A Year Passes - Where Are We Now?

Miami, Florida- just after noon


Neo-Human Containment Units had taken up position, shutting down entire blocks in hopes of keeping their target from escaping or causing widespread damage. Soldiers in black tactical gear with futuristic weapons drawn steered traffic away, ushered civilians to safety, and stood ready for the slightest hint of danger. Armored vehicles swarmed the streets like ants emerging from a hill. It was as if war had come to the city and in a way, it had. Ever since the destruction of the Denver facility, attempts to round up escapees, some of which were incredibly dangerous Neo-Humans, had the new branch of law enforcement scrambling. Men and women were going days without sleep as they worked long hours to keep the populace safe and sadly, it didn't appear to be getting any better. Every other day a new incident occurred and the escapees had made it far and wide across North America


One such escapee, a murdering psychopath that liked to use his hydrokinesis to burn victims, yes burn by upping the PH level of the water itself, had holed up in the water treatment plant. He had all the resources he needed to hurt a lot of people, ruin infrastructure, and really let loose with his powers. His treatment at the containment facility was less than humane, but his own humanity was in question long before he was incarcerated and experimented on. This particular Neo-Human was the kind that proved the existence of a force that could protect mundane humans from those with powers was more than reasonable. In the last year scenes just like the one they responded to had become the norm, the evening news seemingly leading with a new Neo-Human incident nightly.

“We move in and he could destroy the whole plant. There are still workers inside. Besides, we don't know what he's really capable if. Water movement over the course of ages cuts canyons. Imagine all that power released all at once. The entire city could wind up in the ocean or under it. Hell, drowning would be the least of our concerns if he uses water to cut down anyone in his way or if he has the power to cause the sea to go acidic” the incident commander explained. “No, we need to wait until…”


The commander’s speech was interrupted when ACDC’s Are You Ready? started blaring over all com units. ”The cavalry arrives? Don’t worry kiddoes, daddy’s here to check under the bed.”



Landing to the applause of uniformed soldiers and civilians alike, Iron Man waved.



“Sir, we have a…”



“Hydrokinetic? Hydromancer? Whatever, we got Waterboy inside with hostages. I’ve got this,” Tony assured them.



A short time later the neo-human came flying out…through the cement wall, Stark not far behind. Before the man could raise his aquatic acid shield Tony absently fired an elongated projectile at him, not even bothering to look his direction.



“F.R.I.D.A.Y? Remind me to give some tips to the right people on how they can make water treatment facilities more, I dunno, not archaic? And while you are at it make sure to reschedule my meeting with General What’s His Nuts. I just found something better to annoy.”



“The brunette reporter sir?” his artificial assistant asked.



“No, fangirl at the front of the barrier. Red…no fuchsia highlights. Legs for days. The one uploading pics of this whole thing to Instagram. Right along side some rather daring Spring Break bikini shots…” he explained as he scanned her social media profiles.



“Sir, you did just fire a high powered electric charge into the target. The same one developed for battling future iterations of the Extremis soldiers. I’m not reading any vitals.”



“Doesn’t surprise me. Water plus electricity equals bad times. I mean sure it’s a little Loony Toons, toaster in the bathtub but if it works…okay now the pics she didn’t post? That’s got to be illegal in...twelve states?



Truthfully he was less interested in yet another brainless bimbo and more in why someone who should have been terrified was instead playing paparazzi. With the way things had gotten harrier following the Denver Incident, he knew he was being watched, sometimes by the so-called Resistance and other times by the very government he was trying to aid. Besides, the last time he took someone’s social media profile at face value he ended up with Natasha Romanov shadowing him. Not that a beautiful woman stalking his every move was something he was against, but with the possibility of war on the horizon, he needed his privacy from prying eyes…no matter how pretty said peepers may be.



“Look at the upside Fri…the new suit is hella photogenic.”

How long had it been? Months, a year? You would be excused for thinking a man like Steve Rogers, the 'perfect' human being, had an excellent track of time. In some sense, that was true; yet with everything that had happened in the past year, he'd seldom been concerned with lengths of time or days on a calendar. Not while neohumans were being hunted in the streets, and certainly not while even those regular folk in the world were cautious and fearful of him. This new world had been a rough and difficult one, full of surprises and twists and turns, and he had to be very careful else for an instant he would break what little trust he'd garnered.

Every action, every movement, had been carefully planned and executed. The moment Steve stumbled through the portal in Central Park, greeted by this world's own super soldier, Raz, leading up to being allowed into military service, to hunting his first neo against his will; even to the capture of Peyton Powers, it had all been calculated. He had been judged and criticized by many, and those harsh words he'd taken in stride even while he yearned to change sides and save as many as he could. But it was not yet time. While the conspiracy had been unraveled, one of the government's many containment facilities discovered and ransacked; still, he remained on their side. Perhaps it was because Tony Stark stayed on the government's hand, and he was not eager to repeat the deadly Civil War. Or, maybe it was because he felt there were still ways he could help from this side, and it was that which held him in place.

There were other reasons, however. While there indeed were many cons, and several times where Steve felt he was entirely on the wrong side, being a government lapdog was not without its benefits. In particular, it gave him the freedom to act more decisively as a hero, where he could. When word reached them of a terrorist group, a large scale robbery, or a monster on the loose in the streets; Captain America could freely act to counter it. And he would. The latter of those issues turned out to be the case, an alert reached the army base where he was stationed of a half-mutated being causing rampant destruction in the streets, crazed and disabling what few officers had already been dispatched with ease. It was times like these that Steve was glad he was with the army.

"E.T.A five minutes!" The pilot yelled over the radio, projected into the cargo hold of the Boeing Chinook Steve and his squad rode. They had deployed fast and were ready to hit hard. These men were among those who trusted their Captain implicitly and would follow him to the grave so long as he led the way. Steve wore his dark blue Captain America garb, star proudly emblazoned on the front, and he leaned against his vibranium shield across his back. At the word of the pilot he stood and walked to the door, unlatching the seal and opening it, letting the cold fresh air fill the compartment. Then he turned and looked at each of his men in the eye.

"Listen up! We don't have much time, so I'll keep this short and sweet. We're jumping into a combat zone that has lots of civvies, and I'm sure many of you have family nearby. We keep this clean, nonlethal rounds and no friendly fire. You know the drill. We take down the target, and we all go home. Let's make 'em proud." Steve returned to the door and looked, and down on the street, he saw an enlarged individual beating some poor guy senseless. He had growths and mounds growing from his skin as if some horrible reaction to a thing Steve couldn't understand. He was sure the scientists back home would have a field day on this one. The beast's surroundings were rough and broken, wrecked cars and possibly lifeless bodies scattered everywhere. The buildings nearby were damaged by impact, but remained standing and more or less intact.

It was like a warzone; but it was all going to turn out okay. Captain America had arrived.

The copter lowered to the street, cautiously squeezing between the buildings on either side, and Steve lept down to the floor. He didn't know if the man was still breathing, but his first priority was at least dislodging the monster off of him in case he was. The Captain landed with a thud and rushed his target, shield braced before him, and although in his mutated form the monster was a good deal larger, Steve still rammed him with all his force. His muscles surged, and he pushed with all his strength, and that was enough because the two of them soared back and crashed to the ground. Rogers was on top now, and readied to slam his shield across the skull of the mutate, but was stopped once the monster shifted and pummeled Steve's side with a massive fist. The strike was strong and fierce, and Steve lost his footing and flew several feet; he regained just enough coordination to roll on landing, and he was standing before the beast was.

As the monster rose, the rest of Steve's squad deployed from the helicopter, two racing to inspect the beaten man and drag him from the street while the others unloaded their weapons against the neo. The rubber bullets bounced off him with little effect, though some stunned him and caused him to stumble. But then the beast roared, a powerful and loud sound that hit like a shockwave, and that knocked the all of them prone. All, except for Captain America. He was ready and saw it coming, and instead of bracing for it he charged again. His shield took the impact and the force, and although his ears rang and his skull rattled, he rushed his foe and delivered several quick and relentless jabs to his midsection, and followed it with and spinning backhand with his shield. Again, the beast fell back, only this time Steve was more successful and planted a devastating punch against the neo's skull.

And that was the end of it.

Steve helped with the clean up where he could, removing rubble, relocating bodies, checking for survivors. Fortunately, the majority of the victims of the assault were only unconscious, though more than a few would have scars or worse. It wasn't long at all until the media arrived at the scene, with their cameras and their microphones and equipment, and they demanded a statement. "What do you know about the freakish monster," and "what can the army and government do to protect us," were mixed with other questions as "why did it take so long for the army to respond," and "what do you plan to do to retaliate against the neo population". Steve did not have an answer for them. He never did. He was not the paparazzi neophyte that Tony Stark was.

But there was something he could say. "I don't believe it's right to group all these people together. This was an isolated case, and it has been dealt with. If there are people in danger, that will be dealt with too. My sympathies go out to all those who were injured, or if you had friends or family who lost their lives. I promise, your safety is our number one priority. There's nothing else more important to us. If you're in danger, we will be there; that's a promise."

Many wouldn't accept that at its basic level. Incidentally, Steve would remain there for some time, answering what questions he could, until a government official would finally arrive to relieve him. But he did speak the truth, as he always would. To him, to Captain America, to Steve Rogers - protecting human life and freedom was something he focused all his attention on day after day.

If that meant he had to play the bad guy for months, or even a year, then he absolutely would.

Red Hood stared quizzically at the sticky strands of some sort of fibrous material hanging off the nose of his favorite gargoyle, carefully taking it in between his first two fingers and thumb, a slight grimace painting across his face at the sensation of it catching fast to his skin and not letting go. Apparently someone else had started snooping around in his quiet spot, the one part of the city that he would sneak away to when he needed a moment to decompress from the strangeness and intensity that was his life. Between killer clown couples vying for control of the city's criminal underbelly for their own chaotic means, alien monsters that wanted to eat him in a very cruel and unusual displays of justice, and various elements of his old world creeping into the new life he oh-so carefully was trying to build for himself, one needed a breather now an then, a means to calm down, reanalyze, and figure out just where the hell everything went completely sideways.

“I guess I can't come here anymore,” Jason grumbled to himself, sharply shaking the threads caught to his fingers. With an annoyed sigh, he looked out towards the skyline of New York City, a gargoyle's eye view that he had grown accustomed to, but was now clearly compromised. A quick infrared scan from his helmet revealed him to be alone for now, no other living beings save for a pigeon or two in the encompassing area, but this would need to be his last visit here for a while. Hood grabbed onto the wing of the stone beast and pulled himself on top of it, as he usually did, pulled off his helmet, and dug out a carton of cigarettes from his jacket. “Begin recording,” he commanded, the eyes of his titular red hood glowing as he flicked a lighter and set the end of a drawn cigarette hanging from his mouth ablaze.

“It's been only a year, and already half of New York's underworld, half of an entire criminal empire, is under my direct control. If Harley Quinn didn't have the other half...and worse, hadn't handed it over to her deranged f**k buddy, I'd have this whole operation running like clockwork...not crime free, unfortunately, but I'm not so naive to think that's even a possibility. At the very least, the flow of illegal activity is manageable, and kept out of the lives of everyday people trying to live out their day to day. Keeps me busy, my mind occupied. Arsenal thinks I need to take more breaks, that I'm burning the candle at both ends, but this is while he's juggling a day job, a kid, and running out playing Robin Hood til all hours of the night. 'You gotta just sit back and smell the pancakes, Jaybird,' he says. God, I hate that nickname. Makes me want to shove his quiver down his throat.”

Jason drew a long drag on his cigarette, getting the hot ash burn in his chest for a moment before slowly exhaling, watching the stream of grey smoke waft out over the city. “Despite that, though, after the incident with Venom last year...with Venom and BATMAN , I've been finding myself with the archer more and more often. He and his daughter want me around, kinda this little family unit which...honestly...its kind of a nice change, an odd sense of normalcy in a way . It's been a long time since I felt I actually belonged somewhere. Like I had a place to go home to. A place where I'm remembered and it means something if I'm there and missed when I'm not.” He paused in his thoughts, shrugging to himself with a small, amused smirk. “The Unfortunates have definitely noticed I haven't been at the boarding house most nights. Especially Liliya . She tries to hide it, but I think it upsets her in a way...like I'm choosing him over her or something, or will never come back for whatever reason. Maybe I should take her out on patrol with me soon. There have been some incidents in my territory lately...mysterious assaults of local dealers in the area being left in...unsavory positions. Not dead, but perhaps they'd prefer to be. Someone of Liliya's ability might be able to assist in a proper investigation, figure out who's behind this and stop them before it gets out of hand. Heh...Batman would probably scoff and scold me for using neo-human powers to solve a case, but really, when have I ever done anything he'd approve of anyway?”

Another drag was pulled as Jason drifted and lost himself in thought. “He's been quiet lately. No stirrings or rumors at all about a mysterious bat figure sweeping the streets at all.” Another pause, longer this time. “Doesn't matter. The less I hear of him, the better. And the past will finally just stay where it belongs, back in Gotham, far far away from me.” He tapped the burned down end of his cigarette against the horn of the gargoyle, and sucked down the last bit of it, a few stray thoughts still swimming through his mind.

“End recording.”

New Latveria

Standing atop one of the many viewing areas built into the renovated castle now being called New Doomstadt, Victor von Doom gazed over the new country he spent the last year building. At first they called him a dictator, a tyrant, a terrorist and other buzzwords those from his home dimension could use to paint him as the biggest possible threat. Now and again the media, hungering for a story that didn't involve rehashing the latest costumed battle royale or governmental scandal would return to such tactics, asking whether or not his annexation of areas in the region was complete. For those that had made the journey with him to New Earth it was as it had been and even his new subjects were starting to see the benefits of living under the iron will of Doom.

Schools were built with education available to all. Medical facilities greater than those present in the United States or Europe were aiding those who had lost limbs with mechanical prosthesis devices and working on cures for diseases that others were years behind on. Crime, though rampant in the early days of the nation's founding had been eradicated, even minor crimes punished lethally by Doom's followers or the ever present armies of Doombots that patrolled the streets. Even the United Nations, wary of a dimensional transplant whose first act was to forge a new country out of the remains of those he had conquered, had begun considering giving him a seat on the council.

More importantly was the ever increasing numbers of Neo-Humans immigrating to New Latveria. Doom's promise of peace and prosperity had been a powerful draw. The scenes of his subjects living without fear of normal crime emboldened the idea that perhaps even powered crime was under control in this new realm. As such the media held fast to the claim that Doom was building a super powered army so that he could conquer more of the world with ease.

Bah! As if Doom needs anyone or anything beyond his own brilliance and strength of character to rule! he thought.

Others tried to discredit the idea of a safe haven for those with powers, concocting stories to scare Neo-Humans more than they already were, tales of their kind vanishing once they reached New Latveria. Such things were ridiculous in the extreme for even those who knew Doom from their home dimensions would surely know that Victor was above petty bigotry and prejudices. Those with superhuman abilities, like those without, were all beneath Doom but all equally as useful should they agree to serve him and obey his every command.

Not that Stark or the other simpletons would ever make a statement that defends Doom. Alas, I am far too useful a boogeyman for their own agendas to risk such things.

While crass in their assessment of his motives, the media and bureaucrats were not wrong that his reasons for offering a safe haven for Neo-Humans were less than altruistic. Indeed having a large Neo-Human presence within New Latveria was something he very much desired and for reasons beyond what the minds of politicians and news personalities could possibly comprehend. Those reasons however, were his own and the world would be made aware of the truth only at such a time that it was of benefit to him. Until then there were other concerns to see to, a long list of them. There was the ever present threat of the brute that was Graviton and of course the extremist cause of Magneto , Erik's proclamation at the White House all but ensuring his Homo-Superior agenda extended to all with powers on New Earth and not simply the mutants of back home. It was why both remained under as close observation as Doom could manage, they and others such as the rapidly rising star that was Lex Luthor and one Bruce Wayne. Even rumors of the Princess of Wakanda Princess Shuri appearing on New Earth had required Doom's attention.

At the moment however, Doom had to focus on the matter at hand. Turning to a holographic projector in the center of the room he raised a hand, goblet held tightly in it, and acknowledged the person on the other end.

“You approach Doom under false pretenses, claiming to offer the hand of friendship to New Latveria. But in your other hand you clutch a metaphorical dagger meant to pierce my back in a manner not unlike that which slew Julius Caesar or more aptly like Cain ending Abel. After all, do you not claim we are brothers, if not by blood than in purpose?”

“I've been honest with you Victor. I've learned much about the cause of these dimensional tears, those vortexes that are depositing you and those like you here. I'm seeking only to end them, to save my planet from the dangers they posed to yours and others like it. You are a man uniquely positioned to aid in this goal, to end the danger. We are both students of the arcane and men of science and as such we see the big picture. We need not be at odds,” a man replied, his voice echoing as if more than one being spoke at once.


“So you claim,” Doom replied. “Yet, your actions, those you have sought to keep hidden from the world, appear to prove otherwise. You've undermined Stark, have prolonged the conflict between those with abilities and those mundane mortals that give marching orders to soldiers, and have even spied upon and taken action against Doom.”


The mysterious man sighed. “Victor, you fault me for doing as you would. You were an unknown quantity added to an already volatile situation. I needed to know who you were and where you stood. There are already enough obstacles in my way when it comes to doing what must be done. I had to know what side you'd come down on when things truly start moving.”

“Doom is, as always, on Doom's side. I will however admit you are not as soft brained as others or as meddlesome as those that deign to declare themselves heroes. That said, you are so singularly focused on your goal you fail to see potential to further exploit the power behind these quaintly named dimensional disturbances.”

“There is no way to control them, no power than can leash the threats they will bring, no technology you or anyone can develop to stop the cosmic dinner bell that will be rung if Neo-Humans continue using their abilities!” the man snapped.

Doom shook his head. “Alas, such is the view of those without vision. Perhaps you are not so different and the praise I laid at your feet was unjustly delivered. Still, our alliance will last, stand as it has, for as long as it is of benefit. Magnus and Graviton believe themselves capable of forging a similar agreement, but I know them well enough to know it is but a matter of time before one or both attempt to renegotiate the terms of our agreement. And when that moment comes, the powers unleashed by all sides involved will be greater than the mild-threat these home grown Neo-Humans present. Until such a time, Doom shall as always, martyr himself by shouldering the responsibility of containing the Neanderthal-like tendencies of the aforementioned Judases.”

Not allowing the other party to respond, Doom cut the connection off as he walked over to a balcony.

“Despite the potential in that one, he fails to realize what others have come to learn the hard way. Demons, gods, Watchers, even the accursed fool Richards have all discovered the truth. Doom bows to no one and nothing is beyond Doom's infinite will!”

     The rain echoed off of the roof, the floor creaked with the heating system kicking on, and the woman was too busy cleaning up the bar to pay any attention to Logan, but that was okay. He had dawned the 1,000 yard stare as a million different lifetimes replayed in his mind. In one moment he was running with the pack in the wilds of Canada. They had been tracking the moose for a few days now, but they were close and the beast was getting tired. He leaped over a fallen log, only to land on a battlefield. He turned his back and brought his arm forward in an all too common "C'mon!" motion. They were crossing No Man's Land. The German line was only a few hundred feet in front of them, but that could've felt like miles. His squad started charging as fast as they could through the gun fire. Logan never looked back, never slowed, and never thought of showing mercy. The trenches came into view as he saw a machine gun open fire. In the flashes of light the scenery changed. He was with Ororo in the Danger Room in a way that would've made the Professor incredibly angry.

     In another flash, he was in World War II, looking at the nuclear bomb that was about to be dropped only feet from him. He could easily recall the pain, for the split second that he had experienced it. Once he regenerated he was in the wilds of Canada, coming home too Silver Fox's corpse. The rage had washed over him, as the deaths of loved ones started playing in front of him. The pain was unlike anything someone should have to endure. But after what felt like a lifetime, he felt a warm hand on his bare shoulder.

"Hero, hey. Listen to my voice. Come back to me."

     He blinked a few times as his vision slowly came back into focus. He saw the beautiful brunette's face. Her gorgeous eyes staring back at him, genuine concern on her face.

"Hey love. You were gone awhile."

"Bein' alive for almost two centuries will do that to ya." He retorted.

"It isn't good to bottle things up like you do. I know you've heard that a million times, but it's true. I know a little bit about both, pain, and bottling. Just vent to me. It'll keep me distracted while I finish up the last bit of cleaning and we can go back to bed."

     Logan had thought about it for a little bit. He wasn't one to offload his issues onto others, but he had no one else. There weren't any X-Men, as far as he knew. He didn't have the Danger Room, he didn't have to deal with The Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, even if Erik was doing his damnedest to create them here. Hell, he didn't even have his own personal demon known as Sabretooth to torture him. "I ever tell you I can talk to animals? It ain't like spoken words, I just know what they are thinkin' and feelin' and likewise they me. I also can hear your heartbeat from here, and I know, because of scent, that you're gunna start tomorrow."

"I knew I wasn't a weak B*tch. Friggin' hormones." She said with a smirk on her face.

     He just smiled at her reaction. "I fought in World War one, World War two, been to Vietnam, Korea, even did some stuff in Iraq. But that is hush-hush and we don't talk about it. I was born with powers, but I was turned into a living weapon. Having an unbreakable metal bonded to my body. Which you know. Sorry about the pelvis. Except, I'm the only Canadian who ain't sorry."

"What were you really thinking about?" Her tone was less playful this time.

"I was thinking about both world wars, actually. But the real thoughts were how I never really felt like I belonged anywhere. I teamed up with a bunch of different teams; X-Men, X-Force, The Avengers, as well as a too many different variations of those teams. I got a bunch of people I fight alongside; Captain America, Blue Dragon, Daredevil, Spider-Man, Deadpool, for examples. But I ain't really got friends. Everywhere I go, I ain't really welcome. This last year shows it. I earned me a reputation for bein' a fixer, but nobody really wants me around. I'm a freak."

     She stopped what she was doing and looked over her shoulder. The light from over the counter highlighting her heart shaped ass perfectly. "I want you around."

"For now toots. Everyone gets scared of me at some point. Under the costume, under the skin. I am an animal. And I cannot be trusted. But that's all for a different time. This last year wasn't all that different for me. I saved some friends, killed some bad guys, prevented a war that nobody even knows was about to break out. And yet, I still don't feel like I belong here. I live day to day just trying to find people I know and figure out how I got here. I should find Stark, but I ain't about to get involved with the government. Not with the kind of sh*t I've seen."

     She had been leaning over the bar while he spoke, this time the shadows accentuating her chest amazingly. "So, what are you about to do?"

"You." He smiled slightly. He was still feeling off. But a good, long, rough session helps.