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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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"Logan?" She took a step towards him before stopping, frowning as she realised exactly what was wrong besides the screaming.
"Is that..." Turning to look at the rest of her fellow heroes for a little support and some answers, she pointed to the shield and the tiny furry man. "Exactly how long have I been dead?"
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I'm about to make another one of my usual witty remarks when I notice what our little furry 'friend' was running from. Tilting my head back as far as it can go, I only just manage to see the top of Mr. T-Rex's head.
Boy, that's a lot of teeth.
"...uh, guys?" I say, carefully backing away. "I don't think webbing alone is gonna stop this one."
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"Start running," I urge, already starting to back away. I'm keeping my eyes peeled as I go, looking for something, anything, but time's short and I don't want to start taking chances now. "Go! Move! Does anyone have a knife?"
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Shame dat he probably isn't gon' be leading us all de way home, though.
"I never been too huge on valor, but dat bit about discretion being de better part... I'm inclined t'agree wit' de kid," I say, finally getting a move on. Assuming dis whole 'no powers' business isn't just my problem, I have a suspicion dis situation will be looking a lot better wit' a little distance. "Something tells me dat wedding dress is gonna turn into a liability très vite."
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She'd been about to comment on how well she could run in her dress, having learned from experience, when the dinosaur lunged. "I think you spoke too soon!" she yelled, quickening her pace and beckoning for the others to do the same. "Run!"
It was too late, at least for her. She'd moved away in time to avoid sudden death by dinosaur teeth, but it caught her dress instead, hoisting her up by it and leaving her to dangle upside down. Not even thinking enough, fortunately, to call Peter by name, all she did instead was let out a long, loud shriek. For all the times she'd been close to death before, death by T-Rex was really not something she wanted to experience.
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Or whether we will be running, I should not like to be left behind. Although such an action would be deeply unchivalrous, and yet, what could I do?
Speaking of chivalrous... I hurry to the side of the man in red, for although it is not armor, it surely has the look of livery about it, and he wears a mask: certainly a Mystery Knight, such as is always saving damsels in the stories.
"Sir!" I squeak, "here, sir, is this your shield?"
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She doesn't think she needs to tell him what to do to save the poor girl, or that he's the only one with any means do to so.
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Since Siryn's taking care of The Mutant Formerly Known As Wolverine, I'm free to focus solely on Mary Jane. I might not have any powers...I might not even be able to see...but there's no force in this universe -- or any other -- that will stop me from saving her.
With a running start, I shoot off a web to the nearest tree, using the forward momentum to send me swinging upwards. I'm a lot heavier than I remember being just a few short minutes ago, but now's hardly the time to think about starting Atkins. Still too far from the dinosaur – and, more importantly, Mary Jane – to do much of anything, I take aim at another tree, this one closer to the action.
Now, the problem with swinging in an unfamiliar jungle is that it's hard to assess which trees will be able to take the extra -- not to mention sudden -- weight of a human arachnid. Usually I can counteract this problem with some magical combination of my spider-sense, my 20/10 vision and the fact that I'm really, really smart. Right now, though, I'm only working with the last one. Unfotunately, brains are not the most important factor in the trifecta of web-slinging.
The branch I'd latched onto snaps under my weight and I find myself falling again. Luckily, my reflexes are still good enough that I don't end up on the ground. Another web gets me to where I need to be: a high and relatively stable branch. Steadying myself against the trunk, I take aim at another tree about hundred feet away, mentally calculating the trajectory. It'll take us pretty low to the ground, but at least MJ won't be dinosaur food.
"HOLD ON!"
I jump. The window of opportunity here is small and I don't have the time -- or the means -- for finesse. I roughly catch Mary Jane about the waist and we're moving fast enough that her dress rips, leaving T-Rex with a mouthful of tulle and lace and other girly materials whose names I’ll never admit to knowing.
The landing's far from graceful, though I manage to let go of MJ before I duck into a forward roll, leaving her -- somewhat improbably -- on her feet, while I get a face full of dirt. Pulling myself up, I double back, sweep MJ into my arms and start running for both of our lives.
"Hey," I say breathlessly.
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Pausing long enough to pick up the biggest rock she can find, Jean decided that if she was going to be reenacting The Land of the Lost, then she might as well play the part. Taking aim, she threw it as hard and as far as she possibly can in the opposite direction that they were running.
Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn't. Trying didn't seem like that bad of an idea. Turning around, she started running again, falling in line behind the ragtag team. Adrenaline pumping, she pointed to the patch of rocks up ahead where the tree-line seemed to break.
"Over there! We can find some shelter!"
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It's only a theory. Until I can try and call out the Staff of One, it's only an idea, and when Phoenix starts yelling, it yanks me back to reality and I'm only too glad to comply. Thinking about this now's a good way to get myself killed, but running? Running works. "I think we're gonna need more than some rocks to hide behind!"
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"Dat's assuming we all hide together, pup," I say, keeping both eyes out for alternate routes. Despite my words, I stick close to de gang, at least for now. Dey're all professionals (with the possible exception of Wolverine), not exactly a liability just yet.
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"I'm not sure we should all split up completely," she called, the tremble in her voice revealing her wariness. Having been the one of them closest to being dinosaur food, she figured she was allowed to be that freaked out. "I, for one, don't want to be on my own out here."
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"Possibly because you're not moving past them at speed, sir. Speaking of which, it appears we're not alone out here."
Tony blinked, and then fished the remote for activating the collars out of his pocket. Nothing to worry about, this time, because-
"That's not- those are people. There are people?"
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Spider-Man holding some woman in a wedding dress. Phoenix. That Gambit guy from the X-Men. The screaming chick from X-Factor -- Siryn? And, just to top everything off, there's Nico and a guy who could pass for Wolverine if he wasn't busy cowering underneath Captain America's shield.
"Oh my God." I turn to look at Tony and Yorick, eyes wide. "That's... I know them! Well, I know of them, at least. Jesus...that's, like, half of home right there!"
And a T-Rex. Half of home and a T-Rex. Figures.
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"Is that Spider-Man!?" he exclaimed. "...Wait, is that a T-Rex!?"
Ampersand scrambled up the back of his head, and then back down when he caught sight of the giant fucking lizard.
"We should run, right? I mean, we're all superheroes here, but...this is one of those times when you run. Look, I mean...what is that, a scruffy looking Captain America? I don't get it. But he's running!"
(And okay, so maybe Yorick wasn't a superhero, but he was given a cool alias for a day, so it kind of counted. He bet Jarvis would have his back, anyway.)
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He raised his hand so that the remote was pointing over his shoulder at the T-Rex, which was closing fast. Jarvis was saying something about proximity. Tony ignored him and pressed the button.
Nothing happened.
The Tyrannosaurus bore down on him. Tony looked at the remote, noted that the indicator light was off, and then smacked the bottom of the unit into the palm of his hand. The light turned on.
The T-Rex opened wide, massive mouth appearing in his peripheral vision, dipped down in preparation to bite-
-and then its head jerked to the side, as if some massive force had punched it in the side of its face. Involuntary muscle spasm caused by the large jolt of electricity, simple, really.
"Bad dog," Tony told it, as it roared and veered away, probably confused as to how the fence had moved. If it had enough smarts, which was... questionable. "No biscuit."
He tossed the remote in the air again, caught it, and looked brightly at everyone. "So I guess you guys know me, huh? Well, a me, not necessarily this- we should chat. Have a pow-wow."
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But not for long.
"We did not just get saved by @!$%#ing IRON MAN!"