Army Brigadier-General Everett Buckler

Buckler was standing on the grounds of a military base in Siberia, watching as soldiers ran about the grounds of the base. They were American, Chinese, and Russian, with a smattering of Japanese, British, and Australian. Honestly, Buckler wasn’t sure just how many soldiers there were. They’d pretty much all answered the call of attack.

Buckler held his hands tight at the small of his back, thinking furiously. Hydra. Fucking Hydra had attacked, killing dozens, hundreds, all across the world. He had rarely been this eager to hurt someone. Damn monsters, all of them.

“You seem angry, General Buckler.”

Speaking of monsters.

Buckler looked away from the comforting sight of an American tank crew making final checks on their tools of war to see him arrive. Silence soon surrounded him. Buckler couldn’t blame them.

Once, Buckler had been told, Mike had been a normal man. Simply an eager volunteer, hopeful he could help his country. Admirable.

What he was now, quite frankly, frightened Buckler. For all his experience in war, he had never seen anything like it.

Mike now looked like some sort of nightmare. He floated over the ground with no source of propulsion, long tentacles floating underneath the blue medical style robes he wore over his pink skinned form. Some of the Japanese soldiers stared at the tentacles in fascinated horror. His original arms were gone, replaced with eight spindly ones that stretched out from his back. Like a flying man-spider-octopus thing. It sounded funny, when you broke it down like that.

Until you saw the face. The single eye, the crinkly wide mouth of cruel teeth. It wasn’t the parts that made him horrifying. It was seeing them in concert.

And this thing was on their side. God help them.

“I am angry,” Buckler admitted. “But that’s fine. I can work with it. How about you?”

“I am motivated,” Mike grinned. Buckler wished he wouldn’t do that. “Finally, a chance to prove my worth. To prove that AIM’s work is good and just. The name Tonic will be seen in a beautiful light, I promise you. And maybe then your men will no longer fear me.”

A few soldiers jumped when Mike pointed at them. Buckler glared at them, the men scattering. “Sorry about that.”

“It is quite all right. Even funny,” ugly teeth flashed.

Buckler forced himself to speak. “Tonic, huh?”

“You like it? I was told it was all the rage for heroes to have codenames. I chose the most appropriate one.”

“Works for what we need you for,” Buckler noted an M1 Bradley rolling past equipped with the MEBS the eggheads at AIM had made. “Hopefully your AIM guns don’t blow up.”

“I hope the same, if only for your sake, general.”

God. He seemed genuine. But that voice. Like a pistol being pressed lovingly to the forehead. Didn’t matter how nice you were about doing it. It still felt like a threat.

“Buck!” the two turned to see General Glenn Talbot. The gruff Air Force general was shaking his head. “Got all the Raptors I could, but this shit is damn short notice. Only a few have the new toys.”

“Same with our tanks,” Buckler admitted. “We’ll have to go in with what we’ve got.”

“No argument there, brother,” Talbot pointed at Mike. “Only reason I decided to bring along AIM’s pet project. No offense, by the way.”

“None taken. I will make sure my own preparations are ready. Tell the snipers watching me I am headed to my part of the base.”

Buckler stared at him as he went off. On the rooftops, someone barely shifted.

“Freak,” Talbot mumbled when Mike was out of earshot. Then he looked at a nearby group of Russian soldiers. He scoffed. “This is a damn mess, Buck. Got soldiers from every damn country here, bunch of morons in spandex, and a whole host of freaks. Last time I saw a dish with this many ingredients it was my wife’s leftover casserole. The shit fell apart in seconds.”

“...How’d it taste?”

“Disgusting. But I didn’t tell the wife,” Talbot shook his head. “Seriously Buck. We could have handled this with our military. Instead we’re a damn mess.”

“Most days, I’d agree with you,” the tall black man said grimly. “But today, we aren’t facing an army. We’re facing Hydra. The way our grandaddies did. The guys they made a supersoldier for, just so they could stand up to them. I think we’re gonna need this casserole to work.”

“Sure. But I’m gonna watch my back, that’s for sure,” Talbot said grouchily.

And talk about how much he didn’t trust their allies right in front of them, apparently. Buckler held in a sigh when he noticed some of the soldiers glaring openly at Talbot.

Whatever. Buckler put that thought aside to stare upwards. “Your men ready to mobilize?”

“Of course,” Talbot scoffed.

“Good. BRIDGE is here.”

There was a sudden downdraft of wind. A shadow fell across the land. Talbot looked up at the giant that had arrived.

A helicarrier. But bigger than any Buckler had ever seen. It looked like a flying tank, rather than the flying aircraft carriers of the past, all big and bulbous on the bottom. This thing wasn’t meant to fly fast. This was a creation made to be big and strong. At the front of it was a single set of glass windows, and a pair of big lights. It gave the carrier the appearance of a massive growling face at the front of it.

It flew over the base with ponderous gait. Like a castle with giant blue turbines pushing across the sky, coming out to a section of the base setup for it. It came down to a hover just above the pavement. It was like something out of a movie, seeing the dust rise around it, a gaping maw opening to reveal a great space within, with multiple stories. Several vehicles, dozens of soldiers, were already within the ship. But there was room for more. God damn, there was room.

“...BRIDGE gets the coolest toys,” Talbot said with a smirk.

Yeah. But then, Buckler noted the nearest soldier, carrying a laser weapon made by AIM, BRIDGE didn’t tend to share those toys. That made a difference.

“Come on,” Buckler declared, turning around. “Let's get out of these costumes and put on our war clothes. We’ve got a flight to catch.”

------

Mikhail Ursus/Ursa Major

On a cargo plane rocking back and forth as it carried them, Mikhail stood before his men. Sitting across from each other, wearing military uniforms, the soldiers of Russia stared up at their leader.

“Gentlemen. I come to understand you all have become fat and lazy, in the relaxing barracks of our great army,” he said in jovial Russian.

The men laughed, a couple whooping.

“Ah, I’m ashamed that I must ruin your sojourn,” some cheerful boos came from the soldiers. “Oh yes. It seems Hydra has decided that our honorable soldiers are worthy of angering. Be proud gentlemen! You are alongside the Avengers and Winter Guard in that list! If a man is known by his enemies, I am surrounded by either the best soldiers in the world, or an absolute batch of bastards.”

“Bastards!” one man said in the back. A rough cheer rose up, a couple men stomping their feet.

“Then I am proud to fight alongside you absolute bastards,” Mikhail smirked. “Shall we show Hydra what it is to have you for an enemy! Will you show them how a Russian deals with monsters!?”

A series of howls and japes followed his question. Mikhail smirked proudly.

------

“They really eat that up,” Galina said as Mikhail walked into the front of the plane, in a room set aside for VIP’s. She was playing pool with Nikolai, aka Vanguard, the costumed shield-bearer watching Galina as she leaned over the table to aim her shot.

“They are angry,” Mikhail told her grimly. “Hydra killed our troops. Russia may not have the high casualties India or Spain did, but we are all ready to destroy them. Even if they hadn't attacked with those strange soldiers.”

“You mean delicious soldiers,” Chernobog said nearby. He sounded sad. “Can’t believe you didn’t let me eat the rest of them.”

Galina and Mikhail ignored him, as did the other Winter Guard. Laynia, the hero known as Darkstar, was sitting in her chair like she was afraid it would break, a nervous look on her face. “Are we really doing this? Going to war?”

Nikolai clenched his pool cue. “Yes. You should have stayed behind, sister.”

“I am not scared, you absolute buffoon,” she spat with unusual heat. “Not of fighting.”

“We aren’t just fighting,” Chernobog leaned forward, a cruel smile on his face of shadows. This is so much more wonderful! We are killing. We will murder and maim. Rip and tear across the battlefield. Ah, my sweet girl. A virgin to the art of death, and you get to start with a battlefield!”

A pool cue shattered in red gloved fists.

“Shut your damn mouth, Chernobog,” Nikolai spat.

He only smiled wider. Laynia was staring at him, wide-eyed.

“What? I was only tryin-”

Mikhail stepped in front of Chernobog. The part-time bear and dark god stared at each other. The dark god stood down, though not without looking very satisfied. He turned to look at Laynia. She stared at the ground.

Ah. So much like Fantasma. Even with a family Fantasma would kill for, Laynia had the same initial innocence. A young girl who could kill dozens with her abilities, but desperately wanted to do anything else.

Mikhail realized she reminded him of many young girls. Here he was. A soldier, doomed to watch innocence die over and over. What a fool he was.

No.

“This is your choice,” Mikhail said firmly.

“Mikhail,” Nikolai growled, only to be held back by Galina.

“If you go, know that killing the enemy may be a requirement. If this was some normal foe, you could simply stop them. But Hydra has powerful soldiers under them, many enslaved by dark powers. So the death of the enemy may be necessary. And that is a sad, harsh thing to deal with.”

“But it is necessary. Because you remember. You are not going to kill villains. You are going to save innocents,” Mikhail stepped forward, going down on one knee to look Laynia in the eye. “This is the thing that will save your soul. Not to become a slave to the killing. But to hold in your heart that you do what you do because it is right.”

Laynia stared at him with wide eyes. She opened her mouth. “I-”

A loud beeping noise rang out from around them. They all looked up.

“The Enterprise,” Chernobog smiled. “We’ll get to see some old friends.”

“Mobilize,” Nikolai declared, giving his sister a sad look. “We go to war.”

Laynia bit her lip, clenching at herself.

------

Mahmoud Schahed/Dial

As a fleet of ships landed on the Enterprise, ejecting troops and supplies, a giant tiger prowled over to me across the tarmac. I stared at it, watching the green big cat come up and sit on its haunches, cocking its head at me. It took a deep sniff, eyes lighting with some of the gamma power within it, then cocked it’s head.

“Uh… Hey Battle Cat,” I said.

He leaned over and licked my cheek, his tongue slightly rough on my skin.

“Gross,” I declared.

“Garfield!” someone shouted the wrong name at Battle Cat, running over and stopping just short of us. She was short, with tightly bound red hair, and wearing a khaki zookeeper type outfit. “I’m so sorry, he’s been getting better about this, I’ve never seen him just walk up to someone!”

“It’s cool,” experimentally, I reached out and scratched his neck. Battle Cat growled, raised a paw, and manually moved my hand to a point just behind his right ear. When I obediantally scratched, he purred, sounding like a car engine. “We’ve met.”

“O-oh,” the redhead blinked, staring at us interacting.

I looked around. Battle Cat wasn’t the only Graveyard animal coming along. There were only five total though. One was a dog whose fur was made of some sort of metal/concrete hybrid. Another was an honest to god rhinoceros in a cage, though this rhinoceros was impossibly big compared to normal ones, looking around with oddly clear eyes at everything. A hawk was resting on the arm of a nearby soldier who was feeding it strips of meat, harsh eyes glaring about. And a monkey made of stone was sleeping in the arms of another man.

“Dial,” someone said. I looked over at the speaker and felt a sense of odd recognition.

“Oh. Hi… uh,” shit. I forgot his name.

The older black man smiled, dressed in armor much like mine. “Jamal.”

“Right! I’m so sorry, it’s just been a while-!”

“It’s fine,” Jamal waved a hand dismissively. “I understand. I’m just glad to be here.”

I looked him over. The former Graveyard Survivor and current super-soldier looked a lot healthier than I remembered. Considering the first time had been as a half-starved prisoner, and the second time had been as a recovering former half-starved prisoner with big muscles.

Now though, he was healthy. He’d shaved his head at some point, but Jamal’s eyes were clear, he had a big smile on his face, and a big sword at his side.

“So you’re fighting alongside us?” I said as though I hadn’t read the same files everyone else had. “That’s gotta feel awesome.”

“Oh hell the fuck yes,” Jamal smiled, a deep and dark smile. “I may be an old man, but I’ve still got the need for revenge. Going to be nice, showing those Hydra bastards not to fuck with me and mine.”

I nodded slowly, Battle Cat circling around me and looking at Jamal curiously. “What team are you on?”

“You mean what team am I leading,” Jamal said confidently. He pointed over to a group of soldiers nearby. Jung Moon, the older Korean woman who could turn into gemstones, was talking to another woman with dirty blonde hair, who seemed to be caring for the Absorbing Dog, the metal and concrete dog enjoying head pats like a good boy. Both women wore similar armor to Jamal.

Another pair, both men, were watching Jamal talk to me. One, who I recognized as a BRIDGE soldier, gave me a wave, while the other man narrowed his eyes at a knife, sharpening it obsessively while flickering glances our way.

“Hell of a team,” Jamal’s voice was filled with quiet warmth.

Before I could respond, I noticed a familiar blur pass by me. “Oh hey, Pietro.”

He appeared in a flash, startling everyone, including Battle Cat, who stared with wide eyes. “Dial,” he said primly, though his eyes were sparkling. “Did you hear? The French brought a speedster.”

“They did?” Huh. I didn’t know about French heroes in Marvel. I knew that they’d popped up during that mess that was the Civil War, but beyond that I didn’t know much about them. Then again, Marvel was a very American company, so they didn’t exactly cover superheroes in other countries often. A few teams here and there, but nothing really substantial in the way the Avengers were for example.

“Yeah. But he can only talk at super-speed,” Pietro sounded oddly excited about that. “And since you can do that too…”

Huh. This should be interesting.

“Jamal, I’m gonna go check that out,” I told the older man.

“It’s cool. I’ll see you out there,” he held out a hand, which I clasped.

“Same to you. Let’s give them hell.”

I scratched Battle Cat one last time, getting a purr, before pressing down on the Omnitrix. In a flash of light, my body shifted into the form of my speedster.

“Fasttrack!” at the high-speed perception I had, I felt like everything around me was just a step slower than normal. Not so much that they were going in slow motion like the Matrix, but enough so that it always messed with me.

“Come on,” Quicksilver told me.

“Right!”

We sped off, running side by side. I always loved running alongside him. When Quicksilver and I were speeding across the Enterprise, it felt like I was somehow faster. Like having someone to compare myself to made me that much quicker.

Quicksilver ran around a group of BRIDGE techs carrying a giant gun for one of the Quinjets. I went past X and Jarvis, who were talking. As I sped past, they noticed me, based on their eyes flicking in my direction. While they couldn’t move the rest of their bodies to make any other motion considering how fast we were going, X and Jarvis blinked their eye lights off and on in a ‘hi’.

“That is so strange,” Quicksilver noted.

“Their AI, they think faster than any living being that isn’t you,” I said with a chuckle.

“Oh yeah?” Pietro grinned. “I should challenge them to chess.”

We sped up the stairs, blowing past Frank Castle and Steve.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Chess? That seems so cerebral for you,” I joked. “Trying to lose your status as the dumb sibling?”

“I’ll have you know I’m a genius,” he scoffed. “I learned how to play the piano! In less than a day!”

“Pietro, you have superspeed. Everything takes less than a day for you. If anything, you should have finished a lot faster.”

“Are you jealous? Those sound like the words of a jealous man.”

We reached a section of the Enterprise where a lot of costumed heroes were gathered. While this was an international operation, BRIDGE would have been stupid not keep an eye on the dozens of people running around their ship who weren’t part of their organization.

We found our speedster in a corner of the room, looking around slowly at everyone. Well, I think he was trying to go slowly, at least? It was very strange.

Quicksilver and I came to a stop before him, startling the man. He was a slight man, dressed strangely. A purple and yellow bodysuit, like that of a gymnast, and a purple helmet that surrounded the top and back of his head, leaving a strong jaw open to the world. He hesitantly, slowly, waved at us. In a slight French accent, he began to speak. VERY slowly.

“Hello. I. Am. La. Vent. It’s. A. Pleasure. To-”

“Why are you talking like that?” Pietro asked, bewildered.

“Qui!?” La Vent stared at him, shocked.

“All slowly like that? Are… Are you okay?” Pietro said nervously.

Meanwhile, I kind of understood what was happening. “Um. La Vent. Are you unable to turn off your speed?”

The Frenchman stared at us. After a moment he nodded. I thought he was about to cry. “Y-Yes. I- can, can you understand me!? I just, when I heard there were others with speed, I had hoped-”

“Yes, I can understand you fine,” Pietro said.

Suddenly, La Vent was hugging Pietro.

“Whoa!” Pietro stared at me.

“So long…” La Vent was openly crying in a way no one should. “Everyone was always so slow. I could never speak as myself. I was always trapped. It’s been so long since someone could understand me. Since I could understand anyone.”

“...” Pietro hesitantly patted his back as La Vent cried on his shoulder, his confusion becoming understanding and sadness. “I know how it feels. I’m so sorry.”

I walked over and patted La Vent on the back as well. As everything around us went in slow motion, the three of us began to speak.

------

“-I thought it was a gift,” La Vent said, stumbling over his words. He kept doing that. I think he was so used to having to slow down his words that he now did it on instinct. So with two people who could understand him, he was trying to speak at ‘normal’ speed. “He cursed me with speed. ‘Move beyond the winds thoughts’. I could suddenly cross Paris in a heartbeat, see a hummingbird suspended in the aspic of the world, it’s wings beating so slowly. So much beauty, trapped in the moments of the world. But-”

“You lost the ability to connect with people,” I said softly.

La Vent nodded. After a moment, he removed his helmet. His eyes were a piercing purple, interestingly, his hair the color of straw. “He cursed me to live in a world that stood almost still. My family was speaking like they were moronic imbeciles,” he shuddered. “I thought it a gift. But it became almost a living hell. No one could understand me.”

“I know the feeling,” Pietro said softly. “Sometimes, when you’re this fast… Everyone is so frustrating to deal with. Like they can’t figure out the problems in an instant. They won’t move quick enough. I try not to, I know Wanda would be disappointed. But when everyone is so slow, it’s like they’re purposely holding you back. Every meeting takes an eternity. I can read files in an instant, and then I have to wait forever for everyone else to get on the same page.”

“...I don’t have the experience,” I said admittedly. “I don’t have to live at this pace all the time.”

“Be happy about that,” Pietro scowled at me. “It’s not horrible. But sometimes I just-”

La Vent placed a friendly hand on Pietro’s shoulder. “May I share some advice, my friend?”

Pietro looked from me to La Vent, then waved for him to continue.

“This speed… It has made my life one of slow hell. But I have also learned to appreciate so much. I can see the beauty in the heartbeats. A firework is a lifetime of joy. A panther in motion is like a beautiful painting that is ever changing. I sometimes speed through the streets of Paris. And I can see life,” La Vent’s voice was full of awe. “The smiles of a child, the beauty of a young woman in the sunlight, a man laughing boisterously at a terrible joke. This isolation I feel. It is horrible. But sometimes? When I see what sort of beauty a single moment holds for the world? It becomes worth it.”

“...Besides, you can always talk to us,” I told Pietro. “Or X and Jarvis.”

Pietro blinked, having apparently not remembered that.

“Who are they? More speedsters?” La Vent asked.

“No, AI. They think at light speed, so they can talk to speedsters normally.”

La Vent looked like Christmas had come early.

------

I spoke to La Vent and Pietro in those moments between heartbeats for a bit before another contingent of newcomers drew my attention. As I walked away from La Vent, I saw a man in a trenchcoat pass by. A man with a head of ever billowing violet smoke pouring from under a brown fedora. I blinked at him.

“...I am a ghost. Detective Fantôme,” the man said in a French accent to the question I hadn’t yet asked.

“Ah. Well, I'm a part-time alien, Dial,” I said with a wave.

“Yes, so I deduced,” he said with a smirk. He sounded familiar. Oh! He sounded like the guy from Leon: The Professional! Dope. “Thank you, by the way. La Vent is a good man. He does not deserve his fate.”

“No problem,” I looked behind me, where La Vent was smiling happily and joking with Pietro. “...Who was the sorcerer that did that to him?”

“A mystery,” the ghost said. “...When I solve it. I believe a man will die. But that is the business of the dead, in the end.”

“Dial!” I turned to see Fantasma run up to me. When I looked back, the ghost was gone. Oh damn. I’d been ninja’d by a ghost. Ghosted, as it were. I turned back to Fantasma, who was smiling. “The Winter Guard are here! Are you coming?”

“Sure thing,” I followed Fantasma, the witch looking pleased as punch. “Been a while, huh?”

“Yes,” she said happily, giving me a small smile. “I’ve missed them… well, most of them.”

“Fantasma, Dial,” Steve said, walking over to join us, Frank Castle behind him. “You going to meet the Russians?”

“Yeah, you coming?” I asked.

Steve nodded. “I’m trying to meet everyone as they show up. I want to make sure we’re all on the same page,” he said with an earnest look on his face.

“And I’m making sure no one shoots him,” Frank said with a glower.

“Wha- No Russian would shoot Captain America!” Fantasma said angrily.

Frank gave her a look. “...Well, they’d fail if they tried.”

“Hm,” Fantasma glared at him. “You aren’t a pleasant man, Mr. Castle.”

“Yeah, I’m a real bastard,” he said without a care in the world.

Steve didn’t speak. He just looked between them. After a moment, Castle sighed and nodded. “Sorry. Just watching his back. Had a bad fight with a Russian once.”

“Hmm…” Fantasma glared at Castle, though she seemed slightly mollified.

We stopped before a set of elevator doors. And a big Russian stepped out, arms out. “Fantasma!”

“Mikhail!” she brightened in an instant, stepping forward and hugging her father figure tightly.

As Mikhail and Fantasma hugged, the others stepped out. I switched from Fasttrack to human form to give Laynia a grin. “Hey. Been a bit!”

“Yes, it has!” she said in her Twilight Sparkle-esque voice, looking glad to see me. “How is your puppy?”

“Fluffy as ever. Named her Nezuko. You?”

“He is now named Boris,” she said with a grin. “The other Boris liked it.”

As I mulled over the thought of the overweight handler of the Winter Guard eyeing a puppy that shared his name, Galina looked around, pushing forward a big cart full of materials. “Where are the technicians set up?”

“Over here, Galina!” A random tech guy ran over to us. “Hello, uh, Captain, Dial… big. Shadow. Monster?”

Chernobog stepped out of the Elevator, a wide smile. “Don’t worry. You're not the meal I’m looking for.”

The random guy didn’t seem relieved to hear that.

“Just go,” Galina rolled her eyes, pushing the man forward. “He ate something strange and now he’s gotten all odd.”

“He’s always been odd,” I grumbled, Laynia giggling while Fantasma chuckled.

Then, Vanguard stepped forward, standing before Steve. For a moment, the American super-soldier looked his Russian equivalent up and down. The blue garbed hero and red clad soldier faced each other.

“I like your suit,” Steve said with a smile.

I don’t think anything could have surprised Nikolai more. “You… do?”

“Yes. The red is really good, makes you seem aggressive. I didn’t get to choose my suit,” Steve sighed. “The acting company I worked with designed it. Still, it’s grown on me. I like the fin on your head too.”

He stared at Steve oddly, while Laynia grinned at her older brother.

Then, the sounds of alarms rang throughout the ship.

“All hands. Get to your stations. We’re within sight of the dropzone.”

“Hm,” Mikhail mumbled. “Looks like we came just in time.”

“What about the Black Panther?” I asked Steve, ignoring the questioning looks I got from all but Mikhail who seemed to recognize the name. The Wakandan team had the best weapons among us after all.

“He’ll be in the second stage,” Steve said. The joviality was gone. “Come on. We’re all part of the ground forces.”

Laynia bit her lip. I patted her back. “Don’t worry. The hardest part is the one-liners.”

She looked confused. “What?”

“He’s right,” Fantasma said with a fake stern look. “The one-liner. Very traditional.”

“Is this the American need for snark, talking?” Mikhail sighed sadly. “Ah, their culture has infected you so!”

“Come on,” Steve said, smirking. “Let’s get ready for a fight.”

------

Soon, I was standing on the front of the Enterprise’s tarmac, looking out as we passed over the mountains. On either side of me stood Jen and Fantasma, Creel next to Fantasma, Sam next to Jen, and so on. Steve and the rest of the main six Avengers sans Natasha stood in the center of the line of heroes and soldiers.

Beside the Enterprise, two more helicarriers flew. One was the Behemoth, a former Insight Helicarrier that had been turned into a giant ass fortress of sorts. Granted, all the helicarriers were fortresses, but the Behemoth really looked like it, being a large blue-black tank the size of two helicarriers stacked atop each other. It was made to transport supplies, troops, vehicles, and medical personnel after all. It had weapons, but not on the level of the Enterprise.

The other was a regular old school helicarrier, with the turbines rather than any sort of repulsors. Kinda boring really, but the last Insight Helicarrier had been torn apart to build the Behemoth to completion at the last minute. Which, I guess, made it two of the Insight helicarriers at once.

The three flying ships flew gently down towards the valley. The chill around us filled my lungs. I took in a deep breath as we passed the snowy mountain tops.

“You ready?” Creel asked me over Fantasma’s head.

“Hell yeah,” I looked down at his boots. He was now wearing a pair of heavy metal boots, with large ports on the back. “Think you’ve got a handle on those?”

Creel smirked. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“There they are,” Steve said, his voice carrying over the wind. We all looked. The valley below was covered in frosted forest, fields of stone covered in ice and snow.

In that icy valley, they waited. Chitauri armored soldiers floating up from the landscape, Quinjet’s alongside them. Tanks rolled along the battlefield next to men in armor and hulking green men and women dotting the landscape at random. A few tanks looked massive, the size of buildings, and Steve and Bucky seemed to recognize them.

“Uber Tanks,” Steve mumbled, while Bucky nodded.

Looking down, the army of soldiers began to rise towards us, taking shots. The Enterprise pointed her guns and returned fire, the sound of gunshots and lasers filling the air.

“Avengers! ASSEMBLE!” Steve roared. Quinjets screamed over our heads as we all began to jump into the forests below, protected by an onslaught of bullets and various superpowers.

I gave Jen a grin, the gammazon giving a devil-may-care smile. “I love you.”

She blinked, then smiled. “Love you too.”

With that, we jumped off the Enterprise together.

------

We headed down towards the forest as one. I could barely comprehend what was happening around me. Sam shot ahead of us, firing his twin machine guns, Rhodey close behind. Hulk smashed into the ground with a sound like thunder, while Thor smacked aside a Chitauri armored soldier with actual thunder.

More and more light and sound all around me. I reached for the Omnitrix, changing forms in an instant.

“Astrodactyl!”

Once again, I was an orange space Pterodactyl with green energy coming from my back and arms. My jetpack roared. I flew alongside Tony for a moment, the Scarlet Avenger giving me a look, likely grinning under his suit. “Hey kid! Bet I take out more!”

“You’re a bad gambler, Tony, squawk!” I gave him a grin back, then we joined Sam and Rhodey in the hail of Quinjets and flying men fighting in the sky. Then I couldn’t focus on anything but what I was doing in the chaos of war.

I whipped an arm out with a long line of green energy from my right arm, and spun the whip at high speed so it became a circle of green light, smacking a Chitauri soldier aside, then shooting him my left arm. The bursts of star energy sent him crashing to the ground, but I was forced to focus on a Quinjet spinning towards me. I rocketed towards it, tapping the Omnitrix on my chest just before impact.

“Diamondhead!”

In that blue-green form, I smashed into the quinjet like a meteor, slicing through the glass at sonic speeds, then coming out the other side. I tapped the Omnitrix again.

“Big Chill!”

As the Quinjet I’d shot through began to fall, I blew a wide blast of ice outward, freezing four men to ice before Rhodey shot them apart.

Still more. More chaos, all around us.

This was really going to be the fight of our lives.

I gritted my teeth, lifted up fists surrounded in icy mist, and went into the fray, Tony shooting a man in the chest as I passed.

------

Azmuth/Don’t lie, you know who he is

In another universe, Azmuth watched on a viewscreen as a Necrofriggian with an Omnitrix symbol on his chest froze a man to the bone before kicking him apart. His brow was furrowed with sadness and worry. Again. Always, despite his best intentions. He was likely doomed to this. Doomed to his inventions used for war. And he couldn’t even argue it wasn’t for a good reason.

“Hey, Azmuth,” a friendly sounding voice said. Azmuth’s least favorite kind. Friendly meant casual, and casual meant no work getting done.

“Hello, Ben,” Azmuth shut off the screen and looked over at Ben.

The tall man had gained a lot of muscle and height. While he still held the edge of youth, it was fading faster and faster.

“You called?”

“I did?” when Ben gave him a look of confusion, Azmuth remembered. “Oh, yes. The war.”

“War,” Ben said, frowning. “Is this about that invasion? From outside the galaxy?”

“Yes. They attacked with an army that was a mix of different species I’ve yet to encounter. They tried to infiltrate Sightra, the planet of the Opticoids-”

“Opticoids, like Eye Guy?” Ben asked.

Azmuth sighed, rubbing his eyes with old irritation. “Yes. Like ‘Eye Guy’. The Opticoids are currently fighting them off, despite attempts from the invaders to infiltrate them. But they need help. This attacking force isn’t too strong physically, and their technology is honestly amateurish compared to the natural abilities of an Opticoid, but their leaders... They have revealed themselves to be heartless monsters. As bad as Vilgax, in morality at least.”

“Damn, for real?” Ben crossed his arms and pointed a thumb at himself. “Sounds like a job for a hero to take on!”

“It may be,” Azmuth admitted. He raised a screen, displaying a screen in front of Ben. "Look at these people. Strong powers, great intellect. But their arrogance will see them all extinct the moment they poke the wrong damn species."

“Well. Guess I better make sure I help that species out, huh?” Ben said with a cheery confidence.

“Hmf,” Azmuth sighed. War. All his tools, always used for war.

At least it was for the right reasons.