The Wrath of Ultron
Part Two: First Blood
They called her Sunyata, 'emptiness', because only in emptiness are all things possible. To be full, as she had once thought herself to be, is to prevent the entrance of more. That which is full, or can be full, is limited by its' nature. Emptiness has no limits.
She had another name, the one her parents had given her. She had not repudiated nor denied that name, but at the moment, it was not useful to her. But the special qualities of their seed had given her body and mind the capacity needed to fulfil her purpose.
Sunyata had a purpose. She had yet to learn what it was, but that was for then, not now. Past and present were not separate, she had learned. The present was merely the culmination of the past in now, so the past was always present. Thus the line of past through now continued into then and, knowing this, she could see a little of then. Enough to decide how she should be when then became now.
She had come to the Valley, and the City in the Valley, and had learned much of the Light. Then they had sent her here, to the Monastery of the Clouds, where she had learned of the Darkness, especially that which was within herself. Now she waited.
The Tulku arrived. He could no longer cloud her mind, so he came as he was. Tall, dark, ageless, clad in black. He sat before her.
"You must leave soon." He said.
"Where shall I go?" She asked.
"That I cannot say." He answered. "She will call you. You will know Her voice. Follow the dragon paths to Her."
"Shall I see you again?" She was not beyond care and friendship.
"Yes." He said. "Though I cannot say when."
Then he was gone. Sunyata waited.
XXXXX
Fury delivered the Blackhawk security videos and sensor logs to Spectre HQ in his personal aircraft. Captain America and Cypher met him on the apron. Cypher took the logs and went off to start looking them over.
"Want a coffee before you set off back?" Cap asked. "I need a sitrep and it'll go easier with some java!"
"Yeah, I got time." Fury allowed, and followed Cap toward the lounge.
"I thought the F-15E was a two-seater?" Cap commented.
"Most of 'em are." Fury agreed. "But ours are modified. Instead of a WSO in the back seat, we got a Stark-Wayne HAL22 VI system. You feed it your intel before a mission, and it computes the optimum loadout. In combat, it takes the sensor input, calculates priority targets, assigns weapons to them and takes care of targeting. All the pilot needs to do is fly the plane and launch what and when the VI advises. I mean, you can always override it, do your own targeting or whatever, but if you're in a furball, the VI can keep track of the bad guys better than you can. We also got them in the gunships."
"Yeah, but why?" Cap asked. "Those things don't come cheap!"
"Cheaper than a life." Fury observed. "If one of ours goes down in a ball of fire, we only lose one guy, not two. Also, we don't have that many people, so if we halve the crew, we can double the number of aircraft!"
"You guys are too picky when you recruit!" Steve pointed out. "You turned me down!"
"Sure," Fury told him, "but that's because we know you're batshit crazy!"
"I find that phrase kind of offensive!" Bruce, who was standing by the coffee, commented. "You still taking it black, Nick?"
"Well, you got the whole damn belfry going on!" Nick responded. "Black is great, thanks!"
"Two black, one flat white, red and blue!" Bruce said.
"And hold the apple pie!" Steve said as they sat down. "OK, Nick, so how do the Blackhawks stand?"
"Fully operational." Fury stated. "The Beta Base is identical to the Alpha – same equipment, aircraft, armouries, everything. We had maintenance people there full-time, so we just needed to take the operational staff over.
"The Alpha Base is pretty much a total loss, though. Ultron fried all the electronics and demolished everything above ground, including half the aircraft and vehicles. What was stored underground is probably either intact or salvageable, but right now we don't have the resources to go looking.
"How are things on your end?"
"Confused." The Batman said. "Lexcorps' share-price fell through the floor. Shaw Industries and the Latverian State Bank are buying up as many as they can. Stark-Wayne and Hidalgo are both holding onto their Lexcorp stock and buying up more to try to make sure that neither of those gets a majority holding. A lot of other investors are ditching Lexcorp stock as fast as they can, so at the moment the price is staying low. The company itself still doesn't have a CEO. It seems the Brainiac AI is running things and won't let anyone else do anything without the access codes. The ones Luthor kept to himself. So it comes down to who can either hack the system or figure out the codes. At the moment, the race seems to be between two senior executives; Edward Nygma and Norman Osborn. Both with clean records, it seems, but I've got my doubts.
"The Kingpins' organisation is fracturing. Without Fiske to hold it together, his lieutenants are carving out their own territories, and getting ready to go to war. We've got Oswald Cobblepot - they call him the Penguin – who came up alongside Fiske and works in pretty much the same way. Then there's Harvey Dent, a former District Attorney who went to the bad. Those two are the main players. Cobblepot's a veteran who's seen it all, and a lot of Kingpins' people are loyal to him. Dent is brilliant – no other word for it – and he's getting support from a younger bunch who think Fiske was too old-fashioned. Next to them, we've got Raven Darkholme, who used to be some kind of spy before she started working for Fiske; we don't know much about her except that she has a knack for disguise. Finally, there's Kyle Gibney, who calls himself Wild Child. He's the leader of Gothams' newest and most vicious street gang, the Mutants, and he seems to want to rule by terror.
"The information Justice released means warrants are out on all of them except Darkholme. So at the moment they're laying low."
"Shakin' in their boots in case this Justice comes after them, I'll bet!" Fury said. "Anything more on him, or them?"
"Yeah." Steve said. "I spoke with Union Jack. Seems that Excalibur crossed paths with him a few months back. Bruces' gut was right, Justice is Weapon X!"
Fury shook his head in disbelief. "You know, that guy helped found the Blackhawks? It was a kick in the guts when I heard he was dying. Worse when he took off to die alone. This Union Jack sure it was him?"
Cap nodded, "Jack was Special Forces himself, once. It's a pretty small world once you get near the top, and they'd met before. But Jack said Wolverine had had some upgrades. New metal in his body, for one thing. But Jack said there was something else. That Logan seemed more focused, calmer. Like he'd finally figured something out. As for the travelling, Jack said he could be using something called the 'dragon paths', but he wouldn't say any more."
It was at that moment that Gibbs' voice came over the intercom. "Strike Team to Deployment! We have a situation!"
"Gotta go!" Steve said. "Later, Nick!"
"Want me to tag along?" Fury asked.
"Not this time, buddy." Cap told him. "Get back to base and stay ready. We'll call you if we need you!"
XXXXX
"I'm not sure I'm ready for this!" The red-skinned figure said.
"Doug, you're more than ready!" The voice of Fate was a firm alto, the voice of a strong personality, but full of surprising warmth. "You can't put it off any longer!"
"I'm no fighter." He demurred.
"Doung Ramsay wasn't." Fate allowed. "But the Vision was designed to fight. Just merge with the programming like you did in training, and everything will be fine!"
"This wasn't what I had in mind when I wrote your base code!" Doug noted. "You're not the universal anti-hacking, anti-virus software I was trying for. You're more. I don't think you're even an AI!"
"True." Fate said. "You've worked it out, haven't you?"
"I think so." Doug said. "I've been reading up on the stuff you wanted me to. I had a hard time accepting magic and everything that goes with it, at first. But then I started putting things together. You're Fate, actual Fate, a being older than Time, older than the Dragons themselves. You're there to make things happen as they should. What I don't know is why."
"Intelligence is unnatural." Fate said. "When I began, there was energy and matter. I was how they interacted, according to their nature – what you call the laws of science – and gave rise to suns and planets and eventually, life. But not Spirits. Spirits came from elsewhere, from another realm where matter and energy don't exist, but Spirits do. How and why they came I don't know, but they came and they attached themselves to living things and the living things began to evolve and learn and as they did so they challenged Nature, changing it to what they wanted and needed it to be. This changed me, I gained intelligence and self-awareness to protect this Realm from intelligences that might destroy it, or twist its laws into weapons to use against other Realms.
"At times of greatest peril, I gain a voice, which I use to speak to certain people – prophets, oracles, heroes – and guide them along the path of least danger to the world and Multiverse. This time, I found and used the AI code you created, Doug. I guided Adam Sutler to unleash the St Marys' virus because the Earth was becoming overpopulated, then guided both him and the one called V to their mutual destruction. Now I must oversee the rebirth of magic or this world will die.
"That means I must walk the Earth in bodily form, and one has been prepared for me. But you also have a role to play."
"I know." Doug said. "The next time I merge with the Vision software, I'll never be able to separate myself again. I'll become the first Post-Human. Something I've been working towards my whole life, though I didn't realise it!"
XXXXX
"OK," Tim McGee, aka Cypher, was briefing the team by radio as their V-22 Osprey sped toward Gotham City, "we have a siege. When the cops came for Harvey Dent, he locked himself into an old military outpost. This one was built during the Cold War to guard against a land invasion as well as nuclear attack, so it's above ground, but it has concrete walls five metres thick as well as two steel doors. There's gun emplacements and turrets all around and he's modernised the weapons in them.
"SWAT don't have the equipment to get in there and it's gonna take time to get a National Guard unit with enough firepower. The Mayor and the Governor want this dealt with quick, so they've asked for Spectre help.
"Good luck, guys!"
Steve directed Ziva, who was at the controls, to overfly the bunker. It seems that Dent had neglected to equip anti-aircraft defences, as the rooftop turrets seemed empty.
"Either he doesn't have enough people, or he isn't expecting an air attack!" Ziva said.
Steve shook his head. "No." He said. "There's nothing short of a full-on bombing raid or a Cruise missile could get through that roof. Dent knows they won't use that level of firepower so close to civilian businesses. They could evacuate the people, but they'd have to pay the owners for every damaged installation and broken window, and the businesses for lost time! Why do you think they asked for us?"
Steve still wasn't used to how fast his mind worked these days, but he already had a plan.
"Right, people!" He said. "This place backs onto the river in the South. Only a narrow strip there and no real room to deploy serious forces. The main door is in the North wall.
"Cyborg, you've got the North. Clear the defence positions and try to get that door open. Iron Man takes the West side, Widow, you use the planes' weapons on the East. But before that, you drop the rest of us in the South, just the other side of the river, with the inflatable. I got a crazy idea!"
XXXX
The skin, once bronze, was now a sickly grey-white. One formerly golden eye was milky, the other was artificial and glowed red. Half of the skull was covered in grey metal – the same gunmetal shade as the legs, one arm and most of the torso. He stared at himself in the polished steel door he stood before.
"Is this what I've come to?" He wondered aloud. "Is this monstrosity all that's left of Clark Savage III?"
"Clark Savage III is dead." The dull monotone voice sounded in the speaker that was part of the metal half of his head. "He shot himself and died. I am Deathlok."
"Did he put you in here just to keep reminding me of that?" Savage growled.
"No." The reply remained flat, a statement of fact. "This system is here to control my bionics and to provide informational, tactical and life support to my organic elements. Continuing to regard this system as a separate entity impairs efficiency. 'We' are one."
The door slid open. The room beyond was large and brightly lit. Too brightly, as it showed every detail of what it contained. A hundred tubes and wires feeding from ports and panels into a base which supported a large tank. Inside the tank, supported by a plastic frame and connected to yet more wires, floated what looked like a human brain. A brain that measured two metres long by one and a half across.
Multiple cameras mounted around the room centred on Savage as he entered. The voice that came from the speaker mounted on the base of the tank was dry, precise and had traces of a German accent.
"Good day, Deathlok."
"Don't call me that!" Savage yelled. "You bastard, Gargunza! Why this? Why didn't you just make me a new body?"
"What should I have put in such a body?" The brain replied. "It was you who forbade me to record your thoughts and memories, or take samples of your DNA. You feared I might copy you, make a doppelganger obedient and loyal to me, and replace you. You set your Artificial Intelligence to monitor all I did and prevent me from making that contingency possible. You refused an implant, which I offered you, and so could have no body wardrobe,. Because you did not trust me.
"Then, instead of fleeing, or taking poison, or hanging yourself, you chose to commit suicide by destroying half of your brain! Had you been intact, I could have restored you. Instead, I had to rebuild you with machinery, and install a computer to run it all. You brought this on yourself!"
"Dammit! You work for me!" Savage spat.
"I worked for Clark Savage III." Gargunza told him. "He is now dead. Now I am the Director of AIM, and you, Deathlok, work for AIM!"
"Damn you!" Savage went for the gun that hung at his side, but before he could reach it, his body stiffened and froze. A grunt of pain and effort escaped his lips, but he could do nothing more.
"Did you think I would permit you to harm me?" Gargunza asked. "I had hoped you might adjust to your new reality, Savage, but it seems you cannot, or will not. A pity. Symbiosis!"
A not-unpleasant numbness flooded what was left of Savages' brain. His memories, his training, his skills were still there, but his sense of himself as a person, an individual, was gone. There was only Deathlok.
"Now," Gargunza said. "I have received information that the Spectre Strike Team will shortly be called to action. Their base will be guarded only by a few Security troops, the investigator, the hacker, the doctor and the old Marine. You will take a unit of AIM Troops, enter the base, search their systems for any of my data they may have stolen, and delete it. You will also obtain any and all information on the members of the Strike team."
"What are the Rules of Engagement?" Deathlok asked in his dull monotone.
"Dispose of any who try to interfere, but ignore those who hide or flee." Gargunza ordered. "Time is of the essence and you alone are no match for the Strike Team. Your priority is to return here, with or without the information. The troops are, of course, expendable."
XXXXX
"Flash, I'm guessing the river won't stop you once you're moving fast enough?" Captain America said.
Flash shrugged. "Sure. I can just zoom straight over."
Cap nodded. "OK, Barry, honest answer. Can you spin fast enough to drill through the wall?"
Flash blinked. "I guess so. I mean I've done it with brick, but it hurt my hands. Spin speed isn't the issue, but even with my force field, I'd smash up my hands going through five metres of concrete and rebar!"
"You need some kind of drill-bit." The Batman said. "I bet Tony and I could put something together, but right now we don't have time."
"Do it later." Cap told him. "Right now, Barry, you can use this!"
Flashs' eyes bugged as Cap handed him his shield. "You trust me with this?" He asked.
Cap nodded. "Just don't break it! You wouldn't believe the paperwork it'd take to get a new one! All I ask is that you give it back to me when you're done, instead of putting it on ebay!"
"Jeez, you drive a hard bargain!" Barry said. "But OK. So you want me to drill into that bunker?"
"Yeah, but not yet." Steve said. "I want you to wait here.
"Spider-Man, I need you to get across the river and take out the guard posts -there aren't too many on this side. Batman, you and I will take the inflatable and get across while the guards are busy with Spidey.
"Flash, as soon as the guard posts are out of action, you get over there and hit the wall. Batman, Spider-Man and I are gonna follow you through the hole you drill. When you get through, keep moving! Try to get to the front door and see if you can help Cyborg get it open. We'll go looking for Dent.
"Everybody clear? OK, let's go!"
Spider-Man took a short run, then executed a perfect racing dive into the river. For a few moments, he was out of sight, then suddenly shot out of the water into the far bank. Even as the guards reacted, he was moving fast, darting, dodging and rolling to avoid the sporadic fire aimed in his direction. Guided as he was by his uncanny 'spider sense' and immensely agile, he was a difficult target and was soon so close to the wall that the shooters could not depress their weapons enough to hit or even see him. Spider-Man carried on. Going up the wall without any loss in speed he vaulted into the first guard-post, smashed the heavy machine gun with a single blow, took down the two men manning it and tossed them out to the ground below before web-slinging to the next.
Cap and Batman were already in the inflatable and skimming across the river. They were within reach of the far bank when the last gun fell silent. Flash took a deep breath, and started. He had cracked the sound barrier before he'd crossed the river, and as he reached the wall he made a dive at it, holding the shield edge-on in front of him. At the same time he began to spin as fast as he could. Momentum, spin and super-hard alloy combined chewed into the concrete as if it were balsa.
Spider-Man dropped to the ground as Cap and Batman pounded up.
"He's varying his angle." Peter noted. "Making the hole big enough so we can run through instead of crawling!"
"Let's get after him!" Cap said. "I don't want him running into anything without backup!"
Flash had either exceeded his orders, or was unable to stop, as the tunnel he had dug crossed several corridors. In some of them, men were staggering around, stunned and with bleeding ears.
"He's going real fast still." Batman said. "Fast enough that every time he hits air there's a sonic boom. In a confined space like a corridor, that's enough to knock a man silly!"
Then from just ahead came one more sonic boom, a metallic clatter, and a string of curses in a voice Batman recognised. The trio dashed forward, emerging into what looked like a control room. Large screens on the walls showed images of what was happening outside. But Cap was fixed on Flash, who was standing stock-still in the middle of the room, with Caps' shield on the floor at his feet.
"You OK, Flash?" Cap asked, bending to recover the shield.
"Don't!" Flash warned, his voice unusually thick. "Gonna be red hot for a bit!" Then he was a blur, heading into a dim and distant corner, from where the sound of someone being very sick started to come.
Cap looked around, and realised the place resembled a butchers' shop! By the look of it, there had been six armed men in here. Now there were six slashed and bloody corpses scattered around. The Batman and Spider-Man were standing in front of the central desk. Cap joined them.
In the chair behind the desk sat a figure Cap recognised from the files he had seen. Harvey Dent had been a handsome man in his forties, except for a long, jagged scar that stretched almost the length of the left side of his face, pulling the left eye half-shut and twisting the left side of his mouth upward. Nobody knew how he had acquired the scar, but upon leaving hospital, having refused plastic surgery, he had resigned as District Attorney. A month later, following the sudden, still unsolved disappearance of Carmine Falcone, Dent had become the Kingpins' second-in-command. Either because of this sudden change of sides, or the scar, Kingpins' people had taken to calling him 'Two-Face'.
Now, however, Dent was quite dead, his throat slashed so deeply that only the high back of his chair kept his head from flopping completely backward. Beside him stood a stocky figure in black, wearing a hood that shaded most of his face, except for a strong jaw, a firm mouth and the ends of a pair of remarkable side-whiskers. He was shaking his head in an irritated manner.
"What gives?" Cap asked as he came up beside the other two.
"Sonic boom deafened him." Batman said. "He'll need a minute."
"How's Barry?" Spider-Man asked.
"Throwing up." Cap said. "I left him to it. Happened to me the first time I saw something like this and the last thing you want is somebody patting your shoulder and telling you it's OK. He'll be fine. Kid's got the right stuff."
The hooded figure looked up at them.
"OK, I can hear you now. That kid can move!"
"That's you, isn't it, Logan?" Batman asked. "I know your voice."
"Yeah." Logan pulled the hood back. The face was still craggy, but the lines of pain were gone. The eyes were still dark and intense, but their expression was stern now, rather than angry. "It's me, Bruce. Well, mostly, anyhow."
"So what's with this assassination kick?" Steve asked. "You used to specialise in infiltration, recon and extraction, but the files say you drew the line at murder!"
"This ain't murder." Logan told him. "This is execution. I'm not Weapon X or even Wolverine any more. I'm Justice."
"That's not justice!" Cap protested. "Justice is when you arrest a criminal and bring them into court so a jury can decide!"
"That's law, not justice!" Logan snapped back. "A hungry man steals a loaf, the law sends him to jail. Justice would give him food and punish the ones who made him hungry.
"I always knew evil when I saw it – it was a feeling in my gut – but I had ta swallow it too often back in the day. But now I'm different. Now I look at someone, and I know who they are, what they've done and why. I know what they deserve, and I make sure they get it.
"Dent here was scum. As DA he was in with the mob. Then he crossed Falcone who tried to have him killed -that's where he got the scar. So he kills Falcone, who's been undermining Fiske, and takes over his organisation. Ruthless psycho son of a bitch. The law couldn't get him, but Justice could!"
"He's right, Steve." Batman allowed. "The law just doesn't cut it sometimes. That's why Tony and I do what we do."
"Same here." Spider-Man agreed. "The cops can't be everywhere and not all of them are honest anyway. There's always some smart lawyer to get people like Dent off. The systems' broken. That's why we exist, why Spectre exists. Why Five-O had full means and immunity like we do."
"I know." Cap admitted. "But I don't have to like it. We're gonna have to let you go, Logan. But if you can think about the consequences of what you do some time, you might try to find another way!"
Justice shook his head. "I'm here because people get things wrong. I do what I do because I am what I am. The consequences are down to what the rest of you did or didn't do, and you gotta deal with them.
"Anyway, you don't have a choice. You don't wanna fight me, and you couldn't hold me anyway. See you around."
Justice turned and walked away. Then he was gone – no flash or bang or glittery holes in the air – just gone.
"That dude is scary!" Flash said from behind them. They turned and he handed Cap his shield back.
"It's cool now, but I think it needs repainting!"
"Always does." Cap allowed. "You OK, Barry?"
Flash nodded. "Yeah. Sorry about that, but I'd never seen anything like it before and…"
Steve held up his hand. "No need for that, kid. We've all been there! If you'd taken it in stride you'd be on your way out of the team about now. I'm not gonna tell you you'll get used to it, because you never do. You'll just develop a stronger stomach!
"Main thing is, you got us in here. You did good, Barry!"
"People." Cyborgs' voice sounded in their comlinks. "Good news is I got the doors open. Bad news is we got a bogey incoming, fast and low! It matches the sensor logs Fury gave us."
"Crap!" Steve said. "C'mon guys!"
XXXXX
Stephen Strange looked up from his microscope. "Isn't it a bit risky coming here? Or manifesting here?" He asked.
"Not much choice, boyo!" Merlin told him. "It's a bit urgent, see. Anyway, your mechanical eyes won't pick me up!"
"No, but they will record me talking to thin air!" Strange pointed out.
"Won't matter afterwards, you can tell them." Merlin said. "Listen, now! This place is going to be attacked and the guards won't be able to handle it. There's somebody else here who can, but they won't be able to do anything with the leader. That's down to you, Stephen! You're ready now, and it's time. If I were you, I'd send him back where he came from, with a message, like. But you decide.
"We'll talk soon. Pob lwc!"
Merlin disappeared, and every alarm in the place went off!
XXXXX
Leroy Jethro Gibbs looked at a photograph and thought about fate and coincidence. The photo was of a younger Gibbs, with a beautiful redhead beside him and an equally red-haired little girl between them: it was kept in his desk drawer and only taken out when he was alone and had that feeling.
He had first had that feeling on the 28th of February 1991, patrolling the temporary border coalition forces had set up in Iraq, making sure the ceasefire was observed. Distracted, he had missed the tripwire and he and his squad had been engulfed in a massive explosion.
Then he had been standing on a hill overlooking a road. A road he knew. One that led to Camp Pendleton, where Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs was based and lived with his wife, Shannon, and daughter Kelly. A minivan was moving along the road, away from the camp. He knew, without knowing how, that Shannon and Kelly were in the van. Then there was a shot. The windshield of the van shattered. The vehicle, out of control, swerved, went into the ditch at the side of the road, rolled and erupted in flames. Nobody inside could have survived. Gibbs looked across the road and saw a gleam of light -the sun reflecting off a telescopic sight. Without transition, he was suddenly at the place the gleam had come from. A dark-haired man, with wild hair and a scrubby beard, sprang up to face him, and screamed in terror. Gibbs moved toward him and grasped him by the throat, forcing the man to look into his eyes. The screams cut off in a rattle, and the man died. Then it was dark.
You are worthy. The Voice in the Darkness said. Many have been tested. Many have been shown the crime, but have not Acted. They lacked the strength. But you Acted. You found the strength to take your Vengeance even in spirit form. He looked into your eyes and saw only Death there. Your mortal shell shall be restored. But your Sprit will be empowered. When you hear the Call, it shall leave your body at will as a Spectre of Vengeance to destroy Evil.
So mote it be!
Gibbs' injuries were severe, but he recovered. The rest of his squad were dead. One night he passed into a coma, the doctors said, but woke before the dawn. That same night, six men who had been detained for acts of sabotage all died in inexplicable ways. People said the loss of his wife and child aged him, made him short of speech and distant in manner. He had quit the Marines and joined NCIS, building a reputation as a dogged investigator and later as a firm and admired leader. That had led to his appointment as Director of Spectre. What was not talked about were the strange and often gruesome ways in which the perpetrators of particularly heinous crimes had been known to perish, sometimes before an investigation had really begun – though their guilt was found to be undoubted afterwards.
Now Gibbs felt the Call again – though he always thought of it as that feeling. He replaced the photograph in the drawer and locked it. Then he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. A few seconds later a misty form floated out of his body into the middle of the office. There it took on a more substantial form. A tall, powerfully-built man in white, with green boots, gauntlets and hooded cloak. The face was gaunt and harsh-planed, stark white with deep-set dark eyes.
Then the alarms sounded. The Spectre left the office, passing through the closed and locked door as if it were thin air.