JLU 2001 Fanfiction

The Keystone Building
Manhattan:

Pulling back with all his strength, Clint Barton could feel the tension of the bowstring against his musculature, his arms tensed and coiled like a spring ready to snap. He’d chosen the arrowhead currently ready to launch with careful precision, knowing that the force of the arrow’s impact would cause a detonation the size of a small hand grenade. There was no reason to take a chance, to throw caution to the wind, after taking an eye to the beings that had mysteriously appeared at the base of the damaged and devastated Keystone Building. There was a buzzing at the back of his skull, a sense of dread that filled within him as he watched them descend. He felt – knew – that these people were enemies...he just couldn’t put his finger on why he felt such a thing.

An eye narrowed, Hawkeye carefully took aim, moving his bow infinitesimally at the ten beings that were slowly hovering down to the ground. He could take out three – possibly four, if lady luck was on his side – before the rest could even register that they were being attacked. He was that confident in his speed, knowing that his arrows would be drawn by instinct, the right ones for the right opponents with no thought getting in the way of the movement. Of course, if these newcomers were anything like he suspected, he knew exactly which ones he’d need to fire upon first.

“Psst, hey, Jan,” Clint whispered to the tiny flitting form of Janet Van Dyne that was buzzing to and fro between her teammates, “these guys remind you of anybody?”

“The Squadron Supreme,” she answered, her own voice sounding empty and light, the result of her small size.

Hawkeye returned to his targeting. “Good. Not just me, then.”

He watched anticipatorily as Captain America and the Black Panther stepped forward to confront the visitors. His first thoughts were of equal treatment, that – as the Chairman of the West Coast branch of the Avengers – he should be beside his two old friends. But the protest was pushed aside in his mind, Barton recognizing that there was no one better suited to the task at hand than Steve Rogers.

Allowing himself a moment, Hawkeye took a glance at the Avengers assembled at his side. His first concern immediately went to Carol Danvers, Warbird, a woman he’d grown to care about during their recent tenure on the West Coast. He knew her history of violent impulse, having witnessed her outbursts himself on several occasions. Would she jump the gun before Cap gave the word? Danvers’ furrowed brow and stressed scowl told him that the answer would probably – unfortunately – be “yes”.

Henry McCoy, the blue-furred and brilliant Beast, was the complete opposite. While he, too, had a look of worry upon his face, the emotion was undoubtedly overcome by his sense of wonder. The great tear in the sky above them, the mysterious other-dimensional beings that had emerged from within, all of it was a mystery that begged to be solved by the mutant scientist.

Hawkeye wondered if perhaps Tony Stark felt the same sense of curiosity, but it was a question that couldn’t be answered by a look at the industrialist’s face. Encased in the armor of Iron Man, the Golden Avenger, Stark held only the stern metal face of his helmet. Standing directly behind Cap and the Panther, Clint surmised that Iron Man was in “business mode” then, as ready to strike as any of them.

Quicksilver, on the other hand, was still standing on shaky legs. He had been bested by another speedster, Johnny Quick in red that had quite clumsily allowed himself to be crippled in the midst of battle. Still, the guy had to have been fast to get the best of Pietro, a man to whom everyone else moved in slow motion.

And then there was the Thunder God. His hammer gripped tightly in his hand, Thor was seething with rage, or maybe indignation, whatever it was that Asgardians felt when faced with a repeated threat. Even Hawkeye could tell that these new guys were similar to the ones that had done a quick fade out moments before, the so-called Crime Syndicate of America. The guy with the owl mask had told them their “big guns” were coming to take their place, the Justice League or some nonsense. Clint smirked at the thought of a bunch of bad guys going around with that name. At least something like the Masters of Evil was fairly accurate in description.

Finally, Barton’s glance fell on Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch. Starting when the Squadron League (or perhaps Justice Supreme, as Hawkeye had yet to figure out which name sounded the most ludicrous to call them) came through the dimensional portal, the Witch had looked ill at ease, sweat collecting on her brow as if someone unseen was affecting her. Could one of the flying jokers be a telepath or something, poisoning the mind of one of their most powerful members?

“We want answers, Mister,” Clint heard Captain America demand, an accusatory finger pointed at the Hyperion wannabe in blue. Yeah, you tell ‘em, Cap, Hawkeye thought to himself as he looked over the villains’ expressions. Although the similarities to the Squadron were there in some of the members, others were question marks to him. There was the Dr. Spectrum decked out in green, the Nighthawk with the same permanent scowl on his face, the Power Princess with the much more revealing costume and stars on her panties, and a look-alike to the aforementioned Johnny Quick that had faded out with the Crime Syndicate. But there was also the blonde woman draped in the leather cat-suit, the girl in the top hat and fishnets that just had to be a magician, and the goofball shape changer that had went through probably about every inanimate object known to man in the brief moments since they’d arrived. There was the guy with the big puffy sleeves and blast furnace for a head, and the green bald alien...the one that had too much of a passing resemblance to the Vision for him.

“We don’t owe you answers for anything,” the obvious leader of the League, the one in the red-and-blue cape ensemble, replied harshly, “especially since we were just attacked for no reason just moments ago.”

“That’s it!” the Scarlet Witch yelled, pointing into the air at the League. “Thor, the boy in green! Now!”

“Wanda?” Cap asked desperately, turning around to look at her with a look of alarm and worry. He was going to tell her to stand down, to wait for the answers he’d asked for, but by then it was too late. Hawkeye grimaced as Mjolnir began to swirl in the air, gripped at the leather strap by the God of Thunder.

“Aye, fair Wanda, the Son of Odin doth see it as well,” Thor shouted, lightning and thunder cracking and booming around him, “and the Avengers shalt not countenance a murderer of children!”

And when Hawkeye saw the mystical hammer fly toward the Justice League, he knew that there was no turning back...

The battle had started!

GLhead2 The World's Greatest Superheroes.....

Vs

avengerslogo

Part Three:

All Out War!

JLA #32-
September, Year 3
by Chris Munn
Plot by Chris Munn and Curt Fernlund

Active Roster: JLA

AquaMan LOST	Atom LOST	Batman	Black Canary	Firestorm	Flash
Green Lantern	Martian Manhunter	Red Tornado LOST	Superman	Wonder Woman	Plastic Man
Zatanna

Active Roster: Avengers

Beast

Black
Panther

Captain
America

Hawkeye

Iron Man

Quicksilver

Scarlet Witch

Thor

Warbird

Wasp

Mister Fantastic
Injured

Jimmy Woo
Missing

The Negative Zone:

It had not been light years, but close enough.

Count Nefaria stared in wonder at the ‘rip’ in the very fabric of negative space. Dark, pinkish energy swirled about the tear, spewing forth as well as spiraling back within. There were red clouds billowing about, almost like a storm, lightning crackling. He could hear the thunder as well, feel it, and that made him more nervous than anything, reminding him of explosions.

He drifted closer, feeling the pull, his safety line growing taut as the Exterminatrix jockeyed the Star Core shuttle into better position, trying to keep the craft from getting sucked into- what? The gravity well, he did not know. He was no scientist, not really, and on this trip he knew that he had been hired for his muscle and unique physiology. And no wonder-

He could feel the energy coursing through his body. The strange energies of Reed Richard’s Negative Universe were interacting with his own Ionically laced cells and giving him a feeling of power that he had never known before. At least not since his initial change after his body had been altered with the unwitting help of the Lethal Legion. He felt the old strength returning, the powers of the Living Laser, Whirlwind and Power Man building up again within, threatening to burst. He had never felt so alive…

“How you doing, Count?”

Oubliette’s staticy voice cut over his reveries, pulling him back to the present. He focused on the rip, watching as the storm churned, gouts of energy flaring in spectacular brilliance. The woman- Midas’ daughter was waiting for him to send the data, which the Mandroid Armor had gathered from his EVA. She was becoming annoying with her familiarity, and it was only her devastating beauty, which kept him from shutting her up.

“I am fine, child,” he said, his eyes scanning the internal monitors of the suit. Most were designed for gathering information on the various radiations within the zone, a few for monitoring his vital signs as well as what passed for meteorological information and the lesser sciences. “Preparing relay in three… two… send!”

He heard the whine of chirps and whistles as the information was converted to digital emission and sent over laser pulse to the ship, there to be stored, reformatted and sent back to the other universe via FTL beacon- another of Richard’s inventions. His job done for the time being, he returned his gaze to the tear…

There were moments of clarity in the storm. Clear patches, as the clouds of energy parted and he could see beyond. He saw space, a swirling black, and oddly too there seemed a glowing, crackling planet just beyond the rift. Perhaps it was some mirror-like reflection of the Earth, or a planet that simply resembled his home. It was like the Exploding Atmosphere though, glowing brightly, ablaze as the detritus entered its atmosphere and disintegrated. He wished that he could-

“Incoming!”

Nefaria gasped, discharging the propulsion pods attached to his armor, spinning about. He scanned the space of the Zone, trying his best to ignore the strange and twisted landscape that floated inexorably towards him and the devastation just out of reach. He could see the shuttle of course, just fifty yards distant at the end of his tether. The old and battered craft had seen better days. The hull had been patched but there were still markings from its final decent, burn markings from solar radiation gone wild. He could see Oubliette in the cockpit, a shadow behind the tinted glass motioning, pointing-

“Three o’clock…”

Nefaria turned-

“No, your other three o’clock.”

Nefaria cursed and spun about to see an all too familiar figure streaking his way. He had hoped that it would be Annihilus so that they could end this and he might return with his newfound strength. Or at least Blastaar, who could hopefully point them in the proper direction. The form speeding towards him- them however was not anyone he might have expected, or wanted to see. He had never met the man, but Nefaria had seen his image often enough-

“The Silver Surfer…”

Nefaria watched as the silver man on the gleaming board soared closer, riding the strange currents of negative space as easily as he might the norm. The wonders of the anti-realm must have meant nothing to him. But what was he doing here- now?

The once herald of Galactus sailed right up to Nefaria, his blank silver eyes holding the count firmly in his gaze.

“You are from Earth,” he said, though there was the slightest confusion in his voice. “I recognize the technology. How have you come to be here, now?”

Nefaria had to smile. The great Silver Surfer was as confused as he was. He was about to ask the Surfer the same question when he heard the Exterminatrix on the sub space radio again-

“Nefaria! It’s him!” Oubliette’s voice was near frantic as she screeched over the radio. Nefaria spun about, looking, searching and saw the Surfer do the same. There was nothing though. Nothing-

He came sweeping in like the angel of death, his great bat-like wings spread wide, arms outstretched, claws raking, grasping. He swept up from behind, using doomed, floating debris for cover until he was close enough then swooping in right behind the Surfer. Nefaria yelled as the creature wrapped his arms about the once herald; claws raking silver flesh, his fangs sinking into glistening throat. The Silver Surfer screamed-

Energy flared about the pair as Annihilus held tight, feeding- or something close to it. Nefaria backed away as the Silver Surfer writhed, squirming in the monster’s grasp. He fired off bolts of cosmic energy in a blind attempt to break free, and Nefaria could see that with every blast his energy was draining. The self-proclaimed Master of the Negative Zone was leeching the cosmic energy of the Surfer like a Vampire!

“Get Him!” Oubliette screeched over the radio. “Get him while he’s distracted-“

“Are you insane, girl? That’s the Silver Surfer being slaughtered. I’m no where-“

“Dammit! Daddy wants the rod! Get it while that freak’s distracted… Before he gets too powerful!”

That made sense, in theory. But as Nefaria saw the Surfer’s struggles lessen, heard his cries diminish he knew that he stood no chance in hell of defeating Annihilus, and he was not about to try. He drifted back, starting to turn. If he could make it back to the ship-

“YOU…”

Nefaria felt his blood run cold as he froze at the rasping, grating voice. Annihilus was done feeding apparently. The Count Nefaria glanced back, his eyes wide and stinging as sweat trickled down his face, fear clutching his heart-

Thunderbird hammered on the cockpit…

“You are from the other side… Earth! You will take me back!”

“I-“

Annihilus howled, his insectile like face twisting in exuberance. Energy crackled, spitting freely from his Cosmic Control Rod, situated just beneath his throat in the thick armor he wore. He looked bloated, ready to burst.

Casting the Surfer adrift he swooped forward, arms outstretched. Nefaria screamed, watching in horror as the Silver Surfer, his board tumbling aimlessly was caught up in the current of the rift, and the explosive positive space beyond.

Annihilus was in his face, hissing and raging. Nefaria felt the creature’s claws, grabbing at his arms, rending the metal. Nefaria jerked, trying to pull away and felt the energy conduits snap and tear, his suit’s power ebbing at the end of the dancing cables. Annihilus screamed-

“I sense power in you, Earther, but it sickens me. Makes my stomach turn.” The monster glanced back, peering through his beating wings, ignoring Nefaria’s screams of fear as the Mandroid armor ruptured beneath his claw-like grip. “But there is another…”

Nefaria followed the creature’s gaze, saw that it- he was staring at the Star Core shuttle, the shadowy figure of Oubliette flitting about within. She was in the process of turning the ship, trying to get away. Abandoning him! Nefaria tried to struggle.

He felt the creature’s claws rake through his lifeline…

“You…” the monster spat, hissing in his face. “You are worthless to me.” The monster reared back and Nefaria felt the world, the universe spin about him…

“Oh… God…”

He screamed as Annihilus chucked him towards the rift, following in the wake of the Silver Surfer as he was caught in the pull of the gravity well. He flailed, trying to right himself, but the pull was too great, and the monster’s force too powerful for the pitiful power of his thrusters to compensate. He felt the world start to burn and explode about him, his body rocking in agony…

Oubliette licked her lips, eyes wide with wonder as the Count spiraled away, kicking and thrashing as he vanished into the rip. There was a huge flare of pink energy as he entered, lightning crackling outward as he was swallowed, washed away into the void beyond. Oubliette was breathless…

She was panting. It was hard to focus, sweat dripping into her eyes as her hands drifted across the console before her. She had to get away. Daddy wanted the rod, but with Nefaria out of the picture, well, she knew that she had no chance in hell on her own. She adjusted the pitch, firing the shuttle’s temperamental thrusters, trying to turn the hulking craft. She scanned the Zone…

“Shit!”

Annihilus slammed into the view plate, his claws piercing the windscreen. Cracks spider-webbed across the triple-paned plastic, and Oubliette gasped to hear the sound of air escaping, the sound of the monster clawing his way in. She stared hard, backing away as the creature broke through-

Oubliette screamed!

Thirty seconds was all it had taken. Thirty seconds, and the earth shook with the force of the two clashing armies, each Avenger choosing their comparable Leaguer as they threw themselves into battle. “Avengers Assemble!” escaped their lips, from all but Captain America, who still rankled at the thought of his own team being the one to start the conflict. He was thankful that Woo had taken the opportunity to remove Reed Richards from the area, as the death of one of the smartest men in the world would be an unacceptable loss.

He stood back for a moment, assessing the battlefield with the skills of a master tactician. Thor’s hammer had already returned to his hand, the force of Mjolnir enough to stagger the one that resembled Ultra Man, whom the Captain had unsuccessfully fought in the previous battle. Iron Man, Quicksilver, the Beast...all had immediately gravitated toward their most recognizable counterparts on the field of war.

“Cap, watch it!” Hawkeye shouted from a few yards away, an arrow nocked and launched in the Captain’s direction. As Hawkeye fell to the ground from the sideways momentum of his shot, the arrow struck several feet in front of the two men, causing the man with the bat cowl to jump backwards to evade the concussion blast.

“Cap, we’ve got about thirty seconds before these guys wise up to us and take us down,” Hawkeye stated as he took to the Captain’s back, standing behind him and shouting over his shoulder.

“What do you suggest, Clint?” Cap asked, acknowledging Hawkeye’s own sense of leadership and stratagem.

“Switch up logical opponents,” Hawkeye said with a smile, “show these clowns that the Avengers can take ‘em in our sleep while going with the unexpected.”

“Do it,” Cap said before charging back toward the battle, “but don’t underestimate them.”

Nodding affirmatively, Hawkeye glanced over the firefight. His own target chosen, he, too, took off back to the battle.

The Black Panther dove into the air, pouncing on all fours when he again reached terra forma. The blonde woman had immediately chosen him as her target, and had kept him on the defensive since the attack had begun. T’Challa didn’t enjoy running from an opponent, though he indeed acknowledged the necessity of such an act. Better to learn what the enemy could do before engaging them outright, a tactic he wished Thor had learned throughout the years.

“Not really a chatty kitty cat, are you?” the Black Canary asked mockingly as she jumped and performed a somersault into the air. Landing in front of the still-crouched King of the Wakandas, the Bird of Prey immediately followed up her stance with a round house kick.

The Panther flipped backward, easily evading the sweep of the woman’s leg. “No need for unnecessary words,” he answered her, a casual toss of his arm producing three energy daggers from his belt. He watched as she flipped to the side, escaping the arc of the daggers – just as T’Challa had predicted. The enemy had an edge, one he had yet to decipher. Until he could, it appeared that he would remain on the defensive.

Suddenly, an arrow shot through the air, a duck of her head the only thing from keeping it still attached to the Canary’s shoulders. Was it an intuitive reflex of hers that allowed her to be a step ahead of them? While the woman’s attention was focused on the approaching Hawkeye, the Black Panther allowed himself a look around. In every battle, he saw the same motions being repeated by the members of the Justice League.

A telepath. One of them was a telepath.

“Take a powder, Panther,” Hawkeye stated as he drew another arrow from his quiver and took aim at the Canary, “legs here is all mine.”

Dinah took a backward glance at the Black Panther, and surprisingly watched him acquiesce to the archer’s wish. Instead of double teaming her, as they easily could have done, they were allowing the fight to proceed by gentleman’s rules. Could these Avengers, who had attacked them without provocation, adhere to a code of honor? She would have taken the time to ask J’onzz through their mental link, but she found her time better spent dodging the next volley of arrows launched in her direction.

A tear gas arrow whizzed by her vaulting form, followed immediately by a grappling hook arrow that she barely managed to evade. Her somersaults were getting her close to the purple-clad bowman, who remained in his one position: stooped down, one knee resting on the ground with the other foot firmly planted for balance as he shot. Why, oh why, did there have to be an archer with these people? A little too close to Ollie, as far as she was concerned.

The girl moved like Bobbi, Clint mentioned mentally as he watched her move closer to him through the wave of arrows. At the rate this was going, he’d be out of arrowheads by the time she got close. Within seconds, the Black Canary was within a few feet, and with a downward scissor motion of her leg she caught the bowman on the wrist, knocking the weapon from his hand.

“Hey now, no fair!” Hawkeye yelled as he lunged back, barely missing another roundhouse kick from the blonde bombshell. She was pressing her attack, forcing him to move back away from his fallen bow. She thought he was a one-trick pony, and she had no idea how wrong she was.

“Sorry, babe,” Clint said as he caught the Canary’s leg underneath his right arm, “but I’ve been trained by the best fighter on the planet.” Pushing forward with his greater weight, Hawkeye toppled the Canary onto her back, shoving an elbow into her face as they fell. He felt cartilage give and bone snap from the force of his strike, and both of them hit the ground hard.

“Fine, if that’s how it’s going to be,” Dinah muttered as she kicked up with her legs, pushing the Avenger off of her body. Jumping to a crouched position, the heroine implemented her secret weapon: her Canary Cry. Pure sonic force erupted from her vocal chords, the physical assault enough to knock Hawkeye off his feet. He landed a few feet away, blood running from his nose and ears as he lay unmoving in the rubble.

Dinah slowly crept to the prostrate body of her opponent, wondering if perhaps she had acted too harshly. There wasn’t anything superhuman about the archer, and for all intents and purposes he appeared to just be an athletic baseline human. Leaning over him, she noticed his shallow breathing, and prepared to call an end to the fight for fear that she’d seriously injured him...

...when his eyes popped open and a smirk materialized on his face. In a blur of motion, his arm shot up to her face. Gripped in his hand was an arrowhead, popped open by his thumb and forefinger to reveal a spray of sleeping gas. “Sorry, darlin’,” he said as she fell to the side, choking and gagging while the gas took effect on her nervous system, “but I’ve been deaf for years. All you did was blow out my hearing aid.”

Standing on sore legs, Hawkeye was pleased to find the Canary out cold from the effects of the gas. He still needed to retrieve his bow, but he was happy nonetheless. The battle had its first victory.

Avengers – 1; JLA – 0

T’Challa’s eyes narrowed beneath his cowl as he looked to the sky. The green-skinned caped one was hovering above the battle, any attempt to attack him failing due to his apparent intangibility. He was the one, the telepath that was giving their enemies the edge, the Panther decided. He felt safe in the sky, protected by a seemingly insurmountable power that allowed everything to pass harmlessly through him. An overconfident foe is an easily defeated foe, the ruler of the Wakandas thought as he tapped into the communication equipment concealed within his mask.

“Tony,” He said through the open communication channel, “the green one is the key to winning this battle, a telepath. We have a Vision scenario.”

Immediately after speaking, T’Challa saw both Iron Man and Warbird break away from their individual battles, arcing through the sky toward their new target. Hopefully this would be all over in a moment, the Avenger wished, but he also knew not to be overconfident himself.

He felt the wind from the blow a millisecond before being struck, allowing him to roll his neck with the fist striking the back of his head. He fell forward regardless, his senses screaming with pain as he rolled into a defensive position. Turning, he saw the dark-clad enemy that had first attempted to fight Captain America, his large cape billowing as he ran forward.

The Batman’s face twisted into a fierce scowl as he pressed the attack on the cat-like Avenger, but each blow placed was expertly blocked by the man’s forearms. Batman twisted at the waist and launched his foot forward, finally breaking through the Panther’s defenses while striking him hard in the midsection.

T’Challa flipped backward as he attempted to regain the breath stolen by the Leaguer’s strike. The man was very good, well-trained to a dangerous point. Had the Panther been a lesser man, he would have chosen to pawn the Batman off to Captain America, who – with no sense of self deprecation – was easily the African’s superior when it came to physical combat.

But the Black Panther was the ruler of a nation, and he had never backed away from an honorable battle. The Avenger pounced forward, his golden claws slashing across the bat logo that rested on his opponent’s chest. Another slash swiped against his right cheek, thankfully deflected by the thick material of his cowl.

“Enough,” the Batman stated as he threw up an open palm, striking the Panther on the bottom of his jaw. The Avenger was an excellent fighter, savage yet restrained by logic at the same time. Wayne knew he had to end the fight quickly, or there was a slim chance he wouldn’t win at all. Dodging another swipe of the claws, Batman crouched and pivoted, sweeping his leg against the Panther with enough force to knock him on his back.

The Batman was long tired of the other-dimensional fighters, this one on top of the Nighthawk boy previously. His hesitation against the Squadron Supreme had almost lost him that fight, so he knew that there was no time to consider any other options for fear of a similar distraction. His fist connected brutally with the Panther’s jaw as he rose up from his back, once again knocking him hard to the ground. T’Challa was unconscious after two more similar blows to his face.

Batman rose from his defeated opponent and looked across the field of battle. The telepathic link to his teammates was down, something had happened to the Manhunter. The individual Leaguers were on their own, against an enemy just as deadly as themselves...

Avengers – 1; JLA – 1

Good thinking, Carol, Warbird thought to herself while flying as fast as she could, pick a fight with the most powerful one in the group...

The man in red and blue was stronger than her...faster than her...and a hell of a lot more powerful. Superman had shrugged off her energy blasts like they were mosquito stings, and now he had her on the run. Thor was busy beating up the kid in green – with more fury than she’d ever witnessed in the Asgardian – and she was afraid that the man chasing her would possibly be too much even for the Thunder God.

Suddenly, Danvers heard a roar of engines below her, and she knew that the tide would be changing her way. She stopped her flight on a dime, throwing back her elbow as Superman continued to streak forward. Her elbow caught him directly in the jaw, her own physical strength considerable enough to knock him momentarily senseless. Then she soared into the air, leaving the Kryptonian to wonder just what was happening.

And the invincible Iron Man arrived from below, blasting the caped JLA leader with as much power as his repulsor blasts could muster. Superman flew across the sky, smoke billowing from his body as he fell toward the ground. Warbird soared back to her armored teammate, who was already moving away from the recovering Leaguer. “Warbird!” he said through the loud speakers in his helmet. “The one in green, Vision Plan C!”

Warbird nodded and changed direction, following several feet behind Iron Man as he streaked toward the floating Martian Manhunter. She watched as Anthony Stark flew around the intangible foe, unsurprised in the slightest at the alien’s seeming unawareness. His eyes were closed as he guided the JLA in their individual battles, protected by his wraith-like power. What the Panther had counted on, however, was the fact that Iron Man’s helmet was proofed against telepathy. Stark was a flying blind spot to the Manhunter’s power.

Iron Man changed trajectory after his first pass around J'onzz, raising his hands toward the preoccupied enemy. What came from the armor was not fury, but pure sound - a sonic attack that assaulted the Martian, causing him to scream in pain as he raised his hands to his ears. His concentration was broken, both telepathy and intangibility a non-issue as he focused his strength in deflecting the sonic screamers in Stark's armor.

And that's when Warbird moved in, colliding hard with the Manhunter's now-tangible form. "I got this, Iron Man," Danvers yelled to her teammate as she placed a powerful punch to the side of the alien's head, "go help one of the others!"

"Affirmative, Avenger," Iron Man replied, saluting to the woman as his bootjets propelled him elsewhere on the battlefield.

"Brace for impact," Warbird teased into the ear of the stunned J'onn J'onzz, holding him tight as her flight turned to a nosedive into the ground. The two figures collided with the stone ground, causing tremors that were felt by the other gladiators strewn across the area. Smoke and dust hid the impact crater, refusing to reveal the fate of the two warriors that had crashed so violently into the hard earth. A few of the other combatants paused in their fights to watch the rising clouds, curious as to who would emerge first - if either would emerge at all...

Another crack of thunder sounded from the parting waves of smoke, and Warbird flew into the air though a power not of her own volition. The Martian Manhunter immediately took to the air after her, his knuckles scraped after the furious punch he had landed against the woman's jaw. "You will find," J'onzz stated as he approached the recovering Danvers, who was now hovering shakily in the air, "that I am much more than simply a telepath." He attacked fiercely, his fists pummeling Warbird's chest before she could register his movements.

After the rapid volley of hits, he threw his fist in a backward arc, connecting again with the Avenger's jaw. This time, she fell toward the ground like a meteor, and the impact with the ground nearly jarred her into unconsciousness. Her eyes fluttered open as she laid on her back against the ground, just in time to see the veteran member of the JLA bearing down on her with fury burning in his eyes...literally, to her surprise. Concussive energy exploded from the Martian's eyes, and as the beam struck the woman he was confident that her defeat was assured. As he landed to the ground, he looked over the woman's seemingly unconscious body. The power in the Manhunter's eyebeams had been too much for her - though nearly too much for him as well, for such an ability was incredibly draining on his mind and body, especially when still reeling from the armored one's sonic assault. His mental abilities had yet to return to him, as the grogginess he felt in his alien brain had not subsided, so he was unable to read her thoughts. However, he mused while leaning toward her, if she was indeed defeated...then why was she smiling?

"Urrk!" the Martian choked out as the woman's hand shot forward, grasping him by his throat. Crushing his neck, she slowly stood to her feet, winking playfully at her foe.

"You almost had me, Green Genes," Carol stated as she forced J'onn to his knees, "until you shot me with your eye blast. I absorb energy, sunshine...soak it up like a sponge."

The Manhunter's eyes rolled skyward while she pulled back her free hand, forming it into a fist. "Now say good night."

Her blow came down with tremendous speed, but to her surprise it did not connect. The alien's own hand had risen quickly, catching the woman's fist before it could collide with his face. The two were at a stand-off, but during the test of strength Warbird realized that she was nowhere near as strong as he. The Martian Manhunter narrowed his eyes as he twisted her arm painfully. "Good night."

With his other hand, he placed a hard uppercut to the woman's jaw, sending her flailing backward into the air. When she landed on her back, several feet away, she did not get back up again.

Avengers - 1; JLA - 2

"!uoy evael regnA"

Zatanna muttered curses under her breath as her spell fell on deaf ears, the din of battle drowning out the vocal effects of her power. She had hoped that the woman in red, whose gypsy clothing marked her as a sorceress of old magic, would be the easiest - and most crucial - defeat of the war. When the red-haired Scarlet Witch turned her attention toward her, however, the daughter of Zatara felt her hair stand on end.

The Scarlet Witch gestured into the air, causing a burst of energy to flare from her fingertips. The ground shook violently beneath Zatanna's feet, knocking her on her backside as she clumsily attempted to maintain her balance. Things were not faring well, and it appeared that the home team had a sorceress that was much more powerful than Zatanna. The Witch was also angrier, as if something had goaded her into attack...the mystical being on the last world the League had visited, the one with the doppelgangers, had marked them somehow with a taint of evil. Zatanna could feel it in her own aura, and it was obvious that these other "heroes" could feel it was well. Had they all been duped into waging war upon each other?

"You killed a child, you and your so-called Justice League," Wanda Maximoff declared as she walked toward her fallen foe, chaos energy flaring across her body, "and the Avengers are going to make sure you pay for your crime."

"Oh, shut up," a voice from above commanded, the words followed by a flash of energy that struck the ground beneath the advancing Witch's feet. The concrete amazingly transformed into tar, allowing the woman to sink several inches, sticking to the long cloak that hung across her body. Zatanna looked up to see Firestorm descending toward her, his hand still outstretched in preparation for another attack.

"Get out of here, Zee," he said, watching the stuck Avenger like a hawk, "find Batman and Superman, and find us a way out of this stupid dimension. I'm ready to go home."

Zatanna rose to her feet and started running (why, oh why, had she chosen a costume with high heels?), leaving her friend to deal with the sorceress. Firestorm nodded toward the struggling Scarlet Witch. "Don't even think about it, red."

So it wasn't just the Avengers that had heightened aggression, Zatanna realized as she made her way across the battlefield. Firestorm was usually less brusque than that, and she could feel her own desire to fight beginning to overpower her despite her wishes. Superman was her only real choice to approach if she wanted the fight to end, because she knew that Batman's lust for violence could possibly have overcome him. As she ran, she could feel an insect fluttering around her, prompting her to swat her arms in the air.

"Hi there," a thin female voice said into her ear, "I'm the Wasp!" Zatanna's forward movement was then stopped by an energy burst that struck her neck, causing her to fall in a heap against the ground. "And you've just been stung!"

Zatanna rolled onto her back, only to find the tiny, winged figure of Janet Van Dyne hovering over her face. “Wow, you’re small,” the stunned sorceress muttered as the Wasp took flight back into the air.

“You know,” the winsome Avenger began as she again assaulted the woman with her bio-electric stings, “we really don’t appreciate having to fight identical assault teams. I absolutely love your costume, though.”

“!Em dnuorrus sdniw” Zatanna chanted. In reply, the elements leapt to her command, a fierce whirlwind surrounding her body as she stood to her feet.

The Wasp shouted something as she was caught in the wind storm, but her words were lost above the roaring sound of the magician’s attack. The half-inch tall Van Dyne fell hard to the ground, skidding several times across the dirt from the force of the winds that had tossed her away. It was several moments before she regained her wits, and it was then that she noticed the shadow falling over her.

Zatanna towered over her fallen foe, a wide grin on her face. “Finally,” she taunted, “someone that I can beat rather easily.”

The Wasp’s ever-present smile faded into a scowl as she jumped to her feet. Her mass expanded rapidly, shooting her to a larger size in the blink of an eye. Zatanna’s head craned skyward, her eyes widening as her gaze rose. She watched as the Wasp now towered over her, her height increased to an immense sixty feet.

“I’m sure you’re a nice person and all,” Janet said as she reached down with her giant fist, pounding it at the ground as Zatanna leapt to her side, “but I’ve been beating up lame bad guys like you since I was a ditzy teenager.”

Zatanna scrambled to her feet and broke into a run across the battlefield, desperate to get some distance between her and her giant opponent. She had to think of someway to take away the woman’s advantage, to equal the playing field. While the tremors of the Wasp’s footsteps stalked behind her, the idea came like a light bulb turning on over her head.

“!Ezis ruo lauqe” she shouted, turning back over her shoulder with an outstretched palm. Magic flared from her fingertips, striking the advancing Giant-Woman as she neared closer with large strides.

“What’s going on?” Janet asked as she rapidly shrunk to her normal size, momentum carrying her to a standing position directly in front of the League’s resident sorceress.

Zatanna immediately threw her fist forward, connecting hard against the Wasp’s jaw. The girl fell backward into unconsciousness, unprepared for the physical attack. Zatanna breathed a sigh of relief while wiping the dust and dirt from her top hat.

Batman would have been proud.

Avengers - 1; JLA - 3

Nuclear fire danced across the top of his head, echoing the lightshow that was playing out in the sky high above the Keystone Building. Ronnie Raymond had the girl in red trapped in a pool of tar, ensnaring her large cloak to the point where she was nearly immobile. The battle was taking too long, Firestorm decided, so it was probably a good thing that he’d defeated one of their foes so quickly.

“So what’s the good word, lady?” Firestorm asked, mockingly, as the Scarlet Witch attempted to free herself from her cape. “You like attacking lost, confused people for no reason at all?”

Wanda Maximoff closed her eyes and ignored the youth’s taunts. Burying her hands elbow-deep into the puddle of tar, she began to whisper under her breath, causing Firestorm to raise a curious eyebrow at her actions. Suddenly, the muck exploded outward, the Scarlet Witch’s hands erupting in a violent explosion of unpredictable magic.

“Okay,” Firestorm admitted as he took the air, avoiding the wave of slime that was thrown his way, “so it’s not as easy as I’d hoped. We can deal with that.”

The Witch remained silent as she climbed from the hole in the ground, leaving her coated cloak behind her. The flame-haired boy had an obvious advantage against her with his ability to fly, and she honestly had no idea on how to level the playing field. Her fingers contorted into impossible angles as her arms extended skyward, crossed at the wrists.

“Huh, that’s weird,” Firestorm noted in reply to the woman’s gestures. As he arced across the sky in a circle around her, the world suddenly turned topsy-turvy, a wave of dizziness washing over him to the point of making him nauseous.

He attempted to climb into the air, but his sense of direction had been reversed by the Scarlet Witch’s hex, causing him instead to crash head-first into the ground. “Okay, that wasn’t fair,” he rambled while lifting his face from the dirt.

“I’d suggest staying on the ground,” Wanda said as she slowly approached, her fingers still contorted into bizarre formations.

“No problem, babe,” Firestorm replied as he extended his own hand, sending out a flare of energy from his open palm. The blast struck harmlessly at the earth directly in front of the Avenger, causing her to jump back in surprise. The Leaguer smiled as the iron snares shot from the ground, earth and sand transmuted into a trap by the Nuclear Man’s molecular powers.

The Witch’s fingers again pulsed with chaos magic, however, and the iron shackles parted for her, tangling amongst themselves as she strode through them with confidence. “Oh, come on!” Firestorm shouted, again blasting with his molecular bolts. He had intended to entrap the woman within her own costume, to transmute it to dense lead that would inhibit her movements. She was faster, to his disappointment, and his energy attack was met by a hex sphere released from her fingertips.

The result was unexpected, to say the least. The probability-affecting hex bolt met the molecular transmutation blast, and the two did not agree with one another, a massive explosion that rocked both combatants to the ground providing a most dangerous result. Blown back roughly ten feet from her former standing position, the groggy Scarlet Witch rolled onto her side and slowly opened her eyes, her body wracked and battered from the concussive force. Her eyes caught the battle happening not far from her, and she saw poor Janet brought to size by the enemy’s spellcaster.

“I have a suggestion of my own,” Firestorm’s voice was heard from above her, prompting her to roll onto her back, “let’s not do that again. Once I turn back, I’m gonna be covered in bruises on places I’d rather not know existed.”

And that was the key, the idea coming to her after having witnessed the Wasp’s defeat only moments earlier. “So what are the odds,” she said while crossing her hands against her chest, looking up at her enemy, “that you would “turn back” now instead of then?”

“Buh?” was the only word that came to Firestorm’s lips as the nuclear transformation suddenly overtook him against his will. He was no longer superhuman, just plain ol’ Ronnie Raymond, and he fell to the ground thanking his lucky stars that he hadn’t been floating very high in the air.

“Any chance we can just call this a draw?” he asked meekly as the Scarlet Witch began to glow with eldritch energy. The blast that escaped her hands was weak, purposely so, sufficient enough to knock the boy off his feet and rob him of consciousness.

Despite everything these people had done to the Squadron Supreme, Wanda thought as she looked down at the defenseless Raymond, she still couldn’t bring herself to murder another human being. But this way, at least, the Avengers could finally gain another much-needed victory.

Avengers - 2; JLA - 3

Why does every superteam have to have a speedster, Wally West thought to himself as he raced ahead of the white-haired Quicksilver, is it like a union rule or something?

The two men had lapped the battlefield several times since the war had started, the Flash always several long leg strides ahead of the Avenger. It was obvious that Pietro Maximoff wasn’t as fast as the Flash, even had he not previously underwent a massive beating at the hands of the Crime Syndicate’s Johnny Quick. He was tired, badly fatigued and sore all over, but he refused to give up. His ego would not allow it.

“This is retarded,” the Flash mumbled to himself, realizing that nothing could be gained if he kept with his current strategy. He had hoped to simply outlast the other runner, but for some reason the guy just wouldn’t give up. West made up his mind as zoomed past the archer that had defeated the Black Canary earlier, an arrow launched from his bow missing the scarlet blur by a mile. The Flash cornered as sharply as he could and took off through the middle of the battlefield, hoping that one of his standing teammates could take out the fleet-footed opponent behind him.

He didn’t notice the blue-furred gorilla until he was mid-leap, and by then it was far too late to chance his direction or speed. The Beast grabbed onto the Flash’s shoulder with his right hand, momentum carrying him along as he locked arms and legs around the Leaguer’s body. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to stop, could I?” the Beast asked rhetorically as Wally frantically attempted to dislodge him. “Might I suggest halting your quickened movements, sirrah?” Comprende ingles? What if I said please?”

“Gah, can you shut up?” the Flash asked as he sped even faster through the battlefield, having decided that if he couldn’t dislodge his foe he’d just take him on a ride he’d never forget.

“Well, if we’re gonna run the Kentucky Derby,” the Beast commented with a toothy grin from behind the Flash’s right shoulder, “let’s at least make it interesting.”

And then he placed his large hands over the Flash’s eyes, completely obscuring his field of vision. “Are you out of your mind?” the Flash bellowed as he vainly tried to pry Henry McCoy’s fingers from his face. Wally knew he couldn’t stop, because if he did he’d assuredly get pounded into next week by the strangely literal and unbelievably heavy monkey on his back.

“Now this is a ride!” the Beast shouted as he peaked over the scarlet speedster’s shoulder. “But watch out, we’ve got some stuff in the way up ahead. Veer left...no, no, my left! (Though I surmise that would indubitably be your left as well.)”

The Flash grunted loudly as he changed trajectory to the left, narrowly missing the Batman, who had taken action to dive out of the way. “I got two questions, fuzzy,” he said to the whooping and hollering Avenger piggybacking him, “a) you realize that if we hit something, we’re both paste, and b) are we in New York City?”

“In order of asking,” the Beast replied into the Flash’s ear, “the danger is what makes it so much fun, and yes, Manhattan to be exact.”

Great, West thought as he cut a sharp right turn, a city I know by memory. Let’s hope there aren’t any major changes in architecture. The Flash then sped up even faster as he headed through downtown Manhattan, the Beast shouting directions to him so as to avoid any cabs and/or pedestrians. It wasn’t much concern to Wally if he did hit something, because at the speed he was going he’d simply vibrate straight through it, passenger included. Regardless, he didn’t really want the thought of someone having a heart attack after he whizzed by on his conscience.

“Oh...my...stars...and...freaking...garters!” the Beast yelled as the wind from their velocity threatened to rip him to pieces. Friction had started to affect him, singeing his fur as they flew down the busy streets. However, despite his verbal idiocy, McCoy’s genius brain was going through calculations almost as quickly as the Flash’s feet beneath him. He couldn’t hit the Flash while they moving, because that would probably hurt him just as much when they tumbled down the asphalt. Similarly, he couldn’t hop off, because the speedster would have him pummeled into a coma before his feet hit the ground. So, where would he have the advantage?

Indoors, somewhere small.

“Hey, Road Runner,” the Beast said as he threw his momentum to the left, forcing the Flash to turn in that direction as well, “pull it over. I just saw a café and I could really go for a cuppa joe right about now.”

Wally nearly stumbled as he veered to the side. He hated being blind, but there was nothing he could do about it...but then the Beast removed his hands from the runner’s eyes. “Peek-a-boo!” the Avenger yelled, giving the Flash a brief glimpse of the apartment building door that he was running straight toward. The stumble he’d made earlier had lost him previous velocity, meaning that he was no longer at a speed sufficient for intangible vibration.

Translation: he hit the door hard and kept on going...

...straight out the back of the building, heading out toward the docks. The Beast now had a hand free, and he grasped wildly for anything he could use as a weapon during their whirlwind jaunt through the cluttered building. What he’d managed to grab, to his dismay, was a spiral-corded telephone. “It’s for you!” the Beast announced jokingly as he rapped the Flash about the head with the plastic phone receiver, causing nothing but an even larger annoyance for the racer.

They were heading toward the water, the Flash realized, the absolute last place he wanted to end up. Turning sharply once again, he narrowly avoided the edge of the piers, racing parallel with the waterline. A bit of inspiration hit McCoy as he tossed the telephone’s cord at the Flash’s feet, tangling them enough to finally trip him up. They hit the water at their side with a thunderous fury, knocking the breath out of both men, causing them to sink beneath the depths.

No land beneath his feet, the Beast deduced, and a speedster is effectively useless. Having finally been removed from West’s back, the former X-Man attempted to swim his way back toward his enemy, but realized too late that he had seriously underestimated the Flash’s ingenuity. Having recovered more quickly, Wally began to thrust his legs forward in the water, just as the two broke the surface. Wave after wave of salty liquid assailed the Beast, gagging and choking him. Changing strategy, the Flash then began to swim with as much speed as he could muster around the Avenger, catching him in a tidal pool that drug them both back under the waves. When they emerged to the surface a second time, the Flash was holding the unconscious Beast in his arms.

Yeah, I think I’m just gonna float here for a minute, Wally decided as he thought about the long journey back to the battlefield.

Avengers - 2; JLA - 4

Steve Rogers was upset – nay, angry – at what was happening during the war. The Avengers weren’t acting like a team, and because of that he’d watched most of them fall to their arguably more powerful adversaries. He observed through narrowed eyes as the Beast clutched onto the scarlet speedster, and he’d hoped that Quicksilver would be able to press his own attack. He sighed in dismay when he saw Pietro fall for seemingly no reason at all, tripping over something along the ground.

This wasn’t right, Captain America decided. While these people indeed were mirror images of the Crime Syndicate, they almost seemed hesitant to fight. Had Thor not jumped the gun, there could possibly have been an understanding met between the two teams. But it was too late for talk, he knew, as he saw the two individuals flying toward him.

“Surrender now!” Superman ordered from above, his eyes blasting with fire several inches from the Captain, who stood unmoved with his shield brought to the fore to block any attacks. “We don’t want to hurt any of you!”

Wonder Woman hovered alongside her teammate, but no pleas for surrender escaped her lips. The warrior’s fury was raging inside her, enflamed by the spell placed upon the heroes by the strange child that had removed them from the Squadron Supreme’s universe. Some had been affected hardly at all, as evidenced by the Kryptonian’s desire for peace between the combatants, but Diana’s Amazon blood made her one of the easiest to manipulate.

“You’ve invaded our dimension without invitation,” Captain America called back, his head held high while speaking to the two senior members of the Justice League, “but can we lay down arms enough to talk this out? I think someone’s made a grave mistake.”

“You have made the mistake,” Wonder Woman announced, an accusatory finger pointed downward at the Avenger, “in thinking that true heroes will ever stand down to those who would attack us without provocation!’

“Diana, I don’t think...” Superman began, only to have the woman’s silencing hand placed in front of his face.

“Fine,” Cap said as he raised something concealed in his hand to his mouth, “I can’t say I expected you to listen to reason, anyway. Now, Iron Man!”

Superman and Wonder Woman both snapped to attention at the Captain’s order, but were too late to defend against the awesome repulsor blast of the armored Avenger that had been approaching from behind, his cloaking field masking both sound and sight.

Superman logically recovered first, his cape burned and smoldering from the second attack by Iron Man that he’d weathered. Iron Man took off, higher into the sky, propelled by his bootjets. Kal-El flew after him, while the shaken Wonder Woman turned to join him.

“I don’t think so, lady,” Cap said from his position on the ground, his arm held back far behind him. The shield left his grasp with as much strength as his muscular form could offer, striking the Amazonian in the back before she could follow Superman in pursuit of Stark.

Attacked by surprise for the second time, Wonder Woman fell out of the sky in a spiral pattern. Rogers went into a series of flips and jumps, making his way to where his shield was rebounding. With the grace of a lifetime spent in training, the shield slid effortlessly onto Captain America’s arm as he landed one final somersault. He turned, shield brought in front of his chest, just as the woman’s fist extended outward.

Wonder Woman had recovered quickly, her near invulnerability providing a soft landing after she’d fallen from the sky. She’d expected the flag-wearer’s shield to crumble under the strength of her fist, but discovered that it was made of sterner stuff that she’d assumed when her hand struck flat against the metal and refused to buckle. “By Hera,” she said as she threw her other hand backward, again striking the shield with enough force to send Cap staggering backward, “your weapon will not save you.”

“I’ve had worse than you threaten the same,” the Captain remarked as he ducked under another wide swing from the warrior woman, “and this shield has never let me down.”

While on his haunches, Cap sprang upward. His shield caught the woman directly on the chin, striking her jaw and sending shockwaves through her skeletal system. Continuing his movement via momentum, Rogers flipped over the rattled Wonder Woman and landed behind her. Again going into a crouch after landing, he threw back his arm, allowing the edge of his shield to collide with the back of her knees.

She fell onto her back, invoking the names of her gods as she landed. Captain America was upon her in a heartbeat, his shield again being used as an offensive weapon. His hands gripping it along the sides, he brought it toward her face, hoping to end the fight with one more blow. Diana was unbelievably fast, however, and her crossed wrist gauntlets caught the shield and blocked the attack.

Wonder Woman kicked her legs up, knocking her foe into the air behind her. When she returned to her feet, she was disappointed to see that the man had landed perfectly on his heels, and had already turned to face her again. “Be warned,” she said with her hands placed confidently on her hips, “I will not hesitate to hurt you quite badly if you persist in this.”

“Consider me warned,” Rogers answered, following the statement with a strange action. He threw his shield to his side, again releasing his hold on it, and allowed it to be tossed away into the air.

Wonder Woman began to advance after realizing that he had thrown his only weapon away. There was something strange about his tactics, she noted, because the man did not strike her as stupid or suicidal. When she saw him smiling as she approached, she realized what he’d done.

Cap scowled slightly when his strategy failed, the returning shield being caught in her superhumanly strong grasp by an outstretched arm. He’d hoped to again take her by surprise, but she’d outsmarted him. That, he decided, would not happen again.

“This will be ended,” she said as she dropped the shield to the ground and placed her foot atop it. She removed the tattered and broken golden lariat from her side, and with blinding speed tossed it through the air. Cap attempted to dodge the lasso, but was unable to keep from being caught, wrangled like a steer by the woman’s shimmering rope.

Diana wrapped the lasso around her hands as she pulled him toward her, his back facing her while being drug through the dust. “You will tell me what evil you people have perpetrated on this planet,” she commanded, “and you will tell me no lies. The golden lariat will only allow you to speak the truth.”

His arms tied to his side, Cap was brought directly in front of the woman that was slowly choking the life out of him. He could feel her breath on his neck, but it was her words that angered him enough to act. “Lady,” he said as he pushed himself back into her, “I haven’t told a lie since 1941.”

The Living Legend of World War II tossed his head back, allowing the top of his skull to crash as brutally as possible with the bridge of the warrior woman’s nose. Her head jerked back from the force of the blow, and her hands went lax, allowing the lasso to fall around him. He dropped to the ground and retrieved his shield, quickly looping the lasso tightly around the adamantium disc.

Wonder Woman, recovering from the surprise blow, lunged forward, only to find herself flipping head over heels by the man’s hand on her midsection. As he threw her to the ground, he locked his legs around her head and began to squeeze. He knew she wouldn’t pass out, but it was buying him precious time. Wrapping the other end of her own lasso around her wrists, Cap released his leg lock and jumped away, tossing the shield away from him once again as he leapt.

“What madness is this?” Diana demanded to know as the shield arced around her, whipping her tied hands around her body. When the shield finally returned to the triumphant hands of Captain America, Wonder Woman was tied and tangled by her own weapon, pulled taut by Rogers’ own muscle.

“Now,” he said as she shot him an angry look, “why don’t you tell me exactly what’s going on here?”

Wonder Woman said nothing.

“Fine. We’ll talk when you wake up,” Cap stated as he struck her with the side of his hand directly behind the ear, a blow sufficient to knock her unconscious.

Avengers - 3; JLA - 4

Pietro Maximoff sneered as he watched the Beast leap upon the speedster that he’d been pursuing for the entirety of the battle. The man could not be faster than him, it was a possibility that Quicksilver refused to entertain, and the thought that his teammates believed him unable to catch the Flash was like a slap to his face.

He pressed his leg muscles even harder as he saw the Flash’s futile attempt to remove McCoy from his back. Pietro would catch this enemy and prove his worth, without the help of any other Avenger...he would show that he could prevail against any foe set against him. No matter what.

In his determination, he failed to notice the thin red cord that had extended at level with his ankles, and he hit it hard. He fell into a head-over-heels tumble across the war zone, shocked and amazed that he had actually been tripped up by a stray piece of litter that had fallen in his path.

After only a second or two of confusion, Quicksilver was back on his feet, turned toward the object that had felled him. Landing in a runner’s stance, he was prepared to launch himself forward once more, but he paused his action to cock a curious eyebrow at the “rope” that had tripped him. The red and yellow strand had taken the form of a man whose body flowed like liquid, a goofy smile adorning his goggled face.

“Now it can’t be said that I don’t believe in fighting fair,” Plastic Man remarked as he changed his shape into another costumed man, one with the words “Fair Play” emblazoned on his tunic, “but I do know that ganging up on poor ol’ Flash just don’t cotton.”

“A poor man’s Reed Richards?” Pietro quizzed with a smile. “Oh, fate is being too kind.”

Quicksilver shot off like a bullet toward Plastic Man, confident that the fight would be over in no less than 20 seconds. He ran circles around the malleable Eel O’Brien, placing blow after blow against his body. Plastic Man, however, had been prepared for such a tactic. His forearms were raised and stretched around his whole upper body, protecting his face with an impenetrable shield of stretched skin that Maximoff’s rapid volley of blows pounded against harmlessly.

“This is a move I was taught by a guy named Ted Grant,” Plas said from behind his makeshift barricade, “called a rope-a-dope. People will say that Ali did it first, but hey, us superfolks have to have each other’s backs in important arguments like that.”

Quicksilver was wearing a trench into the ground around the Leaguer’s immovable body, and he stubbornly began to realize that the fight would not be won as easily as he hoped. He’d been unable to breach the comedian’s defenses, but he was determined to keep trying.

Plastic Man, too, realized that the battle would not be won with him on the defensive. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to wear down the mutant any time soon, so it was time for a new plan. While Quicksilver flew around him in the same circular pattern, fists outstretched with each pass, Plas bided his time...and then struck. He folded his body outward, hollowing it out as it enveloped the fleet-footed Avenger in a perfect sphere. Within a moment, Plastic Man was rolling gently across the ground, Pietro trapped helplessly inside the cavity of his body.

“Now, uh, I don’t know how much air you got in there,” O’Brien commented as he rolled to a stop, able to feel his foe’s confused movement against his body, “but maybe that archer you guys got will come along and try to shoot you some breathe holes.”

Quicksilver grunted loudly in the dark sphere in which he’d been trapped. He had nowhere to go, and his blows were harmlessly absorbed the annoying one’s plastic body. How could speed help him when he had no room to maneuver. And then the idea came to him, and he smiled mischievously.

“Hey...man, what’re you...hey! Cut that out!” Plastic Man yelled as he felt his imprisoned enemy begin to move faster and faster inside him. He was building up pressure by running in place, increasing his velocity to the point where Eel couldn’t stretch any more for fear of rupturing. With an agonized yelp, the elastic crusader went flat, releasing Quicksilver from the sphere and allowing him to race away.

“I’ve had enough of this foolishness,” Quicksilver stated as he rushed past the recovering Plas, “so let’s just cut to the chase, shall we?”

As he ran by, the Avenger grabbed hold of Plastic Man’s elastic arm, pulling it with him as he turned and ran in an arc around his enemy. In much the same way that Captain America had defeated his opponent, Maximoff ran circles around the Leaguer, grabbing a different body part with each pass around.

“Now,” he said as he finally halted his movement, stopping on a dime in front of the immobile Plas, “that’s much better.”

Tied in knot after knot, Plastic Man puckered his bottom lip and sobbed. “What a revoltin’ development.”

Quicksilver immediately began to ignore O’Brien’s pleas to untie him, his eyes darting quickly around the battle. “Now where did that Flash person get off to?”

Avengers - 4; JLA - 4

His sensors were screaming in his ears, but Anthony Stark ignored the clarion bells that his armor was relaying to his brain. He was pushing his boot thrusters as hard as they could go, as high into the air as they would take him. The fellow chasing him was understandably upset, having been on the receiving end of not one but two sneak attack repulsor blasts.

And make no mistake, Superman was highly angered. He was gaining on the man in the high-tech battle suit with every passing moment, climbing higher and higher toward the strange storm that was building above the Keystone Building. He had hoped that Diana would be with him, but she had apparently decided to stay behind with the shield-bearer. He knew he shouldn’t worry, as Wonder Woman was more than capable of handling a mere costumed athlete, but still...

Time to see just what this suit’s made of, Iron Man thought to himself as he changed trajectory, falling into a headfirst diving arc behind the advancing Kryptonian. Superman had allowed his thoughts to distract him, and now the Golden Avenger was below him, his repulsor bays in his palms surging with power.

The force blasts exploded against Superman’s body while he turned in his flight, heading on a collision course with Iron Man. Stark grit his teeth and narrowed his eyes as the distance closed between the two men of steel, his repulsors splashing off Superman’s chest and face, refusing to stop him. The champion of Metropolis had taken their measure earlier, and would not be beaten by them again.

The two men collided with the sound of thunder, Superman’s fists slamming hard into Iron Man’s chest plate. “What is wrong with you people?” Superman asked as he smashed his fist into the side of Iron Man’s helmet. “We don’t want to fight you, we come in peace!”

An explosive backhand from the Kryptonian sent Iron Man flying through the air, his retro-thrusters immediately attempting to halt his erratic movement. Stark grimaced while spiraling across the sky, the displays of his armor’s weapon system projected into his retinas. His head was still ringing from the punch to his helmet, the vibrations nearly enough to rattle the fillings from his teeth. “Guy’s got a funny way of showing his reluctance to fight...” Tony mumbled to himself.

Iron Man finally halted his flight and turned back toward his enemy, only to find that Superman was pressing his attack a lot more quickly than expected. Colliding hard into the Avenger’s midsection, more vibrations ran the length of the armor. Stark couldn’t believe the man’s strength, and silently commented to himself that the stranger would perhaps be too much for even Thor. Iron Man was obviously outclassed.

“Why won’t you just give up and let us talk?” the Kryptonian asked as he wrapped his massive arms around the Avenger’s body. The pressure was beginning to build inside the armor, and Stark was afraid that perhaps the suit would crack.

“Something you might want to consider,” Iron Man said smugly as he toggled through the operating systems with his helmet’s chin rest, “when fighting for your life, knock off the negotiations.”

Pinned face to face with Superman, Iron Man’s Uni-beam that rested in his chest-plate flared to life, hitting his foe square on the large S that was blazoned on his uniform. Superman released his grip around Stark as he was pushed backward from the force of the Uni-beam, a grunt of pain passing from his lips. “Another thing,” Iron Man continued as he raised his hands into the air, “on my world, the heroes have to fight dirty.”

The armored hero’s palms came up directly in front of Superman’s open eyes, and two repulsor blasts exploded point blank into the Leaguer’s face. Kal-El screamed, something he had very rarely done in his lifetime, and his head jerked backward, sending him into a tailspin toward the ground. Iron Man’s bootjets returned to life, and as he dove toward his opponent he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for what he’d done. Cap would assuredly be disappointed in him, but the victory was what mattered. It was war, Stark decided as he shot the falling Superman with another volley of repulsors, and he had to do whatever it took to win.

Smoke filtered from Superman’s eyes as he attempted to block out the pain he was feeling and stop his fall. He was beginning to slow his descent, and the armored one’s pulse blasts were barely noticeable to him. He’d underestimated the Avenger, foolishly trying to reason with someone that would obviously not listen to his pleas for the battle to stop. Now hovering in place, shaking his head from side to side in a desperate attempt to get his sight working again, Superman felt helpless.

He was blind, and the advantage had gone to his opponent in the span of a few moments.

Iron Man activated his stealth field as he flew around his foe, knowing that if he was blind the only thing he had yet to eliminate was Superman’s sense of sound. His bootjets were silenced by the null-sound field that cloaked his invisible war suit, and he continued to fly around the alien in circles of varying widths, constantly bombarding him with energy. Would he be able to wear the invulnerable Superman down, even in his weakened state? Or would the armor red-line before his foe fell?

Superman’s vision was blurred as he attempted to get a bead on his enemy’s direction. Iron Man had again turned invisible, and had somehow eliminated the sound his jets made when zooming by. All the Kryptonian could do was float there, weathering the brutal assault. If he couldn’t see or hear the Avenger, what could he do to win the battle?

The scent hit his nostrils immediately, his super sense of smell picking up on the noxious fumes emitted by Iron Man’s jet thrusters. The scent got stronger every few seconds, splashing against his face as the Avenger around his body. Superman smiled slightly, knowing that he’d found the edge he needed, and all he had to do was be patient.

This guy just won’t fall down, Iron Man thought to himself as he made another pass. His armor was yelling in his ear to slow down, to conserve his energy, but he knew he had to keep pushing. He was better than this clown...smarter. He was varying his speed and direction as he circled, hoping to keep his flight pattern random and unpredictable. He was going to beat him, thank god, he was going to win...

And then Superman’s hand shot out, superhumanly strong fingers digging into the shoulder plate of Iron Man’s armor. “Oh, shit,” Stark said as the smiling Superman halted his flight and drew back his other fist. The man from Krypton brought his fist down square with Iron Man’s face plate, denting the steel and driving the Avenger down to the ground far below.

Iron Man’s alarms shrieked as he hit the ground, creating a small crater around his body. Stark was unconscious before landing, however, and the sensors fell on deaf ears. Superman floated cautiously to the ground, his vision slowly returning to him as he touched down on the Earth.

“Now don’t you wish you’d just stopped to talk?” Superman asked the immobile Iron Man, really not expecting a reply.

Avengers - 4; JLA - 5

“Have at thee, villain! A craven coward thou may be, the Son of Odin shalt not halt no matter how far thou flee!”

Kyle had been on the defensive ever since the fight had started, and he’d barely managed to keep from getting hit by the giant mallet that the bearded guy kept throwing at him. All of that, he thought, and now he tosses bad poetry at me?

“Listen, man,” Rayner said as he flew through the air, his body covered in emerald light, “I don’t know how you found out about that kid, but trust me – it was an accident! I never meant for it to happen, and I feel awful enough about it without you trying to beat me to death!”

Thor’s anger raged even stronger at the boy’s words, his own body lifted high in the air by the twirling hammer. “Liar! Basest of villains, to deny the guilt of thy actions! By my father’s beard, let Hela welcome thy broken body into her bosom!”

He released his hold on the hammer’s leather tong, allowing it to sail furiously through the air. Green Lantern braced himself for impact, deciding that he couldn’t keep evading forever. It was time to see just how hard the weapon could hit. He immediately regretted his decision as the hammer struck the shield he’d erected with his ring, smashing through it as if it weren’t there. The stone hammer slammed into his chest, breaking ribs and pushing the air from his lungs with the force of its strike. Kyle fell from the sky, barely conscious, watching as the hammer impossibly turned in the air and returned to the hands of the so-called “Thunder God” that was now standing anchored on the ground.

Okay, Kyle thought as he staggered to his feet, that wasn’t fun at all. He stood as tall as he could, ignoring the pain in his chest and the broken bones that were rubbing together as he breathed in, and faced down the giant Norse deity that was slowly walking toward him. “Teach me to try and reason with someone so big,” he said as he raised his ringed hand above his head, “so let’s dance. I’ll lead.”

Thor’s eyes widened as the ring erupted in green energy, creating above the boy a fiery emerald dragon possessing three heads, all belching pyres of flame downward. The Asgardian halted nary a step, however, and swatted the flames away with a wide sweep of his hammer. The flames broke and sparked as the enchanted weapon dispersed them, and Thor paid no attention to the burning fire that made it past his defense. “I say thee nay!” he bellowed as strands of his golden hair burned away.

Green Lantern then took back to the sky, flying as high and as far from the God’s hammer as he could. “This guy can’t be that tough,” he said as he kissed the ring of Oa that rested on his finger, “so let’s get physical.”

He fell into a dive, heading straight for the enraged Thor, willing his ring to create an all-encasing suit of green armor around him. In the hands of the armor was a sword twice the young man’s size, crackling with jade light as he brought it in a downward stroke at his enemy. Thor blocked the sword strike with the handle of his hammer, but the force was sufficient enough to drive him to one knee. Moving with more grace than his weight should allow him, Kyle moved fluidly around the thunderer, but found yet another of his sword blows blocked by the ever-present mallet. Lantern decided to switch tactics mid-swing, and the sword transformed before the Avenger’s eyes into a chain that wrapped tightly around his thick body.

“What magic hath bedeviled me?” Thor raged as he flexed his muscles, straining against the Lantern’s chain. Rayner pulled tighter on the chain as a smile crept on his lips, his expression hidden by the green helmet atop his shoulders.

“Sorry, wing-head,” Kyle quipped in triumph, “but nothing can break those bonds as long as my willpower is keeping them strong.”

“Thou darest to match wills with the Son of Odin?” Thor asked as he flexed his muscles again, snapping the ring-produced chains with as much strength as he could muster. “Prepare to witness why Thor hath been named the Lord of Storms, whelp!”

The Asgardian brought the hammer down and struck the ground with the fury of an earthquake, and lightning exploded from the strike point, electrifying the very air around the two men. Lightning struck Kyle’s armor dozens of times as he was blown backward, cracking and shattering it with the elemental force produced by Thor’s assault. The Green Lantern’s protective covering faded away as he hit the ground, dazed and disoriented on the flat of his back.

“Now thou shalt pay for thy crimes,” Thor said as he picked Kyle up by the front of his shirt, holding the Lantern up to his bearded face.

“’n brightest day, ‘n blackest night...” Kyle mumbled confusedly as he placed one last ditch punch against Thor’s face. The Thunder God’s eyes narrowed in furious anger at the child’s display of insolence. Still holding him by the shirt with one hand, Thor brought the end of his hammer across Rayner’s face, sending blood and teeth flying across the ground. The boy’s green mask broke in jagged shards as he went limp in Thor’s arms.

By all rights, Green Lantern should have been dead as he was dropped to the ground by the Asgardian. Consciousness had been lost, and it was only his tremendous will power that was keeping him from dying on the spot.

Avengers – 5; JLA – 5

Thor brought the hammer high into the sky, preparing to deliver the deathblow against the Green Lantern’s skull. “Thou shalt die on thy knees, craven jackal,” the Stormbringer commanded as he plunged Mjolnir downward. The hand that caught him at the wrist halted the hammer’s strike, straining to keep Thor’s strike at bay.

“Who dares?” Thor raged as he pulled his arm free from the person that had risked their life to stop his killing blow. Standing beside him was Captain America, angered in his own right at the act he had almost witnessed.

“Stand down, Thor,” the Captain ordered as he stood toe-to-toe with his teammate, “the Avengers are not murderers. The day that happens is the day I die.”

“Captain, I would follow thee into war against dread Surtur himself,” Thor yelled at the top of his hefty lungs, hammer waving in the air as Rogers stepped between him and the gravely injured Green Lantern, “but thou doth dare much to stand in the way of vengeance true and right!”

“This young man may very well die from what you’ve done to him, Thor,” Cap said as he crouched down to check Rayner’s pulse, “and the thought of that makes me sick to my stomach. Calm down and back off, or else.”

“It’s too late for that,” the voice of Superman said from a few feet away, his face contorted into an expression of anguish and anger after having seen his teammate’s condition. Thor immediately went to speak, his hammer already beginning to spin in his hands, but Captain America instead leapt between them, his arms outstretched to keep both men at bay.

Before any from either team, Avenger or Justice Leaguer, could continue their battles, the sky above them exploded with light. A shrill scream pierced the air as everyone’s attention was given to the black portal that hung just above Keystone Tower. The assembled heroes watched in confusion as a hideous creature tore his way through the rift, his huge leathery wings beating furiously against he storm that his crossing had created. A woman was clutched in the monster’s grasp, struggling with all her might to break free, but the fight was for naught.

“Finally, after all these years,” the green metallic insectoid shrieked into the air, “Annihilus has breached the barrier! Annihilus is free to conquer...free to destroy!”

To be Continued...

Next Issue:
The crossover of the century moves back over to Marvel 2000 in the pages of Avengers # 39! Two worlds are under the threat of crisis, and with the mightiest champions of both Earths embroiled in their own conflict other residents have decided to take up arms and do what they can to save reality!

Special Thanks is given to Mike Rasbury and Matt Pierce, who both helped me in the difficult task of plotting the individual fight scenes in this issue.
~Chris Munn

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