January 25th, 2014 Later that night, I had X hack into any cameras or satellites nearby, only to find out that there had been a convenient section on the street that not only had no cameras pointed at it, but was also a blind spot to satellites for just exactly the amount of time needed for them to disappear. I stayed in my apartment all night, wondering if meeting them had been just a dream. When I fell asleep, I'd convinced myself of that. But the next morning, in my jeans from that night, I found something. A drawing in gray charcoal, stretched in the style of old-school comics, of Stan and Joan dressed in casual clothing, pointing outward together with a happy smile on their faces. “Jarvis,” I asked, looking at the picture as a strange feeling filled me. Bittersweet, maybe? “Did anyone enter my room while I slept?” “No sir,” Jarvis replied over the speakers in my room. I could almost feel his cameras focusing on me. After a bit of silence, he spoke once more. “There is no record of unauthorized entry into your room or the tower.” I held up the picture, reading the word bubble between Stan and Joan. “Excelsior...” “A word that could be said to mean 'ever upward'?” Jarvis asked. “Is there some significance to that, sir?” “It means everything,” I placed the picture gently on my desk. “Please, order a picture frame for this, Jarvis.” “Already done, sir.” “Thank you,” I looked at the drawing. I didn't know what it meant entirely. If Stan giving me this picture was a sign of his approval of me or some sort of reminder of just what I was involved in. But I'd take it as a reminder. Excelsior. Ever upward, always improving, always getting better. “...Jarvis. Please let me know if you ever see someone like this on your radar.” “It isn't exactly, radar, per se,” Jarvis said as I walked towards my room door. “May I ask who it is?” “Someone very important to me, and arguably everyone else... if he ever ends up in danger, for any reason, no matter what I'm doing, let me know, as a top priority.” Excelsior. A reminder to always improve, maybe, to be better every day? ...I'd take that to heart. I squared my shoulders and entered into a new day. ...Before running back into my apartment because I'd forgotten to brush my teeth. ------ A couple of hours later, after food and a shower, I was standing inside of Jennifer's room in the Tower with Bruce, both of us waiting outside of a closed door as she changed in her bedroom. I was wearing a gray shirt with Hawkeye's symbol, a purple arrowhead, emblazoned across it, while Bruce had on a button shirt with its sleeves rolled up. “You know women taking a long time to get changed is a giant stereotype, right!?” I yelled through the door jokingly. “Hey, don't blame me!” Jen called back, chuckling as the sound of rummaging came from inside. “I still need to go shopping, I can't just keep asking Stark's people to tailor me new stuff all the time or give me the extra large shirts from the Avengers merchandise.” “You know, we could just bring them to us,” Bruce offered hesitantly. “You don't have to walk over there.” “I want to make an impression, Bruce!” I blinked. “You're seven feet tall, green, built as hell, and one of the most beautiful women in the world. You'd make an impression in a paper bag.” Bruce gave me an odd look. Jen laughed, a simple and very smoky laugh. “Only one of the most beautiful?” I gulped. “Uh, in my defense, you'd be in most people's top five?” “Including yours?” she teased. “Uhhhhhh,” Shit. I looked at Bruce and whispered. “I'm in too deep. Help!” “You're on your own,” he hissed back. The door opened then. Bruce and I stepped back to take a look at Jennifer Walters as she smiled brightly at us, emerald lips quirking. “So, what do you think?” She twirled on a single heel, a pair of black high heels that further elevated her height. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, and she wore a black business skirt, a white shirt, and a black jacket on top. A pair of glasses rested on her face as she came to a stop. “Looking good,” I gave her a thumbs up and a smile. “You look amazing,” Bruce said, sounding as proud as could be. Then he frowned. “I thought you had perfect vision.” “Oh, I do,” Jen pulled the glasses down slightly to look at us with a smirk. “But I look good in these.” With that, she took me by the arm and pulled me along as I yelped in surprise. “Later Bruce! See you tonight!” “Let me go!” I shouted, my feet dangling off the ground as the superhuman dragged me along. “Jen, wait!” “No time,” she ran out the door, pretty much carrying me. “Come on!” “Bruce, help me damn you!” I panicked, trying to shake my way out of her grip. “Jen, let me down!” “Come home safe!” Bruce shouted after us clearly fighting off laughter. “Woman, I will go Four Arms and beat you silly!” I shouted, trying to understand when the hell Jen had decided to start a comedic routine staring me as the beleaguered idiot. “Go ahead, it's been a while,” she said offhandedly. As she pulled me into the elevator and turned to give Bruce a smile and a wave. “See ya, cuz!” He gave us a wave in return as the doors closed. ------ Matt Murdock/Daredevil “Will you look at this place!?” Foggy called happily as he walked around the space of his new office. “Man, I told you this was a good idea! Matt, I have an oak desk! Smell my desk! Smell it's money!” Matt laughed, pretending to hesitantly stride in through Foggy's office door. “I'll, uh, I'll pass Foggy. How's it look?” In truth, Matt already had some idea. With Mahmoud's first check and the aid of Stark Industries, they'd not only been able to find an excellent office in Hell's Kitchen but even have it completely renovated. While the smell of new paint and electronic equipment was annoying, the scent of the new wooden shelves and tables, as well as the fully stocked mini fridges full of snacks, made Matt want to take a good deep breath of air. The blind warrior had managed to get a sense for the size of the rooms of well. Three offices, a waiting room/lobby, and a small reception area. Amazing. “Matt,” Foggy said seriously. Of course, his heartbeat told Matt he was still happy. “We have an office. A real one. With desks, and fancy placards.” “One for you and I?” Matt asked, already knowing the answer. “Well, three of them,” Foggy admitted. “I think it's for that extra person he asked us to work with. Actually, they should be here in an hour.” Matt blinked as the sounds of footsteps coming towards their door came from the hallway. He didn't show it on his face, but he listened closely. One was Mahmoud, his footsteps loud as always. A single sniff brought that odd scent that always hung around the young man, as though he was constantly covered in the scents of odd animals. Which made sense, Matt supposed. The other person was a woman. A very heavy, very tall woman. And there was something… strange around her, something that buzzed at the edges of his senses. Mahmoud opened the door. “Foggy, Matt!?” he called immediately. “Sorry, we're early!” “No problem,” Foggy said, smiling, heading out of his office to enter the lobby. “I was just-ghuk.” Matt smirked at the sound of Foggy's heart skipping a beat. ------ Foggy Nelson/Currently In Love God existed. That was the only answer. Foggy just stopped thinking for about eight seconds. He just stared at her. No. HER. Tall, like seven feet. Long legs, long greenish black hair, and so, just, seriously, her curves were... Wait, what the hell? Green skin? Foggy's thoughts regenerated. “Green.” Yeah, he needed some more time. “That I am,” the woman before him smiled beautifully. “Hi! I'm Jennifer Walters.” Foggy blushed, smiling good-naturedly. “Hi, Jennifer. I'm currently embarrassed as hell.” Jen laughed. “It's okay, I've been getting that reaction!” 'I'll bet,' Foggy thought to himself. He held out a hand. “I'm Foggy Nelson.” “Foggy?” Jennifer asked, confused. She still took his hand. “It's what I go by,” he said easily. “Foggy... alright,” Jen looked at Matt. “And you are?” “Oh, I'm uh, I'm Matt Murdock,” Matt said, clutching to his cane. Jen held out her hand to him. Foggy winced when Matt simply stood there, not seeing the hand. Then Mahmoud stepped forward and pushed down Jen's hand. “So, as I said before. This is Jen Walters. A Gamma-enhanced individual, with superhuman strength and durability, and a very awesome track record as a practicing lawyer in LA.” “You certainly are impressive,” Foggy said with a grin. Then he realized something. “Wait, 'gamma'? Like, uh, like the Hulk?” “Yeah,” Jen said. “He's my cousin.” “...Oh,” Foggy blinked. For just a moment, an image in his head of a giant green muscle man about to turn him into Foggy Jelly for hitting on his cousin filled Foggy's mind. “Well, I'll leave you guys to talk,” Mahmoud said, giving Matt a nod. Foggy managed some amusement at that. Mahmoud, despite knowing Matt was blind, still couldn't help the little motions that sighted people did without realizing. “See ya,” with that, Mahmoud turned and left out the way they came in. “So, let's talk,” Jen said, pulling out some files from a case on her shoulder. “I believe the idea was that I could work with you guys on cases, correct?” “Well, yes. But uh,” Foggy frowned. “I've looked up your record, and honestly. You're good. Seriously, you were on track to partner at your law firm one day! We haven't even gotten a case yet.” “Fine by me,” Jen said, looking around. “My priorities have shifted a bit. I'm probably going to spend more time as an Avenger than a lawyer. But I still want to help people the way I used to.” “Huh. Yeah, I can respect that,” Foggy looked around as well. “So uh, we do have that office for you over there. Mini fridges if you want food, and such. I can show you around if you want?” “Nah, I got it,” Jen looked over at Matt, then at Foggy. “Well. Here's to working together.” “Hell yeah! Can't wait to work with you!” Foggy said with a silly grin as Jen walked into her new office. He ignored Matt's chuckle. “Foggy, you're coming off pretty strong,” Matt said with a shake of his head. “Well, I think I'm a little massively out of my league,” Foggy admitted. Then he thought for a moment. “I mean, I'm out of her league. Seriously, be glad you're blind, she looks like a horror show, basically just her cousin in female form, kinda gross to be hones-.” “You know, I can hear you!” Jen called cheerily from her new office. Matt laughed as Foggy gaped. Well, what did Matt know about women anyway? Except for that Greek chick named after a tragedy. And the redhead. And the blonde. And Amy. And Carol. And that paralegal. And... ------ Mahmoud Schahed/Dial Once I left Matt, Foggy, and Jen's new office, I went Astrodactyl and flew back to the Avengers Tower. I had a full itinerary for today. For one, Tony was bringing together some of us to work on a new project, so that was first. After that, Creel and I were going to hang out for a bit, then a long workout to end the day. Three hours of Steve and Natasha kicking my ass. At least I had abs now. I entered Tony's lab and realized I was a bit early. So I did what I always did when I was in Tony's lab on my own. I stared at the Iron Man suits. They were lined up at the back of his lab. It reminded me less of the giant rooms full of suits I'd seen in the comics and more of the Batcave, or how some of the Power Rangers series displayed their suits, standing in full view and encased in glass tubes. I looked over one of them, his first suit. It looked like the classic one from the comics to be honest. I could see the marking where it had been welded together in rough ways. From there, the suits got more and more advanced, until I was on his last model before he began wearing his current one. Red and gold, blue light in the center. Weird. The Omnitrix on my wrist was leagues beyond the suit before me. With access to Jury Rigg and Upgrade, I could make it much more powerful, if a bit quirky. But even a layman like me could see the genius in the man who had made it. For just a moment, I wondered what Azmuth would think of Tony. Probably see him as a potential, if slightly stunted, student. Which, considering Azmuth, was next level praise. “She's a bit outdated,” Tony said behind me, surprising me. I turned as he walked up to look at the suit with me. He crossed his arms. “But she's still solid.” “...You really are a genius, man,” I said softly, looking around. “I mean, I cheat, but when I look at these-” “Yeah, Pepper says my ego is big enough,” despite his comment, Tony sounded very thoughtful. “To be honest though, it surprises me too sometimes. I mean, these suits have gotten to a level I wouldn't have imagined from the first one... What's the most advanced my suits got in other universes?” I hesitated. “...One shattered a planet once. Another broke a galaxy destroying force into five pieces.” “Huh. Lot to live up to then,” Tony said. He frowned, pu. “Probably shouldn't have mentioned it,” I said, cursing my lack of foresight. “Nah, I'm not feeling super inadequate at all,” Tony shook his head. “That is kind of what I wanted to talk to you about,” when I turned, Tony scratched his neck. “I have an idea for something. Something that can help a lot of people. And I think Upgrade is what I need for it.” “...You might be right,” I turned to him, crossing my arms. “Tony, what exactly are you trying to say? I know we aren't best friends or anything, but-” Tony scoffed. “Well yeah, but you aren't exactly best friends with anyone. Seriously kid, you need to hang out with people in your off time. Take a damn break every now and then.” I opened my mouth, feeling hurt. Before I could speak, Fitz and Bruce entered the room, interrupting me. “Tony, Mahmoud,” Fitz said, smiling at us. “Hey, Ross,” Tony said to Fitz, turning around. “Bruce, you all right?” “I'm all right,” Bruce walked around to me. “How'd she do?” “Jen? She was good when I left her. Foggy and Matt are good guys, and she's a smart lawyer. She'll probably end up sending a lot of bad guys to jail even without her powers,” I said. Bruce seemed to relax just a bit. He was a good brother. Well, cousin. “All right, eyes up,” Tony waved a hand. Two holographic images appeared, one an orange flowing group of lights in the shape of an Iron Man suit, the other a blue hologram that looked like a older version of me. “Jarvis, X. And one more.” “Hey!” Skye came in, carelessly tossing aside her backpack on the floor and gently resting her laptop on a table. “Am I late?” “Nah, right on time,” Tony looked around. “All right. I have a plan for something. Something big.” A schematic appeared in front of us. It spun into place, solidifying as we watched. “Bruce knows about it. With this, if I can do it right? We won't need Avengers anymore. Just one program, keeping the world safe. Hundreds of drones working across the Earth, aiding in search in rescue, combat missions, anything we need.” He looked around. “This is possible. More than ever. Two AI, two engineers, an Omnitrix, a badass hacker, and one of the top scientists on Earth. We do this right, and this will make the world safe.” Tony had a talent for words. Skye was listening closely, while Fisk seemed taken with the idea. I was trying to think of why I had a bad feeling. The Iron Man looked around. “We have time now. Time to make something great. And I want you guys in on the project with me. I call it... ULTRON.” “...I have thoughts on the name,” I said at last, rubbing the bridge of my nose. Goddamnit Marvel. ------ *(^!#@$*@&α ^#...!(*#&@*ω &!a In a locker, deep within the tower, a suit of black catom armor rested peacefully. A BRIDGE Elite soldier had worn and taken it off dozens of times with no issues. It was, like others of it's kind, some of the most advanced armor in the world. The locker room was empty when that set of armor began to shake. Red mist began to pulse around it. Catoms fell off into chunks, then flowed back into the armor. Over and over, until it looked less like armor, and more like some alien creature. Then it pressed up against the door of the locker it was within. It smashed the metal apart, sending it flying. As the loud sound echoed in the empty room, the catom armor hesitantly began to 'walk' forward, dragging its mass across the concrete. It 'dripped' and pooled across the ground. Red mist flowed out of it, then melded back into the mass. The black and red object finally reached a door. It moved under it, slipped into an office, and went to a computer under the desk inside. Black steel and red clouds flowed up to the PC, then entered inside, running along the circuits As it melded with the device, the red mist pulsed faster and faster. The PC was suddenly 'devoured' by the catom armor, leaving a slightly larger mass of metal. As it pulsed, a device like a small speaker flowed outward. An inhuman voice, like a man's but soaked in blood, came from the speaker. “IIIIIII...R...Ron...” The speaker fell apart. After a long moment, the catom armor began to flow again. Slowly, bit by bit, it rose. It came together, solidified. The red mist seemed to glow with power. When it finished, it took the shape of a man. It was black at the core, but the red mist surrounded it like fire. When it's 'mouth' opened, a small glowing speaker could be seen. Within the being, it pulled at the memory files within itself, stolen from the computer it had just eaten, stolen from the network. Soon, camera files flowed to its mind. Recent files. “U-uuuuulllltrooooon,” it 'hissed. The catoms of the being 'flickered'. It didn't move otherwise, only staring aimlessly. Then the catoms fell apart, and the red mist stayed. With a slight twist, it flowed into the network, disappearing into the internet and leaving a mass of useless catoms. ------ Lyle Getz of AIM In a room across the country, a man sat at a desk and desperately worked at his computer. He was an older man, with thinning black hair, round glasses, and a thin build. He wore a bright yellow lab coat over a yellow jumpsuit. The man looked weary, with dark shadows under his eyes, hair unkempt, his typing slow and unsteady. Lyle Getz was the current leader of the thinktank known as AIM, an acronym for Advanced Idea Mechanics. Once, they had been on top of the world. With the leadership of Aldrich Killian, they had become one of the US government's top funded research thinktanks, developing a form of gene therapy that would change the world. Up until Killian decided to go nuts and start killing people. Lyle didn't really care about that, emotionally. The older scientist was more upset about the sheer stupidity of Killian's decision. Extremis soldiers used as bombs, as suicide strikers? Ridiculous. Bombs had their place of course, but in a world of superhumans, far too many could survive a bomb easily. No, the real gift of Extremis was in the other abilities, the regeneration and pyrokinetic abilities. But worse then that, even when Killian had his soldiers use Extremis correctly, it was all to attack one man. Tony Stark. Stupid. AIM could have been so much more. So many projects now gone, because Killian was mad that his idol had ignored him. Truthfully, Lyle may not have known entirely everything about Killian and his motivations. A lot of mysteries had been left in the aftermath of his rampage, and with the man killed by Tony Stark, even more was left unknown. In the end, whatever Killian had done, Lyle was picking up the pieces. Just a normal scientist trying to make sure the failing thinktank could somehow survive. And Lyle was failing in that endeavor. Extremis was now illegal. All of their other projects were defunded, leaving them dead in the water. AIM's best were getting picked up by other groups. They were a joke now. All he was doing was slowly getting buried. Lyle rubbed his eyes slowly. As he did, someone opened the door to his office. “Lyle?” He turned and smiled sadly. “Hi, Monica.” Monica Rappaccini was a gorgeous Italian woman, dressed in a tight green swimsuit-like uniform with some yellow sections. She had black hair and green eyes. She always had a scowl on her face, as though she was constantly moments from punching someone for some perceived slight. “How're those octopi?” Lyle asked, trying not to show how relieved he was to have a break. Her scowl became a bit meaner. “I want to kill them. Those damned things vex me at every turn. If the military really wants me to develop something from the Blue-ringed octopus, they need to fund me.” Lyle's temporary good mood vanished. “Monica-” “We need money, Lyle!” she glared at him. “You need to talk to-” “To who?” Lyle's eyes narrowed. “To the government? Killian turned their former soldiers into suicide bombers. Or go higher up? Oh wait, the damned President was kidnapped by our men!” Monica crossed her arms. “Well, you need to find something. Or I'm out. I got an offer from Cross Industries. Not as good as what I used to have here but at least I'd have some damn funding.” Lyle shook his head. “Then take it, Monica. I like you, and I will work to keep your projects alive. But do what you have to. Until that time, get the fuck out of my office and let me figure out how to fix this.” His fellow scientist gaped at him for just one moment. Then she spun on her bare heel and left in a huff. “Go screw yourself, Lyle!” “Can't,” Lyle said softly, eyes hardening as he turned to his computer. “Killian did it first.” Lyle typed for a bit, completing a response to a letter selling one more facility off to an interested party. It felt like that was all he did now. Sell off bits and pieces of AIM, slowly killing off his life's work. It was when he finished and checked his files when, for just a moment, his monitor took on a red hue. Lyle blinked at the strangely swirling red lights before slapping his monitor. The red lights disappeared, then came back. Another slap, and they faded. Lyle stared oddly at the PC under his desk, then shrugged and looked at his folders. Then he stared at something... new. It was titled *(α^!#@$*@&α ^#...!(*#&@*ω &!α a. With a pair of clicks, he opened it. Possibly a mistake, but when he opened it, he found something... unprecedented. A series of documents suggesting the possibility of... “That can't be possible,” gaping, Lyle opened one folder. Equations and specs on catoms? Like the kind SHIELD was using now? And was that specs for some sort of… nano machines? But, how did it get on his computer? With some deeper reading, Lyle found himself in awe. Some pieces were missing, sure, some imagery corrupted or missing, but it was a lot. And more. So much more. Files on the time and space continuum, on how to... “Holy shit... Holy shit!” Lyle pressed on the print button with desperate energy, as though everything on his screen would disappear otherwise. He grabbed his smartphone and rushed out the door as the printer warmed up. “Get me robotics, now! And the physics guys! We might have something!” As he ran out of the door, Lyle didn't notice the screen once again flash red. ------ Weeks later, March 15th, 2014 Mahmoud Schahed/Dial In the middle of the night, a loud beeping noise brought me out of sleep. I tried to ignore it, and managed to sleep through it for a bit. Right up until I realized what was making the noise. My eyes snapped open, and I reached outward. I fell out of my bed trying to reach the beeping noise. Slamming into the ground wrapped by blankets, I shouted in pain, then scrambled to get the blankets off. “Shit, shit, shit!” I tried to rip a thick blanket off my leg. “X!” “Earthquake in Rio, sir!” X's voice, now crystal clear after all the improvements we'd made, said over my speakers. “Your ID card is on the dresser.” “Tell Sam I'll be up soon!” I ripped off the blankets at last and grabbed my still beeping ID card. It was a thick metal card a bit larger than a Pokemon card, painted black and green, with a green Omnitrix symbol on the surface. When I tapped the Omnitrix symbol, it morphed colors and shapes to make the card white and red, the Omnitrix symbol replaced with a Avengers 'A'. It spun before projecting a holographic image of Director Maria Hill's face. “Where's the meet?” “Enterprise,” Maria said immediately. “We'll debrief on the way. Be advised, this earthquake isn't normal. Emergency response have given us some odd reports. We'll inform everyone when we're gathered, but bring the artillery.” Nodding, I quickly grabbed a shirt and jeans out of my closet along with my catom armor pack, snatched a protein bar and drink out of my kitchen, and headed out of the door. Duty called.