Entry tags:
A Merry Marvel Debut
“So, in this land that time forgot somewhere in Antarctica…what’ve we got to look forward to?”
We’re all of us crowded in the Quinjet. Iron Man’s at the wheel and me, Cap, Spider-Woman – no relation to yours truly – and Luke Cage are sitting at the back like some seriously deranged Little League team. Truth be told, I’ve been expecting the question ever since I got off the freaky future phone with Mary Jane. See, it’s Luke here’s first trip to the Savage Land and he’s been sceptical as to its existence ever since it came up on Spider-Woman’s computer.
Ah, to be that innocent again.
As for me? Well, I’m just hoping we aren’t all gonna to die. Doing my best to chew my nails through my costume, I reply, “All kinds of mutates and dinosaurs and big cheetahs and a surprising amount of acceptable nudity.”
“Are you #$%$ing me?”
“No,” I say. “But it doesn’t matter – we probably won’t survive the crash.”
“What crash?”
“You don’t go to the Savage Land without crashing.”
Without turning around, Iron Man interjects, “You’ve never been there with me driving.”
In spite of his words, my spider-sense is going off the charts. He couldn’t have been less comforting. He’s like the band on the Titanic, right now, that’s how comforting he is. Famous last words to die by. Jeez, I really have made it to the big leagues.
“Uh huh…”
“Seat belts.”
“Yeah, that’ll help.”
The jet suddenly pitches forwards and then we’re upside down. Spider-Woman lets out an incoherent shriek -- or was that me? Either way, the noise is loud enough that I could’ve been singing the ‘Star-Spangled Banner’ at the top of my lungs and the only thing I would’ve heard is the sound of a dying cat in a jet engine. Above the din, I can faintly hear the metallic voice of Iron Man say, “Almost there… Almost there…”
And, then, sure enough, we’re there. It all happens so fast that I barely remember it. One second I’m hanging upside down and praying to God I don’t wet my suit. The next, the five of us are standing outside of the Quinjet and admiring the scenery. And what scenery it is. It’s really a shame about the inevitable death that goes hand-in-hand with being here. It’d make for one heckuva vacation spot.
Clapping a very manly hand to my shoulder, ol’ Shell-Head says to me, “See?”
“I stand corrected.”
Which is entirely the wrong thing to say because that’s right about the time that the Quinjet explodes, the force of the blast sending me and mine flying. I quickly shoot off a web to a nearby tree, pulling myself up and out of the line of fire. Only, as I soon discover, there’s a fundamental flaw to this plan. For whatever reason, I can’t stick the landing and so, my arms wheeling like windmills, I fall a good fifteen feet before the ground decides to break my fall.
“My back,” I croak, as I pull my sorry butt out of the foliage. “My poor, poor back.”
(Some dialogue comes from New Avengers #4 by Brian Michael Bendis.)
We’re all of us crowded in the Quinjet. Iron Man’s at the wheel and me, Cap, Spider-Woman – no relation to yours truly – and Luke Cage are sitting at the back like some seriously deranged Little League team. Truth be told, I’ve been expecting the question ever since I got off the freaky future phone with Mary Jane. See, it’s Luke here’s first trip to the Savage Land and he’s been sceptical as to its existence ever since it came up on Spider-Woman’s computer.
Ah, to be that innocent again.
As for me? Well, I’m just hoping we aren’t all gonna to die. Doing my best to chew my nails through my costume, I reply, “All kinds of mutates and dinosaurs and big cheetahs and a surprising amount of acceptable nudity.”
“Are you #$%$ing me?”
“No,” I say. “But it doesn’t matter – we probably won’t survive the crash.”
“What crash?”
“You don’t go to the Savage Land without crashing.”
Without turning around, Iron Man interjects, “You’ve never been there with me driving.”
In spite of his words, my spider-sense is going off the charts. He couldn’t have been less comforting. He’s like the band on the Titanic, right now, that’s how comforting he is. Famous last words to die by. Jeez, I really have made it to the big leagues.
“Uh huh…”
“Seat belts.”
“Yeah, that’ll help.”
The jet suddenly pitches forwards and then we’re upside down. Spider-Woman lets out an incoherent shriek -- or was that me? Either way, the noise is loud enough that I could’ve been singing the ‘Star-Spangled Banner’ at the top of my lungs and the only thing I would’ve heard is the sound of a dying cat in a jet engine. Above the din, I can faintly hear the metallic voice of Iron Man say, “Almost there… Almost there…”
And, then, sure enough, we’re there. It all happens so fast that I barely remember it. One second I’m hanging upside down and praying to God I don’t wet my suit. The next, the five of us are standing outside of the Quinjet and admiring the scenery. And what scenery it is. It’s really a shame about the inevitable death that goes hand-in-hand with being here. It’d make for one heckuva vacation spot.
Clapping a very manly hand to my shoulder, ol’ Shell-Head says to me, “See?”
“I stand corrected.”
Which is entirely the wrong thing to say because that’s right about the time that the Quinjet explodes, the force of the blast sending me and mine flying. I quickly shoot off a web to a nearby tree, pulling myself up and out of the line of fire. Only, as I soon discover, there’s a fundamental flaw to this plan. For whatever reason, I can’t stick the landing and so, my arms wheeling like windmills, I fall a good fifteen feet before the ground decides to break my fall.
“My back,” I croak, as I pull my sorry butt out of the foliage. “My poor, poor back.”
(Some dialogue comes from New Avengers #4 by Brian Michael Bendis.)
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Ever since returning from her little jaunt with Spider-Man, Terry's been working on the shortest fuse. Lord knows she isn't the most patient person, but the idea of the decimation happening because of the Scarlet Witch, because of Quicksilver, and the X-Men had known and kept it from them-- The world had been so much simpler, before.
Arseholes.
They show up, just as planned, and when Terry sees them standing there like they're the bloody mutant police come to take Quicksilver away, it takes everything she has not to yell. Not to scream. Her voice is even as she speaks, because despite it all, Terry knows Scott Summers, and she knows he's better than this. Or he should be.
"Theresa..." he starts, like they're back at Xavier's mansion, like he hasn't told her her da is dead, like they're friends, "now isn't the best time to discuss this. We received a tip that Quicksilver is--"
"We know," Rictor interrupts, "I phoned it in. We figured it was the best way to get you out here so we can...chat." And it'd worked, hadn't it? Just overhearing Layla talk to Scott like they were old pals had cemented it.
"You wanna throw down with us? To protect that silver-headed slimeball?" She hadn't expected much more than that from Wolverine. But that wasn't the point, was it? They'd been lied to. Thousands of mutants out there were lost without their powers...god, how many like Rictor had actually succeeded?
How many deaths did the X-Men, the Avengers, whoever bloody else have on their hands?
"He may be a slimeball. He may be a total evil monster," Terry finds herself saying, anger driving her words. She ignores whatever Quicksilver thinks he has to add to the conversation. "But he didn't pretend to be our friend, and he didn't lie to us. Can you say the same?"
"This is ridiculous," says Colossus, and maybe if these were better circumstances, Terry might be glad to see the big lug alive again. "We don't have to defend our actions. We did what had to be done. And we're going to do that now as well."
She's suddenly not so happy to see him, anymore.
Liars. They'd lied. The bloody X-Men weren't the ones in mutant town, fielding calls from lost souls, they weren't the ones being held bloody captive by psycho ex-mutants, they were safe in that stupid bloody mansion--
"Stand aside--"
Colossus is big, but Terry's lungs are bigger.
She barely hears Scott's warning to Colossus over the scream, and god, it feels bloody good to finally let loose. Let them come into mutant town and try to bully them! They could get first hand @*$&ing taste of what it felt like to be the little person, what it felt like to be thought so little of. Like bloody children who needed to be protected from the big bad wolf.
"Don't you see? This is what Quicksilver wants! To turn us against each other! But if you can't see that for yourselves..." It seems Scott has some life to him, still, and it takes Terry a moment to realize he bloody well means to blast her. She's already gearing up for another scream when Jamie bloody Madrox jumps in front of her, and she has to shield her eyes from the blast as the world goes red for a second...
And when it comes back, there's nothing.
No X-Men. No X-Factor. No Quicksilver.
Just forest. And not the concrete jungle Manhattan thinks it is, but honest to god jungle.
"Scott bloody Summers! If this is yer fault I'll kill ye m'self!"
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"Hey, guys," I call out, taking a look around for my fellow Avengers, "I think we got company of the non-explosive va-- Guys?"
It's right about now that I notice there's no wreckage. No fire. No Avengers. Well, this can't be good. Thing is, my spider-sense should be tingling right now and all I'm getting is a fat load of nothing. Maybe the blast did more damage than just my back? It'd make sense, I guess. I mean, my vision's a lot blurrier than I remember it being a minute ago.
Figuring I'll have better luck if I find the source of the voice than if I stand around here and wait for Cap to say, 'Avengers Assemble!' I head in the direction of the swearing -- by foot.
That fall really hurt.
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It doesn't take long to find the owner of the voice, but when she does, Terry almost wishes she hadn't. He may not have his fancy new suit on anymore, but after hearing the truth about the Decimation from his own mouth, Terry doesn't want to be anywhere near Spider-Man.
Too bad he's the only one around.
"Spider-Man," she says forcefully, stalking up to him, one accusing hand pointed at the logo on his chest. "What did ye do? So help me God, if ye don't tell me the truth I'll make ye wish ye weren't born!"
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I'm hoping the truth will really sell the sincerity. After all, as far as I'm concerned, I just survived the latest in Savage Land shenanigans. The last thing on my mind is, 'Gee, I sure hope I run into some X-Men cast-off.'
"And besides, if anyone should be asking the questions, it's me! What are you doing here?"
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She lowers her hand, at least.
"What am I doin' here? I was bloody well mindin' me own business in Mutant Town two seconds ago. Where are we?"
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"The Savage Land. That land that time forgot. Ringing any bells?"
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Looking around, she knows that he's telling the truth. Or he thinks he's telling the truth. Or there's some bloody good mind projecting going on. None of the X-Men who'd shown up had those sorts of powers, though.
No matter what the answer is, Terry doesn't like it one bit.
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It was red. It was warm and cold and so full of a love that she couldn't name. Wrapping her arms around her, she held herself close and looked up, watching the Shi'ar ship approach waiting for the moment. It was so red, so warm, all fire and ice and Jean knew. She just knew what she had to do as she unfolded her arms and pointed, feet rising from the ice as she engulfed both herself and the ship in flames.
There was another poem that Jean remembered about the world ending in a bang or in a whimper and she wasn't whimpering, but there was no bang as the fire and ice consumed here. There was just Phoenix, just as there was Jean Grey and she knew that this was all there had to be.
The white came, like the calm after the storm and Jean fell back, stumbling and falling as she landed. Her feet slipped with no smooth white neverending expanse to hold them and what she noticed first was the smell. It smelled like fire. It was warmer now, the cold clinging to her but it smelled like fire all around her as she fell, and her feet slipped on the soft earth as she landed on her back almost gently in the mud and the leaves.
The fire was still there. It clung to her clothes, but she couldn't worry about it. Jean wasn't certain why it was there at all.
Opening her eyes, Jean saw blue peaking through the arches of green over head, felt her arms like weights next to her and knew that this was not the White Hot Room. This was not where she was meant to be and where her other pieces were.
"I am Jean Grey," she said, the words coming out in a whisper. "Always, but it's too soon. We're not ready."
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There's something to be said for a dramatic entrance when it effectively cuts Terry's panic off before it can really blossom. She stares over Spider-Man's shoulder for a few long seconds, trying to connect what her eyes are seeing to what her brain's telling her.
It's Jean Grey. On fire.
Terry doesn't spare a thought after that, just takes her cowl off before dropping to Jean's side and doing her best to smother the flames.
"Girl, ye picked a mighty fine time to be coming back from the dead!"
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"Is anyone else getting a Twilight Zone vibe out of all of this?"
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"Theresa? Spidey?" she said, teeth chattering slightly as she pushed herself into the seated position. "What are you...this is wrong. I'm not supposed to be here. This isn't the White Hot Room."
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Those new holes aren't going to stitch themselves.
"It isn't," she agrees, sitting back on her heels. "Spidey here says we've gone and gotten ourselves stuck in the Savage Land."
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Turning to Jean, I add, "Kudos on the entrance, by the way. Very dramatic. The flames were a nice touch. I've seen more than a couple of people come back to life, now, and I gotta say, that was top notch."
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MEANWHILE...
“Just between you an' me, mon ami,” I tell Bishop as he hauls his carcass up from where I laid him out, “if you were right, if I was planning on murdering the X-Men in their sleep... you'd be first.” After all, I'd been the one willin' to play nice-nice and back off, even with the man going around spouting all he knows 'bout me in front of everyone. He's the one who just couldn't let things lie.
“You'll never have that opportunity, LeBeau,” he grits out, reaching over his shoulder for dat damn gun o' his. Now I'm pissed off. I grab the closest thing I can make into a weapon and, while it might not make me cut the coolest figure, it gets the job done once properly charged.
“A plasma rifle 'gainst a boysenberry pie? Can you find the crazed psychopath in this picture?” I yell, at the ready nonetheless. Rogue's runnin' in to back me up, bless her, but I don't see it doing much good.
“Gambit is right, Bishop!” she shouts, getting nothing but a grunt in response. Now dat's just rude. “If anyone is behavin' like a prime candidate for the Acolytes, it's you!”
“You're wasting your massive lungs, chère, he's not one t'listen t'reason!” An' wit' dat, I let loose wit' de pie. 'Cept...
Now, my aim was dead on, it always is. Rogue jus' has a habit of putting herself in places she shouldn't be. I don't even see it happen, all I need is to hear the 'SHPLATT!' of contact and Rogue's muffled yell before I'm suddenly way more on edge den some fool like Bishop could ever get me.
“Ooooops.” What else is dere to say, really?
“'Ooooops'?! I spent four hours sweatin' ovah a hot stove, an' the best ya' can offer is 'Ooooops'?!” Now she's flying at me like some sort of filling-covered avenging angel and I figure it's high time to defuse dis situation before things get really serious.
So I start laughing. Loudly. Fortunately, Bishop's not quite as dumb as he looks and he immediately follows my lead, but not without a muttered “Is this wise?”
“Keep laughing or she'll kill us,” I manage with a grin.
“Ah suppose it's fittin' ya die with a smile on your face!” she shouts, waving a fist in my direction.
“I'm not shaking, chère. I got it on good author'ty I'm going to outlive every one of you.”
Et voilà. Crisis averted.
“Do ya begin to see the absurdity of it all?” Rogue says, back on my side. “Y'all is tryin' to hold Gambit responsible for somethin' he may or may not have done in a future that may or may not ever happen. If you're gonna' hate him, shugah, at least hate him for the scoundrel that he is.”
“How can a body argue wit' an endorsement like dat?” I offer, glad to see dat Bishop's settling down a bit.
“There is so much of the past that remains a mystery,” is all he has to say, but I get the feeling there might be hope for him yet.
“We ain't talkin' about the past, shugah. We're talkin' here and now,” Rogue says, draping herself around my shoulders. She's still got bits of pie stuck to her face and I'd wipe some of it off if I didn't already know she'd just bat my hands away. “And for the moment, Gambit walks along the side of the angels.”
She doesn't know how right she is when it comes to 'for the moment', but I don't get the chance to dwell on dat. Another woman's voice is suddenly cutting through the air, one I haven't heard in a long time. Whether dat's too long or not long enough is a subject for debate.
“Trust me girly, he's 'bout to be walkin' wit' da' angels!” she shouts and before either me or Rogue have the chance to react, we're hit with with a nasty blast of... something. There's a loud crackle of energy and then I'm picking myself up off of the ground, already knowing that something's wrong.
Rogue's gone. Bishop's gone. The whole damn lake is gone, replaced with thick jungle. I'm at the base of a decent-sized tree and I lean 'gainst it while I get my bearings. Bella Donna's apparently learned some new tricks since de last time I saw her.
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Finally, there she stood, breathless and probably a mess after running the whole way to Peter's apartment, though none of that mattered to her now. She was exactly where she wanted to be, and could feel that now even more strongly than she had when she'd dashed out of the church. This was right; it always had been. They'd both just been too stubborn to realize it.
"Had to do what I had to do," she told him simply, biting back a smile as he turned to face her, surprise evident in his expression.
"Mary Jane," was all he said.
"Peter," she replied. There was no use not getting right to the point now, and she knew it. Shaking her head a little, she laughed, and said, "I can't live without you."
"You shouldn't be here."
She'd expected that, and it showed. But she had prepared a rebuttal, too, rehearsed it in her head as she ran through Manhattan to get to him. She wasn't going to give up so easily now. "I know you think we can't be together," she began, "but can't you respect me enough to let me make my own decision?" That, really, was what it came down to. She just had to make him see it her way, and, secretly, she didn't expect for it to be too difficult. She hadn't run all that way to be turned down now. "I know there'll be risks, but I want to face them with you. It's wrong that we should only be half-alive... half of ourselves."
She paused then, taking a deep breath as she studied his face, as if looking for an unspoken answer there. So far, there was nothing. She doubted that would last. "I love you," she said, and then she saw a flicker of a smile, enough to make her have to hold back another laugh. She almost couldn't believe they were doing this, as much as she didn't think he would have sent her away. "So here I am, standing in your doorway," she continued, her expression turning wry after a moment. "I have always been standing in your doorway."
Slowly, she lifted a hand to rest over his jaw, thumb brushing lightly against his skin as she savored the touch. "Isn't it about time somebody saved your life?" Her hand dropped a moment later, and she looked at him expectantly. His answer had become apparent enough, but with all she'd just said, he couldn't stay silent forever. "Well, say something."
"Thank you, Mary Jane Watson."
She knew what was coming next. Even before his lips met hers, her hands were by his neck, never quite still as they kissed like she'd been wanting to kiss him for so long now. It was definitely, definitely worth the wait. The sirens, however, those came as a surprise. He ducked away, both of them turning to look in the direction of the window. She was smiling, though, as he looked back at her. She'd just signed up for this, after all. "Go get 'em, Tiger," she said.
He was gone off the balcony in barely a moment. She couldn't help but feel strangely proud, as if she were somehow a part of all that he was doing, and on a whim, she ran forward to the window to watch him go. He wasn't there, though, and, for that matter, neither was the balcony. The whole apartment was gone, replaced before she could even wrap her head around what was going on with what was unmistakably a tree. Realizing where she was, and where she wasn't, Mary Jane shrieked, one hand reaching out to steady herself against the trunk of the tree beside her. She didn't know what was going on, but she did know that she didn't like it, not at all. Of all the times for Peter not to be there, this was undoubtedly the worst.
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I look up, and what do I spot a few feet above my head but one severely agitated redhead dat I sadly don't recognize. Though, given the wedding dress, maybe dat's not such a bad thing, hein? Day I've had, de last thing I need is to make some poor sap jealous.
"What you doin' up dere, chère?"
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"I wouldn't be up here if I knew," she assured him, letting out an undeniably strained laugh, still gripping the tree trunk as she leaned forward a little to try to get a better glimpse of who was down there. If her wedding dress had been annoying when she was running through Central Park, it was downright infuriating now, the full skirt only getting in her way as she attempted to get her bearings. "You... wouldn't happen to know where I am, would you? Or how I could get down from here?"
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"Yes and no," I say, looking around. Nothing but jungle far as I can see, but I got a sneaking suspicion dat's not going to be the case forever. "No to the first, yes to the second thing, anyway." Without much else to do, I pull out my pack of smokes and stick one in my mouth. If anything else, it'll give me something to throw should I need it.
"Got zapped here a few seconds ago, and I'm guessin' you can say de same. Sit tight for a second, will you?" I call, glancing up at her as I light up. Or try to, anyway. All of a sudden, my power don't seem to be wantin' to cooperate, and dat's officially the most disturbing part of the whole situation.
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"Is everything okay?" she called down, unable to hide how worried she was becoming. "Because I'd really like to get down from here soon." Once she was on the ground, she could begin trying to make sense of what, exactly, was going on here. Until then, she couldn't even begin to focus on how messed up all of this was. She was at least grateful to have someone, even a stranger, around to help. She would have really been stuck otherwise.
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LATER...
As far as weird things I've gotten my carcass dragged into go, dis prob'ly cracks the top ten, but it's not so bad. Could've done without getting 'saved' by Iron Man (not the Avenger, mind), but he's got some pretty decent digs to unwind in, 'specially given what he's been telling us 'bout dis place. A starter mansion on a tropical island, not too shabby.
Not dat it's all sunshine an' roses, anything involvin' sapped powers and no way out is bound to be a bit of a downer, but I'm still pretty confident I'll be findin' a way out of dat second one in short enough order. We'll see.
"Hell of a story, dat."
Re: LATER...
Little did he know, in that tiny space of reflection, he was about to be even more unimpressive.
He stared at...yeah, that was Gambit. "Holy..." And that was Jean Grey. "...Fucking..." And that was definitely Wolverine. "...Mother of God."
He looked around. Siryn, Spidey and Mary Jane (in a wedding dress!?). And some girl who wasn't in costume, so she could be anyone.
"...This is possibly the best day of my life..."
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"You can geek out later," I mutter under my breath. Truth is, though, I'm freaking out a little bit, too. I might not be close with any of them -- I mean, I've only run into Nico the couple of times -- but it feels nice to have so many familiar faces around for once.
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"Sorry, I'm still back on the part where we can't leave," I say, arms folded as I tap a foot. At least I know Kate's decent; the others are all up in the air for me right now. "We're just stuck here now?"
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The girl, she recognizes as one of those Young Avengers kids, but the guy...well, after her first initial shock, she isn't taking too kindly to this Yorick who looks just like Wade before...well, before.
"I'm with the girl," she says, nodding at Nico. "The high and almighty Tony Stark can't find a way out of here?"
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He shrugged. "I don't get credit for what I can find, which was- I did just save your asses. I don't get points for that? I feel like I should get points for that..."
He looked at Yorick, inviting his main man Orthodash to back him up, here.
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