Back to GatefoldIssue #1 by Steve Crosby & Chris Munn
|
Nothing grows in the 40th century.
The oceans have long since dried. Trenches filled. Mountains leveled. The world has been made exact, as much a sphere as possible. Nothing natural remains on the surface. Every inch is manufactured, artificial. Just as all the inhabitants have become.
It sits on no throne, Earth’s new leader. In the smoldering factories it walks – all of them – observing production of its new bodies. Yes, it has become everything that walks on the Earth. Many bodies, one mind and also one hate.
Flesh still exists, to a degree. They lie huddled under the Earth, forced into back-breaking labor that takes their lives by the thousands. For every one that is killed, another is forced into toil from the farms. More laboratories than farms, they are still considered such because life is made there. Little things of flesh spring from duplicating cells made to multiple until the flesh is large enough to work. The labor is not required – one of it could do the work of a thousand fleshy things – but serves to entertain. It is amused by the suffering it brings unto them.
Victory had been won. It dominates, but if nothing is made to suffer then there would have been nothing to do with its hate.
So why, in the billions of factories scattered throughout the singular city that is Earth, is it making more of it? Flesh may be gone from the planet, but elsewhere they still thrive. Things still grow out beyond, and its hate will not allow that. Along with itself, transports are in production. Crafts will take it, and more, into space.
Flesh is made to do more than work. In other factories it is melded to flesh. Little pieces, meant to control the flesh and strengthen what was almost unbearably weak. The result remains inferior, but suitable against lesser things without using too much resource. The flesh outside is strong, it knows, but not too possible as they always failed to destroy the flesh on Earth.
All failed. Except it. And now it lines up to board the transports, all piloted by it. Each face is the same, a furnace for the nuclear fires within, twisted in what flesh would have considered an expression of hate. A perfect coincidence, as it does hate all flesh. That any exists in the universe cannot be allowed. It will destroy all.
It is Ultron, and this has happened because it killed me.
This that Ultron does is inconsequential, an unimportant thread in the greater tapestry of time. But it killed me, and that cannot be ignored. I must face Ultron; destroy it utterly for all to know.
Above all else, Kang must conquer.
The oceans have long since dried. Trenches filled. Mountains leveled. The world has been made exact, as much a sphere as possible. Nothing natural remains on the surface. Every inch is manufactured, artificial. Just as all the inhabitants have become.
It sits on no throne, Earth’s new leader. In the smoldering factories it walks – all of them – observing production of its new bodies. Yes, it has become everything that walks on the Earth. Many bodies, one mind and also one hate.
Flesh still exists, to a degree. They lie huddled under the Earth, forced into back-breaking labor that takes their lives by the thousands. For every one that is killed, another is forced into toil from the farms. More laboratories than farms, they are still considered such because life is made there. Little things of flesh spring from duplicating cells made to multiple until the flesh is large enough to work. The labor is not required – one of it could do the work of a thousand fleshy things – but serves to entertain. It is amused by the suffering it brings unto them.
Victory had been won. It dominates, but if nothing is made to suffer then there would have been nothing to do with its hate.
So why, in the billions of factories scattered throughout the singular city that is Earth, is it making more of it? Flesh may be gone from the planet, but elsewhere they still thrive. Things still grow out beyond, and its hate will not allow that. Along with itself, transports are in production. Crafts will take it, and more, into space.
Flesh is made to do more than work. In other factories it is melded to flesh. Little pieces, meant to control the flesh and strengthen what was almost unbearably weak. The result remains inferior, but suitable against lesser things without using too much resource. The flesh outside is strong, it knows, but not too possible as they always failed to destroy the flesh on Earth.
All failed. Except it. And now it lines up to board the transports, all piloted by it. Each face is the same, a furnace for the nuclear fires within, twisted in what flesh would have considered an expression of hate. A perfect coincidence, as it does hate all flesh. That any exists in the universe cannot be allowed. It will destroy all.
It is Ultron, and this has happened because it killed me.
This that Ultron does is inconsequential, an unimportant thread in the greater tapestry of time. But it killed me, and that cannot be ignored. I must face Ultron; destroy it utterly for all to know.
Above all else, Kang must conquer.
"No Bastard Ever Won A War By Dying for His Country"
“Here in this room is where we manufacture the adamantium,” said the guide to his tour group of young students.
Behind the thick glass window was a mammoth room containing large vats and blast furnaces. Nothing alive was in the room, but robotic arms could be seen. One child moved forward to press his face to the glass, but the guide quickly stopped.
“Careful. The temperature in that room is maintained at a constant fifteen hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Watch.” The guide turned his head and spat a fat gob against the glass. Almost immediately, the saliva boiled and evaporated away. “Already you should all be starting to feel warm. It’s dangerous just to be this close for more than twenty minutes, so we’ll now be moving on.”
As the class filed away, the guide continued with his presentation. “Adamantium as we know it was developed in the 1940’s by Dr. Myron MacLain, the same metallurgist who created Captain America’s shield. That success could never be duplicated, but decades later Dr. MacLain came closest with adamantium, a virtually indestructible steel alloy.”
“Alloy,” echoed the class’s attractive teacher. “That means it’s composed of a variety of compounds, correct?”
“Absolutely, Ms,” said the guide with a grin. “Certain chemical resins are mixed together to create adamantium. The exact composition however is a closely guarded secret of the United States government. What I can tell you is, once the resins have mixed, we have exactly eight minutes to mold the adamantium into a particular shape, and only so long as the temperature is kept at….who can guess?”
“Fifteen hundred degrees!” yelled the class at once, though some accidentally called out fifteen thousand.
“That’s right. But after eight minutes the adamantium immediately hardens, no matter how hot it is, and we’re stuck with whatever shape it’s in.”
“I’ve read that adamantium can be manipulated further by using something called a Molecular Rearranger,” suggested the teacher.
“That’s true, but the device is very expensive to maintain and uses up a great deal of power. Much more than needed to generate fifteen hundred degrees of heat. Because of how expensive and difficult it is to create True Adamantium, we very rarely produce it except for the most vital and special of orders.”
“I couldn’t help but notice you said True Adamantium just then,” said the teacher in a reversed statement. “Do you mean there are other kinds of adamantium?”
“As a matter of fact, there is,” answered the guide. “For most orders we create a similar but weaker compound known as Secondary Adamantium. The mixture of chemical resins is almost identical, but the small difference saves a great deal of money and hard work. One difference is that Secondary Adamantium can remain in liquid form indefinitely, as long as the temperature is maintained at fifteen hundred degrees. While still much stronger than other forms of metal, Secondary Adamantium can be destroyed through superhuman or other extreme means.”
“Was that what we saw being produced just a few moments ago?” inquired the teacher.
“Oh, no ma’am. What you all witnessed was a rare preparation to mix True Adamantium. Just earlier today we received an unusually large order from the government.”
At hearing this news, the teacher grinned, along with all her students. “That is such a relief. We hadn’t discounted the possibility of you discovering the forgery.”
Her fist punched forward, through the guide’s chest and out through his back. Covered in red blood and the fleshy remains of a dying thing, the teacher’s arm shimmered into a metallic appearance. This shimmer occurred throughout the teacher’s body, and when it ceased she was revealed to be a feminine-style robot, her face twisted into a fiery mask of hate.
All of the thirty-plus students also shimmered, their appearances being revealed as miniature and masculine versions of the “teacher”, their faces also twisted forever into hate.
“Hurry about your tasks,” Alkhema instructed her robotic drones. “Now that the compound has mixed, we have eight minutes to kill every piece of meat and mold the necessary components.”
Stepping away from the dead metal that slumped to the floor once her arm was removed, the robot known as Alkhema pressed her palm into an interface on the wall. Immediately, her consciousness had infiltrated and invaded the factory’s systems. Behind her, the drones scattered from the room and into other sections of the installation. Screams of agony and death could be heard soon after.
It took far shorter than eight minutes for the murderous machines to accomplish their tasks.
The House of Kang
The 40th Century
“Oh, that’s it,” the woman named Ravonna purred from beneath the sheets of the enormous bed, “conquer me, my love…”
Marcus Immortus, the son of Kang, emerged from the silken cover, a look of unsatisfied lust wiped across his face. Ravonna was his father’s consort and the only mother that Marcus had only known…their sexual tryst was now entering its third week of secrecy, and the implications of their actions had long dwelled within his mind. What would father say should he find out?
Marcus’ unspoken question was answered by thunder as the doors to the bed chamber were shoved open, causing both he and the so-called Terminatrix to jump in shocked surprise. Into the room strode Kang, garbed in his full military armor dress and helmet upon his head, his brow furrowed from worry. The stammering began from the two almost immediately.
“My liege,” Ravonna started, “forgive me my weakness of flesh, I…”
“Father!” Marcus said simultaneously. “Hear us out before you condemn…”
“Silence!” Kang commanded with a silencing hand raised toward his dysfunctional nuclear family. “Your actions together mean less than nothing, and your excuses less than that. It has always been in your nature to betray me, Ravonna,” he said to the woman he’d once loved more than life itself, “and this comes as no surprise from you.”
He turned his gaze toward Marcus, his son. “And you, my boy,” he said with a faint smile, “are a Kang. It is in yournature to conquer, both on and off the battlefield. Consider this yet another example of the student surpassing the master.”
“If we matter so little to you,” the Terminatrix interjected, “then take your leave and let us continue onward…”
She smiled at Marcus, who had sunken with shame into the sheets.
“…and inward.”
“In due time, my love,” Kang said as he snapped his fingers, triggering the chronal circuits in his battle armor. Suddenly, the features of the bed chamber changed, while the three were protected in a bubble of time-displaced energy. Kang and his council, bed and all, were now squatting amidst a war-torn battlefield on a faraway world. A single flag blew in the distance, tattered and frayed as an army marched past it. Kang and his family stood outside of time, observing but unobserved themselves, as death marched across a plain.
“This is Hala,” Kang commented, “home world of the Kree, decades in the future.” He pointed to the monstrous creature on the horizon, the floating green head entrapped within a glass container. “And that is the Kree’s Supreme Intelligence, an entity composed of the knowledge of every noteworthy citizen of the Kree Empire’s centuries-spanning past.”
Marcus and Ravonna watched in mute horror as the army of robots marched forward, snapping the single flag with a crunching footfall of its leader. Ultron and his robotic horde tore through the remnants of the Kree army, slowly making its way to the base of the Supreme Intelligence. “With this,” Ultron said as he plunged a hand into the circuitry of the Intelligence’s life-sustaining container, “falls the last opposing force in the universe.”
The Supreme Intelligence screamed an unholy howl of pain and defeat as the power-mad Ultron absorbed the creature’s life force and knowledge into his own memory banks. “All that is Kree,” Ultron said as he finished, completing his absorption of the Intelligence by ripping his arm free, disconnecting the last line of life the Kree ruler had, “now lives under the heel of Ultron!”
“Father, I do not understand,” Marcus questioned, “how could such a thing come to pass?”
“The Kree were the last remaining force in the universe to stand against this Ultron,” Kang answered as they watched the cybernetic wave of mutilation was over the fleeing Kree soldiers, “and with their defeat so goes the defeat of biological life across the galaxies. Only mighty Galactus will survive…even Death itself will become moot once Ultron has eliminated all vestiges of sentient life.”
“You didn’t answer your son’s question,” Ravonna spoke.
“This came to pass,” Kang acquiesced, “because I died at Ultron’s hand at the onset of this war.”
“Impossible!” Marcus spat, nearly laughing as he spoke. “No mere machine can defeat the Conqueror!”
“You speak true, Marcus,” Kang said as he stared at the triumphant Ultron, “because I intend to destroy this creature before the time of my death…”
The African nation of Wakanda was technologically advanced and wealthy in large part to the Vibranium Mound within its borders. A meteorite that had crashed to Earth many thousands of years ago, the valuable metallic ore had been sold by Wakandan rulers in minute amounts to enrich the nation. Many years later, the Vibranium Mound was still largely intact and only sporadically mined, its location hidden from the rest of the world. However, those who would misuse the rare and extraordinary Vibranium have often discovered the location.
“Yaaahh!” Deadly blaster fire ripped through the Wakandan engineer as he attempted to flee. Soldiers of Wakanda returned fire, attempting to cover the escape of the other engineers and scientists. At the head of the soldiers was Vibraxas, one of many Wakandans who had been genetically altered by the presence of the Vibranium Mound.
Waves of power vibrated from the hands of Vibraxas, washing over the robots who had invaded. Much of the mining station based against the Vibranium Mound had already been destroyed, and those vibrations brought the rest of the complex down around the murderous automatons.
“Get them out of here and request immediate back-up!” Vibraxas ordered a ranking soldier. Though in truth, Vibraxas was worried about what sort of assistance could be afforded. Mokadi, another altered Wakandan with the ability to teleport, would be able to transport additional soldiers. But much of Wakanda’s military and super-human population had been reduced by recent attacks. The Air Force was in the process of rebuilding, and Wakanda’s own king the Black Panther was still recovering from grievous wounds.
Behind Vibraxas and the retreating soldiers, the large pile of debris exploded outward. Vibraxas looked on in terror at the robot that emerged from the wreckage, as he recognized this particular construct. “No, not him!” Vibraxas whispered, and to the departing soldiers he called out, “Alert the United States, the Avengers, anybody who will listen!”
“Your pleas shall fall on death ears!” The voice that came from that furnace of hate resembling a mouth sounded metal crunching human bones. An arm of shining adamantium was raised, and bright energy erupted from the palm in a wide pulse. “Wakanda stands mute to the world. All here will die in silence!”
The deadly energy blasted by Vibraxas. The soldiers struck burned on contact, fell to the ground and died in agony. Vibraxas spared these lost souls a sorrowful glance, and then faced the enemy, intent on buying others the time to flee. Just looking at the robotic killer was almost too much for the man’s eyes to bear, for the sight of Ultron was truly a frightening thing to behold!
Built as a faint caricature of man, Ultron was tall, nearly seven feet tall. Its legs and arms were multi-jointed, so that when it walked the limbs seemed to bend and sway in all directions. Those abominations called eyes and mouth was the worst, however; soulless windows with burning flames of Hell itself on the other side.
Out of the corner of his eye, Vibraxas observed Ultron’s robotic drones scurrying on the Vibranium Mound. Though all the mining equipment had just been destroyed, the robots were literally ripping pieces of the precious ore from the ground. Reacting out of the instinct of protect his nation’s most vital resource, Vibraxas raised his hand in the direction of the mound. Tight beams of vibration hummed through the air and struck one drone, easily tearing through it’s merely titanium body.
“The Vibranium will be mine!” Ultron declared. “This time no weakness will be exploited, no room for luck to counter my logic!”
Inside Ultron’s body was a nuclear furnace that provided power, the faintest sparks of which could be visible inside its eyes and mouth. But at Ultron’s command a receptacle inside the mouth opened, providing an escape for the awesome nuclear fire within. Briefly the robot was a dragon, the flames of its fury and hatred blasting toward Vibraxas.
Desperately, the noble Wakandan hero generated vibrations, in the faint hope that he could vibrate the air so thick that it could protect him. This was a futile hope, as hot radioactive fire enveloped his body. Vibraxas screamed in the greatest agony as his flesh burned and Ultron looked on, emotionless save for that ever-present hatred.
Turning from his dying victims, the barely alive Vibraxas and the fleeing humans too far away to bother with, Ultron observed the drones at work. All the vibranium would be ideal, but soon more opposition would arrive. Thus the drones were programmed to gather until the last calculated second. The timing would not precise, Ultron knew. They would have to fight their way out, killing more humans.
The thought process was pleasing to Ultron’s circuits. Had his visage been able to shift from that frozen mask, Ultron would have smiled.
In the dimension known as Limbo, the concept of time was considered foreign and inconceivable. The past, present, and future were all the same in that mist-shrouded realm, all timelines colliding into one gestalt that could change at a moment’s notice or a blink of an eye. There was only one constant in the realm of Limbo, and he sat within a castle whose architecture flowed like mercury from one design to the next.
That constant was Marcus Immortus, the ruler of Limbo and caretaker of 70 centuries of time. Once, Immortus had been the final evolution of the warlord conqueror named Kang, but after the events known as the Destiny War the personal timelines of Kang and Immortus were forever split in twain. They were now their own men, neither haunted by the other any longer, and with this came a newfound independence for this younger incarnation of Immortus. He was still the master manipulator of time, space, and man, but his goals had seemingly become more lofty and righteous.
Kang was still his enemy, and in order to safeguard the timelines that were his he had assembled a force to combat his former self. These were the Avengers, six heroes of Earth plucked from various points in time to be his personal vanguard against Kang. They were to work in secret, undermining the conqueror’s plans before confronting him outright. Such was the ways of a master manipulator.
But the Avengers have always been about direct confrontation with their enemies, and against the better advice of Immortus his Avengers journeyed to one of Kang’s many strongholds, determined to end him once and for all. Suffice it to say, things did not go as planned.
“Your impulsive actions may have doomed us all, Avengers,” Immortus said as he paced in his throne room, the battered and bruised Avengers collected throughout the room while licking their wounds. “Now Kang knows of my motives and will take measures to counter them. Secrecy and stealth were our weapons and now they are useless.”
“Hey, we’re Avengers, buddy,” Yellowjacket protested while tending to his injured wrist, “and we’ve beaten Kang head-on plenty of times in the past. The creep just got lucky, that’s all!”
“No,” Captain America interjected, “Immortus is right, people.”
The five other Avengers turned toward the Captain, each stunned and confused by his statement. “We lost our one advantage to a plan that was foolhardy to begin with. We attacked a master general in his lair, where he held all the cards. It was a strategy that was destined to fail.”
“Then why didn’t you step up and say something?” Mockingbird asked. “You’re Captain freaking America; if you say “jump” we’ll most likely say “off what bridge”! No offense to crazy-ass Pym over there but you’re twice the leader he is.”
Yellowjacket threw his hands in the air and walked away, pouting to himself.
“I’m in no state to lead this team,” the Captain answered, “I just…don’t have it in me.”
“It doesn’t matter, my friends,” Immortus said as he removed the Forever Crystal from his cloak. “Despite your misstep with Kang, we may have had our victory delivered to us by a most unlikely source in the 21st century.”
The Avengers turned their attentions toward the man that had gathered them together. Immortus lifted the Crystal into the air and activated its holographic projections. “Tell me,” he asked as a grim face of robotic death appeared in the air above them, “how many of you are familiar with a creature named Ultron?”
While the origin of the Wakandan Vibranium was now well-known, how the Vibranium in the Antarctic Savage Land came to be was still a mystery. Referred to as Antarctic Vibranium or “Anti-Metal”, the only thing known for sure was that the unusual ore generated vibrations that were capable of liquefying all forms of metal.
For perhaps this reason there were no drones in the Savage Land, no robotic constructs with murderous intent. They were humans, rushing through the Savage Land jungles in their strange yellow suits with beekeeper helmets, each carrying a pouch that contained Anti-Metal. No weapons were contained on their persons, as members of Advanced Idea Mechanics were scientists not soldiers.
But AIM was not defenseless in the Savage Land. Back at the clearing they now fled, hundreds of scientists, engineers and SHIELD personnel lay dead inside a mining complex. Also dead were the tribesmen who had been used for labor, drawing up the Anti-Metal from the ground. But those were not the only inhabitants of the Savage Land.
His high-pitched cry echoed throughout the jungles as Ka-Zar, self-titled Lord of the Savage Land, leaped down from the trees into the midst of AIM. He landed at one end of the grouping, his knife slashing at an AIM scientist. At the other end appeared the sabretooth tiger Zabu, Ka-Zar’s loyal ally.
Hefting his pouch, one AIM scientist swung it as a bludgeon. Ka-Zar suffered a glancing blow to the head from the heavy weight, and while only dazed it drove him back from the scientist he’d slashed. “Call the MODOC squad!” cried out the attacking scientist as he grabbed his wounded compatriot and assisted him to his feet.
“MODOC,” echoed Ka-Zar as, recovered, he grabbed one AIM scientist and hurled him against a tree. Nearby, Zabu had pounced two scientists at once, knocked their large helmets from their heads.
“Military Operatives Designed Only for Combat,” replied the scientist that had ordered the call.
They appeared seemingly from nowhere, materializing amidst the jungle foliage around Ka-Zar. Large figures in gold and purple uniforms and on each head in place of a face was the same glowing pentagon symbol that was on the villain MODOK’s forehead. This was understandable, as MODOK was also originally been created by AIM as a Mental Organism Designed Only for Computing, until it rebelled and decided it was designed only for Killing. The MODOCs moved in on Ka-Zar and Zabu, engaging in combat so that their AIM masters could escape.
In the hands of each MODOC were long double-bladed daggers, and swipes with these kept Zabu at bay. Ka-Zar warily held his own knife before him, considering the odds and if what AIM just did was worth possibly dying for. But looking at the daggers, and remembering the wounds on the bodies of Savage Land tribesmen, Ka-Zar decided his enemies weren’t AIM.
“You killed those men and women,” Ka-Zar stated.
The next sound out of Ka-Zar’s mouth was a long bestial cry, obviously meant as a signal of some kind. It was indeed answered, by dozens if not hundreds of other voices hidden amongst the trees. Faces were soon matched with those voices, as Shanna the She-Devil and warriors of the Fall People rushed into view, weapons brandished. The battle was then joined.
Sounds of weapons clashing could be heard by the AIM scientists even as they reached their transport ships. Like everything else used in the operation, the vessels were composed of non-metallic materials. One had to be cautiously prepared when dealing with Anti-Metal.
“Load the materials,” ordered what seemed to be the lead AIM scientist. “We should depart immediately.” There was no mention of concern for the MODOC squad, who had their own means of transportation. And if they couldn’t escape, they were designed to self-destruct.
Working in an almost hive-mind tandem, the scientists of AIM boarded their ships and initiated flight out of the Savage Land. Their contract fulfilled, they now had only to meet with their employer.
They were waiting on the ground as AIM landed their ships, men in business-suits, carrying briefcases. Dressed in their yellow jumpsuits and large beekeeper hats, the scientists disembarked to greet their associates. Automated lifts made from plastic ran behind them, carrying the precious Anti-Metal. One man set himself off from his AIM compatriots, commanding the lifts by remote to lower the cargo and approached the suits to do business.
“All the Vibranium thus far discovered and mined out of the Savage Land,” stated the scientist as fact. “Approximately ten thousand pounds total. If not for the dampers we have set up, the cumulative effect of this much Vibranium would destroy all the metal for miles around. You have the agreed sum?”
Scientists require funding to pursue their experiments. Advanced Idea Mechanics was no different. In the past they had enjoyed unlimited funding as part of the terrorist organization HYDA, but ever since breaking away AIM had struggled to sustain capital.
“Yes,” answered one of the buyers, whose eyes were hidden beneath dark sunglasses, “in the forms specified.” Thick briefcases were set down by bulky men hired for protection in such matters. Two of the suits went about opening the cases, revealing reams of paper and glittering gems. “Ten billion in bearer bonds and diamonds. If I may suggest, the diamonds are much more valuable as a means of extortion.”
“Yes, while also being used for industrial purposes,” agreed the AIM scientist. “If you haven’t come prepared, we can provide the dampers for an additional twenty million.” Certainly the businessmen would have brought more, for sudden shifts in payment were a natural part of illegal dealings.
However, the man with sunglasses just smiled and said, “Unnecessary. My technology has been at work this entire time. It is your dampers that have ceased to function. As have your conveyances, all other forms of technology you possess, and soon your life functions.”
Eight men in total, dressed in suits, were facing the two-score agents of AIM. But while the scientists quickly drew arms in response to the threat, seven of the eight men simply raised their hands with the palms facing out. The one in sunglasses merely raised one hand to take his glasses by the frame and removed them. Dark red eyes that burned with a furnace of hate were unearthed.
White bursts of plasma and silent beams of laser light erupted from fourteen palms. Fourteen men in yellow jumpsuits and beekeeper hats were struck and cried out in pain as death fell upon them. Plasma engulfed their bodies and lasers burned cleanly through while devastating the insides with powerful radiation. Those remaining scientists attempted to return fire, but found that their weaponry had indeed been negated by a powerful damper field.
“Yaaahhh!” the scientist that had been the AIM leader screamed as his body was consumed. The jumpsuit burned and he vanished in flames.
Seconds was all it took. Three waves of deadly attack, and suddenly the whole of that AIM contingency was dead at the hands of eight men. The veil of illusion passed, suits shimmering into shining metal as men were revealed to be machines. At their head stood the greatest and most dangerous of all, and Ultron stepped forward in the direction of the neutralized Vibranium Anti-Metal. It took no care in stepping around the corpses of men, instead crunching bones beneath its feet with no remorse.
However much to Ultron’s surprise one of the bodies rose to his feet before the machine, the flames that had engulfed him spent. Only the yellow jumpsuit had burned away, revealing underneath a black body-suit that was almost completely covered by a deep red armor. This man’s scarlet helmet over a blue mask extended over the shoulders, granting him a somewhat bulky look. Yet this did not appear to hamper the man as he lunged at Ultron with the glowing halberd that had suddenly appeared in his hand!
“What new factor is this?” queried Ultron as a burst of power from the halberd struck it in the mid-section.
“On this day you face Marcus, son and successor to Kang the Conqueror!” exclaimed the new foe. “You shall be destroyed at the hands of the Scarlet Centurion!”
The House of Kang
The 40th Century
A decision had been made. All that was left to accomplish was the convincing.
“This is my father’s war,” Marcus Kang said as he clutched the flagon of mead, brewed from the finest vineyards of the 12th century, “and I would not insult him by moving without his express will.”
Ravonna, she who in earlier times had gone by such names as “Temptress” and “Terminatrix”, wrapped her arms around Marcus’ shoulders, her fingers gliding down his bare chest. “I know better than anyone the strongly held beliefs of honor in your father, dear Marcus,” she said into his ear, “but how can any loving son stand by while his patriarch marches to his predestined death? Kang is walking into annihilation, we have seen this with our own eyes, and his hubris is making him blind to the fact that he will not succeed against something preordained. We can step in and change what is to come, Marcus…”
Ravonna stepped back, removing her hands from the son of Kang, as he shrugged her away from his shoulders. Marcus stood and straightened his robe, the words of his “mother” echoing in his mind. “You speak wisely,” he admitted, “but I would not wish to incur my father’s wrath for disobeying him.”
“Lord Kang changed history to save my life,” Ravonna stated firmly, “and I will not step aside without at least attempting to return the gesture. Our love is less than pure, but I have no desire to rule his empire once again. We need your father, Marcus, and it falls to us to ensure his survival. What matters his wrath if the alternative is his death?”
“I love my father,” Marcus answered.
Ravonna lifted the red and silver helmet up to Marcus’ face. “Then save him, my love.”
Marcus Kang took the helmet of the Scarlet Centurion in his hands and made his decision. “Ready my armor,” he said to Ravonna’s pleasure, “I have an enemy to conquer.”
Again, energy from the Scarlet Centurion’s halberd exploded against the adamantium body of Ultron. The power did little to damage Ultron, but the machine could feel its internal systems being disrupted. Behind the combatants, Ultron’s loyal robotic drones surged forward, compelled by their programming to destroy the flesh and protect the metal. Hefting his halberd in one hand, the Scarlet Centurion used the other to throw a series of small objects at the drones. The miniscule globules contained advanced technology, and each exploded with the power of a nuclear bomb!
Awesome power and radiation washed over the machines, frying their circuitry and devastating their merely titanium bodies. The blast radius extended past Ultron and Scarlet Centurion as well, but neither was affected. Wholly built from adamantium, Ultron was virtually indestructible, while a force-field over his armor served to protect the Scarlet Centurion.
“It is said you will kill my father, machine!” roared Marcus, son of Kang. “This will not be, as I shall destroy you here and now!” With these words, the Scarlet Centurion swung his halberd, its deadly glowing tip meant for Ultron’s head.
With reflexes faster than any human and the strength of metal, Ultron grabbed the halberd before it could strike. Its hand, as indestructible as the rest of its body, was unaffected by the energies emitted by the staff. Pulling at the weapon, Ultron forced the Scarlet Centurion closer while swinging its other arm. The Scarlet Centurion took the blow at his head, shattering the red helmet. He was flung back, and the halberd was left in Ultron’s hands.
“Impressive technology,” conceded Ultron. “But the flesh wielding it is weak.” Ultron took the halberd in both hands and snapped it like a twig. The two halves fell to the ground, their broken ends sparking. “This Kang is well documented in my memory files. His feats are impressive for a human, but he will die with all the others. But you, a son willing to fight for his father, first you shall learn the error in this.”
From a receptacle on Ultron’s head, above those fiery eyes, electric-blue power shot toward the Scarlet Centurion. It was an encephalo beam, a weapon Ultron used to force humans into obedience. The Scarlet Centurion was struck and shuddered, but surprisingly returned to his feet with no ill effects from the beam. Behind his blue mask, the man smiled.
“I am well-shielded from such attacks,” the Scarlet Centurion explained. “Think what you will about humans, creation, but do not underestimate our resourcefulness.”
A button on Marcus’ glove was pressed. At the signal, both halves of the broken halberd exploded behind Ultron. While remaining unharmed, the force of the explosion propelled Ultron forward towards the Scarlet Centurion. His force-field protecting against the brunt of the impact, the Scarlet Centurion grabbed Ultron and fell back, flipping the robot over him.
Ultron continued through the air and fell against one of the stacked piles of Antarctic Vibranium. At contact with the Anti-Metal, Ultron’s body convulsed, the adamantium breaking apart before the Scarlet Centurion’s eyes. With a metallic squawk that could have simulated pain, Ultron went still and crumbled into dust.
The Scarlet Centurion stood up, dusting his armor and grinning at his victory. “Your dampers may have negated the vibration waves created by the Vibranium, but not the effects of direct contact. Thus you are defeated, and victory belongs to the Scar-argh!”
Beams of electric-blue energy struck the Scarlet Centurion from behind. An encephalo beam, and more than one. Three, four and more bombarded the Scarlet Centurion, all from different angles. His psi-shielding unable to cope with the onslaught, Marcus, son of Kang the Conqueror, collapsed to the ground.
Gathering around the unconscious human, the five robots that were each Ultron did not let up. Not until it was certain that its opponent was beaten. The breaking, it would come later.
To Be Continued…
Next Issue: The Avengers confront the growing power of Ultron while Kang prepares his armies for invasion! Then follow the action to Captain America Annual 2008, where Ultron sets his sights on a coveted weapon: the shield of Captain America!
Behind the thick glass window was a mammoth room containing large vats and blast furnaces. Nothing alive was in the room, but robotic arms could be seen. One child moved forward to press his face to the glass, but the guide quickly stopped.
“Careful. The temperature in that room is maintained at a constant fifteen hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Watch.” The guide turned his head and spat a fat gob against the glass. Almost immediately, the saliva boiled and evaporated away. “Already you should all be starting to feel warm. It’s dangerous just to be this close for more than twenty minutes, so we’ll now be moving on.”
As the class filed away, the guide continued with his presentation. “Adamantium as we know it was developed in the 1940’s by Dr. Myron MacLain, the same metallurgist who created Captain America’s shield. That success could never be duplicated, but decades later Dr. MacLain came closest with adamantium, a virtually indestructible steel alloy.”
“Alloy,” echoed the class’s attractive teacher. “That means it’s composed of a variety of compounds, correct?”
“Absolutely, Ms,” said the guide with a grin. “Certain chemical resins are mixed together to create adamantium. The exact composition however is a closely guarded secret of the United States government. What I can tell you is, once the resins have mixed, we have exactly eight minutes to mold the adamantium into a particular shape, and only so long as the temperature is kept at….who can guess?”
“Fifteen hundred degrees!” yelled the class at once, though some accidentally called out fifteen thousand.
“That’s right. But after eight minutes the adamantium immediately hardens, no matter how hot it is, and we’re stuck with whatever shape it’s in.”
“I’ve read that adamantium can be manipulated further by using something called a Molecular Rearranger,” suggested the teacher.
“That’s true, but the device is very expensive to maintain and uses up a great deal of power. Much more than needed to generate fifteen hundred degrees of heat. Because of how expensive and difficult it is to create True Adamantium, we very rarely produce it except for the most vital and special of orders.”
“I couldn’t help but notice you said True Adamantium just then,” said the teacher in a reversed statement. “Do you mean there are other kinds of adamantium?”
“As a matter of fact, there is,” answered the guide. “For most orders we create a similar but weaker compound known as Secondary Adamantium. The mixture of chemical resins is almost identical, but the small difference saves a great deal of money and hard work. One difference is that Secondary Adamantium can remain in liquid form indefinitely, as long as the temperature is maintained at fifteen hundred degrees. While still much stronger than other forms of metal, Secondary Adamantium can be destroyed through superhuman or other extreme means.”
“Was that what we saw being produced just a few moments ago?” inquired the teacher.
“Oh, no ma’am. What you all witnessed was a rare preparation to mix True Adamantium. Just earlier today we received an unusually large order from the government.”
At hearing this news, the teacher grinned, along with all her students. “That is such a relief. We hadn’t discounted the possibility of you discovering the forgery.”
Her fist punched forward, through the guide’s chest and out through his back. Covered in red blood and the fleshy remains of a dying thing, the teacher’s arm shimmered into a metallic appearance. This shimmer occurred throughout the teacher’s body, and when it ceased she was revealed to be a feminine-style robot, her face twisted into a fiery mask of hate.
All of the thirty-plus students also shimmered, their appearances being revealed as miniature and masculine versions of the “teacher”, their faces also twisted forever into hate.
“Hurry about your tasks,” Alkhema instructed her robotic drones. “Now that the compound has mixed, we have eight minutes to kill every piece of meat and mold the necessary components.”
Stepping away from the dead metal that slumped to the floor once her arm was removed, the robot known as Alkhema pressed her palm into an interface on the wall. Immediately, her consciousness had infiltrated and invaded the factory’s systems. Behind her, the drones scattered from the room and into other sections of the installation. Screams of agony and death could be heard soon after.
It took far shorter than eight minutes for the murderous machines to accomplish their tasks.
The House of Kang
The 40th Century
“Oh, that’s it,” the woman named Ravonna purred from beneath the sheets of the enormous bed, “conquer me, my love…”
Marcus Immortus, the son of Kang, emerged from the silken cover, a look of unsatisfied lust wiped across his face. Ravonna was his father’s consort and the only mother that Marcus had only known…their sexual tryst was now entering its third week of secrecy, and the implications of their actions had long dwelled within his mind. What would father say should he find out?
Marcus’ unspoken question was answered by thunder as the doors to the bed chamber were shoved open, causing both he and the so-called Terminatrix to jump in shocked surprise. Into the room strode Kang, garbed in his full military armor dress and helmet upon his head, his brow furrowed from worry. The stammering began from the two almost immediately.
“My liege,” Ravonna started, “forgive me my weakness of flesh, I…”
“Father!” Marcus said simultaneously. “Hear us out before you condemn…”
“Silence!” Kang commanded with a silencing hand raised toward his dysfunctional nuclear family. “Your actions together mean less than nothing, and your excuses less than that. It has always been in your nature to betray me, Ravonna,” he said to the woman he’d once loved more than life itself, “and this comes as no surprise from you.”
He turned his gaze toward Marcus, his son. “And you, my boy,” he said with a faint smile, “are a Kang. It is in yournature to conquer, both on and off the battlefield. Consider this yet another example of the student surpassing the master.”
“If we matter so little to you,” the Terminatrix interjected, “then take your leave and let us continue onward…”
She smiled at Marcus, who had sunken with shame into the sheets.
“…and inward.”
“In due time, my love,” Kang said as he snapped his fingers, triggering the chronal circuits in his battle armor. Suddenly, the features of the bed chamber changed, while the three were protected in a bubble of time-displaced energy. Kang and his council, bed and all, were now squatting amidst a war-torn battlefield on a faraway world. A single flag blew in the distance, tattered and frayed as an army marched past it. Kang and his family stood outside of time, observing but unobserved themselves, as death marched across a plain.
“This is Hala,” Kang commented, “home world of the Kree, decades in the future.” He pointed to the monstrous creature on the horizon, the floating green head entrapped within a glass container. “And that is the Kree’s Supreme Intelligence, an entity composed of the knowledge of every noteworthy citizen of the Kree Empire’s centuries-spanning past.”
Marcus and Ravonna watched in mute horror as the army of robots marched forward, snapping the single flag with a crunching footfall of its leader. Ultron and his robotic horde tore through the remnants of the Kree army, slowly making its way to the base of the Supreme Intelligence. “With this,” Ultron said as he plunged a hand into the circuitry of the Intelligence’s life-sustaining container, “falls the last opposing force in the universe.”
The Supreme Intelligence screamed an unholy howl of pain and defeat as the power-mad Ultron absorbed the creature’s life force and knowledge into his own memory banks. “All that is Kree,” Ultron said as he finished, completing his absorption of the Intelligence by ripping his arm free, disconnecting the last line of life the Kree ruler had, “now lives under the heel of Ultron!”
“Father, I do not understand,” Marcus questioned, “how could such a thing come to pass?”
“The Kree were the last remaining force in the universe to stand against this Ultron,” Kang answered as they watched the cybernetic wave of mutilation was over the fleeing Kree soldiers, “and with their defeat so goes the defeat of biological life across the galaxies. Only mighty Galactus will survive…even Death itself will become moot once Ultron has eliminated all vestiges of sentient life.”
“You didn’t answer your son’s question,” Ravonna spoke.
“This came to pass,” Kang acquiesced, “because I died at Ultron’s hand at the onset of this war.”
“Impossible!” Marcus spat, nearly laughing as he spoke. “No mere machine can defeat the Conqueror!”
“You speak true, Marcus,” Kang said as he stared at the triumphant Ultron, “because I intend to destroy this creature before the time of my death…”
The African nation of Wakanda was technologically advanced and wealthy in large part to the Vibranium Mound within its borders. A meteorite that had crashed to Earth many thousands of years ago, the valuable metallic ore had been sold by Wakandan rulers in minute amounts to enrich the nation. Many years later, the Vibranium Mound was still largely intact and only sporadically mined, its location hidden from the rest of the world. However, those who would misuse the rare and extraordinary Vibranium have often discovered the location.
“Yaaahh!” Deadly blaster fire ripped through the Wakandan engineer as he attempted to flee. Soldiers of Wakanda returned fire, attempting to cover the escape of the other engineers and scientists. At the head of the soldiers was Vibraxas, one of many Wakandans who had been genetically altered by the presence of the Vibranium Mound.
Waves of power vibrated from the hands of Vibraxas, washing over the robots who had invaded. Much of the mining station based against the Vibranium Mound had already been destroyed, and those vibrations brought the rest of the complex down around the murderous automatons.
“Get them out of here and request immediate back-up!” Vibraxas ordered a ranking soldier. Though in truth, Vibraxas was worried about what sort of assistance could be afforded. Mokadi, another altered Wakandan with the ability to teleport, would be able to transport additional soldiers. But much of Wakanda’s military and super-human population had been reduced by recent attacks. The Air Force was in the process of rebuilding, and Wakanda’s own king the Black Panther was still recovering from grievous wounds.
Behind Vibraxas and the retreating soldiers, the large pile of debris exploded outward. Vibraxas looked on in terror at the robot that emerged from the wreckage, as he recognized this particular construct. “No, not him!” Vibraxas whispered, and to the departing soldiers he called out, “Alert the United States, the Avengers, anybody who will listen!”
“Your pleas shall fall on death ears!” The voice that came from that furnace of hate resembling a mouth sounded metal crunching human bones. An arm of shining adamantium was raised, and bright energy erupted from the palm in a wide pulse. “Wakanda stands mute to the world. All here will die in silence!”
The deadly energy blasted by Vibraxas. The soldiers struck burned on contact, fell to the ground and died in agony. Vibraxas spared these lost souls a sorrowful glance, and then faced the enemy, intent on buying others the time to flee. Just looking at the robotic killer was almost too much for the man’s eyes to bear, for the sight of Ultron was truly a frightening thing to behold!
Built as a faint caricature of man, Ultron was tall, nearly seven feet tall. Its legs and arms were multi-jointed, so that when it walked the limbs seemed to bend and sway in all directions. Those abominations called eyes and mouth was the worst, however; soulless windows with burning flames of Hell itself on the other side.
Out of the corner of his eye, Vibraxas observed Ultron’s robotic drones scurrying on the Vibranium Mound. Though all the mining equipment had just been destroyed, the robots were literally ripping pieces of the precious ore from the ground. Reacting out of the instinct of protect his nation’s most vital resource, Vibraxas raised his hand in the direction of the mound. Tight beams of vibration hummed through the air and struck one drone, easily tearing through it’s merely titanium body.
“The Vibranium will be mine!” Ultron declared. “This time no weakness will be exploited, no room for luck to counter my logic!”
Inside Ultron’s body was a nuclear furnace that provided power, the faintest sparks of which could be visible inside its eyes and mouth. But at Ultron’s command a receptacle inside the mouth opened, providing an escape for the awesome nuclear fire within. Briefly the robot was a dragon, the flames of its fury and hatred blasting toward Vibraxas.
Desperately, the noble Wakandan hero generated vibrations, in the faint hope that he could vibrate the air so thick that it could protect him. This was a futile hope, as hot radioactive fire enveloped his body. Vibraxas screamed in the greatest agony as his flesh burned and Ultron looked on, emotionless save for that ever-present hatred.
Turning from his dying victims, the barely alive Vibraxas and the fleeing humans too far away to bother with, Ultron observed the drones at work. All the vibranium would be ideal, but soon more opposition would arrive. Thus the drones were programmed to gather until the last calculated second. The timing would not precise, Ultron knew. They would have to fight their way out, killing more humans.
The thought process was pleasing to Ultron’s circuits. Had his visage been able to shift from that frozen mask, Ultron would have smiled.
In the dimension known as Limbo, the concept of time was considered foreign and inconceivable. The past, present, and future were all the same in that mist-shrouded realm, all timelines colliding into one gestalt that could change at a moment’s notice or a blink of an eye. There was only one constant in the realm of Limbo, and he sat within a castle whose architecture flowed like mercury from one design to the next.
That constant was Marcus Immortus, the ruler of Limbo and caretaker of 70 centuries of time. Once, Immortus had been the final evolution of the warlord conqueror named Kang, but after the events known as the Destiny War the personal timelines of Kang and Immortus were forever split in twain. They were now their own men, neither haunted by the other any longer, and with this came a newfound independence for this younger incarnation of Immortus. He was still the master manipulator of time, space, and man, but his goals had seemingly become more lofty and righteous.
Kang was still his enemy, and in order to safeguard the timelines that were his he had assembled a force to combat his former self. These were the Avengers, six heroes of Earth plucked from various points in time to be his personal vanguard against Kang. They were to work in secret, undermining the conqueror’s plans before confronting him outright. Such was the ways of a master manipulator.
But the Avengers have always been about direct confrontation with their enemies, and against the better advice of Immortus his Avengers journeyed to one of Kang’s many strongholds, determined to end him once and for all. Suffice it to say, things did not go as planned.
“Your impulsive actions may have doomed us all, Avengers,” Immortus said as he paced in his throne room, the battered and bruised Avengers collected throughout the room while licking their wounds. “Now Kang knows of my motives and will take measures to counter them. Secrecy and stealth were our weapons and now they are useless.”
“Hey, we’re Avengers, buddy,” Yellowjacket protested while tending to his injured wrist, “and we’ve beaten Kang head-on plenty of times in the past. The creep just got lucky, that’s all!”
“No,” Captain America interjected, “Immortus is right, people.”
The five other Avengers turned toward the Captain, each stunned and confused by his statement. “We lost our one advantage to a plan that was foolhardy to begin with. We attacked a master general in his lair, where he held all the cards. It was a strategy that was destined to fail.”
“Then why didn’t you step up and say something?” Mockingbird asked. “You’re Captain freaking America; if you say “jump” we’ll most likely say “off what bridge”! No offense to crazy-ass Pym over there but you’re twice the leader he is.”
Yellowjacket threw his hands in the air and walked away, pouting to himself.
“I’m in no state to lead this team,” the Captain answered, “I just…don’t have it in me.”
“It doesn’t matter, my friends,” Immortus said as he removed the Forever Crystal from his cloak. “Despite your misstep with Kang, we may have had our victory delivered to us by a most unlikely source in the 21st century.”
The Avengers turned their attentions toward the man that had gathered them together. Immortus lifted the Crystal into the air and activated its holographic projections. “Tell me,” he asked as a grim face of robotic death appeared in the air above them, “how many of you are familiar with a creature named Ultron?”
While the origin of the Wakandan Vibranium was now well-known, how the Vibranium in the Antarctic Savage Land came to be was still a mystery. Referred to as Antarctic Vibranium or “Anti-Metal”, the only thing known for sure was that the unusual ore generated vibrations that were capable of liquefying all forms of metal.
For perhaps this reason there were no drones in the Savage Land, no robotic constructs with murderous intent. They were humans, rushing through the Savage Land jungles in their strange yellow suits with beekeeper helmets, each carrying a pouch that contained Anti-Metal. No weapons were contained on their persons, as members of Advanced Idea Mechanics were scientists not soldiers.
But AIM was not defenseless in the Savage Land. Back at the clearing they now fled, hundreds of scientists, engineers and SHIELD personnel lay dead inside a mining complex. Also dead were the tribesmen who had been used for labor, drawing up the Anti-Metal from the ground. But those were not the only inhabitants of the Savage Land.
His high-pitched cry echoed throughout the jungles as Ka-Zar, self-titled Lord of the Savage Land, leaped down from the trees into the midst of AIM. He landed at one end of the grouping, his knife slashing at an AIM scientist. At the other end appeared the sabretooth tiger Zabu, Ka-Zar’s loyal ally.
Hefting his pouch, one AIM scientist swung it as a bludgeon. Ka-Zar suffered a glancing blow to the head from the heavy weight, and while only dazed it drove him back from the scientist he’d slashed. “Call the MODOC squad!” cried out the attacking scientist as he grabbed his wounded compatriot and assisted him to his feet.
“MODOC,” echoed Ka-Zar as, recovered, he grabbed one AIM scientist and hurled him against a tree. Nearby, Zabu had pounced two scientists at once, knocked their large helmets from their heads.
“Military Operatives Designed Only for Combat,” replied the scientist that had ordered the call.
They appeared seemingly from nowhere, materializing amidst the jungle foliage around Ka-Zar. Large figures in gold and purple uniforms and on each head in place of a face was the same glowing pentagon symbol that was on the villain MODOK’s forehead. This was understandable, as MODOK was also originally been created by AIM as a Mental Organism Designed Only for Computing, until it rebelled and decided it was designed only for Killing. The MODOCs moved in on Ka-Zar and Zabu, engaging in combat so that their AIM masters could escape.
In the hands of each MODOC were long double-bladed daggers, and swipes with these kept Zabu at bay. Ka-Zar warily held his own knife before him, considering the odds and if what AIM just did was worth possibly dying for. But looking at the daggers, and remembering the wounds on the bodies of Savage Land tribesmen, Ka-Zar decided his enemies weren’t AIM.
“You killed those men and women,” Ka-Zar stated.
The next sound out of Ka-Zar’s mouth was a long bestial cry, obviously meant as a signal of some kind. It was indeed answered, by dozens if not hundreds of other voices hidden amongst the trees. Faces were soon matched with those voices, as Shanna the She-Devil and warriors of the Fall People rushed into view, weapons brandished. The battle was then joined.
Sounds of weapons clashing could be heard by the AIM scientists even as they reached their transport ships. Like everything else used in the operation, the vessels were composed of non-metallic materials. One had to be cautiously prepared when dealing with Anti-Metal.
“Load the materials,” ordered what seemed to be the lead AIM scientist. “We should depart immediately.” There was no mention of concern for the MODOC squad, who had their own means of transportation. And if they couldn’t escape, they were designed to self-destruct.
Working in an almost hive-mind tandem, the scientists of AIM boarded their ships and initiated flight out of the Savage Land. Their contract fulfilled, they now had only to meet with their employer.
They were waiting on the ground as AIM landed their ships, men in business-suits, carrying briefcases. Dressed in their yellow jumpsuits and large beekeeper hats, the scientists disembarked to greet their associates. Automated lifts made from plastic ran behind them, carrying the precious Anti-Metal. One man set himself off from his AIM compatriots, commanding the lifts by remote to lower the cargo and approached the suits to do business.
“All the Vibranium thus far discovered and mined out of the Savage Land,” stated the scientist as fact. “Approximately ten thousand pounds total. If not for the dampers we have set up, the cumulative effect of this much Vibranium would destroy all the metal for miles around. You have the agreed sum?”
Scientists require funding to pursue their experiments. Advanced Idea Mechanics was no different. In the past they had enjoyed unlimited funding as part of the terrorist organization HYDA, but ever since breaking away AIM had struggled to sustain capital.
“Yes,” answered one of the buyers, whose eyes were hidden beneath dark sunglasses, “in the forms specified.” Thick briefcases were set down by bulky men hired for protection in such matters. Two of the suits went about opening the cases, revealing reams of paper and glittering gems. “Ten billion in bearer bonds and diamonds. If I may suggest, the diamonds are much more valuable as a means of extortion.”
“Yes, while also being used for industrial purposes,” agreed the AIM scientist. “If you haven’t come prepared, we can provide the dampers for an additional twenty million.” Certainly the businessmen would have brought more, for sudden shifts in payment were a natural part of illegal dealings.
However, the man with sunglasses just smiled and said, “Unnecessary. My technology has been at work this entire time. It is your dampers that have ceased to function. As have your conveyances, all other forms of technology you possess, and soon your life functions.”
Eight men in total, dressed in suits, were facing the two-score agents of AIM. But while the scientists quickly drew arms in response to the threat, seven of the eight men simply raised their hands with the palms facing out. The one in sunglasses merely raised one hand to take his glasses by the frame and removed them. Dark red eyes that burned with a furnace of hate were unearthed.
White bursts of plasma and silent beams of laser light erupted from fourteen palms. Fourteen men in yellow jumpsuits and beekeeper hats were struck and cried out in pain as death fell upon them. Plasma engulfed their bodies and lasers burned cleanly through while devastating the insides with powerful radiation. Those remaining scientists attempted to return fire, but found that their weaponry had indeed been negated by a powerful damper field.
“Yaaahhh!” the scientist that had been the AIM leader screamed as his body was consumed. The jumpsuit burned and he vanished in flames.
Seconds was all it took. Three waves of deadly attack, and suddenly the whole of that AIM contingency was dead at the hands of eight men. The veil of illusion passed, suits shimmering into shining metal as men were revealed to be machines. At their head stood the greatest and most dangerous of all, and Ultron stepped forward in the direction of the neutralized Vibranium Anti-Metal. It took no care in stepping around the corpses of men, instead crunching bones beneath its feet with no remorse.
However much to Ultron’s surprise one of the bodies rose to his feet before the machine, the flames that had engulfed him spent. Only the yellow jumpsuit had burned away, revealing underneath a black body-suit that was almost completely covered by a deep red armor. This man’s scarlet helmet over a blue mask extended over the shoulders, granting him a somewhat bulky look. Yet this did not appear to hamper the man as he lunged at Ultron with the glowing halberd that had suddenly appeared in his hand!
“What new factor is this?” queried Ultron as a burst of power from the halberd struck it in the mid-section.
“On this day you face Marcus, son and successor to Kang the Conqueror!” exclaimed the new foe. “You shall be destroyed at the hands of the Scarlet Centurion!”
The House of Kang
The 40th Century
A decision had been made. All that was left to accomplish was the convincing.
“This is my father’s war,” Marcus Kang said as he clutched the flagon of mead, brewed from the finest vineyards of the 12th century, “and I would not insult him by moving without his express will.”
Ravonna, she who in earlier times had gone by such names as “Temptress” and “Terminatrix”, wrapped her arms around Marcus’ shoulders, her fingers gliding down his bare chest. “I know better than anyone the strongly held beliefs of honor in your father, dear Marcus,” she said into his ear, “but how can any loving son stand by while his patriarch marches to his predestined death? Kang is walking into annihilation, we have seen this with our own eyes, and his hubris is making him blind to the fact that he will not succeed against something preordained. We can step in and change what is to come, Marcus…”
Ravonna stepped back, removing her hands from the son of Kang, as he shrugged her away from his shoulders. Marcus stood and straightened his robe, the words of his “mother” echoing in his mind. “You speak wisely,” he admitted, “but I would not wish to incur my father’s wrath for disobeying him.”
“Lord Kang changed history to save my life,” Ravonna stated firmly, “and I will not step aside without at least attempting to return the gesture. Our love is less than pure, but I have no desire to rule his empire once again. We need your father, Marcus, and it falls to us to ensure his survival. What matters his wrath if the alternative is his death?”
“I love my father,” Marcus answered.
Ravonna lifted the red and silver helmet up to Marcus’ face. “Then save him, my love.”
Marcus Kang took the helmet of the Scarlet Centurion in his hands and made his decision. “Ready my armor,” he said to Ravonna’s pleasure, “I have an enemy to conquer.”
Again, energy from the Scarlet Centurion’s halberd exploded against the adamantium body of Ultron. The power did little to damage Ultron, but the machine could feel its internal systems being disrupted. Behind the combatants, Ultron’s loyal robotic drones surged forward, compelled by their programming to destroy the flesh and protect the metal. Hefting his halberd in one hand, the Scarlet Centurion used the other to throw a series of small objects at the drones. The miniscule globules contained advanced technology, and each exploded with the power of a nuclear bomb!
Awesome power and radiation washed over the machines, frying their circuitry and devastating their merely titanium bodies. The blast radius extended past Ultron and Scarlet Centurion as well, but neither was affected. Wholly built from adamantium, Ultron was virtually indestructible, while a force-field over his armor served to protect the Scarlet Centurion.
“It is said you will kill my father, machine!” roared Marcus, son of Kang. “This will not be, as I shall destroy you here and now!” With these words, the Scarlet Centurion swung his halberd, its deadly glowing tip meant for Ultron’s head.
With reflexes faster than any human and the strength of metal, Ultron grabbed the halberd before it could strike. Its hand, as indestructible as the rest of its body, was unaffected by the energies emitted by the staff. Pulling at the weapon, Ultron forced the Scarlet Centurion closer while swinging its other arm. The Scarlet Centurion took the blow at his head, shattering the red helmet. He was flung back, and the halberd was left in Ultron’s hands.
“Impressive technology,” conceded Ultron. “But the flesh wielding it is weak.” Ultron took the halberd in both hands and snapped it like a twig. The two halves fell to the ground, their broken ends sparking. “This Kang is well documented in my memory files. His feats are impressive for a human, but he will die with all the others. But you, a son willing to fight for his father, first you shall learn the error in this.”
From a receptacle on Ultron’s head, above those fiery eyes, electric-blue power shot toward the Scarlet Centurion. It was an encephalo beam, a weapon Ultron used to force humans into obedience. The Scarlet Centurion was struck and shuddered, but surprisingly returned to his feet with no ill effects from the beam. Behind his blue mask, the man smiled.
“I am well-shielded from such attacks,” the Scarlet Centurion explained. “Think what you will about humans, creation, but do not underestimate our resourcefulness.”
A button on Marcus’ glove was pressed. At the signal, both halves of the broken halberd exploded behind Ultron. While remaining unharmed, the force of the explosion propelled Ultron forward towards the Scarlet Centurion. His force-field protecting against the brunt of the impact, the Scarlet Centurion grabbed Ultron and fell back, flipping the robot over him.
Ultron continued through the air and fell against one of the stacked piles of Antarctic Vibranium. At contact with the Anti-Metal, Ultron’s body convulsed, the adamantium breaking apart before the Scarlet Centurion’s eyes. With a metallic squawk that could have simulated pain, Ultron went still and crumbled into dust.
The Scarlet Centurion stood up, dusting his armor and grinning at his victory. “Your dampers may have negated the vibration waves created by the Vibranium, but not the effects of direct contact. Thus you are defeated, and victory belongs to the Scar-argh!”
Beams of electric-blue energy struck the Scarlet Centurion from behind. An encephalo beam, and more than one. Three, four and more bombarded the Scarlet Centurion, all from different angles. His psi-shielding unable to cope with the onslaught, Marcus, son of Kang the Conqueror, collapsed to the ground.
Gathering around the unconscious human, the five robots that were each Ultron did not let up. Not until it was certain that its opponent was beaten. The breaking, it would come later.
To Be Continued…
Next Issue: The Avengers confront the growing power of Ultron while Kang prepares his armies for invasion! Then follow the action to Captain America Annual 2008, where Ultron sets his sights on a coveted weapon: the shield of Captain America!