starring IRON MAN, THOR and CAPTAIN AMERICA

All he wanted was the strength to defend his country, the physique to match his indomitable will.

So he took the risk. With the world sick from rage and hatred, and poised upon the brink of Armageddon, he let himself be injected with what was planned to be the cure- the serum created by Dr. Erskine that was to transform thousands of young American men into an Olympic-class cavalry.

But having achieved his dream, Erskine was hunted down and killed for it, and so it was never fully realised. Instead, his subject, now in possession of a body equal to the strength of his spirit, became the lone super-soldier.

And then, in a flash, he too was gone.

When he returned, the war was over, and times had changed. He could have followed his first instinct, as others have, and continue to charge into his enemies like a battle-tank, destroying all those whom threatened his nation’s glory.

But he knew that a nation was only a collection of people and that symbols are only invested of their power through a common feeling. He knew, even before his displacement into another era, the value of forever standing by one’s friends.

Deeds are what matter, legends are incidental. His commitment to the never-ending fight for freedom make him one of the greatest legends of all- Steven Rogers, better known as Captain America, Sentinel of Liberty!

He prepares for battle once more...

Through the dark firtrees he ran, firmly, steadily, with no signs of exhaustion. He could have been running for one mile or fifty.

The change in pace came when, in mid-stride, he turned his head slightly upwards and launched himself off of his left leg.

He became then simply a streak of red, white and blue.

His hand grasped the branch above him, but not as cleanly as he would have preferred, and his body responded to the sudden sensation of stress being placed upon it.

“Erh!”

His companion, the elf-like Lunn, looked back over his shoulder. “What has happened?” he asked, “Do you need help?”

“No.” said Captain America, as his fingers slid over the top of the branch, enabling him to grip its surface, “Used to swinging on steel and fibre, that’s all...,” Having regained his balance, he dismounted the beam and floated smoothly towards the earth.

“...But its no problem, just a different friction. Only takes a moment to adjust.” Lunn, out of concern for his friend, had come to a halt nearby. “My apologies, Captain. I have been to these woods so often that, when I am here, I forget myself. Usually, the relief is a godsend.”

The Captain scratched the back of his neck, either due to chafing or in puzzlement, as they began to walk into a clearing, “You come here?” he asked, “But this is Kundorr territory, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” replied Lunn, “Tended to by my good friend, Maldurst, the Kundorr gamekeeper. I also use a Denri training facility that another of my associates, Vinzen, had access to...,”

He paused, and lowered his head in regret, “...but I’m afraid that he can help me no longer. Young Vinzen was found dead inside the basement of the Grand Auditorium just recently. Killed by Denible, I suspect. Or Grule. I don’t know.”

“Were you close?”

“As close as soldiers can be.” They were approaching the edge of the mountain, and could catch a glimpse of the reddish sun falling through the mist, “He was as much a friend to me in this life as any Naan or Molg.”

A small, round rock jutted out from the overlook, upon which Lunn proudly rested his foot so that it pointed out towards the vast mountain range that stood, hundreds of footfalls tall and many trails wide, beneath the blue-grey sky.

“I don’t really have a true home, at least not here,” he said, “My time has been spent wandering, going where I’m needed, and through this, finding a measure of peace.”

He folded his arms over his knee, and looked down over the face of the mountain at the friends he had known and lost, at the life and the times that had fallen away.

“During this time, I found and gathered allies within each race. We were the Brotherhood, you might say, forever the emblem to an impossible dream. I suspect that Vinzen died because our dream had just moved two-thirds of the way towards becoming true. But he was aware of the risks, as were all of us. We were up against thousands. Still, you do what you must, whatever the circumstances.”

Solemnly, deliberately, the soldier nodded. “Yes,” he agreed, “I discovered that for myself when I awoke from a twenty year slumber. You do what you must, because you can’t always go home again.”

“Cap?”

Behind them, the familiar red-and-gold figure glided downwards, arms outstretched, bootjets fizzling, out of the sky.

“Iron Man?” asked Captain America, “Have you-?”

“We’ve found it.” he replied, “We’ve found out where they’re hiding.”

The three towers stared down with their vapid windows over the dim mounds of dirt and mud that crouched beneath its slick, black walls. Gathered between the mounds, with their eyes focused upon each tower’s edifice, were the three Avengers, Iron Man, Thor and Captain America, and standing alongside them, Lunn, Captain Selvin of the Denri, and the Kundorr chieftain, Lord Yargilson.

“Looks sinister enough,” Captain America said, “But are you sure this is the place?”

“Lord Yargilson doth report that this fortress only materialised at the instant he set foot upon this dismal land,” replied Thor, “And that hath the smell of devilry about it.”

“Devilry is right,” said Lord Yargilson, “for I swear all three towers came rising out of the ground, straight from the underworld itself. They were never here before.”

“Which means we might as well have played ‘Scotland the Brave’ outside the drawbridge..” said Iron Man.

“Never mind that.” said Captain America, signalling for them all to huddle up, “We have to stick to the plan.” He gestured to the three Avengers, who stood along one side of the huddle. “The three of us will enter the fortress, look around, discover what we’re up against. Our powers should neutralise those of the three saboteurs- if they’re all that’s in there. Lunn, you know what to do?”

“Find.” Lunn replied. “Gather.”

“Right.”

And there they all stood facing each other, the Avengers of one Earth - the genius, the warrior, and the soldier - and three men who could one day conceivably become the Avengers of their own planet, a mirror reflection only a world removed.

“Good luck, then.” said Captain Selvin, “We’ll stay out here together and shoo away the bats. But how will you get in?”

“Why, that’s the very reason one forms a super-team, where every member has a different power.” said Iron Man, “It’s so you can always break down the door.”

With one blast, one shield and one hammer throw, the drawbridge was reduced to scrap.

They entered into what appeared to be the foyer. The walls inside were formed from a collection of black and grey triangular panels that peeled outwards like sea conifers, jagged and overlapping. A number of passageways each presented a path to follow that, to the untrained eye, seemed indistinguishable from one another.

“So, Cap, which way do you suggest?” asked the armoured entrepreneur.

The red glove pointed right towards a semi-circular passageway that was both long and narrow. “That one,” he said, “it gives us distance and some time to react to any traps.”

“Aye, Captain.” said the Norse God of Thunder.

“Really?” Steve Rogers asked, apparently surprised, as they set off in the direction that he had suggested.

The others were a little confused by this question. “What was that?” they answered.

“I’m sorry, I was just thinking... you’re really going to just follow my choice without question? Why is that, I wonder?” He paused in speech, though not in action, as he collected his thoughts. “I mean, I suppose I could be said to outrank every other Avenger, if one looked at it that way, but just between the three of us here, you are the two that founded the group, and you both possess far more power than I do. So, why follow me?”

“To speak the truth, Captain,” replied Thor, “it is because thou gave the Avengers a reason to exist.”

“But-,”

“Yes, I know,” said Iron Man, “we’d already been operating for a few months before you joined us. But where were we when we found you- floating round the bottom of the ocean?” At that moment, he spotted a spurt of black light hovering near the end of the tunnel. “Hmm, what’s that?”

Suddenly, without warning, the spurt of black light became a long, narrow streak that sped down towards Iron Man, and within an instant, had engulfed him completely, causing him to disappear.

Thor turned around, his hammer ready. “Iron Man?!”

He was too late, even to save himself, for in the very next moment a second streak of light had sped down towards them, and then he too was gone.

Captain America reached out in vain. “Thor?!” he shouted.

Immediately a third streak of light claimed him as its victim, but this time, there was no one left to call.

The dark, narrow shadow of a man, shining light at its center, stood in the middle of an empty room in which the walls and ceiling were composed of steel, gears and electrical wires. As the light in the shadow swelled, Iron Man was thrown out of its belly, his left shoulder braced for impact.

He landed fairly safely, however, and had already managed to roll over into a position from which he could defend himself when the dark figure next to him said in a cold, unnatural voice, “Welcome, human.”

“Denible.”

“So you were listening?” said the General Manager, unmoving, daring Tony to come closer, “Then it seems that, despite your claims for disinterestedness, your involvement in the war was greater than you let yourself believe.”

“You think so, hey?” was the reply. No stranger himself to these tactics, this time the golden Avenger clearly had no patience for them. “Well, in that case, I’m ending the madness right here!” And as this vow left his lips, he simultaneously aimed the full force of his repulsor rays at Denible, intending, it appeared, to reduce the wraith-like man to smoke and ashes.

But the only smoke produced by Iron Man’s assault were the black fumes being emitted from the surface of the black, titanium armour that now stood in Denible’s place, if it had not been there all along. Although confronted with this new danger, Iron Man was soon resigned to it. “I didn’t suppose that was going to work.”

“Ah, you begin to grasp the truth,” said the voice from inside the armour, even more unnatural than before, “This is a battle in which all you can gain is an inkling of the masterly designs of an immortal, and of his complete and utter imperviousness to common injury.”

“Maybe so,” said Iron Man, focussing his attention upon the narrow vertical slits cut into the armour’s wide, basin-shaped helmet, “but I’m betting you still have to breathe. And I’m betting that whatever it is you breathe, it isn’t carbon dioxide.”

And with that, Iron Man expelled a strong draft of air from each of his gloves, forcing the black fumes through the narrow vertical slits, and into Denible’s nasal cavity.

It wasn’t long before the General Manager was hacking uncontrollably, punctuating his spurts of phlegm with sobs of “Help me… Please!”

“A coward at heart, like they all are.” Iron Man thought to himself. “If Thor were here he’d say his cries are the kind of an old woman.” He watched Denible’s chest heave and the first feelings of helplessness began to creep over him, “The kind you can’t ignore.”

Instantly, Iron Man’s boot-jets hissed, and he flew into the center of the black billowing cloud.

Once he had reached the dingy, coal black armour, Iron Man began to tear away at the helmet, severing it from where it had been welded onto the broad, titanium frame. “Hang on there,” he called to the stricken occupant, “I’ll just break my way through this metal trap and then your body will be… safe?”

He had thrown away the helmet only to find that the hull of the armour was inexplicably empty, and that the man that he thought had been controlling its movements had vanished, seemingly as if he’d never been there.

Suddenly, a mere gasp of ‘urk!’ was all that could escape Iron Man’s voice box as the ‘headless’ armour, the smoke continuing to fume from its shell, wrapped its pincers around his shoulders and larynx.

“So, Avenger,” Denible’s voice sneered through the loudspeaker, as his armour lifted Iron Man off both feet and flung him backward into a wall, “now you know that even without my hand directing it, my creation is still more than capable of operating as its own separate entity. An entity, I might add, whose sole purpose of being is to seek out any human infiltrators such as yourself, and to destroy them.”

There was a click and a red flash, and Iron Man sensed that he was trapped in the round eye of the radar. “Lens pointed this way, sensors locked on to my body signature, no doubt,” he thought to himself as he weighed up the situation, “Weapons will be of the sort I can’t deflect- missiles, I suspect. In the eye of Armageddon.”

The flash stopped, succeeded by a tremendous roar, and with split-second precision, Iron Man flew left and upwards away from the blast generated by two missiles colliding with full speed and power into the wall behind him. “Bingo!” he thought, “Armour’s fast, but I can’t use it to outrun these things forever. And I’m sure that Denible must have some other tricks up his sleeves… or does he? He says that this thing’s still carrying out his orders, just that his hand no longer happens to be directing it…,”

With a new strength of purpose, Iron Man arrowed downwards, and flew directly into the armour’s extensive frame, “…but, in truth, he’s detached himself from it completely. Which means the armour has only one directive.”

High above the combatants, from the observation pit, Denible realized, helplessly, what was about to happen. “No.”

Too late. “Thank God for mindlessness.” thought Iron Man, as his armoured body, red and gold, rose from the titanium shell, just before it was broken apart like a giant, hollow Easter egg by the heat-seeking missiles.

“No!” Denible screamed, “No!!!”

Recognizing that he must find another method for obtaining victory, and quickly, Denible descended frantically to where the shattered pieces of his creation lay. “It appears you possess greater resources than I imagined,” he said to the Avenger, “I shall have to adjust my own accordingly.”

“A problem presented itself.” stated Iron Man. “All I did was come up with a solution.”

Although Iron Man was simply still too exhausted and shaken up from the explosion to add anything further to his reply, Denible took his bluntness to be a sign of arrogance.

“You think you are very smart, don’t you? But how can you even begin to comprehend the existence of one who has known and experienced the birth and death of stars, one whose reach almost touches the infinite?” (Iron Man watched Denible gesticulate, and for a few fleeting moments, it did seem as if they were shifting through empty space, between the stars...) “For it is my life, rather than yours, that reveals the underlying principle of this universe, and that principle is--,”

“--abundance!” And upon the word, Denible gestured again towards the walls, and suddenly half a dozen Denri assault cannons protruded from the barrier to Iron Man’s left before they simultaneously locked, loaded and fired.

Desperate to escape the barrage, Iron Man retreated upwards. “Ha!” sneered Denible, enjoying this turn of events, “You may think you’re rising away from my weapons, but in truth, your path of flight remains wholly conditioned by them. Your fate is sealed, human, it will assail you wherever you go!”

Nevertheless, despite Denible’s predictions regarding his impending doom, Iron Man continued to avoid the possibility of his being struck down, turning and weaving his way through the crisscross beams as he moved ever upwards. Denible became increasingly confounded by this, and soon was bordering on livid. “You will fall, I say! Escape is impossible!”

Still, the armoured Avenger persisted in his flight. Madness overtook the General Manager as he gestured again and again at the walls, and the mechanisms of which they were composed were torn asunder. “Fall!” Denible shouted furiously at his enemy, “Fall! Fall!”

And like a glistening red stone, he did.

Denible, his pride unable to disguise his flaccidity, hovered over the wreckage of the room, and the limp, vanquished body of his foe. “I am power,” he said, to himself, to the ears that could not hear, to the entities that were not there, “And both you, and all your friends, will know my wrath…”

Elsewhere, the floor was shaking, as Grule’s blistered fist struck the iron jaw of the thunder god.

“Bleed!” he hissed.

Thor was thrown across the floor much like his fellow Avenger had been, and crashed through a row of bronze and wooden idols, before landing against the wall. Having not gone straight through the wall as well, Thor concluded that it must be made of steel or perhaps some other strong metal unknown to his universe, and not the timber with totemistic carvings etched upon its face that it appeared to be.

“Face facts, Odinson,” Grule said as he raised both arms above his head, preparing for the killing blow, “When it counts, I’m the true warrior.”

“Coward!” Thor shouted, and in one swift motion, flew up from the ground and struck Grule with his mallet square in the chest, “Thy path is not one of truth, but of deceit!”

Having gained the advantage, Thor continued to press it, backing Grule further and further into the opposite corner with every blow. “Thou pretended to be a champion, a comrade. Men put their faith in you, and thou repaid it by taking the life of the warrior who would have stood by your side ‘til Ragnarok claims us all. Tell me, what kind of legacy shalt thou leave behind? Who shalt sing praises in thy name?”

Suddenly, Grule picked up one of the idols standing by the wall, and held it out before him. The first glimpse of the statue was enough to stop the thunder god in his tracks. Grule’s face broke out into an odious grin.

“You tell me.” he said.

To the untrained eye, there was seemingly nothing about the idol that should give the Son of Odin pause, but Thor recognized it as an image of himself, or rather his image as understood and immortalized by Nordic craftsmen who worshipped him as the bringer of storms and the destroyer of great ships and other sea vessels.

“Zounds! That… that is I! But how-?”

“A wonderful likeness, is it not?” said Grule, his grin growing ever wider, “One that would have no doubt appealed to you, though it is regrettable that they did not capture the tone of your muscles or your long, golden locks.”

“Thou try my patience,” Thor said, with the veins on his forearms protruding, and both hands clenched into fists, “Put the figure aside, villain, and let the battle resume.”

“I think not.” was Grule’s reply, as first one eye and then the other coveted the statue, “Rather I think that to get to me, you will first have to go through this.”

Instantly, Thor swung his fist, and narrowly missed his foe, who quickly retreated in shock, though that he managed to save himself at all meant that he must have in some sense been expecting the blow. “Thou art a fool, Grule, to think that a mere artefact will save you from my anger! For what concern do I hath for replicas when the lives of those of flesh and blood are at stake?”

“Thou seest me as an empty figurehead, drained of all substance, kept whole by my vanity.” he continued, as each movement by Grule was followed by another strike, this time to the jaw, “But when last we wrestled, I told you of my will to victory, a will fired by a duty to those souls that look skywards and cry for vengeance against the dark forces of this universe, forever driving me to succeed.”

Finally, Grule could hide behind the statue no longer. With one stroke, Thor’s hammer tore it to pieces.

“Only by his deeds will Thor, god of thunder, be worthy of such faith.”

As the remnants of the statue lay round him, Grule’s muscles began to tighten and seethe with rage. “All bluster.” he said.

Like lightning, the Kundorr warrior was on the attack. “Do you know what bluster is, thunderer?” he asked, fists pummelling at his opponent’s chest, “An effort to convince yourself that there is some foundation, some privileged purpose, urging you on.”

Almost effortlessly, Grule grabbed hold of the thunder god’s raiment and lifted him off the ground, as if Thor himself were the idol. “For remember what I told you when last we wrestled, that is, that I had never experienced defeat. Do you get it now? Losing is not an option for me. I never contemplate it, except for its own sake, that boot against my chest pressing down.”

Thor was now face to face with his enemy, whose ghastly countenance was reflected not only in his helmet, but also in both his eyes. “But you…,” said Grule, “you think about it all the time. The consequences that may follow should you taste defeat are always there at the back of your mind, driving you onwards.”

“So consider this when you are in whatever place gods go to when they die,” Grule continued, as he flung the Avenger to the floor, “did your affection for your mortal friends open you up to their frailties, and divert you from your innate will to victory?” Thor did not answer, for he had been knocked out by the impact, leaving the villain to gloat in his triumph.

“And what use are your efforts to rescue these mortals, when they do not have the power to do the same for you?”

This chamber, once lit only by a spherical looking glass at its centre, had for years prior to this been the nucleus of a three-headed butcher’s pernicious schemes. Now it was the scene of battle between Laxle, chief of the Naans and the final third of this villainous trio, and the last hope for the Avengers, their courageous leader, Captain America.

“Your skills are formidable, stranger.” commented Laxle, as he dodged the Captain’s shield, “If I were to rate them, I’d say they’re more than a match for young Lunn, swift and precise.”

Then, having manoeuvred his opponent into position, Laxle swung his staff at the Avenger’s skull. “But then again, I’ve never had much respect for young Lunn.”

“I didn’t expect you would.” Captain America said as his shield took the impact from the blow.

“Don’t get me wrong, the lad has discipline.” Laxle swung his staff again, forcing the Captain closer to the ground. “But he showed his true colours before he even hit puberty when I engineered the extermination of those dwarf-like Gjords. A superfluous race, for who needed diminutive archers when I had the Naans to control?”

“Lunn didn’t tell me this-?”

“Of course not. For Lunn can not bring himself to decisively speak ill of anyone, regardless of what atrocities they may have committed.” Laxle finally connected with the Avenger’s rib cage, causing him to slump to the ground. “You’re probably the same. Bound by caution. You believe that everyone can be integrated into one great ‘Brotherhood’, if only madness would cease.”

Standing over the Captain’s still form, Laxle clenched his fists, preparing to spill the soldier’s blood.

“You’re both afraid to get your hands dirty.”

With one fierce swing of his mighty shield, Captain America sent Laxle flying backwards through the chamber.

Laxle landed with a thud at the bottom of the staircase leading down from the platform. By the time he had recovered himself, all he could see was the firm, muscular form of the star-spangled sentinel walking down the steps towards him.

“All my life,” the figure said, “I’ve fought for what I thought was right. For the most part, I’ve succeeded.

But before I gained the power I needed to make a stand, what I learnt was this: no matter how powerful you think you are, there will come a day where things don’t go your way.

You get beat up.

You get knocked down.

And on that day, every notion you had that you were invincible, that somehow you alone could face anything, will turn out to be nothing but lies, a madman’s propaganda.

You will have no choice but to turn to another, or to die on your knees.

That’s the day, Laxle, you will be thankful for every being who is there to stand beside you. That’s the day when you will be thankful for your friends.”

The leader of the Naans listened to each sentence carefully. Then he clicked his fingers and gave his opponent a sinister grin.

“Absolutely.”

With that word, the wall behind Laxle began to shimmer, and a murmuring sound emanated from both its ends simultaneously. The Captain turned just in time to see Denible and Grule, both of them seemingly none the worse for wear from their previous conflicts, phase into the chamber in order to take their place beside his foe.

“You can not beat me, stranger,” the creature said, as the three beings again merged into one, huge, three-faceted opponent that was bearing down upon the shield-slinger, “for I belong to a people whose knowledge, strength and skills exist at a level that you can not imagine.”

Captain America did not waver, but readied himself for whatever fate would next befall. “Who, or what, in blazes are you?” he asked.

“My name is Phele, and I originate from a dimension unknown to you, or to any other living mortal.” the creature said, and then suddenly he became one singular entity, that is, he was whole again.

He continued, “During my time in that realm, I glided alongside spirits who had lived together in harmony almost since the very first ray was put into motion. But as I grew older, I found myself becoming weighed down, my abilities inhibited, my knowledge fading, as my thoughts took hold of me.

I could no longer keep pace with those around me, but rather than accept my fate, I was determined to change it.” Phele remembered himself standing beneath a huge glowing sphere, teeming with enough energy to remould the elements, “I attempted to tap into the core of our power, an act that would allow me to once again defy every law of space and time, and render all others my motionless slaves. My attempt failed. I was rejected, thwarted, by the very power itself, which then proceeded to alert the others of my designs. It was not long before they used their most powerful weapon against me, and suddenly, there was an enormous flash, and I felt myself bombarded with cosmic radiation and sent hurtling through the space-time continuum, never to return.”

Next he remembered himself awakening within a cloud of dust and sand, darkness enveloping his bruised and battered form. “When I recovered, I found myself alone on an alien world that, by my reckoning, had long been deserted, its former occupants now buried underneath tons of sediment or forced to retreat towards the stars. I soon discovered that many of my powers had been stripped from me, I was stranded here. I walked onwards, my physiology allowing me to cope with the hostile atmosphere. Eventually, I made a discovery that caused me to curse my newly found fate. This world was something worse than deserted.

It was inhabited. A great sphere had been erected on this world that spanned the length of many oceans. Once I had materialized inside the sphere, I saw in the far, far distance bands of despicable mortals crawling all over the patches of artificial soil. This was what I had been reduced to, a deathless orderly for transient beings. I resolved there and then to make these worms pay for my indignity.

After I had traversed the body of water that separated these people from the inhospitable environment outside, I began to infiltrate their ranks. While I had lost many of my former powers, my exposure to cosmic radiation had granted me the ability to split into independent bodies.

My first victim was a young member of the Kundorrs named Grule, followed by the Denri’s General Manager, Denible, and finally Laxle, leader of the Naans. Since then, I have used my various guises to spread dissent amongst the population of this Earth, a process that had culminated, just before your arrival, into full-scale bloody war!”

The Captain spoke through gritted teeth, “You sick, inhuman--,”

“Why yes, I am inhuman,” said Phele, “and would not deign to be anything else. For only I among you can withstand the wrath of the elements, and do not perish at the slightest…,”

Suddenly there was a ground-shaking explosion, and the entire eastern wall was reduced to nothing more than rubble.

When the smoke had cleared and the dust had settled, Phele and Captain America rose up from the floor and turned to see Lunn, Captain Selvin and Lord Yargilson, perched atop an enormous octapod, and all around them stood entire armies of Denri and Kundorrs, Naans and Molgs. Amidst the hordes were placed dozens of other octapods, their Denri pilots looking out at the numerous Tojai standing ready for battle atop the spider-like hulls.

“Denible… Grule… Laxle… this is the end!” said Lunn. “You have divided our races long enough. Now and forever, this world is ours to make!”

“Ha!” was Phele’s response. “Little Lunn, you are what I have made of you. It is not possible for you to beat one who is more powerful than all of you combined!”

“Maybe not, Grule,” said Captain Selvin, “but what use is your might when you have no application for it, no greater use for it than to beat both fists upon your chest and to knock down walls? Your time is past, savage, we are the future.”

Enraged, Grule tore himself away from the composite entity and charged towards the Denri captain. The further he ran, the more solid he became, as he continually increased his bulk so that his opponents would be made to suffer the full brunt of his fists.

“Coward!” he bellowed, “Grule will prove to you that you are wrong!”

“No,” Captain Selvin replied, “Grule will prove to me that I right.”

Instantly, half a dozen octapods fired at the ground beneath Grule’s feet, causing it to collapse. By the time Grule finally realised what was happening, his weight had carried him down into the depths of the pit, an impotent curse his only parting gift.

Phele’s eyes turned away from the pit, and he shouted to the gathered forces, “So you think you have won, do you? Even without that part of me, I still possess all the understanding I require to conquer you all, and I shall not be so careless as to make the same mistake twice.”

“We wouldn’t even suggest it,” said Lunn, as he reached into his quiver and loaded his bow, “But I’m betting that only one of your identities has the reflexes necessary to avoid this arrow. And I’m betting that whichever identity it is would rather abandon his accomplice than share in his demise. And guess what--,”

The arrow shot through the air, and hit its mark, sending a man in black robes sprawling backwards, as another man watched him fall while avoiding the missile with the greatest of ease.

“—it’s not Denible!”

Laxle, now sensing that he was about to be overpowered, began to search frantically for a nearby weapon, or any other implement which could stave off the wrath of those assembled before him. “No! Stop right there!” he shouted. “This can’t happen, I am the leader of the Naans!”

Lord Yargilson jumped down from his place atop the octapod, landing less than ten feet away from the startled villain.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said, “I am Lord Yargilson, leader of the Kundorrs!”

And with that, a tremendous roar filled the fortress as every last Kundorr gathered there charged towards the horrified tyrant and piled on top of him, burying him under a fury of fists and clubs.

Captain America stood and watched the brawl, speaking softly but surely to Laxle’s outstretched arm as he met his final doom. “You said that we, the Avengers, could not beat you, as you believed yourself to be a universal force. But that’s where you were wrong, Phele. For the truth is that you are only a divided self, three fragmented parts that are constantly at war, whereas for us, well…

… Everybody’s an Avenger.”

That night, the sound of victory echoed through the valley of the Molgs. Even the largest and most raucous of Kundorr banquets was nothing compared to the sheer amount of food and wine that was being consumed that evening, and the many voices that were lifted out from Denri and Kundorr, Molg and Naan alike, to join together in the night air. The threat was over and they could all dance and laugh again.

Just above the party, standing upon a mountain ledge, Iron Man, Thor, and Captain America watched the celebrations and allowed themselves a satisfied smile.

“Well, there you go.” said Iron Man, “Do you think Chief Aamal is wondering how much all this is costing him?”

“Nay, I wager he will not mind.” Thor replied. “Not tonight. For mayhaps this be the signal for a glorious era!”

“Most importantly, it will be whatever they make of it,” said Captain America, “That will be their greatest gift. Can I get you another drink, Tony?”

“Hang on,” said Iron Man, looking over at a ledge a little distance away from where they stood, “There’s someone I want to talk to first.”

Princess Dalphi sat upon the ledge, alone in her thoughts, looking down upon the revelry with a mixture of joy and sadness. She had a stick in her hand that she was using to draw a familiar face in the dirt and sand in front of her.

“Hi.” Tony said, as he came up behind her.

She turned her head and gave him the slightest of warm smiles. “Hi.”

Tony gazed at the faint picture of what he took to be Dalphi’s sister, who had been viciously attacked by the Kundorrs prior to his arrival on this world. “I haven’t had the fortune to meet Princess Kwajin as of yet,” he told her, “but from what I’ve heard, she would be pleased by this, I think.”

“I know.”

Slowly, the Princess lifted the stick and laid it across her lap. “My sister is a gentle soul, she will forgive the Kundorrs, despite what they have done to her. May we all be so gracious.”

Iron Man sat down beside her for a moment. “You realize, of course,” he said, “that Denible can not be considered the source of every problem. There is still much about themselves that the Denri have to change, there is still a lot of work for them to do.”

Dalphi nodded. “In our quest to make the most of our situation, we have become arrogant. It is time now to rebuild the world.”

Again, she smiled at him, but this time the worry had receded, and her spirit shone brightly through. “I’m glad to have met you, Tony,” she said, as she extended her hand towards him, “I wish you a safe journey home.”

“The pleasure was mine,” he replied, as he took her hand and shook it, “Good luck.”

He glided up the mountain to where his fellow Avengers stood, waiting for his return.

“How did it go?” asked the Captain.

“As expected.”

“Then our business here is done,” said Thor, “and we may bid farewell to these people and leave them to their merriment.”

“Not quite yet,” said Captain America, “For there is still someone else we have to talk to before we can leave.”

He shouted the name to the clear, early morning sky. “Kyngon!”

At the Captain’s call, the strange man appeared before them, the expression upon his blue face (whether he in fact had blue skin or he wore a mask they did not know) informing them that he had come in peace.

“My greetings to you again, Avengers.” he said.

“Who are you?” asked Iron Man, “And where are we and why are we here?”

“I am Kyngon, former lieutenant in the Army of the Great Conqueror,” the man replied, “As for where you are, I will tell you what you at least, Captain, have probably already guessed—you are on Earth.”

“Midgard?” asked Thor. “How is that so?”

“To answer that, thunder god, I must tell you a little about the history of these people. Did Lord Yargilson mention to you his battle against the Baltagians?”

“Yea.” said Thor.

“That battle was significant for two reasons.” Kyngon said, “The Baltagians were a inter-dimensional military organisation who like the Conqueror’s once-trusted aide, Baltag, had grown disenchanted with their leader’s unwillingness to stamp out every last trace of resistance unless he deemed it to be necessary.”

“The Conqueror?” asked Iron Man, “You mean Kang?”

“Yes,” replied Kyngon, “it was Kang that the Baltagians rose up against, and it was Kang who underestimated the strength and the fierceness of their rebellion. It took many years of fighting before one man effectively ended the Baltagians’ opposition by slicing through the heart of their leader, and therefore, their organisation. That man was Captain Yargilson, and there on that battlefield, he had received a new vision for the future.”

“Freedom…,” said Captain America.

“What Yargilson had discovered,” Kyngon explained, “was that the cause he was fighting for was not his own. He also discovered that many others among the Conqueror’s ranks felt the same way, but until now, had not possessed a leader to rally them. After the war was over, and the Baltagians punished for their crimes, Yargilson led an assemblage numbering in the tens of thousands through the streets of Chronopolis and right up to the very entrance of Kang’s citadel.

Onlookers were frightened and hid behind their windows, worried that the fighting was about to break out anew. However, once Kang himself had appeared, Yargilson proclaimed to all those gathered there that they were leaving the Conqueror’s service, and therefore, they were returning the weapons and tools with which he had provided them. Kang was incensed. Yet he realised that he owed a great debt to Yargilson and his crew, and rather than brazenly execute them or force them to unwillingly remain in servitude to him, he came up with another method that would act as suitable punishment for this outrage.

After searching the time-stream for an Earth that had been left barren and inhospitable due to ecological disasters, he ordered for his minions to build an immense bio-dome upon that wasteland, within which the soldiers and their families were to be exiled. Over the course of a generation, the different bands began to separate, until Phele arrived and accelerated the process even further, so that they eventually reached the point of outright war.”

“So where do you come in?” asked Iron Man.

“I too am a time-traveller,” said Kyngon, “one who managed to secretly leave Kang’s service. Since that day I have attempted to put right as much as possible, but I have no powers of my own, and my devices pale before those of the Conqueror. I had been searching for some time before I met you for a way to help this world, and finally, when I came across you three, I knew I had the answer. My plan was to disperse each of you amongst the three races, hoping that as you came back together you would unite this world in the process.”

“Apparently it worked,” said Iron Man, “now if you don’t mind, Kyngon, we have a world of our own to get back to.”

“Wait!” said Thor, “See that light above the cliffs- it is sunrise on this world.”

“Who cares?” said Iron Man, “Kang probably put it there- see, it looks just like our own.”

“It is brilliant nonetheless,” Thor replied, “Let us stay a little longer.”

And as the (no doubt artificial) sunlight began to wash over the mountain ledge, Captain America, Sentinel of Liberty, gave voice to his final thoughts on that familiar, yet far-flung world.

“The Avengers were formed to be Earth’s mightiest heroes. I guess it was never specified which Earth that was.

There is only so much one team can do, still we forget that there are people out there, people who eat and sleep, and dream as they watch the sun rise in the morning, who have no one there to protect them. No one to show them the way.

It’s good to know that even in this era in which our adversaries are less clear-cut, and more insidious and malignant than they have ever been, that there still exist some problems that we can solve by doing what we do best. These people needed the Avengers. Only we could grant them their right to deliverance. I find that in some way fulfilling.

So I say we use this experience to remind ourselves of the reasons for why we continue to band together. We saved this world, people. We should be proud of what we stand for. If only it were that simple for us to save our own.”