Kaecilius's POV
I stood in the air with a smile adorning my face as I stared at the massive alchemy formula carved into the face of the mountain. Exactly one million people would die from this, but the president of Russia had expected as much and approved of it—even though he didn't strictly trust me.
His advisors—a handful of rogue magicians who stumbled upon knowledge that escaped from the libraries of Kamar-Taj—could only vaguely discern the meaning of my spellwork. It was remarkable they managed that much. The spell was alien to this universe, provided to me for my services to an Outer God.
I'd become increasingly more focused on my purchases toward the end of my time serving the apostle of the Avaricious. Although she'd pushed me to make more aggressive purchases after the incident with Dante, I found myself doubling down on my original plan.
Reviving Adria and Henri.
I'd come to Kamar-Taj to bring them back and stayed when Yao told me it was impossible. Protecting people from the demons gave me purpose. But then she lost sight of the mission. Started to work with one of them. Took him under her wing. She even jailed one for leverage but never made any demands of her people.
It'd pained me to drive that knife through her, but she'd deserved it. Frankly, as did I. But unlike her, I didn't lie to myself or my associates. They saw me for what I was. And I was proud of what I was doing for my family.
I butchered entire worlds to gather up the levels, power, and spells needed to bring them back to life—empty vessels purchased from the High Evolutionary, a modified alchemy circle that performed uneven exchanges.
The final thing I needed for the resurrection was a million lives of people who lived in the city of Adria's and Henri's origin for their souls back. It was still a massive gamble whether Lady Death would agree to the exchange, but there were some things worth risking.
Of course, there was still the problem of arranging a proper distraction for Earth's heroes. I had that mostly taken care of. They should awaken soon enough. I just needed one final candidate, and then I'll be ready.
Emma's POV
The park was packed that Friday afternoon. Young children giggled on the playground, and dogs frolicked around with their distant owners watching with bright smiles on their faces. I counted two couples on picnics, a few business people, and a father and daughter talking by a bench.
They sat a few benches from Hope and Hank Pym.
"The truth, Dad," Hope said. "That's how you get me—us back. It's been 20 years. Don't you think I deserve to know what happened to Mom?" Hope demanded. She cut her hair short, making her look like the teenager that she was emphatically not, while Hank was a dinosaur in his early sixties with grey-blonde hair, a well-kept goatee, and deep frown lines cultivated from decades of paranoia. His eyes scanned the perimeter, his gaze swiveling past me and Rick a few seats down, where we played the part of two besotted lovers.
The kisses from Rick were mechanical, if a bit reluctant. The way he held and caressed me, you'd think he was kissing a hag.
From the skies above us, Gary scanned the park for energy signatures and tech with his stealth drone. The former spy was armed with a small armory—blasters, a few Pym particle cartridges, and shrunken-down armored vehicles. None of them had an onboard computer system Gary could jack.
Pym's mind wasn't easy to penetrate either. He wore a little earpiece that gave off a distinct frequency that interfered with my psychic probe. It was a remarkable contraption. But then again, when had Hank Pym ever done anything unremarkable? I'd finally gotten a peek at his file, or what SHIELD let us see, anyway. And he was every bit the rival of Howard Stark. Instantaneous molecular rearrangement on biological and non-biological matter? He could've single-handedly solved world hunger, solved the resource crises, and made America a million times the superpower it already was.
His technology might be enough to put SHIELD on equal footing with Dante. It was why it was baffling that Dante was letting this mission happen at all.
Whatever his plan was... I was certain it didn't involve letting SHIELD take Pym's research.
As impressive as Hank Pym was on the outside, he was a wreck mentally. Bursting with regret and nostalgia, Hank's heart longed for the past, when his wife was alive, when life was simpler, but he recognized that those days were long behind him.
And Hope… well, I'd already spent a great deal of time inside her head. She was more offended than anything else—offended that her father didn't trust her with the truth after all these years, despite everything else he's shown her.
"It's not that simple," Hank whispered. "We have to be careful. People are watching. If you go rooting through the past…"
"Finally, something aside from 'drop it' or 'you're not ready.' I'm all grown up, Dad. It's now or never. Tell me the truth, or I'll ask somebody else. Damn the consequences."
"Hope," he reached out, but she pulled away. "Fine," he said with a sigh, "but not here."
It was all very affectionate and melodramatic. Very unlike the Frost family enmities.
"Do you have a lock on him?" Rick asked.
"Just pushed through the last of his defenses," I said. "I should be good as long as they don't move too quickly out of range."
"Then take what we—"
That was when I saw her. A woman clad head to toe in silver and black body armor, with her hand wreathed in gauntlets the size of her head. Runes ran up and down her armor.
One of the runes on her chest lit up, and the mental link I established with Hank was abruptly cut off.
"Don't move a fucking muscle," she barked, pointing straight at me. "Dr. Pym, Hope Van Dyne, you're not safe here. We got word that the mutant terrorist Emma Frost was in the area. It appears you're her target."
Shit!
I can't believe this is his play.
Hank Pym started up in his seat, his pistol already drawn, the conflict clear on his face. He didn't know where to point the gun.
Flag decided for us, gladly taking on his role as terrorist. He whipped out a Glock and fired two shots in the air, and the park was plunged into chaos.
People scattered, and Flag pulled me along as we mixed into the chaos.
"Fuck," he said. "Fuck," he repeated. "The Avengers don't travel alone. There's probably someone else here. Keep your eyes open."
And he was right. Another member of the Avengers appeared in front of us. Unlike Jessica, she hid her face with a half-mask. She had Asian features, a killer silhouette, and a blade that sent shivers down my spine. She swung at us just as Rick aimed his gun, and we found ourselves tumbling through the air with Power Woman right behind us. Sand and heat rushed up to meet us, and I landed on my feet, as did Rick, who charged her immediately, a Vibranium knife in hand.
"Attack her," he ordered.
Jessica smirked as a pair of runes on her gauntlets burned white, and she punched the air. A pair of telekinetic fists shot free, nearly invisible to the human eye. Flag slashed through them with surprising ease and exploded forward, kicking up a wave of sand.
Jessica swung again and again, firing punch after punch, until Flag was in her guard, and then they started to properly fight. They a blur. Flag was everywhere, attacking from every angle, while Jessica was precise, economical with her movement—a textbook example of a boxer. Or at least I thought she was.
They were moving so fast that I only caught afterimages and vague clashes when they slowed down. The exchange quickly kicked up a dust storm. And just as suddenly as it began, it was over.
Flag flipped through the air faster than I could blink and landed with enough force to form a small sandy crater. Then, Jessica was standing in front of me.
She was impossibly pretty, like all of Dante's enhanced. Flawless skin with a slight metallic sheen that gave off no sweat, and corded muscles hidden by dense metal and leather.
"Dante sends his regards," she said.
"Quite the show," I said. "How quickly could you have ended that?"
"Oh, immediately," she said. "Had to play it up since you weren't attacking me. Now we'll have to sort things out after the fact…"
I frowned, then realized. "That's why he gave me the ring, wasn't it? Didn't trust you enough to be careful with hurting me."
She gave me a sheepish smile. "To be fair to him, I'm not exactly known for my restraint."
The shape of this entire scheme was quickly coming together. The finger-pointing from the Avenger, the teleportation to the desert, and Flag.
"How long do you want me to wait before contacting Nightcrawler?" He was the black ops team's long-distance shuttle.
"The punch I threw into that asshole's gut should've already set off the distress signal," Jessica explained. "I also think you should get your Diamond form up to, you know, better sell it."
I sighed and did as she said. "What do you want me to tell them?"
"You broke my mental shielding and tried frying my mind, but not before I punched you," Jessica said. "You were lucky enough to throw up Diamond form before the hit."
I scoffed. "That's giving me entirely too much credit."
"Not really," Jessica said. "Remember, you already technically slowed me down during my fight with Baywatch over there."
"He really thought of everything, didn't he?" I said bitterly.
"That's why he's the boss," she said, shrugging.
"Give Dante my love, will you?"
She smirked. "Sure thing." Then, I was in the air.
The world spun again and again, and my stomach burned and bled, like I'd been shanked by a thousand shards of glass. That happens when my diamond shell breaks. I barely felt the landing, yet I gasped all the same. A mistake, and the pain multiplied. I pulled on my ring immediately, feeding my ample mental energy into it to heal me. The relief was immediate.
"Bitch," I muttered. I stopped healing myself when I was able to sit up; my body still transformed, and I saw Flag lying half a kilometer away, bleeding from several orifices.
She really doesn't know how to pull her punches, does she?
Night Crawler arrived seconds later, teleporting him away and then me.
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