Chapter Text
Marvellous World
Under Vought
Chapter 1: Vrave new vorld
Vought office-12:34, May 14th, year of our lord-president-saviour 2025
Jeb Hells stood in front of the most powerful man on the planet, his hands shaking slightly, fingers digging into his knees through his trouser legs. He was dressed for a business meeting, but the man in front of him wore what he always wore. A blue suit designed to hide a thin body, styled like a uniform with gold shoulder pads shaped like eagles, red gloves and boots and a cape based on the flag of the greatest country on the planet. The blonde haired man looked over the pages in his hand, humming; occasionally tutting, the men and women in suits beside him nervously glanced at one another and even occasionally dropped concerned expressions towards Jeb. Finally the man put the script onto the table and looked towards Jeb.
“Well Mr Homelander, what did you think?” Jeb asked.
“That’s not Mr Homelander son,” the man said firmly
Jeb immediately bowed his head.
“Sorry Lord-President Homelander,” he said.
The man known as Homelander stood up and began to float over his desk.
“What did I think? Well, it’s quite a pitch, we were building up to the magic guy finding out about the devil’s deal on Spider-man, a story many people hoped would be leading to the potential reversing of One Last Day (the classic storyline seen in Voughttacular Spider-man 544, Financially Challenged Spider-man 24, Sevensational Spider-man 41 and concluded in Voughttacular Spider-man 545) something many fans have demanded. Your new series however acts as if that storyline never existed and immediately opens with Spider-man no longer dating his long time girlfriend and former wife, in fact she’s with someone else and apparently has children, who turn out to be fake. You don’t explain this situation has happened until roughly, two years into the series, during which Spider-man gets ass kicked by mob bosses, works with his worst enemy, gets back with a former lover only to immediately break up with her and the series resolves with Spider-man agreeing to just be friends and Paul being her new romantic interest,” Homelander explained.
He floated around Jeb as he spoke, his expression unreadable, but as he surmised the series his eyebrows twitched, his hands shook and he grit his teeth together. Eventually he looked down at Jeb, his eyes giving off a red glow.
“So your proposal is to ensure One Last Day never gets retconned, keep Spider-man miserable and eventually pair him with someone who is pretty much going to be Michelle from the VCU is that right Jeb?” Homelander asked.
“Yes sir, do you not like it?” Jeb asked.
“Like it,” Homelander seethed.
Then his eyes stopped glowing and he patted Jeb’s shoulder with a smile.
“I loved it, it is perfectly in line with our policy on keeping Spider-man miserable and never giving the fans what they want. It is also a great business strategy, anger your fans, make them buy the comic again and again and again, hoping that the one issue they buy will be the one where we finally reverse One Last Day, except we’re never going to do that, but the idiots will keep blindly hoping and if they complain we’ll just call them toxic fans and we’ll deliberately fill our letters page with letters praising us. We draw in new fans with no connection to the original stories, bring in fans of the VCU with a character that has a vague resemblance to Spidey’s love interest from those films, and we’ll release an alternate version series where we have given the fans what they want and we’ll make them wait for it,” he explained.
He drew Jeb in, rubbing his arm and pulling him aside.
“Jeb, this is the beginning of a good career, what were your thoughts on Deadpool?” Homelander asked.
“Make him think he doesn’t matter and break him up with his girlfriend,” Jeb said.
“Jeb, they were ready to have babies together in the previous film…that sudden shift makes perfect sense, the fans will be too distracted by the furry one coming back, and the vampire and the guy who never got his own film being there, that they won’t care about that inconsistency,” Homelander let go of Jeb, opening the doors and going into the corridor. “Welcome to Vought international Jeb, you will definitely survive the experience.”
The blue area of the moon
Red eyes blinked, looking at the remains of a statue. It had crumbled to pieces, showcasing the remains of an alien civilisation. The bearer of the eyes was circuitry encased within a see through body, showcasing each gear turn as he moved to look at the Earth.
My name is X-51, I am the eyes of the Watcher, an observer of the universe whose sworn duty is to witness significant events.
1944 June 6th
Bullets and bombs flew across the beaches of Normandy. The allies bravely advanced across the beach, none more so than the Avenging Squad.
“COME ON YOU FUCKERS GET MOVING!” yelled their commander, the first V-powered super, Soldier-Boy.
He smashed a German soldier’s face in with his shield, splatting his brains across the beach. Above him, Buzzer, Steel Knight and Man-Bot flew, dropping enemies from heights, firing into them. Soldier Boy winked at Crimson Countess as the woman unleashed energy blasts on the kneeling German troops. The Leader of the Avenging Squad proudly stabbed the American flag into the ground, saluting as soldiers with ‘V’ symbols on their uniforms flew overhead.
1967-Vietnam
It was time for Payback, which is exactly what the team put together by Soldier Boy was called. As the flames of napalm spread through the jungles, Vietcong were gunned down by American choppers. Soldier Boy pulled the trigger on his machine gun, the bullets scattering across the floor of the helicopter he was riding. He dragged the blaze of bullets and shot anyone who looked like a Vietcong, he didn’t care about North or South, they all looked the same to him anyway. By the time he and his sidekick Gunfire went into the beaches, the fields were burning and the dead were being piled up by the American troops. Soldier Boy took a drag of his cigar, looking up at the air and pulling a two fingered salute at the blue armoured men in the sky, the Tek-Knight’s. He looked at the women on their knees, screaming as they grieved their dead.
Maybe the women didn’t look so bad.
1986-26th April
The CIA learned of a disaster the Russian government was trying to keep under wraps. Mindstorm provided the intelligence, Tek-Knight the means of delivering the reactor to Moscow. Magic was a new thing for Vought, but mastery of it didn’t matter. They would use the magic to deliver. Crimson Countess practiced the spells, a dangerous mission.
Soldier Boy didn’t mind, she was getting older anyway.
“Today on Vought-International news we announce tragedy, the hubris of the Soviet Union reveals itself for the last time, most of Moscow has been irradiated and most of Russia’s central government has been killed, in other news we celebrate the day Soldier Boy saved President JFK and revealed evidence that finally saw the release of the radical Martin Luther King.”
2nd May 2008
“Excuse me, thank you, sorry.”
The skinny, blonde haired man pushed his glasses up, nervously looking around at the cameras. But visibly blushing at all the attention that was on him.
“There seems to be rumours going around that I’m a super hero, but I’m just a mild mannered reporter from Kansas, I’m clearly not the hero type,” he explained.
More cameras flashed and any questions he was being asked were muffled by other voices. In the end, he looked towards the cameras and said exactly what he was meant to say.
“I am Homelander!”
April 26th 2012-New York
A beam of light struck the skies above America’s finest city. Vikings filled the streets, though they looked human they were the agents of Pagan gods. In truth though these gods were just aliens, nothing against the champions of the true single god of the world. It was the Seven who would remind the world that there was one god, and he was American. Though surrounded, they prepared for battle.
Tek-Knight hovered to the ground, parts of his armour folding to reveal weapons.
Next to him Firecracker kissed the cross around her neck before loading her custom Smoking Gun (available now as part of the ‘Latveria Secret War’ pack in Call of Vought: Battleworld)
Eagle the Archer drew back his bow whilst Black Noir drew his blades from his belt. Lamplighter’s staff glowed with fire and the orange skinned ‘Mad Man’ roared.
Then Homelander descended from the sky, narrowing his eyes at the Asgardian invaders and preparing to drive them off of Earth forever.
May 6th-2015
The Watcher even witnessed the end of a Secret War that saw the Seven face off against the worst villains in the world’s history. Homelander’s arch nemesis, Billy the Butcher had become god-emperor and with his Boys created an Earth from a hodgepodge of alternate worlds. Billy though didn’t count on Homelander joining with versions of himself.
A live action version portrayed by Anthony Star.
A version based on the art of Darick Robertson.
A cartoon version in the style of Rick and Morty.
A Homelander with a gun.
And the Prime-Superior Homelander, who restored reality.
And so Vought announces a brave new world. The history that Vought has presented is a lie and the mind’s of the people of Earth have been changed. And I am not the only one who knows this.
Roadside Motel-09:17 June 6th
Sven Reilly yawned, stretching his arms as he got out of bed, performing a few squats before he went into the bathroom. The light came on, revealing his blank face, blonde hair and grey eyes, yawning again he reached for his Vought-Vitening toothpaste (guaranteed to whiten your teeth to Celebrity standard in four weeks). Sven blinked in confusion, looking at the paste, he had kept a tube in his pocket for a few weeks now and was sure that wasn’t the brand. Shrugging his shoulders, he squeezed out some of the paste onto his toothbrush and began to brush his teeth. He reached into his bedside cabinet, taking out the card for his phone. Putting it into his phone, he turned it on and waited. His eyes went to the corner of his phone, to the phone dish it was picking up a signal from. He couldn’t remember the exact name of the company, but he was sure it hadn’t been Vought yesterday.
Further investigation revealed more inconsistencies, as that was what it had become, an investigation. His eyes narrowed and red markings glowed across his skin as he tried to access the two news sites he usually accessed, ‘The Paper’ and the ‘Daily Bugle’. Both had been replaced by a single site ‘Vought-International News’.
Putting on his brown cargo trousers and boots, Sven found that even the Nike shirt he had bought last night had been changed into a navy blue sweat shirt marked ‘V-Sports’. His custom brown jacket was still the same though. Taking the card out of his phone, he put his notebook and the cans of food he had bought into his duffel bag alongside the spare clothes and sneakers. His wallet was full, not with familiar dollars but notes with very unfamiliar faces, people he knew certainly hadn’t served as Presidents. (V-Dollars: New American currency with the faces of Vought founder Frederick Vought, Soldier Boy and Homelander as the ‘faces’ of a new American industry). The bank machine outside revealed that his funds were intact, but he didn’t bank with ‘Vought’ (sign up with Vought-Banking now, download the premium app and donate 60 V-dollars for a 150 Vit coin investment).
Today was the day he would leave anyway, moving onto the next town in his journey. He had an endgame goal in mind, but his priority would always be where he was needed. New York was an epicentre of weird stuff, so that was where he decided to go. Red eyes stared at Sven as he slept at the back of the bus. X-51 was standing on the moon, but he could project his gaze to anywhere on the planet. One moment he was looking at the drifter Sven Reilly and then the next he was looking at a place in Westchester where a British-Aristocratic styled mansion ‘should’ have stood surrounded by a forest. X-51 though looked at a modern university campus, a blocky glass building with a field and track and miniature arena in place of the forest. The gate should have said ‘Xavier Institute for Gifted youngsters’ but instead said ‘Godolkin University’. The android’s perspective shifted to a group of industrial units in Manhattan, bought recently by the Maria Stark foundation. But there was no business with the Stark name there. Seeking out the Stark genetics, X-51 flinched in shock when he saw an older man than he expected sitting in a lab.
“Howard, Mr Stark,” the grey haired man with the moustache looked up from his work.
In front of him stood a good looking blonde haired woman with her hands on her hips.
“It’s raining outside, I was sure you would have melted Stillwell,” Howard Stark said.
“Enough of the wise cracks Stark, we can threaten you with more than deportation,” Madelyn said.
“Oh I see, because my family was Italian, I’m guessing Irish on your side, when do the Irish get deported?” Howard asked.
“I’m talking about the V-Identity treatments,” Stillwell impatiently tapped her finger against the desk, narrowing her blue eyes at Howard.
“Speaking of which, whilst I’m happy to be a test subject, I would be remiss if I did not point out that there are issues with it, you market it as a cure for Alzheimer’s but blood tests from both myself and other volunteers are confirming that our bodies are adapting to it,” Howard explained.
“Boring science stuff,” Stillwell rolled her eyes, flinching when Howard slammed his fist into the table.
“I’ll keep it simple then, V-Identity is going to stop working, you have released a product that will stop working so you have multiple counts of false advertisement and multiple cases of product failure in your future,” Howard stated.
“Fix it,” Stillwell said.
“I didn’t make this,” Howard said.
“Then study it, do tests, I don’t know science it Howard, your mind is the only reason you’ve been hired,” Stillwell said.
“I’m not smart enough, but I know someone who is,” Howard muttered.
Howard Stark thought of a very specific someone and as if following those thoughts, X-51 appeared next in a bar, which was where he had actually expected a certain Stark to be. Instead of a finely pressed suit though, he was wearing a worn jacket and ripped jeans, rough and matted hair and a dirty beard.
“Hit me again,” he put more V-Dollars on the table.
The bar keep grumbled, pouring more whiskey into a glass. His customer practically inhaled the fluid, tapping the glass for another hit. The customer’s hand shook as he lifted the glass to his lips again. Tony Stark swayed on the stool, smacking his lips together as if he had drunk orange juice.
“Oh Stark, this is sad even for you,” X-51 whispered.
None saw him when he watched them and like Uatu, he was bound by an oath not to interfere. Curiosity drove X51 to search deeper, to the offices of Hank Pym and the foundation he had built to support mutants and metahumans. What he found instead was a Vought Studio, a stage with talent critics like Simon Cowell, Heidi Klum and David Walliams looking at would be super heroes.
“So your power is that you basically don’t die, are you sure your name isn’t Kenny?” Simon asked the man in the blue and red suit on stage.
“Bertha honey I’m sure you’ve got a wonderful personality but quite frankly, you’re disgusting,” Heidi said to a plus sized woman in a yellow one piece.
“Your name is certainly to the point, but quite frankly your costume needs work, it’s far too similar to the uniform of another group of heroes,” David said to a literal Flat man.
X-51 traced Pym to a truck moving across the highway. A white truck labelled with the company name ‘Pym-Pest disposals’. The blonde haired man had a slight girth showing through his work overalls, but smiled as he looked out of the corner of his eye at the beautiful Asian woman beside him. X-51 recognised Janet Van Dyne, and seeing through the fabric of gloves he noticed both Hank and Janet wore wedding bands. The android watcher focused on the most powerful superhuman on the planet, a child of mythology and space. He found the weapon first, a hammer imbedded in the ground with a sign stating Five V-dollars for a picture. Mjolnir, hammer of Thor reduced to a tourist attraction. Only tourism was itself a stretch, a great wall was built on the Mexican border. Sentinels with blue winged rocket packs and blue armour patrolled coastal regions and airports, the Sentinels bore the labels ‘Tek-Sentinel’ along with any serial number that defined them. Thor though was more than just his hammer and X-51 was heartened to find that Donald Blake still performed surgery on people at the Empire State hospital.
“Dr Strange, please report to the psyche ward,” the loud speaker sounded over Donald as he got a coffee from a machine in the break room.
He sat on the sofa, seemingly next to X-51 and the android looked at the doctor and saw the trauma he was familiar with. He saw the wallet in his pocket and the photos, of Donald’s old army unit, the wedding photo he shared with his wife, and a photo of Donald and Jane in hospital at the height of her cancer treatment.
“Is Thor with you Blake?” X-51 whispered.
Donald paused as he lifted the cup to his lips. It was a moment that passed quickly as Blake looked at his pager. The machine wasn’t alerting him of a patient though, but reminding him. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a bottle of pills with the ‘Vought’ company logo on it.
Do you have a relative suffering from Dementia or other brain degenerations? Or do you suffer from depression or post traumatic stress? Don’t let your children stay retarded, they’ll never be special until they’re normal and that’s what V-Identity offers. Fix your brain with V-Identity so that you can think like everyone else.
Donald looked at the tablet, the fix for all his problems. One tablet to forget the phantom pain from his lost leg in Afghanistan, one tablet to forget the pain of his wife, all he had to do was.
‘KraKOOM!’ the thunder echoed through even the thick walls of the hospital, but Donald didn’t flinch. If anything it felt like the call of an old friend.
Accounting for two thirds of the Prime, the inventor and the god, X-51 went to the one place he knew the soldier might be. If he had tear ducts he would have cried, seeing Captain America encased in ice, still floating in the ocean. So X-51 began projecting his eyes to other places. To a high school where a dark skinned janitor passed by a class.
“January 28th, 2018, can anyone tell me the significance of this date?” the teacher asked.
“Vought International successfully disarmed the nation of Wakanda,” one of the students said.
“Correct, following the Lord-President’s generous relocation program that offered to send anyone with slave blood back to their home countries, the nation of Wakanda took issue with the policy. Negotiations broke down, forcing the Seven to invade Wakanda, the Wakandan war lasted two years, ending with the monarchy overthrown and a more civilised democratic government installed within Wakanda, which now provides its Vibranium to our great nation,” the teacher explained.
There was a snap and X-51 looked at the Janitor, he saw calluses on the man’s knuckles associated with fighting. The man had snapped the broom he was holding. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but he was unable to let the low pitched, cat like growl from escaping his throat. States passed by and air force jets flew alongside Tek-Knights and flying Vought sponsored super heroes until X-51 reached an airbase stateside, where a young blonde haired woman stood in front of a mirror. She hugged her bare shoulders, blushing in embarrassment. Her muscular thighs and arms were revealed by the black one piece suit she wore with thigh high boots, opera style gloves and a red sash over her hips.
“I’m as proud as the next girl, but this, what is this costume supposed to be?” she asked.
“It’s something of a standard at Vought Ms Danvers,” the stylist who stood with her said.
“A standard? What, to dress like a…”
“Hey, this is not how a slut dresses, your cleavage isn’t exposed, though I think a window would be great my dear,” the stylist said.
“No!” Carol Danvers snapped, her cheeks going redder.
The chest area of her suit sported a yellow symbol that she couldn’t tell if it was an S or a lightning bolt.
“Ms Marvel, the USAF’s very own former pilot turned defender of Earth’s galactic borders, trust me love you’ll be on the Seven next, just don’t talk about the books you’ve published love, too much accomplishment makes you seem like a Mary Sue,” the stylist explained.
“Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate, it is that we are powerful beyond measure,” Carol said.
“Exactly, so it is best to stay humble and not make the target demographic feel insecure, trust me baby your career will be a success if you remain back up, perhaps even potential love interest for…”
X-51 couldn’t stomach listening, let alone watching. He returned to New York, searching for the one hero he knew would be incorruptible. The android didn’t go to the home in Queens, the ESU campus or the now defunct Daily Bugle building; he went straight to wherever Peter Parker was.
The brown haired young man sat, his toes against the floor with his heels fidgeting up and down. He was wearing a pair of camouflage fatigues with fingerless gloves and a red and blue shirt with a harness on it. Peter Parker waited; running through his mind a business plan, auditioning in his head until the door suddenly came open. Officials in business suits surrounded Homelander, each one holding sheets of paper and presenting him with a problem.
“The advertised Fresh Fighters series has been brutalised online, people hate the proposed new characters,” one executive said.
“I knew that woke crap and ridiculous characters wouldn’t sell, kill it before it publishes,” Homelander said.
“Lord President Homelander, latest marketing results show that Shonen Jump’s Manga sales are far exceeding even our comics,” said another executive.
“Fucking Manga-faggots, what is wrong with the world? Look we still have people at the major streamers who will absolutely butcher the live action adaptations, just make sure the same people that did that Cowboy whatever series gets on them,” Homelander fumed.
“Gunn got back to us sir, he assures us that he won’t announce any projects until he has a script.”
“Oh yeah like he has a script for ‘The Command’ or ‘Hawkowl the bold and the brave’, look tell him so long as he delivers the same results he got with those ridiculous ‘Protectors of the Cosmos’ films he can do what he likes, cast his brother or as many of his friends as he likes, especially his hot wife,” Homelander grinned.
His grin turned into a smile as he saw Peter waiting for him.
“Petey, kid, great to see you, off all of you,” he shooed the executives away like flies, putting his arm around Peter’s shoulder as he approached. “I heard you hit it off great with the girl’s the other day, especially that chick from Euphoria,” Homelander laughed despite Peter’s uncomfortable shiver.
“They’re fantastic, but it got really awkward when everyone realised they had pretty much been brought together for a porno film,” Peter said.
“Kid that Madame Web crap didn’t sell, but lonely guys loved those three chicks in spandex, so ‘Spider-man and the Spider-girl’s’, you get the chance to make out with three great looking chicks,” Homelander explained.
“I’m more of a one woman kind of guy, and I respect them,” Peter muttered, flinching when Homelander slapped his back.
“You see Pete that’s what I love about you, you’ve got old fashioned, endearing values that the modern audience takes for granted, but you need a harder edge son, especially if you’re going to join the Seven,” Homelander swayed his hand as if presenting a title to the young man.
“The Seven, but Mr Homelander, I mean…”
“Kid I actually like it when you call me Mr Homelander, I know you started out on your own, but audiences ate up that ‘mentor/mentee, surrogate son and parent’ crap we presented them with from Civil Conflict and your Home trilogy and I’d like to see that same dynamic carried out in this newest iteration of the Seven. You know the key to super hero teams Pete, endless variety.”
“What do you mean sir?”
“Love that too, ‘sir’, so respectful, keep that up kid,” Homelander patted Peter’s arm, pulling him along as they walked through the corridors of the Vought building.
“The Mighty Seven, Seven Dark, the Seven of America, Seven Unlimited, we can do so many titles that are pretty much one team with slight variations in roster and mission statements, you and me we’re going to be in the New Seven,” Homelander chuckled. “You like the ‘New’ part, put something like that on and it makes it seem different from calling it just the Seven, like modernised, or successors to the old ‘just’ Seven. Now as much as I love you paying me a visit, I’m going to need you to focus on the job today,” Homelander stepped back whilst Peter nodded his head.
“What do you want me to do sir?” Peter asked.
“You’ve got a date organised with that Disney kid from the Dune films, but you’re going to be late, you’re going to meet the Wall, spend a few hours fighting him, get very publicly embarrassed by your date saying how unreliable you are, so you’ll do a patrol, some web swings some back flips, help a few old ladies across the street and then ‘BOOM’ a prisoner transport will break out, Rhino, Shocker, Lizard…”
“Shocker sir?” Peter asked.
“Yes now…”
“Sir, Shocker’s powers come from his gauntlets, why would the transport have his gauntlets with him?” Peter asked.
“Just suspend the disbelief, besides no one’s going to ask that question, now back to the job, you’ll get beat down a bit but then I arrive and together we apprehend the criminals and send them back to Rikers, fantastic right?” Homelander asked, tilting his head to Peter, expecting an answer.
“Amazing sir,” Peter said dryly. “I wanted to talk about the job actually, I do pretty good here right?” he asked.
“You’re great Peter, people love you, you’re like a son to me,” Homelander said, putting his hand to his heart and then touching Peter’s chest.
“I work for the company, I’ve done good for the company, so why am I still flat out broke?” Peter asked.
“Because Peter, the only appeal of Spider-man is that his life sucks, ergo your life can never get better, you can never get the girl you actually want, you can never have success and you can never have kids, in short you’re the message we have to send to every kid out there, some people can never have success but that is okay,” Homelander said.
The colour drained from Peter’s face as he looked at Homelander. Gone was the man’s charming smile, replaced by a scolding expression that told Peter there was no room for complaints and that there was no arguing through it.
“The company’s success depends on Spider-man beating bad guys but being a general loser, do, you, understand?” Homelander asked slowly.
Peter’s hands balled into fists for a few seconds that Homelander took note of. Homelander balled his own fist, the temperature around his eyes rose and he grit his teeth slightly. Then Peter’s hand trembled and lowered in defeat, Homelander reduced the temperature around his eyes, calmed his own nerves and patted Peter’s shoulder.
“Think of it this way, even if you’re a loser, you’re still a chick magnet, you’re doing great Spidey,” Homelander said, walking away.
X-51 looked at Peter in shock, seeing the young man sigh in defeat. Moments passed as Peter walked to the stairwell and made his way to the rooftop of the building. It was supposed to be the site of the Baxter Building, but the building had been morphed into a more modern design with a V prominent at the top. On top of the V was a statue devoid of subtlety, depicting Homelander pointing ahead like a Greek god. Peter put on his mask, the lenses of the goggles attached to it adjusted, shifting size to match the movements of Peter’s own eyes, a clever little effect he designed to reassure people (but never received the credit for, all Vought costumes are designed by Vought’s own dedicated costuming department) He took a running start and then jumped off of the building, shooting out a web and beginning his swing across the city. His route was recorded by a series of drones that followed his every move (stream the Spider-Watch now, subscription cost 18.99 a month, or purchase the triple packet of Spider-Watch, Vought Plus and Amavon Prime for 79.99).
Peter’s route ended at the cemetery with flowers being set at a grave X51 did not expect to see. Peter removed his mask and lowered his head in regret.
May Parker, a mere mortal woman, yet she was more powerful than any cosmic entity due her pure kindness. This is a world where she has died instead of Ben Parker. So I watch what has become of Ben Parker.
KNOCK!
KNOCK!
KNOCK!
“ALL RIGHT ALL RIGHT HOLD YOUR HORSES I’LL…”
Jonah Jameson pulled open his apartment door. X51 saw a man who should not have been balding, his signature goatee still remained, but Jonah was fatter and more tired looking than the man who ran the Daily Bugle. Jonah’s common boiling anger had disappeared when he saw the silver haired man standing at his door.
“Ben,” Jonah whispered.
“Life in corporate seems to be treating you well,” Ben said.
“It’s a job, which is in short supply for journalists nowadays,” Jonah said, opening the door wider so that Ben could come in.
As he took off his beige coat and gave it to Jonah, Ben noticed the tremor of Jonah’s hands. He looked over Jonah’s shoulder and saw the creases in the man’s sofa, the still fuming V-Ape (forget smoking, forget even vaping, V-Aping relaxes the body and clears the mind of all unnecessary troubles, don’t be a pussy, think like everyone else).
“At least you’re still drinking the classic stuff,” Ben said, indicating the half empty bottle of JD.
“What do you want Ben?” Jonah asked.
“I can’t visit an old friend?” Ben retorted.
“Of course you can I…” Jonah stifled a growl, rubbing his eyes and walking over to his scotch bottle.
“Back in the old days you would have said something along the lines of ‘nobody is my old friend, everybody wants something,’” Ben’s imitation was so good it should have garnered anger from Jonah.
But Jonah held his tongue, sitting on the chair at his dining table; motioning for one Ben could sit on.
“It’s a new world Ben, you have to play by certain rules,” Jonah said.
“You mean rules that don’t apply to certain other people, I know the big guy preaches all about tolerance, but he’s got people by his side who are as racist as racist can be. Do you remember that kid who used to holler outside the Bugle, talking about all the offers for cheap papers?” Ben asked.
“Mike, Jack, Kirby something like that,” Jonah muttered.
“Siegel, that was the name, he went and got married, average looking wife, dog and two kids and a pretty good job at the Daily Star. Then Vought buys out the Star, replaces the S and T with a ridiculous V, Siegel’s out of the job because he makes one comment about wanting the fighting in Israel to end, they label him a supporter of terrorism and mass slaughter so he’s out of the job. He could take that, he could take going back to manual labour jobs but do you want to know what made him snap?” Ben asked.
“No, I don’t,” Jonah said.
“Because you can already guess, because you aren’t as ignorant as you try to make yourself out to be sometimes. His grandparents were Holocaust survivors, I wouldn’t call it pride but they taught Siegel to remember, kid had friends who got tattoos but he refused on the grounds that once something’s marked you can’t take it back. Two months ago he gets called into a meeting at his school, his youngest has been in a fight, not with a student but a teacher. Little kid punched a full grown man in the balls on account of the fact he was denying the Holocaust happened. Here’s the kicker, the school councillor and head mistress say to their faces that the Holocaust was just a propaganda tool used by the allies to motivate people against the Nazi regime,” Ben explained.
“That’s not even historically accurate, the average soldier didn’t know the full brunt of what was going on with the Nazi final solution,” Jonah muttered, then corrected himself. “It didn’t happen Ben, Vought confirms the evidence was fabricated, even the camps were set ups before the president burned them down,” he stated.
“They’ve rewritten history Jonah, doesn’t that bother you?” Ben asked.
“New facts are being discovered all the time,” Jonah said.
“The Daily Bugle was your baby and you let them take it away from you.”
“We were losing money; I couldn’t keep it going for much longer, the staff needed a change.”
“You used to criticise masked men, call for accountability, responsibility and you said nothing through countless acts of callous incompetence that got innocent people killed, including my WIFE!” Ben yelled.
“I was sorry about May I was, truly, but the level of power that Vought’s supes have…”
“You didn’t give a damn when she died, you didn’t even give a damn when Robbie and his son were MURDERED!”
“I CARED!” Jonah yelled.
He knocked the whiskey to the ground, stood up and glared at Ben.
“ROBBIE WAS THE BEST OF US! I LOVED RANDY LIKE MY OWN SON…MY SON!” Jonah’s rage turned into grief.
He fell back onto his chair, hiding his face with his hand and sobbing. X51 felt pity for a man he had always known to be stubbornly resolute in his ideals, speaking them with a pride and conviction that though failed to understand the individuals behind the masks of super heroes, was still not wrong in its call of accountability and the right of the truth in journalism.
“Get out, please,” Jonah said.
“I came here looking for help, to see if there was even a chance that a man I knew to be a hero could still stand and do the right thing. But I see Vought has killed him too,” Ben huffed, grabbing his coat and going to the door. “You know John was a brave man, he was embarrassed by the loudmouth you used to be, that’s better than the shame he would have felt if he could see you now,” he added, walking out of the apartment.
“I know,” Jonah whispered.
“Watcher, WATCHER!” Aaron yelled.
He was standing in front of the giant, the bald humanoid wrapped in a white robe, bound to his chair. Nothing had changed of the being that took Aaron from his life of solitude and showed him the origins of their universe, from the migration of the Celestials to the incursion that marked the start of the heroic age. An age that saw the X-men fight for a world that hated and fear them, that saw Spider-man accept that with great power comes great responsibility and where heroes like Captain America, Thor and Iron man stand to protect the world and avenge the wrongs committed across it.
“What has happened to the world?” Aaron demanded.
Sven Reilly climbed off of the bus; he already had a sense that New York was different, in a way that felt fundamentally wrong. He heard the names Vought, Homelander, Seven, Soldier Boy, Compound V, the Boys as memories within his mind. The mind was one thing, the soul though was another and in his soul Sven knew that something was wrong with the very soul of the planet. People looked at him as he touched the ground and he didn’t blame them. They couldn’t see the current passing through his skin, like tattoo marks, blinking as he felt the ground. He suddenly withdrew his hand, something hot, like fire.
“What happened to the world?” he wondered.
An echo shook Sven’s ears; he listened and heard the distinctive ring of an explosion. A memory flashed before his eyes, of two planet’s in the sky, threatening to collide. He was buried under rubble, feeling the limp hands of those who did not survive. But he had not been alone, a small flicker of flame sought out help and though he was afraid Sven offered his help.
He took in a spirit, a spirit that merged with Sven’s heart. Driven by survivor’s guilt, inspired by the man who saved him, guided by the memory of Sven’s heroic father, the spirit became one of heroism. Empowering Sven, it enabled him to fuse with the elements, other spirits and even people to become the fusion hero Aeon.
Aeon burst out of the alleyway, jumping between each building like a pinball with his grey cloak fluttering behind him. The red lenses of his helmet flashed, the grey helmet had fins on the side that stretched out past the back of the head, a darker shade of grey formed the plate over Aeon’s mouth. What appeared to be black cloth covered Aeon’s legs with padding on his knees, grey boots with red soles covered his feet. Over his chest he wore a white and red tunic with black shoulders. Red sleeves covered his arms, with thick grey gloves over his hands. A red ‘A’ symbol flashed on his chest, whilst an X flashed on the buckle of his cargo belt. Blue energy coursed around him as he free ran across the rooftops and between the buildings of New York. Each jump he performed was preceded by a flash of red circuitry running up his feet. The faintest outline of red wings appeared behind his back as he seemed to glide across the wind currents. There was another explosion and Aeon followed the path that the responding officers provided. He nestled on a water tower, looking towards a fire that had started from the bank.
Underneath the helmet, Sven Reilly surveyed the area, using his fusion abilities to release a pulse that ‘scanned’ the area in a sense. Everyone had fled from the bank, but it was on a street with an apartment complex in it, an old building, frail, easy to burn but a few people had already evacuated. That didn’t mean there still weren’t people inside, night shift workers, bigger families that were harder to evacuate. The other building was a local business, but it was also a home, a single bedroom apartment with two neighbours, rubble had collapsed near one of the doors and something had loosened the crews on the fire escape. Then there was the streets themselves, a van had been knocked over, crashing onto a parked car. Neither were armoured, but clearly the van had been an escape plan for someone who hit the bank. Rifles and shotguns, though all over the counter firearms, the kind that were legally sold as ‘household defence’. No body armour, just masks based on famous slasher films.
‘Freddy’ was knocked back by a red beam of energy. ‘Jason’ was reloading, popping out of cover to shoot. He was doing long shots, ‘Ghost-Face’, ‘Myers’ ‘Leatherface’ and ‘John Carver’ had no excuse for missing their targets. Even though they were shooting from the hip, nothing hit the five individuals lined up, posing in front of them. The one who had fired the red eye beams was in a blue suit with a jacket and helmet styled after a biker cop. His red goggles flashed as he fired a beam into Myers, knocking the man into a car with a sickening crunch.
Super heroes, but none Aeon had ever seen. But wait, he knew them, the man in the biker outfit was Five-Oh, founding member of G-Force. He was there with his fellow G-Force members Cold Snap, the blue haired man wore goggles and a heavy winter jacket. Which was necessary for his ice powers, powers he demonstrated by freezing Ghost-Face’s feet to the ground. Another teen hero was with them, Tek-Knight’s old protégé Swingwing. He was dressed in a silver suit with blue gloves, boots, a visor, wig and jetpack. The young hero activated his booster pack, flying into Ghost-Face.
Aeon widened his eyes, seeing the impact of Swingwing’s attack literally tear Ghost-Face away from his feet.
‘Oh god,’ Sven thought.
He should have intervened sooner, he should have realised sooner. They weren’t heroes, they dressed the part, but the poses, the smiles, it was all drama. The guns were loaded with blanks, the thieves weren’t just amateurs, but badly prepared actors even going off of a theme of movie killers. Aeon jumped off of the roof, diving into the fight. Even though the ‘thieves’ were surrendering, the ‘heroes’ were still displaying threatening behaviour. Aeon slammed his foot into Swingwing first, shattering the lenses of his visor. Cold snap came next, receiving a vicious kick that broke his knee. He was quick to crawl back in fear whilst Five-Oh was grabbed from behind. Aeon slammed Five-Oh’s head onto the curb, a concussion was tame in comparison to the way Five-Oh had callously broken ‘Myers’s’ spine.
‘Three down, paramedics and real cops coming through, now for the buildings,’ Sven thought, the fires were real and so were the people at stake.
“Stop right there,” he heard a fourth voice.
She had been in the bank, hanging back, dressed in a blue and red outfit that showed off too much leg and cleavage for it to be a practical outfit. Sven knew bullets, and the ones she had on the belts on her thighs and chest were fakes. The gun she held though wasn’t, even if it was painted in patriotic colours. She fired a few bullets and Aeon braced himself. His skin and clothes pulsed, the strength of the Earth increased his density and allowed him to survive the flashy spray of bullets. Aeon adjusted his footing, making sure no bullets would ricochet off of his armour or hit the actors and idiots around him.
“A Supe, and you’ve betrayed your own kind,” the woman, his fake ‘memories’ told him was Firecracker, spoke with a southern accent.
She was glaring at him, lowering her rifle and raising her hand.
“Then you’ll face the full brunt of the lord’s divine power,” she said.
Aeon tilted his head, as if to ask her if she was serious. Then she snapped her fingers together.
BOOM!
“Nother,” Tony slurred.
His beard was dirty; his hair resting on his shoulders and his hand shook as he lifted the precious fluid to his lips. In the absence of angels, sometimes all he could do was turn to demons.
“Blasphemy, come on Tony, this is self destructive even for you,” Rhodey said to him.
“You could at least drink something good, not this cheap crap,” Happy said.
They were his best friends, James Rhodes believed in action and Harold Hogan was just as much a man of action. So despite their words he drank, because something was wrong, very, very wrong with the world.
“We’re downtown where a robbery has escalated into a full on blaze,” his ears twitched, hearing the TV in the corner of the bar.
He looked towards the TV and saw the Vought news channel. A pretty looking reporter ‘at the scene’ with just enough cleavage to distract from the green screen. That silver V flashing in the corner of the screen, reminding everyone who was telling this story.
“Members of Teenage Kix and G-Force attempted to apprehend the infamous ‘Slasher’ gang when an unknown super villain arrived. Luckily Firecracker has arrived with backup to fully apprehend this mutant terrorist,” the reporter said.
“What the hell is a mutant?” one of the patrons asked.
Tony could heard the call, he needed to be out there.
“What can you do Tony, you’re in no state to help anyone,” Rhodey said.
“You’re smart, just not that smart, unless you gain intelligence from drinking,” Happy said.
“Looking for fast acting pain relief, Velief targets the very source of pain, stimulating hormones that will end your woes and help you to think just like everyone else.”
“Like everyone else,” Tony slurred.
He heard the ring of the bell on the entrance door. Heavy boots slammed into the wood, someone short but stocky sat next to him.
“Beer, preferably a Bud please,” the man said gruffly.
“You noticed it yet?”
Tony raised his head, rubbing his eyes tiredly and looking at the dark haired man sitting next to him. Tony’s beard and lack of hair care made him hairy, but this newcomer was something else. His wild dark hair formed the beard on his cheeks, there was hair across the arms poking out of the short sleeved yellow and blue hoodie the man wore.
“Noticed what little guy?” Tony asked, looking down at the man.
“I wondered if there was a reason you were at rock bottom, if maybe the only way they could keep you from questioning things was to make sure you weren’t in any kind of research or development position,” the man explained.
“Uh oh, stranger danger buddy, you don’t want to end up like Rhodey did that one time in Thailand right?” Happy asked and Rhodey sneered.
“Despite Happy’s way of putting it, this is probably a sign that you should stop questioning things…wait a second, I wouldn’t say that would I?” Rhodey asked.
“No buddy you wouldn’t,” Tony chuckled.
“You okay there Stark?” the new man asked.
“I’m experienced hallucinations based on my best friends; they always tried to say the right thing to get me on the right track. But I’ve never been a particularly good listener, even to the angels on my shoulder. Then again you guys aren’t angels are you, you aren’t even really my subconscious telling me to get sober are you?” Tony asked.
“Don’t tell me the jig is up already? It wasn’t even a day, damn, I don’t know if that’s some kind of question on the boss’s competency or a compliment to yours,” Happy explained.
“Ask yourself though Tony would it really be that bad if you just make believe, or maybe do what I do, work within the system,” Rhodey said.
“James Rhodes believes in the system, the government, the military, not so much what it is but what it can be. But he would never believe in something that people were being forced to believe in,” Tony said firmly.
“You starting to see sense there bub?” the newcomer asked.
Suddenly Tony vomited, spraying a puddle onto the floor.
“That’s it, get the fuck out of my bar!” the keeper said.
Tony fell to his knees, Rhodey and Happy’s voices became silenced by his heavy breathing and the chuckle of the man carrying him out. The world span as he was thrown into the back of a car.
“Fucking hell I thought you said this bloke was a bloody genius,” he heard the driver remark.
“Look bub he’s the best we’ve got right now and it’s better to bring him onto our side of the board before we make our move,” the wild man said.
“I luv a good metaphor as much as the next bloke, but I can’t help but think that old geezer’s use of the term means some of us are going to be the pawns,” the driver said, British accent, cockney unless Tony was that drunk.
“Funny, I thought the same about you,” the wild man said.
“Fuck you Logan,” Tony heard before he passed out.
Blue area of the moon
Aaron Stack already knew of the existence of other worlds. He was also aware of time travel and the manipulation of time. He wasn’t in another world, and though he could look back and see an altered history, the chronal barrier hadn’t been broken though. Aaron looked up at Uatu and saw a tremble run through the Watcher’s mouth. The Watcher emoted in a way Uatu had never seen before.
“Reality is like a Rubiks cube, already set to its ‘solved’ position, colours matching, balanced and perfect,” Uatu mused.
“But the cube can be manipulated can’t it?” Aaron asked.
“Yes Aaron Stack, twist it once and it becomes only slightly different, but many other times and nothing matches, reality becomes chaotic,” the Watcher explained.
“What would have the power to change reality so much?”
“Several things Aaron Stack could reshape reality, conjecture at this point would not be helpful, you must continue to observe,” Uatu said.
“Observe, but reality has been reshaped, people’s lives ruined, heroes turned into shadows of what they are. There is callousness, ego, something is wrong with their icon Homelander, I don’t need to watch him anymore. I have to get involved Uatu, we can’t just watch this happen,” Aaron explained.
Aaron felt something penetrate the surface of the moon before he felt the hand on his throat. Even his computerised brain didn’t have the reaction time to fully process what had happened to him. One moment he was trying to appeal to whatever could be attributed to humanity within the Watcher. The next he was sensing warning bells within his system chime, making him aware of a grand heat build up due to entering the atmosphere. His heart was intact, but the hull and circuitry that formed his ribs had been shattered. The lenses of his eyes cracked along with the links in his neck, due to the sheer grip around it.
He looked at an attacker that had moved past supersonic speed. The young man was looking at Aaron with a glee in his smile, black hair fluttering from the sudden waves brought up by the atmospheric re-entry. Aaron’s attacker was clothed in a white bodysuit with red boots and gloves. X-51’s eyes were drawn to the red patch on the young man’s suit, what he realised was an ‘I’. The young man wore also a mask, a type of cowl with his brilliant red cloak that left his hair and mouth exposed. Black lenses covered the man’s eyes, hiding any intent behind his gaze as he brought his face up towards Aaron’s head.
“You will not be interfering with anything; this Earth is no longer under your protection,” the new arrival said.
He pushed forward with his hand, flying down to Earth and throwing X-51 into the region of Eastern Europe.
Seven Tower-Formerly Stark Tower June 7th 15:15
John stood in front of his mirror, wiping the sweat from his brow. Strange, he couldn’t remember the last time he had sweated. The shower was going in the next room, high heat, enough to raise the temperature in the apartment yet it shouldn’t have been enough to warrant a reaction from him. Slicking his hair back, he leant on his sink and took a few deep breaths. His reflection didn’t come alive, he would no longer be his own best motivator. A knock came at his door, but it was only a formality. His best friend never needed an invitation, classic British, taking the piss out of their own friends.
“Are you really doing the whole ‘you are a winner’ thing in front of the mirror?”
John smiled, looking away from his mirror at the dark haired man in the black coat standing at the doorway.
“You’ve bloody well got this haven’t you?” Billy asked.
“I have William,” John said.
Homelander clapped his hands together, slapped his cheeks and shook hands with his best friend, his friend.
‘Oh, how strange, yet delightful at the same time,’ he thought.
“Becca sends her love, you need anything I’m here, unless it’s a fucking blow job then you can suck your own cock,” William said.
“Oh William, I don’t know what I would do without you,” John said.
“Face it life would be exceedingly boring without me,” William grinned before he walked out of the office.
Homelander closed his eyes, he expected there to be disgust at interacting with a mere worm. Yet, he had never felt that way about Butcher, Billy Butcher, a mere human, and a significantly flawed one at that. He felt the humidity in the room rise as the shower spray stopped, her body temperature was enough to make many things rise. She didn’t bother with a towel, coming out of the bathroom and tenderly wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Why two?” she asked.
“One to torment, another to…you’ll think me weak,” he sighed and gasped when he felt her kiss on his back.
A jolt of electricity ran through his muscles, he wanted to strip down and take her there and then. But they had a script to fulfil, he settled for taking her by the waist.
“My greatest enemy and in some psychological way perhaps my only friend,” Homelander said, running his free hand through her dark hair before their lips met.
The excitement within her built, sparks of electricity came out of her body as she took hold of the sides of his head and ruthlessly pushed her tongue into his mouth. The bulbs around them flickered, yet there was a flash within his eyes as he took hold of her chin.
“Let’s go save the world,” he said.
“Ah the first mission of the New Seven, and then the rise of the new Reich,” she said.
He kissed her, his uniform burst into flames, disappearing as he took hold of her thighs and flew into the wall.
“Fuck it, the heroes of the story always arrive at the last minute, and we both know who the hero of this story is,” he said, revelling in her body and savouring her moans.
“The Stormfront and Homelander, no pagan god, no mockery of Aryan perfection, no Italian drunkard, just us OH YES!” his lover screamed.
Homelander grinned as he kissed the woman he loved, the stories to come would truly make him great and the prequel, that would come later. For now he would let the crisis build up until it truly needed a hero and just as he was doing with his lover he would revel in pandemonium.
Next Chapter 2: InVincible