Morden Man

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

Mount Sorcista, Latveria

The Future Foundation trudged their way up the side of the Latverian mountain trail. Given free reign of all of Latveria, the five of them had decided that Mount Sorcista, Latveria’s highest mountain, was ripe for exploration. They had travelled unescorted from Castle Doom to the mountain. The journey had been easy enough. Latveria’s public transport system was without equal. They made use of the regular mag-lev trains that ran from the centre of Domstadt out to its outskirts. Loring in particular found it hard to believe when they were allowed to disembark without paying.

A cable car carried them up towards the beginning of the carefully-cultivated mountain trail. Once there Thinker had charted a course that ran off the trail that he had calculated would result in something he had described as “optimal ocular divertissement” – and the others had happily agreed to follow it. It was only after a good thirty-five minutes of hiking that it became clear how arduous the undertaking they had entered into was going to be.

Though breathing heavy, Cho found the time to shout toward to the sentient AI. “You know, Think, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

>>>#STATEMENT: PROCEED WITH QUERY, AMADEUS CHO#<<<

“Don’t think you maybe this whole “STATEMENT” thing is a little redundant?” Amadeus said with a sympathetic smile. “I get that we might not all be sentient super-computers, but I’m sure we’ve all got enough going on upstairs that we can work out when you’re asking a question.”

The Thinker’s empty eyes stared off towards the Doomstadt skyline. At least, it looked almost as if he was staring at it. Cho had learned by now that half of the time when “Think” – as he had taken to calling the artificial intelligence – was looking at something, he was almost always looking through it. The numbers on Think’s body ran wildly as he considered Cho’s statement and tried to formulate a response of his own.

>>>#STATEME-#<<<

“Come on. Throw me a bone here, Think. Just try speaking one time without it and I promise if you don’t like it I’ll never ask you to do it again.”

This time it was clear that the Thinker was looking at Amadeus. Though Holt and Khan had pulled ahead of them, there was still time for the two of them to stop to talk. Loring was lagging way behind the four of them, to the point that Cho and the Thinker had been stopping from time to time to ensure they didn’t lose her altogether. This time the cause of their delay had been to allow the AI to attempt to break with the code that governed his every action. It seemed to cause him great discomfort, but with the reassurance of Cho, he managed to find the strength to do so.

>>>#IT IS IN MY PROGRAMMING#<<<

“See?” Cho said with a warm smile. “You can’t tell me that didn’t feel a little liberating? Next we'll try to work on the whole 'inside voice' thing.”

From behind them, Loring appeared. Her face was red from exertion and were it not for the white Future Foundation costume she was wearing, she would almost certainly have been soaked through. She stopped for a moment, resting her hands on her knees, the Atom logo on her chest expanding and shrinking rhythmically as she fought for breath.

“Could you two shut up for a minute? You’re using up all the oxygen," Jean complained with a tired glance at them. "Well, Cho is anyway.”

Michael Holt came sprinting down the trail. He stopped in front of Loring. There wasn’t a drop of sweat on him. He was in incredible physical shape compared to the rest of them. Cho was certain he could have run up and down the mountain half a dozen times without his heart rate increasing at all. He seemed to take particular pleasure from the sweat pouring from Jean’s every pore.

Holt extended a patronising hand in Jean’s direction. “What’s wrong, Loring? Are you struggling? I’d have thought all of daddy’s millions could have bought you a half-decent personal trainer or something.”

“I am not struggling,” Loring growled through gritted teeth as she slapped Holt’s hand away.

Cho let out an ‘oooh’ at the smack. Khan appeared just in time to see it and raised an eyebrow at the scene, but the Holt and Loring melodrama seemed no closer to ending. They had been at each other’s throats from the moment they had met – pointed silences followed by slanging matches followed by pointless competition after competition. To Loring’s frustration, Holt always seemed to win.

“Oh right, you’re still annoyed about the way that Doom blew you off back there. God, that must have been really tough for you, not feeling like the most important person in the room for all of … what, fifteen seconds?”

Never one to miss an opportunity to lob a grenade onto an open fire, Cho corrected the Future Foundation’s de facto captain. “Ten at most.”

Holt and Cho laughed among themselves, Khan seemed so taken with the horizon that was was barely paying attention to the argument, and the Thinker, as always, was next to incapable of reading. The expression on Jean’s face however was instantly recognisable. Loring's embarrassment swelled into an impotent rage that finally came jutting out from her mouth in the form of a particularly ugly insult.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t grow up in some ghetto in Southside Chicago like you, Holt.”

Kamala Khan gasped in shock. Even she had been torn from staring at Castle Doom in the distance by the sound of Jean’s Ivy Town accent spitting ‘ghetto’ at Holt with such intent that it might well have been a weapon.

“That’s really not cool.”

“What?” Loring said with a shaky smiled that seemed suddenly conscious of the fact she had misread the room. “You’re all allowed to make jokes about my upbringing but if I make one joke, I’m suddenly the bad guy here? Come on, Mike. You know I didn’t mean it like that, right?”

Mike. It was the first time that Loring had called Holt by his first name. She was staring at him apologetically in the hope that he might provide her with some support. Unfortunately for Jean, she was met only by an icy stare. Holt’s hands were balled into fists and Cho and Khan exchanged desperates glances, both unsure how to cut through the tension. When Holt began walking towards Jean, they considered getting between the two of them but froze in the moment.

Holt lifted one of his balled fists towards Jean and unclenched it. His index finger pointed in her direction and Jean smiled at him uneasily whilst she was trying to deduce what was happening. Slowly Holt’s stare faded and a comradely grin replaced it.

When he finally spoke it was correct Loring, not to fire a barb back in her direction. “I grew up in New York, not Chicago.”

Thinker watched on in silent, calculating bemusement as the four of them burst into laughter – all with varying levels of sincerity and nervousness. Holt gestured to Loring to jump on his back and after a minute or two of arguing reluctantly agreed to it. The students made much quicker time up through the mountains, eventually finding an isolated pool of water that was almost emerald green. There was wildlife all around it. Deer and rabbits hopped around freely only minutes from the harsh cold of the mountainside.

Kamala almost exploded with joy at the sight of the luscious clearing. “Whoa, this place is beautiful. What did you say it was called again?”

>>>THE LAKE OF REFUGE. ACCORDING TO LATVERIAN MYTHOLOGY, THIS MOUNTAIN WAS ONCE HOME TO A DEMONIC SORCESSES NAMED PANDEMONIA THAT RULED LATVERIA WITH AN IRON FIST. THE ADVENTURERS THAT FELLED PANDEMONIA WERE SAID TO HAVE TAKEN REFUGE HERE BESIDE THE POOL TO RESTORE THEIR ENERGY BEFORE LAUNCHING THEIR FINAL ASSAULT ON HER<<<

The sound of clapping caught the Future Foundation off-guard. They turned to face its source and found a slender fifty-year old man stood on his own. His skin was grey and lifeless. His lips were so thin that it was almost difficult to discern where one ended and the next began. There was not a single grey hair out of place on his head. Most telling of all, he was wrapped in the deep, distinctive Von Bardas pink that had once adorned every flagpole in Latveria.

“Very impressive. For a piece of machinery, you seem to have quite the understanding of Latverian myths. In fact, finding the Lake of Refuge alone is no mean feat. For that, I applaud you – I applaud all of you. But I am afraid that having ventured this far, I cannot allow you the five of you to return home. You see, though we may not be adventurers, as such, we do have our own demon that needs to be felled.”

Holt's attempt to make a move was met by a tut from Wyncham. In the cliffs overlooking the Lake of Refuge, two dozen men appeared with state-of-the-art weaponry pointed in the Future Foundation’s direction. Holt and Loring looked at one another as if silently trying to devise an escape plan but both drew a blank.

“I take no joy in what happens next,” the Marquis of Death smiled unconvincingly. “Oh, why pretend? I shall take a great deal of joy from it.”

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

There's a slight issue in that this game has already had a Green Lantern exist IC – albeit in the first half of the first season.

Perhaps take a look over @Bounce's sheet and see what changes you could make to your Kyle concept to accommodate the existence of Kai Ro. At the point the game is at, I'm pragmatic enough to allow for you to continue with your concept as is if need be, but if you can accommodate for Ro, please try to.

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

The Raft, New York

It had taken Johnny Storm and Rachna Koul the best part of thirteen hours to get to New York. They had driven through the night in a car that ‘Jim Hammond’ borrowed from Horton’s Auto-Parts with Phineas’ blessing. The old man seemed to be able to tell from the look in Johnny’s eyes that he wouldn’t be coming back. Once the dust had settled, Johnny would make sure to send some cash through to the old man for the kindness he’d showed him since showing up in Indiana. Though as Johnny and Rachna sat opposite the heavily-sedated Hector Hammond, it felt like it would be an awful long time before the dust had settled.

Hammond looked even lousier than he’d done when he showed up at the Baxter Building. Perhaps the power cosmic had temporarily invigorated Hammond’s old flesh, because now it looked to be almost falling from his bones. Hector looked like he was rotting. He smelled like he was rotting too. Koul and Johnny did their best to cover their disgust – if only because they might never have recovered if they’d succumb to it.

~I must say, your visit comes as something of a surprise.~

Johnny sneered. “Yeah, well, you and me both, egghead. If it were up to me, I’d have burned you alive for what you did to Guy and Ben.”

~But then what incentive would I have to keep your secret? I presume it is still a secret? I can’t imagine the public would take too kindly to the thought of interdimensional travellers crossing over into our world and assuming their counterpart’s identities. The world hasn’t changed that much since they put me in this place.~

The heft collar around Hammond’s neck dampened his powers to the point that he could only use his telepathy to communicate. For all intents and purposes, sat opposite them was a normal middle-aged man, albeit a grotesque one.

“You’re just as ugly on the inside as you are on the outside, aren’t you, Hammond?”

Hammond’s dewy eyes turned to Rachna. Though his limbs were lifeless and unmoving, there was something perverse in Hammond’s gaze. He looked Koul up and down and then eventually, once his skin-crawling assessment had come to an end, returned his gaze back to Johnny.

~Who is your lady friend, Jonathan?~

“I can speak for myself,” Rachna said with a click in Hammond’s direction. “My name is Professor Rachna Koul and I am nobody’s lady friend.”

Hammond’s expression flitted from revulsion and curiosity as he looked again to Rachna – though this time not Rachna the woman, but Rachna the scientist. Eventually, something resembling a wet, whistling sigh left Hector’s drool covered lips.

~A shame.~

Koul rolled her eyes at the statement and with an encouraging nod from Johnny steered the conversation towards its true purpose. “We’re here to talk to you about Franklin Storm.”

The mention of Franklin Storm’s name seemed to set Hammond into an instant rage. At least, the nearest to a rage that a man incapable of moving his limbs could manage. The sickly-looking veins on Hammond’s forehead began to throb angrily and spittled leapt from his mouth and down his chin. His bulging eyes became fixed on Johnny Storm.

~This is another one of his tricks, isn’t it? He’s sent you here to torment me. He wants to know what I know about him because he’s still out there. That Agent Gardner of yours was lying. Gardner helped him to pretend that he was dead.~

“This isn’t a trick,” Johnny said with a solemn shake of his head. “He’s really dead, Hammond. That’s why we’re here. We’ve recently come into some … information that suggests that maybe Franklin didn’t kill himself at all. We think he was murdered. Maybe even by people he trusted.”

Upon hearing the words leave Johnny’s mouth, Hammond’s rage seem to be punctured. For a second, he almost appeared to be saddened by it. His forehead drooped, his breath sharpened, and his gaze dropped to the ground as if reflecting upon a lost friend. As soon as the moment had arrived, it passed – and it became clear that the sharpening of Hammond’s breath was not sadness, but excitement. There was a caustic quality to his eyes that seemed to indicate that Hammond was laughing – or at least trying to.

~It would not surprise me. You see, beneath that carefully-maintained veneer there was a cruelty to Franklin. He was a man with many enemies – and a man that deserved each and every one of them.~

“That’s not true,” Koul shouted across the room at a volume so loud it made Johnny jump. “There wasn’t a cruel bone in Franklin’s body.”

Out of Hammond’s sight, Johnny slipped his hand to his side and gently touched Koul’s wrist. It wasn’t a romantic gesture. Far from it, in fact. Johnny was simply worried that Rachna would lose her cool and end up saying something that couldn’t be unsaid. Without turning her head, Koul subtly nodded by way of confirmation and Johnny returned his hand to his lap.

~Trust me, my girl, I have known Franklin Storm a lot longer than you.~

When Johnny spoke, he intentionally lowered his voice. “You said that Franklin had a lot of enemies. Who else wanted him dead, Hammond?”

Hammond seemed to clam up in response to the question. The quadriplegic’s body language was difficult enough to read in normal circumstances, almost entirely restricted to micro-expressions and tiny facial movements, but when Hector decided not to play ball it was almost impossible to read him. Worse still, Johnny noticed that the end of the fifteen minutes that Koul had wrangled with Hammond were nearing an end.

~Let’s just say that Franklin lost a lot of friends when he decided to climb into bed with SHIELD.~

Koul let on a frustrated sigh and ran her prosthetic hand through her silken hair. “What does that mean? Stop talking in riddles, Hammond.”

~Why should I tell you anything? What do I stand to gain? If Franklin was murdered, he was murdered – and I regret only that I was not the one that murdered him. You come here offering nothing and expect my cooperation in aid of a man that I despised? Have you no sense at all?~

There was the rub, Johnny thought to himself with a smile as his eyes met with Hammond. For all his talk of despising Franklin Storm, Hector’s opposition to helping them wasn’t principled at all – they just hadn’t brought enough to the table. It made him sick to his stomach to know that Guy had been beaten half to death, Ben’s face had been permanently scarred, and their way home had been destroyed by a man so wretched and insignificant.

Johnny swallowed his contempt for Hammond and asked the follow-up question the villain had so clearly sought. “What is it you want?”

~This body of mine is useless. My brilliant mind languishes in a prison of my own making within this prison with nought to entertain it. But you, Jonathan Storm, possess that which I covet most.~

There was shame in Hector Hammond’s eyes. His face said that knew that the request he was about to make of Johnny Storm was pitiable but he was going to make it all the same. Johnny cast a quick look up to the clock on the wall again as he waited for Hammond to claw together the gumption to make his demands. Both men seemed to sense that something untoward was coming. Yet whether Johnny liked it or not, Hammond held all the cards – and the super-villain seemed to very aware of that fact.

~Your memories. The feel of a woman’s touch, the sun’s warmth on your skin, of sand beneath your toes, and the way they look at you, the adoration they pour on you. I want it, Jonathan. I want to feel again, but not just any life, I want your life. That is the price of my cooperation.~

Johnny nodded and stood up from his seat. He was halfway across the cell when he felt Rachna’s hand pulling him back. “Johnny, no.”

“You want to be a hero, Hector? So be it,” Johnny said as he pulled his arm free. “I’ll give you what you want, but in return you give me everything you know about Franklin Storm. You so much as hold back a single thing and the next time you see me, I really will burn you alive.”

Johnny's hand pressed against Hammond's skull. His skin was sopping wet but cold to the touch. Johnny could feel the veins on the villain's head throbbing against his palms. It would have made a lesser man's stomach churn. Hammond seemed to cherish the physical contact. Johnny wondered how long it had been since he'd been touched. Not long enough he thought, as a breathless phrase left Hammond's lips.

~We have a bargain then.~

Hector Hammond's eyes rolled back in his head and suddenly both he and Johnny Storm began to convulse noisily. Johnny's limbs flailed about wildly and he seemed to be making noises that were more befitting beast than man. Koul watched on in terror through her fingers, sending a silent prayer to whichever deity would listen that in aiding her find Franklin's murderer, Johnny had not lost himself completely.

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

:(

EDIT: Since Morden doesn't like bad posts: Sorry to hear that, Wil. Appreciated that you gave it the good ol' college try, and I hope to see ya around the Guild some more in the future. Like always, you're welcome to come back if you get that itch again.

@Superboy

But yeah, sorry to see you go @Witryso – all the best in your future endeavours, etc.

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

The Triskelion, SHIELD

The sound of Ben Grimm’s heavy fists slamming against the custom-made vibranium laced heavy bag reverberated around his quarters. On the couch a few metres away from him was a recuperating Guy Gardner with a copy of The New York Post in hand. Every few seconds, as Ben’s punches landed, Gardner would grimace and look away from its pages. After a few minutes of trying and failing to persevere despite the noise, Guy set the newspaper to the side and turned on the large flat-screen television on the wall.

A familiar face flashed appeared onscreen. Though he looked a little worse for wear and was still limping from taking a bullet through the leg, it was clearly Zhang Chin. Grainy footage of the chemist being bundled into the back of a truck played whilst some talking head ran through a list of his crimes. Guy rolled his eyes at the sight and reached to change the channel but the sound of Ben’s workout ending stayed his hand.

Ben let out a grumble as he sat next to Guy on the couch. “Can you believe this baloney? Last week Chin was sitting in a cell in The Hague awaiting trial and now that scumbag is free as a bird. And why? Because some bigwigs in China put the screws on Hill and she blinked.”

“Chin’s not free," Guy sighed without looking away from the screen. "He’s going to live out the rest of his life on house arrest in deepest, darkest China. It might not be the outcome we wanted, but it’s better than knowing he’s still out there selling his wares to the highest bidder.”

“Oh, I bet he’s out peddling that poison of his again before year’s end. You think the Chinese are doing this outta the goodness of their hearts? If they aren’t intending to put him to work, they’re gonna profit from having him out there, making those toxins of his. It makes me sick, Carrot Top. I don’t know how you’re sitting there so calm. You took two bullets to bring that sucker in, for pete’s sake.”

Ben was right, of course, the Chinese never did anything out of the goodness of their hearts – but the Americans weren’t any better. SHIELD was a United Nations-sanctioned body and that meant it worked above national interests. Gardner had spent his entire career making decisions that put global peace above the interests of his own country, and if Hill said this was a price worth paying, he would go along with it. Once decisions like this were made, they weren’t unmade. He’d learned that much from shadowing Dugan for years.

“Let’s just say this isn’t the first time I’ve been on the wrong side of diplomatic manoeuvring,” Guy responded with a slightly wistful smile.

It was met with a chuckle from Ben. “From what I seem to recall the only manoeuvring going on was you getting beneath Namor’s cousin.”

Guy rolled his eyes and turned over the channel. Amongst the dozen or so Guy flicked through, there was a live feed of New York mayor Calvin Cassidy giving a speech to students at NYU, some kind of game show presented by a man with fiery red hair and clownish clothing, and some Canadian football highlights. He landed on another news channel and was about to flick back to the football highlights when another familiar face appeared on the screen.

“<Reed Richards and the inaugural class of his new academic institution the Future Foundation touched down in the Democratic Republic of Latveria this morning. Recently-elected Latverian president Victor von Doom is, of course, a fellow graduate of the now-defunct Baxter Buil->

A smile appeared on Guy’s face and he pointed towards the screen. “Well, will you look at that? Doc's taking those kids of his to meet Doom.”

Ben looked conflicted. He watched as Reed made his way down the steps of the private jet with his students following behind him. They were all decked out in white costumes, with a few personalised flourishes here and there, with overawed expressions splashed on their faces. It was probably the first time most of them had even been on a plane, let alone to Europe. Latveria was a hell of a place to take your first vacation.

“Reed did always want to teach someday ... but Doom? Christ, I mean, I know the whole world’s gone mad but ‘good guy’ or not, the Stretch I knew would never have waltzed a bunch of teenagers into the heart of Latveria. What was it that Johnny said? Once a Doom, always a Doom.”

“That reminds me,” Guy said with an accusatory look. “When we first met back on the Pegasus, you said something about us having met be-”

Ben shook his head abruptly and interrupted the SHIELD agent. “Can’t do it.”

“What?! You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“Of course I know what you was gonna ask, Stretch expressly forbid me from talking about this kinda stuff with people, Carrot Top. Something about it throwing off the time-space continuum and the whole universe collapsing.”

Guy was so taken aback by Ben’s refusal that he found himself springing to his feet. The shock of pain that ran through his side made him almost instantly regret it but he did his best to mask it. It was, at least to Gardner’s reckoning, the first time that Grimm had ever refused him anything, and though he was aware he was about to sound slightly entitled, he couldn’t help but hold his indignation back.

“Are you being serious? I’ve heard you talk about Doom being a bad guy on your Earth a thousand times. You and Johnny even said it to his face. And what about the kid telling Spider-Woman about that Spider-Man guy back on your Earth? Where was the continuum thing then?!”

“Look, rules are rules,” Ben shrugged. “I’d love to be able to tell you, I really would, but what happens if by telling you I set in motion a course of events that brings about the zombie apocalypse or something? You ain’t thinking this through.”

“Come on, Benji.”

Ben let out a heavy sigh and gestured to Guy to return to the couch. “Alright, alright, but if the Horseman of Death comes charging through that door or an asteroid wipes us out two minutes after I tell you, it’s on you.”

Guy’s indignation melted away and he nodded bashfully before launching himself back onto the couch. Ben used one of his craggy digits to indicate to Guy to learn towards him and deployed his gravelly voice at a whisper so low that Gardner had to strain to hear him. His bright blue eyes sparked with earnestness. Guy’s twinkled with expectation.

“On my Earth, you were a hero.”

“I knew it,” Guy said as he launched a spontaneous fist punch high above his head. “I knew I was a cape. What was my name? What were my powers?! Was I more powerful than you? I bet I was. If you can lift a firetruck over your head, I should be able to lift a mountain at least.”

“I ain’t even gonna lie to you,” Ben nodded. “You were about as powerful as they came. Your powers … well, they were really something. Like, I thought Stretch and Suzie could pull off some crazy stuff with theirs but you were something else – like a force of nature. Lowlifes and creeps all around the galaxy knew your name.”

“Super-Guy? Incredi-Guy? No, no, that doesn’t work. Strong Guy? Oh, that’s just ridiculous. What was my name, Benji? I’m dying over here.”

Ben looked over his shoulder as if he were being surveyed, perhaps suddenly cautious of having revealed too much already. “Your name?”

Guy nodded. His green eyes were overflowing with excitement. His entire childhood Guy Gardner had wanted nothing more than to be a superhero and here Grimm was on the cusp of confirming that in some world, if not his own, he had been one. All those years spent burying his head in General Glory comics had been building towards this moment. Guy felt his heart stop as Ben opened his mouth to speak.

“The Condiment King.”

The moment the words left Ben’s mouth, all of the blood and the excitement from Guy’s face seemed to drain away. “You son of a bitch.”

Guy launched a punch in Ben’s direction. It landed with a crunch against Ben’s shoulder and the SHIELD agent fell backwards in his seat cradling his knuckles. He’d broken at least two of his fingers. Not that Ben seemed to care, he was too busy leaving back in his seat howling at the top of his lungs so loudly it could be heard outside of their quarters.

“Your face! My god, I really had you going there for a second, didn’t I? Guy Gardner – the Condiment King. Striking fear into the heart of bad guys all across the galaxy one squeezy bottle of ketchup at a time. Oh christ, that was priceless. I wish Matchstick was here to see your face!”

Gardner shook his head angrily, plucked up his copy of The New York Post, and left Ben's quarters. The Thing was still laughing to himself when his gaze returned to the television screen on the wall. Reed was shaking hands with a Latverian diplomat and inviting the teenagers to do so one-by-one. Ben's laughter tapered out slowly until he was left, silent and alone, staring vacantly at his best friend's smiling face.

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

I think on some level we all know what constitutes acceptable behaviour and unacceptable behaviour regarding this kind of thing.

If you want to drop us a messaging letting us know that work or personal life stuff is getting on top of you and you're going to have a slow month or so, feel free to do so – that's fine. You'll find we're pretty accommodating on that front. What isn't acceptable, of course, is the kind of extractive behaviour we've seen in the past: of people jumping in and out at opportune times IC in lieu of having put the work in themselves.

Short of that, if you need to take time out, take time out. This is meant to be fun, after all. If worrying about meeting deadlines, or not being able to post, is making you stress out, step away and handle your business and come back when you're feel up to it again.

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

I'd much rather we all suffer through a slow month or two and allow people to return in their own time than "reboot" (well, relaunch post-hiatus) the game at some arbitrary point further down the line, only for it to peter out within a week or two. I don't know that anyone with any experience of how things go in games like these on this website can honestly say it would end otherwise.

If life is kicking your butt at the moment, fine. Sit it out for a while and hop back on when you can. I don't see why other people posting whilst you get your affairs in order should be a hindrance to anyone.

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

@Master Bruce and I have previously discussed having a lengthy break between Seasons Two and Three in the event that we do make the end of this season, so I think it's reasonable to expect more time to get your affairs in order between seasons going forward.

With that being said, I've no interest in going on hiatus as is, partly because I don't think it's fair on those active posters, though fewer than there have been in the past, to have to wait around in the hope of other people who have dropped already to maybe come back. That doesn't sit quite right with me.

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

I should have a post up tomorrow

@HenryJonesJr

They don't come more reliable than you, Henry.

Ultimate One Universe: Season Two

New Atlantis, Atlantis

There was a broad smile across Sue Storm’s face. The man she loved with her whole was about to propose. At least, she presumed as much – why else would Reed Richards be on one knee with ring box in hand? There was a bashful grin on his face, prouder than any she had ever seen on it before, as he tried to summon up the strength to speak the words he’d clearly rehearsed a thousand times, if not more. The quiet corner of Central Park they had carved out for themselves was so quiet that even at a near-whisper Reed’s voice was still audible.

“Susan Victoria Richards, over the past four years, we have shared more adventures than I can remember and in that time you have proved to be the best friend – and though Ben and Johnny certainly wouldn’t thank me for this – the best teammate that I could have ever asked f-”

A sudden blast shook the park. In the distance a blinding light shone. Sue looked towards it and let out a gasp as its light came charging towards them. She looked towards her fiance, who was scrambling around for the ring box he had dropped the ground, and let out a piercing scream as Reed’s face was torn apart by the blast as if his skin were made of ash. She was still screaming in her dream when her eyes awoke.

She was no longer in Central Park and Reed Richards was nowhere to be seen. In his place was a figure that was as discomforting as the thought of Reed was comforting. It took only one glance at the man’s purple and grey armour to identify him. For whatever reason, however she had ended up there, Orm Marius was standing guard over Sue Storm’s hospital room. He did not look at all happy to have been relegated to such a lowly duty but he stood sentinel still all the same.

Sue stole a glance at him through eyes that were bruised and blackened. Her whole body hurt. Orm glanced over his shoulder in her direction and Sue’s eyes shut again. She couldn’t bear to feel the weight of the general’s gaze on her – there was something about him that made Sue feel comfortable, something that she knew to distrust, and those orange lenses did little to convince her otherwise.

A voice devoid of emotion forced its way through Orm’s paper-thin lips and slithered across the room. “I know you are awake, surface-dweller.”

Sue’s blood ran cold at the sound of Orm’s voice. Her body was still so battered that she could barely keep her eyes open long enough to see the Atlantean general skulk from across the room towards her bedside. Yet she could feel his shadow looming over her and feel the sound of his armour moving gently as he breathed.

Her eyes still closed, Sue tried to summon up the strength to speak. When she did, her wavering voice was coarse and quiet. “Where am I?”

“You are safe,” Orm sneered. Sue didn't need to see his face to feel the contempt dripping from his every word. “Sixty-two Atlanteans lost their lives in the attack, the princess’s life hangs in the balance, but it appears that your powers shielded you from the worst of the explosion.”

The number struck Sue in the chest like a sledgehammer and she felt wet on her cheeks. It took her a few moments to realise she was crying. The tears stung against the scratch marks on her face. Sue began to try to piece together what had happened but her memories were hazy.

“I’m sorry, Orm,” Sue murmured as she forced upon her teary eyes to look up at the Atlantean. “I’m so sorry.”

“General Marius,” Orm responded icily.

“The girl,” Sue whispered almost to herself rather than the general. “One moment she was smiling and then the next she … she exploded? Who was she? None of this makes any sense.”

From behind the orange lenses set into his helmet, Orm’s eyes narrowed. There was no anger in them, only a steely, emotionless judgement. The large gauntlets wrapped around his hands wrapped around the edge of Sue Storm’s bed tightly and he leant towards her ever so slightly. He was close enough now for Sue to see the shoots of black hair beneath his helm and to make out the beady, brown eyes locked on her.

“Of course it doesn’t make sense to you. Why would it? This is not your world. You know nothing of our people. The history of Atlantis is not in your blood, as it is in mine and was in theirs, and still you presume yourself qualified to advise our king on the affairs of the Atlantean state.”

One of Orm’s gauntleted hands released its clutch on the side of Sue’s bed and reached towards her frail form. She felt the Atlantean’s armoured fingers wrap tight around the collar of her bedgown and tug her slightly towards him. Her heart raced and her palms grew sweaty with shock. She was too weak to stop him, she knew that, and her powers seemed to have been sapped by protecting her from the explosion.

“The girl was with the Drowned," Orm spat the last word like its presence in his mouth disgusted him. "Manta struck at the heart of Atlantis – at our very capital – and because of your weakness, our kingdom is shaken to its very core. All of Atlantis saw you bid the king invite the girl onto the stage. And yet while freeborn Atlantean men lie dead, you still draw breath. Where is the justice in that?”

Sue fought through the pain to lift one of her hands towards her collar and attempt to prize Orm away from it. “I want to speak to the king.”

“No, I think you have done enough damage," the general sneered as he slapped Sue’s hand away like a gnat.

Something seemed to turn on in Orm’s brain. The brown orbs behind the general’s lensed helmet lost their frigid cold and instead became fiery hot. He lifted his other hand from the side of the bed and clamped it around Sue’s neck. She let out a pained sob as it tightened around his throat. Orm reinforced it with his other hand and began to squeeze until Sue’s already-bruised face began to turn red.

“Once I am done scalding Manta and his adherents from the face of our kingdom, your world will be next, Susan. Know that your actions have guided the king’s hand towards war with the surface world more readily than any of my treatises ever could. Even now, my men make their way towards Maine to destroy that pretender to the thr-”

Sue’s nails were busy scratching helplessly against Orm’s gauntlets when a sudden knock on the door made the general release his hold on her neck. She took a sudden, desperate breath of air as the Atlantean let her body flop weakly back onto the bed. Orm sneered down at her as the door crept open and a young woman, no older than seventeen or eighteen from the look of her, appeared in the doorway of the room.

Her fiery red hair seemed to have a life of its own. Atop her head was rested what looked like a crown, though Sue had never seen any princess other than Namora since arriving in Atlantis, nor heard talk of one, but from the way the girl carried herself it was clear she was nobility – or at least used to be. Upon noticing Sue struggling for breath she pursed her lips and looked towards the ground, perhaps afraid of incurring the general’s wrath.

“General Marius, the king requests your presence.”

A flicker of annoyance crossed Orm’s face. He stepped back from Sue’s bed and his eyes seemed to revert back to their usual emotionless state. Sue rubbed at her sore throat as she watched the general match across the room towards the messenger girl. He stopped in front of her and looked her up and down.

“Xebellian vermin,” he muttered and let out a mouthful of spit that landed loudly at the red-haired young woman’s feet before exiting the room.

The young woman until Orm was out of earshot before making her way towards Sue’s bed. Without asking she pulled up a seat beside Sue and began inspecting the choke marks around her neck. Once the Xebellian had seen enough, her fingers began to glow with a blue energy that Sue didn’t recognise. The Invisible Woman drew back in her bed somewhat but the young girl reassured her with a smile and slowly the bruising on Sue’s neck disappeared.

With that the girl turned to leave. She was halfway across the room when something that Orm had said seemed to stick in Sue’s mind. Maine.

“Orm said you were from Xebel?” Sue called out to the young woman. “Is that right?”

The girl turned to face Sue and nodded guilty in her direction. “Yes, I am.”

“I didn’t realise that there were any Xebellians left.”

The softness in Sue’s voice seemed to catch the red-haired woman off guard. It was almost as if she was suspicious that Sue’s interest was a trap of some sort. When she spoke next she adopted a posture and a tone of voice that seemed to indicate that she was simply going through the motions – as if she had been forced to account for her people for many years.

“My people were rightly punished for siding with the traitor Atlan during the Glorious Reclama-”

“Stop it,” Sue said firmly. She beckoned the girl to return to the seat at her bedside with a smile. “You don’t have to do that. Not with me.”

Hearing the words leave Sue’s mouth was like a weight lifted off the young woman’s shoulders. She sunk into the seat by Sue’s bed and let out a heavy sigh of relief at not having to live a lie for the briefest of moments. Sue pulled herself to the edge of the bed and placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder with a maternal squeeze.

“What’s your name?”

From the way that the young girl looked at her it was clear that no-one had thought to ask her name in a very long time. “My name is Mera.”