it.
He could - if he was so inclined - cause the life model decoy he was using (because of course he wasn't dumb enough to get that close to a hostile personally) to detonate. That would give him a good idea of his capabilities. But it would also piss him off.
Which was the problem basically. Normal people - even metahumans - had handles. They had goals, dreams, interests, attachments. Lancelot lacked almost all of that - which meant that he was much closer to a natural disaster than a person in Nicks view.
And then there was that answer. 'Seek work'. But not with SHIELD. Which meant the odds were good it'd be against SHIELD.
These thoughts, and many more like them, flew through Fury's mind so quickly that hardly even a moment had passed between Lancelots statement and now. Snap decisions were fine and good, but that didn't mean you didn't consider them. It just meant you considered them faster.
He was just about ready to pull the trigger on his LMD's built in bomb when an interesting fact occurred to him. Lancelot had been eyeballing the urchin he'd picked up pretty often. At first Nick figured going that route would just set the guy off, but if he could come at it from another angle, well, he'd have his handle now wouldn't he?
The only thing that remained to be seen was how much of a handle. Intel said they'd been together for a few days at most. Nick supposed that would have to be enough.
He quickly saved an image of the girl through his private up-link to the SHIELD helicarrier, and then stood up. How was he supposed to extract again? Right. Break the windows and jump to the helicopter.
"If those men break my window, I will kill you."
Probably best to avoid that then. It was irksome, because 'take the elevator to the roof' was a somewhat less dramatic exit than he preferred, but he wasn't just going to leave an LMD laying around if he didn't absolutely need to reveal he was using one.
"Alright Sir Lancelot. I'll get out of your hair. We'll talk again soon." He said nonchalantly.
'Right after I do some digging on the girl and my team tells me who the stiffs were.' He added silently.
And then he pivoted on one foot and walked out the door. He ignored the - achingly familiar - growl the girl let off as he passed within an inch of her, instead opting to have his LMD's hardware collect every piece of data it could on her during the brief moment of contact.
He frowned as he considered that. It was a familiar growl. Unfortunately Nick had led a very interesting life. Humans growling at him was hardly unique.
Closing the door behind him he once more affirmed that he was going to find someone to replace him so he could retire. Just as soon as someone better than him showed up.
Which, of course, would be never.
-ooo-
Lance watched Nick exit his apartment with only half a mind for where he was going afterwards. Laura was still crouched and watching the door like an attack dog so if something surprising was liable to happen after this then he would at least have forewarning.
Clear on that fact he stood and .the window, staring at the soldiers climbing back up their ropes to the roof. They had hung their, weapons at the ready for the majority of his conversation, and he had let them because - they really could t hurt him. Not with a mere gun anyway.
However that did not mean he thought privacy held no value, so as the last man was going up he knocked on the window for his attention. When he was sure he had it - it was hard to tell through the mans headgear - he pointed at a roof several buildings away. When the soldier failed to take his meaning he sighed, summoning Arondight for emphasis. Then he pointed at the distant roof again, where he could distantly here someone being relayed orders via radio. He presumed it was an archer of some skill to be positioned so far away.
"Move him or I will." Lancelot said plainly, trying to be loud enough to be heard through the glass. The soldier stared at him dumbfounded for a time before scrambling for a radio on his belt and hurriedly saying something into it. Lance didn't know what because had already stopped reinforcing his hearing. There was a lot that happened in the city at night that he would much prefer not to hear.
Satisfied Lance turned away after pulling his curtains shut.
"Laura, it's fine, they're leaving." He said, noting the girls continued stare at the door.
"Don't like him." She murmured, standing back up to her full height.
"I suspect most people don't." Lance chuckled, relaxing himself and remembering Agravain's profuse lack of anything even vaguely resembling a friend.
"..."
"Come on. We still have to get groceries." Lance said pleasantly, noting the time and realizing with a click of the tongue that most stores would be closing soon. They could still make it to a grocery store in time, but it would be a rush job at best. Still, he had a body which meant he had to eat.
"..."
Quickly dismissing his armor and sword, Lance plodded past Laura to the front door, grabbing the bag of clothes he had left there upon first entering and walking back to his living room to place it on the coffee table. Squinting he could just make out the imprint of a boot on the table and he frowned, making a mental note to get Clorox wipes for the thing. He doubted his constitution would allow him to grow sick as a result of something as trivial as dirt, but Laura seemed like she was going to be with him for the foreseeable future, and claws aside, there was no doubt in his mind that she was a normal human.
"..."
Rising from the table, Lance turned and froze when he finally took the time to examine his squire. She had yet to move from her position by the door, and was staring blankly at it as if in confusion. Her entire body was trembling, though it didn't seem to be as a result of fear. Rather, her hands twitched periodically as though to swat away an invisible assailant. All things told she seemed like an overstimulated cat that had no idea what to do with all it's pent up aggression.
"Hey, hey lets go for a run." Lance said, putting a gentle hand on the twitching girls shoulder. He spared a foul thought for the people who had made her like this, so completely trained to fight and die at their whim that when confrontation was avoided she had no idea what to do. It became yet another thing on Lance's list of things to correct. So much training. So little... well... money.
"Where?" She growled, whipping her head around to stare at him with eyes full of a beast like hunger.
"Just keep up." Lance said, patting his pockets to make sure he still had his wallet. Then he opened the door and waited for Laura to follow behind him. The second she had clear the door he slammed it shut, quickly locking it, and then sprinted for the fire escape. He didn't enhance his body at all, relying purely on the above human norm strength and speed already present in Eddie's body, and was surprised to find Laura loping along next to him, keeping up smoothly.
And so seeing that, Lance - who was after all, raised by the fae, highly competitive, and just a bit of a sore loser - poured on the speed. He shouldered open the door to the fire escape, and instead of taking the criss-crossing stair case downward, leapt from the eleventh floor landing, catching himself on the railing of the escape somewhere near the fifth floor. He looked upward, expecting to see his squire staring down at him with awe, or fear, or... something. Instead he saw a pair of boots flying towards him at ludicrous speeds. Flustered by the apparent suicide of his disciple, he reinforced himself, expecting to have to snatch her from the air as she shot past. Instead, just before she would pass him, her hands shot out, grabbing the floor of the landing above him for just long enough to slow her fall, then released, swinging onto the landing he was hanging from and whirling around as if to leap after him.
Only he hadn't moved, because he was too busy trying to figure out what constituted human in the current time period. He probably would have continued to ponder just that question, but of course the growling started up again, and he knew he had to get a move on.
"Not bad. Not safe either. But not bad." So saying, Lance levered himself up and then kicked off of his resting place, launching himself across the alley below and landing with a roll on the gravel topped roof of the next building over. He marveled at the sheer variety of the buildings here. In Camelot, all the homes were of a roughly uniform height, allowing lookouts from the castle walls an unimpeded view of the settlement. Here though, no such concern existed, and human ingenuity had sprung up to fill the space that no peasant had dared to occupy before.
'Can you see it Arturia? This, the humanity that you defended with your life.' He mused. He was aware that not everyone from America was a descendant of someone from the British Isles. But he would be lying if he said he wasn't biased in his belief that his Kings actions had directly lead to the creation of the modern world.
Glancing back to ensure Laura could make the jump, Lance no longer concerned himself with weather or not she could keep up with him. He was living purely in the moment, in a way that neither Saber, nor Berserker could anymore. Like a child experiencing life for the first time he charged forward at a steady pace, leaping across buildings and sliding down fire escapes. He and Laura crossed the city well above the normal populace, the wind flowing freely past them.
When finally they began to approach their destination Lance landed in an alleyway with a soft thud, breathing slightly fast from the exertion, and was shortly accompanied by Laura who - lacking his durability - leapt from ledge to window to garbage can - before coming down in a roll next to him. Unlike himself, she was breathing hard, having clearly pushed herself to the limit to keep up with him. He applauded her dedication. Using sheer skill she had overcome the relative difference in their physical dispositions. Even more than that, she seemed to be almost - but not quite - smiling. Rather than saying she was happy it was more as though she was satisfied. A pleasant warmth emanated from her, and Lance couldn't help by smile at her as she drew even with him, heaving for air.
"Any preference?" He said as he walked forward, out of the alley and in to the grocery store. Laura - still very much out of breath - merely shook her head in the negative.
"Great. The usual then." Lance said with false cheer, trying to stop his face from cramping up at the thought. His 'usual' was basically just as many cans of Chili and Ravioli as he could afford. It was - by no stretch of the imagination - a true, or healthy diet. But given his monetary concerns there was really no other choice.
Or so he thought.
Despite having no stated preference in food Lance found within a few minutes of walking through the store that he had lost his squire. No not, lost, more left behind. Looking around in bewilderment the moment he noticed the lack of her presence, Lance eventually located the wayward girl standing fixedly in place, looking hungrily at an uncooked steak still neatly vacuum sealed in it's packaging. At first he lifted a hand to warn her away from the expensive item. But seeing the sheer desire in her gaze caused him to falter. Was not this the type of behavior he sought to encourage? Did not normal teenagers have selfish thoughts and desires?
So Lance, with a heavy heart, withdrew his wallet and winced at the handful of bills within it. Once he subtracted what he had already paid for her clothes he imagined he had enough money to survive for quite a while but... if he bought groceries with a normal well adjusted humans diet in mind then... that time span shrunk rapidly. Still he glanced back and forth between the unaware girl and his wallet before firming his resolve and plastering a smile on his face.
He stepped forward, picking up the steak and holding it towards the girl who he had decided to take custody of.
"Grab a cart would you?" He said, when she seemed confused by the gesture. She hesitated for a second before complying, grabbing the steak and striding away to get a cart like she owned the place. Lance didn't bother taking offense to the frightened shoppers she nearly bowled over on her way to her goal. That would come with time.
Probably.
When the duo finally arrived at the cash registered, Lance who was already hurting because of his rapidly dwindling finances, found himself staring in dumbfounded shock at a copy of the Daily Bugle that was neatly folded along with all the other gossip magazines and publications of ill repute.
The Lethal Lancelot Strikes Again!
Not more than a day after an armed murderer named Lancelot appeared in the downtown areas FEAST center,
another vigilante has appeared with the same name to foil the robbery of a local grocery store. Many people posit there may be a connection between the two individuals, but this reporter is here to tell you that the two are one and the same! Do not trust -
Lance felt his eye began to twitch as he continued to read, until the cashier coughed pointedly at him when it came his turn in the line. It was all he could do to flip the paper over to hide the picture of himself on its front. He didn't know if he should be impressed or offended by the article. But he did know that it wouldn't do well for his attempts at finding a job. He paid for his groceries and carried them home with Laura while wondering about what he could do, when an unexpected voice chimed in with advice.
'Why don't you just go find the fuck and -' Eddie started.
'Ah! Excellent idea Eddie. I'll go talk to the man. He probably just misunderstood something.' Lance posited.
'I was actually thinking -' Eddie tried again.
'That will be all Eddie. Unless you know how to cook steak.' Lance said cutting him off.
'This fucker...' The unwanted voice in his head muttered.
-ooo-
The next day, Lance rose early. He had a lot to do and he wanted to do it quickly, because his primary concern was still definitely 'find a job'. Something that he obviously couldn't do so long as the papers were printing (technically true) things about him. Now, under normal circumstances, suddenly having a teenage girl living with him would cause an untold amount of trouble for Lance. He was under no illusion as to his ability to raise a child. And so he did the only logical thing he could.
He treated her like Arthur.
Blearily he stumbled up to his bedroom door and knocked politely on it. He made sure to knock near the hinges so as to avoid any possibility of accidentally opening the door with the force of his blows. He pointedly turned his head away from the door itself in case the woman inside opened it without considering her state of dress. He, essentially, did everything he used to do for Arthur in order to preserve the illusion that he did not know 'he' was a 'she'.
Honestly, how could anyone mistake that woman for a man when she so frequently slept naked? Let alone her face.
Shaking his head to avoid falling into fond remembrance, Lance felt the door creak open under his grip. Carefully he nudged his gaze downward and was gratified to find that Laura had chosen to sleep in her clothes from yesterday. And her boots. And... actually she had just fallen into bed fully clothed hadn't she?
"Go shower and change." Lance he grunted, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the tiny bathroom adjacent to the bedroom. Laura nodded once and the proceeded past him, allowing Lance the time to slip into his own bedroom and grab a change of clothes from his dresser, which he patiently laid out on the couch as he waited for Laura to finish -
His eyes fell on the bag of Laura's clothes still sitting on the living room table, taunting him with all the terrible things its presence could cause. So, instead of relaxing until it was his turn to shower, Lance dropped the bag on the floor in front of the bathroom, and then retreated around the corner to the kitchen where it would be impossible to see anyone coming out of the bathroom.
"Your clothes are in front of the door!" Lance yelled, pulling a box of cereal from his cupboard and marveling at the presence of actual milk in his fridge to eat it with.
An hour later, and both of them clean and dressed - Laura in another annoying tight top that he couldn't gainsay given the warm weather - the duo were ready to head out. Or rather, Lance was ready to go out, and had intended for Laura to remain in the apartment doing whatever it was teenagers did when they were bored, but he ran into a snag pretty much immediately.
"You don't have to come with me you know?" He offered weakly.
"But I want to?" Laura said, making it a question and flinching as though she expected some reprisal for the simple statement of intent. And of course, how could Lance tell her she couldn't come after seeing that?
"Ah. Well. Sure." He finally acknowledged, turning away from her and heading towards the elevator. As they were walking up the hallway, a man in a gaudy yellow wheelchair exited from one of the elevators, his head whipping towards them in surprise as they approached each other. He was entirely bald, and wearing a charcoal grey suit that probably cost more money than Lance had ever owned even if he added up all the money he had earned since being summoned to this world. He had sharp, angular eyes and a determined expression that spoke of deep convictions and desires.
"Mister Lake? I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time to -" The man called from up the hallway. Lance took in the entire situation all at once. He absorbed the fact that not a single day had gone by without someone coming to disturb his daily life. He accepted that this was his life now, and that no, he probably couldn't stop it from happening. But that didn't mean he had time for this right now. So he took the single most villainous action he had ever performed in his current lifetime.
He took one look at the mans wheel chair and then dragged Laura into the stairwell, neatly bypassing him.
"Mister Lake!?" The bald man called after them, stopping at the top of the stairwell.
"Sorry! Don't have any money! Try the neighbors!" Lance called up after him hurriedly.
"But-!" The man tried to reply, but two flights down Lance judged their to be enough distance between them, and dragged Laura once more through the door into the ninth floor where he promptly headed towards the elevator.
One old man down... one to go.
Somewhere in the city, J. Jonah Jameson, felt a shiver run down his spine.
-ooo-
Hello! I wanted to clarify a few things because it came up alot in the reviews. I'm actually very aware that Galahad was a man, and Mash was just sort of fused with his Saint Graph, but relative to this story I just thought it would be more amusing to treat Mash as Galahad and leave it at that. It's not really a super relevant plot point outside of Lance using it to fuck with people who think they know the myth so it shouldn't be too much trouble to ignore if it bothers you.
I also feel I should say that when I say Lance wouldn't have any problems with most enemies at present, it's because he's unlikely to ever meet the more powerful characters in the Marvel universe on a day to day basis. Thanos doesn't exactly hang out in the dive bars of Manhattan you know? His close proximity to Spiderman means he's most likely to encounter Spiderman villains currently - who are basically all trivial threats to Lancelot with a few rare exceptions. I didn't mean to say that Lancelot was all powerful - because I'm very well aware that characters like say, the Hulk would beat him up and down the street eventually, but it bears accepting that a Servant especially a high spec one like Lancelot who's been enshrined in a living body to provide it with Prana, would be an absolute monster for most enemies below the Omega Level. Remember that Lance is basically operating at the same level as guys like Daredevil and the Punisher right now. That will obviously change eventually but at the moment, eh.
Oh and on that note, Lance could lift the Hammer because he's worthy. Duh. In a similar vein, remember that this Lance isn't the one that lost his shit and became Berserker. His memories of his kids aren't quite as completely shit as that Lancelots, though he does have access to the shittier memories.
Well, I think that should be everything. Expect more actual action next chapter. It's kind of hard to write Lancelot getting into a lot of fights when, as a person, he's just not very predisposed to suddenly killing everything in a room. I am planning on having Berserker play a larger part as we go forward, but you'll note he's a lot like Hulk that way - he has triggers.
OH and as always.
Thanks for reading.