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pax terra

Epilogue

Reed Richards sits in the darkened room that serves as his office. The Exiles had come, and gone again, explaining what had transpired on Galactus's ship. Councilman Stark was delivering the news to the public - about the efforts to have Dr. Doom assist against the threat, his subsequent escape, and General Grimm's heroic sacrifice.

The whole, unembellished truth. To run a government such as this, with a direct democracy, the people had to be informed. Doom's escape would be worrisome, but the Science Council had captured him before, and would do so again.

In Reed's hand is a photograph - he studies it as if it were the Rosetta Stone, the key to unraveling some otherwise unfathomable mystery. It is an old photograph, with himself, his best friend, his girlfriend, and her little brother; taken just a scant few weeks before the rocket flight where he and Ben made history. Taken the day before he asked Sue to marry him. It was, perhaps, the boldest thing he'd ever done - including the rocketship flight.

She had been very young then - too young to contemplate marriage to an inventor with no visible means of support. She'd become upset, and said no. That was the moment - the moment he began to second-guess himself at every turn. Checking and re-checking equations. Certainly, it had prevented a few accidents - the upgraded shielding on the rocket warded off the unexpected cosmic ray storm with no ill effects. But had it kept him from living his life?

More importantly, had it cost Ben his life? Doomed to wander the spaceways, searching out sustenance to feed Galactus's unending hunger. Paying the price for Reed's caution. Can what has been done, be undone? Some method devised to allow Galactus to find his own uninhabited worlds to feed on, freeing Ben from his indentured servitude?

Impulsively, Reed touches the button on his intercom, signaling his secretary.

"Roberta, clear my schedule. I've got a new project to work on."

He pauses.

"And look up the number for Susan Storm."

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Galactus's World-Ship

The enormous vessel has entered Earth's solar system - seemingly oblivious to all broadcast entreaties, it inexorably closes the distance to Earth. So insignificant to the ship's master are the beings of Earth that only the most perfunctory of the ship's defenses have been activated.

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Latveria, a Land of Travesty

The homeland is not the land Doom loved anymore. It is as if he taught them nothing in his time as monarch, and they have happily begun to lap up the Richards doctrine like every other mongrel society willing to prostrate itself for the sake of new gadgetry.

There are parts of Latveria that even Richards has not discovered. That would be this mountain stronghold that Doom has guided this motley crew of minions toward, after magically rendering Grimm unconscious for the journey. It is Doom's intention that the Richards Regime never discovers the location of this secret base.

The sadly-labeled "Fantasticar" makes its landing suddenly, after plunging through cloud cover that seems now like a mystical illusion once they find themselves in the depths of this cavern.

"Disembark and follow me," comes the cold metallic vice of Doom, as he strides down the main corridor.

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Escape velocity.

Colonel Parker's crew of fools has been subjugated, and now Doom strides through the corridors, leading this motley assortment of fodder and strategically concealing the group from prying security eyes.

"Grimm," Doom says, in a condescending tone. "Do you have an adequate craft, or shall I summon my own?"

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Colonel Parker and His Crawling Commandos!

The entry door of the hallway to Doom's cell slides open - revealing a very triumphant-looking Colonel Peter Parker, accompanied by ten agents in SHIELD garb - some of whom are entering by crawling on the ceiling or the walls.

Parker smiles. "I got you this time, Grimm. Richards and the council won't stand for this.."

He looks to his soldiers.

"Thompson, you take the pale metamorph - use the stunners. Hardy - get on Doom before he gets his bearings. Drew, on their 'Spider-Man'. The rest of you, pick opponents, take them down. Teamwork, people.."

Colonel Parker fixes his gaze on Sarah.

"I'll take the bulletproof one."

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Riker's Island Metapenitentiary - AKA 'The Vault'

It is said that the level of civilization in a society can be judged by how it treats its prisoners, and in the Science Council's utopia, that seems to be very well, indeed. The common prisons are clean, efficient places focusing on rehabilitation - low recidivism rates and humane conditions.

There is a special facility, though - designed for holding the most dangerous, incorrigible prisoners. Those with the highest risk of escape. The Vault is a highly-secure facility, staffed by semi-intelligent androids - programmed to maintain the facility and meet the prisoners' needs. Except, of course, the need for human contact.

General Grimm's clearance is faultless, and opens the automated doors without hesitation, revealing the row of reinforced doors that house the few prisoners deemed dangerous enough to place here.

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After the Council

Morph leads the way down through the Baxter Building, towards temporary quarters that have been prepared for the Exiles.

"Nice fellows, but that could've gone better. I mean, the only girls in there besides the ones we brought with us were Parker's goons. Also, I don't think they were convinced. That's probably important too."

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The Science Council

The Baxter Building appears to have become the seat of the World Government - the top several floors are reserved as living quarters, laboratories, and meeting space for the Science Council that governs, with the affirmed consent of the people.

SHIELD fliers bring the Exiles to the top of the building in the light of day - the city of New York shining and clean below. President Reed Richards waits on the roof to greet them, dressed in plain business attire, along with a labcoat.

"Ben! Peter! So glad you could make it. I'm very eager to meet our guests - this is the first time we've had a whole group of transdimensional visitors."

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SHIELD Headquarters

The flight, as advertised, is brief - slightly less than four minutes to reach the Helicarrier, ahead of the final moments of sundown. A sturdy room is arranged for Roxy, while the others are ushered into a pleasant but perfunctory briefing room, while medical technicians flit about, looking for signs of contagion.

The small assortment of magazines are soon supplemented with briefing folders - high level views of recent history, designed with interdimensional travelers in mind. Delivering the folders is a green-haired woman with an air of curt authority.

"I'm Special Agent Brand, Liaison to Offworld Visitors, amongst my other duties. I'm here to baby-sit you while we wait for the Director. I've got instructions to answer your questions to the best of my ability, provided there are no security implications."

The recitation of the speech gives the impression she does it just often enough for it to have become rote.

"We've got food here, if you require it. If you have special nutritional needs, let us know."

SHIELD agents, on cue, wheel in carts of food, fresh from the Helicarrier's cafeteria.

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Pax Terra

Another world, another dollar - the Exiles are enjoying a practical vacation one minute, and the next, they're being unceremoniously dumped in what appears to be Central Park. The New York skyline is visible all around, in the dim twilight - but it's taller, and shinier, than most would remember.

On a closer look, lines of hovercars flit in an orderly fashion around the building as workers return to their homes after a long day on the job.

The park, at least, is relatively untouched by the high-technology surroundings.

Current Music: Midi Karaoke from the 80's.

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Wok and Roll

It's a heck of a spread for four people. Mounds of fried rice with small things diced in it, diced vegetables with mysterious bits, a soup with a suspicious fatty floating lump in the middle, a spicy ground substance that's probably meat - well, mostly meat, mushroom shrimp, mu-shu. And, for the unadventurous, a double order each of General Tso's and Sweet and Sour Chicken. There are three extra chairs and sets of silverware, just in case the rest of the crew make it over.

Raven takes a drink of her Tsing Tao. "You know, I honestly forget just how hot I am. If we'd had time on that last world, I would've loved to do myself. She'd get over her prudishness."

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crusader

Tomb Raider III

It's an hour into the movie. Angelina Jolie runs from a giant boulder chasing her down a cooridor in homage to another great cinematic forray into archaeological cheese.

The dark theater is packed. The crowd hisses and boos at the traps springing up at the heroine's feet. Gretchen stares straight ahead, her gaze not slipping one inch to the side. Her eyes are on the screen, but her entire attention is on her arm. It's resting right alongside Sarah's on the padded armrest.

Swallowing hard, not daring to look, she nervously ventures a pinky over to touch Sarah's. It's an accident. Really. Honest.

Unless Sarah touches her back. Then it was totally on purpose.

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Suspiciously Quiet

The carnage in the hotel ballroom disappears in a gut wrenching wave of nausea and blurryness. When she can see again, she's on her knees, surrounded by her fellow Exiles.

Raven braces herself for the worst. Zombies roaming the streets, the sun blotted out by swarms of locusts, a world where every restaurant is non-smoking. She opens her eyes and sees...a suburban strip mall.

A Best Buy anchors one end. The other end is held down by a Dick's Sporting Goods. In between, there are a couple of ethnic restaurants, some clothing stores, and, to her immense relief, a Cox Smoker's Outlet.

Current Location: Our house, in the middle of our street

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(no subject)

They say you can never come home again.

A blue figure stands outside the door, shape uncertain under a baggy trenchcoat. Is he Ramon Darkholme, European Assassin, or is she Raven Howlett, mother and wife?

A hand reaches for the knocker, pauses, and falls away. A deep breath later, eyes closed, the hand closes over the knob instead.

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Heaven and Hell in an Old Gray City

It has come down to the moment. Scores of mutants, mundanes, and power-mad people living in between them are scattered across the once grand ballroom of the hotel. A day of peace and reconciliation has been revealed to be a lie and the Exiles are caught up in the riptide of violence.

At least one man's sins are being revisited upon him from an unearthly stare.

"Tell us all about your sins in the world, Professor!" The woman is undeterred by the people Xavier has put in her way. "How does it feel?"

Current Mood: accomplished

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Reunion

Back at the hotel, after a night of knocking around street criminals, Morph's ready to drop a bombshell of good news - so he goes to wake up Irving - after resuming his normal form.

"Hey, kiddo, wake up. I gots news for you."

Current Mood: angry

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Watch, I can flash across the sky a lightning bolt from up on high

Just moments before they had been toasting the joining of two families to create peace. Now things have fallen into chaos with fights breaking out and a motorcycle bearing a rider wreathed in flames crashing through the window.

This is exactly what was not supposed to happen, looks like Ramon will be losing a paycheck and if anyone loses a life maybe a lot more.

Erik has stayed back from the fighting to watch the patterns for the most part. A nudge of power here and there to protect people while he and the others are encouraging normal citizens to flee to area so this can be taken care of.

Scott Summers is somewhere fighting based on the flash and sound of his optic blasts firing.

There is so much going on that it's understandable he didn't notice at first. Several hundred magnetic signatures are hard to sift through even for him but there is one missing that should be there.

"Lorna!" He looks around to confirm visually what he already knows. "WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?"

Current Mood: triumphant

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Extra Edition

'Ben Reilly' makes his way back to the Daily Bugle, after calling ahead to set up a meeting. In the pocket of his trenchcoat, very persuasive and valuable evidence.

There are fewer stares this time, despite his resemblance to their late colleague - after all, gossip travels fast, and Pete's cousin from out of town has been a frequent item of discussion.

Morph makes his way to Urich's office with a little grin on his face.

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Back at the Hotel Wundagore

"That's right. Count backwards from ten Ms. Lensherr."

The leather pouch is rolled flat on the surface of the bed. Each vial within is carefully hand labeled in an archaic German script.

Raven sits on the bed next to the green haired woman, gently holding one hand. She's wearing a maternal face with a faint hint of an Eastern European background. She unties the tournaquet from Lorna's upper arm and gives the girl's hand a gentle pat.

A stone knife sits behind Raven's back, out of the girl's sight. The room is suspiciously bare of any form of metal.

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Bits and Pieces (Before the Engagement)

So she misunderstood the bartender. Some goddamn superhero she is! It was probably for the best though, since a second after her closed the fridge her skull lit on fire and her inner Hell broke all loose. She thinks on and off that Johnny would have been far better at this and then shoves that thought and often some goon into something hard and damaging. It's better she's the one carrying this. Johnny would have gone to Heaven after all her world blew up.

First images she got from that weird place read thing she can do was everything from drug deals to porn. Finally, as the sun came up, she was able to get a few things. Some older employee decided to scare a new guy by describing Firebug's death in graphic detail noting that his cousin, who heard it from his best friend, who worked with some guy named Tony found his tongue at the Golden Rose's freezer on the Upper West Side.

Roxy had nothing else to go on so onto the Golden Rose. That one she charmed her way into. Then she went to Wholesale meats for his heart. That one wasn't charming, but it made the 6 o'clock news. Johnny would either make a fuss or laugh his head off at the idea of 'Ghost Rider Fries Hamburger Factory." She stopped for half a second to wonder if this world had a Ghost Rider and, if so, which one of them it was.

So, for the last week she's been napping on trains and buses just long enough to get to the next little hole in the wall place, either charm or fight her way in, connect with the little bit of some murderer's body, pick up a clue or two and then head to the next place.

What she'd been able to piece together - Firebug had been the guy with the strange hair killing Grey Gargoyle. Gargoyle worked for a family called the Inhumans that made the current rich nutjobs running New York look like upright folk. The only Inhuman left was some lady named Crystal that looked all sweet and nice in the papers but everyone was scared to death of her - which helped out the Lensherr's since she married 'em. Also, Crystal could do this elemental control thing - so turning a guy into a popsicle was no problem.

You'd think that would be the end of it. Nope. She discovered another guy in town could do that, some wild young thing named 'Bobby,' that could freeze anything. Firebug was smacked from behind all quiet like so it could have been either one of 'em. The freezers were owned by people either working for or paying off one or both families, too. Made the whole thing a real mess and she's just wasn't bright enough to untangle it. Maybe the Spider Guy or the Blue Lady. That's what they do, right?

Either way, someone who knew something about 'Bug or Grey was going to be at the fancy party tonight. Time to ride.