What has come before: A hostile alien force has conquered The Earth. Earth’s heroes are fighting a losing battle as a resistance to the Martian oppressors. Hope comes in the shape of the heroes children, raised in secret in other dimensional Asgard. Great warriors with the sole purpose of freeing their Homeworld have trained these young heroes, in hopes that this secret army could do what they could not.

By Dave Evans and Joseph Connell

Legacy: War of the Worlds Presents

Legacy 5 – Part Three

Britannia: Bethany Whitman-Braddock, daughter of the Black Knight and Betsy Braddock. Mustang: son of Hawkeye and She-hulk. Marvel Girl: daughter of Mister Fantastic and the Invisible Woman. Rockface: daughter of the Thing and Alicia Masters. Makarra: son of the Eternal speedster Makarri. Together they are:

Legacy 5

Their Allies

Di Vinci: Vincent Di Vinci, dimension traveller. Uru: young gogling of mysterious origin and Di Vinci's partner. Jackdaw: Jack Dorrington, bird like mutant from the 20^th Century.

Their Enemies: The Heirs of Kang

Marcus Tempus: son of Kang the Conqueror. Ramades: the time pharaoh, son of Rama Tut. Centurius: son of the Scarlet Centurion and master of Earth S. Victor Timely III: son of Kang's 20^th Century personna Victor Timely and Victor Timely II. Termina: daughter of Kang's one time consort Terminatrix or Lady Kang. They fight a temporal war with themselves and others.

Previously: A bizarre crisis in the very fabric of reality has caused a team of the Legacy heroes to be flung into the past. Allying themselves with the dimensional travellers Di Vinci and Uru, the young heroes escape capture by W.H.O. and sought to return to their own time.

After an altercation with the newly self-styled Lord Hawk in the skies over London, the Legacy 5 and their allies made their way to Lyonesse, in hopes of gaining access to Otherworld so Di Vinci can return them to their native time. Upon arrival at the island, they convince the Pendragons of their predicament and are allowed access to the Cathedral of Owls, and then Otherworld. Captain Britain accompanies the Legacy 5 on their dimensional jaunt. No sooner do they arrive than they are confronted by their unseen enemy: Marcus Tempus and his new ally Lord Pumpkin. Marcus plans conquest of Otherworld, to which end Lord Pumpkin unleashes the Bane while Marcus’ troops descend from his battleship. Hawkeye, who had stowed aboard Marcus’s ship, joins them in defending Otherworld even as the rival Heirs arrive, eager to claim conquest for themselves.

Meanwhile a mysterious stranger known only as the Agent is searching for Di Vinci, yet shows sudden interest in Britannia as well.

And observing these events unfold, four figures prepare to intervene from the far reaches of time and space.

“A Whole Otherworld of Trouble”

Prolouge One - Elsewhen

…in the Sixth Millennium, Amino Domini

The blonde girl, clad now in her more familiar black-and-sky sentisuit, accepts the datapaad from the man in gray friar’s cloak. She passes it across to the young sorcerer, her arm easily stretching the length of the rooftop they stand upon. The smoke rises and lingers from the freshly drawn sigils at his feet, drawn by the lightning summoned from the dark skies above by the great warhammer.

The sorcerer and others – one dark-skinned and hefting his elements-commanding hammer, the other of fair skin and hair, strong arms cradling the ancient sword – examine the small device closely, then set to work transcribing what is shown, etching complex formulas and figures into stone roof they stand upon.

Sorcery and mathematics intermingle through their work, and the universe shudders under their feet.

The girl and cloaked man watch their work closely. The black maw of the latter’s hood leans close to the former, who brushes her long hair aside to better hear what is whispered for her ears alone. She listens calmly, unafraid, and nods her assent.

“We are ready,” the sorcerer declares over the growing wind. The girl, in truth a young woman grown strong and steady from long conflict, quickly joins hands with the one she calls ‘Grandfather’. She offers a comforting squeeze, then releases him and joins her comrades. The four take up their positions.

The dark-skinned warrior king swings his great hammer down upon his fair-skinned counterpart, the broadsword that is the legacy of the Lake is held aloft, taking the blow and rending the skies above for the force this generates. Lightning crashes all about the four of them.

The young woman quickly raises her hands, the air about them suddenly shimmering as a clear dome shields them from the worst of the storm. The sorcerer chants words no human dictionary would recognize, hovering in lotus position and eyes becoming white as fresh snow.

The storm reaches its crescendo, thunder and lightning lacing the already angry sky. In a flash, a dozen, dozen bolts lance down and strike the perimeter of the invisible bubble. The bubble, no longer invisible, instead becomes a dome of fire.

And they are gone. The stone upon which they stood is wiped clean of both formula and sigils.

The gray robed man, who has remained immobile through this all, stays where he is. He resolves to wait for their return, how ever long or short this span will prove.

<><><>

Prologue Two – Otherwhen

A hidden base deep within Limbo

“They go too far!” Elena Zarko bellowed as she looked over the screens in front of her depicting her former master's offspring in battle in Otherworld. “What are they thinking? We cannot be drawn into a conflict with Braddock now! I must take steps and teach these wayward children some harsh lessons!” she continued.

“Bring me Apocryphus of the Anachronauts, I have a mission for the young Eternal,” she commanded to her robotic servant. The servoid quickly moved to fulfill its orders. Elena returned her eyes to the multitude of screens before her, observing the conflict from many angles, glaring at each scene, she would not let the plans her father started so long ago to be disrupted like this, after all that is why she had to kill him.

<><><>

Otherworld – Now

The normally clear and eternal blue skies of Otherworld were unusually crowded.

Four more ships had now materialized overhead, each of different configurations than Marcus’s own. A stream of dark-skinned humanoids was literally pouring out from under the great pyramid that was the first to appear; upon closer inspection, one would see they weren’t so much dark skinned as they simply had rotting and gangrenous flesh on their bones.

Then there were the amorphous forms that shimmered into view under the silver sphere. As they advanced in loose yet solid line towards the great Citadel, the very air began to crackle and snap with electric discharges that sent anything near them whether friend or foe literally flying backwards. Several of Marcus’s troops were reduced to so much slag by getting too close to the wings of the energy creatures, while more than a few of the undead things from the pyramid ship caught fire and were quickly reduced to ashes.

There seemed to be little their team could do, between the robots on one side and the undead on the other, with the energy creatures making steady progress towards the Citadel which itself was under siege by the Wraiths that had come with Marcus. The energy creatures were reinforced by the boxy robotic army of Victor Timely III, simple known as the Exterminators.

From a gigantic eagle shaped battleship a team of young warriors not dissimilar to the Legacy descended, they were the Squadron, the mind controlled minions of Centurious master of Earth S.

By far the most impressive army to lay waste to this once peaceful corner of Otherworld was the troops of Termina, the sole daughter of Lady Kang. Her warriors were "gathered" from across the multiverse with the rumored help of an unnamed benefactor.

All the while, the monstrous warships traded weapons fire between them, stretching each other’s shielding to its limits and lighting the sky in a virtual rainbow of energy.

Down below the young heroes of the Legacy and their allies tried their level best to draw a line in the sand until help arrived. No small feat, given it was clear each the heirs were fixed upon overrunning all opposition and defense of the great citadel, as much to belittle or destroy their siblings as to prove themselves the true heir of their father. No surprise then how their armies neither coordinated nor combined their forces, making it all a disorganized, chaotic mess.

Each of the defenders nevertheless managed to hold the line, if only for a precious few moments, their heroism every bit in evidence.

<><><>

MAKARRA: “Crapcrapcrapcrap!” the lighting fast young Makarra grumbled as he used his tremendous speed to run interference for his teammates. Makarra just dodged a huge hammer hurled at his head by one of Marcus Tempus’ Thor-esque minions. “You’d think I’d be used to all this by now what with been lost in the Negative Zone and another universe and now the past. Someone should put a leash on us,” Makarra thought to himself.

In truth he was terrified, he had always been able to out run his problems but he had increasingly found himself in situations where running was not an option, plus how could he desert his friends when they so desperately needed his help, so he pushed his fear to the back of his mind and he did what he did best he poured on the speed. As he ran, he whispered to himself to stop the enormity of the situation from overwhelming him, words and thoughts tumbling over each other. “Astra will be waiting when we get home, perhaps I’ll ask Jess out, father is still alive, how can you kill an Eternal?”

<><><>

MARVEL GIRL: The scale of the battle that had erupted around her staggered Valeria Richards. In mere moments her team was in the midst of a war between five temporal conquerors, the Bane and the approaching armies of Otherworld. It didn’t take her missing father’s vaunted intellect to work out none of these invaders could be allowed to gain even a foothold in Otherworld. Rallying herself, Valeria fought and fought hard, at once protecting the flanks of her teammates with her force fields while battering the attacking temporal armies invisible constructs. Just the first few minutes of this began to strain her focus, and there seemed literally no end of the stream of invaders.

<><><>

MUSTANG AND HAWKEYE : Mustang remembered what Brunhilde had told them all on their first day of formal training:

"Fighting a battle is like blind men describing an elephant. The man who holds the leg will say the elephant is like a tree, the man who holds the trunk will say the elephant is like a snake. None of them will truly know what the elephant looks like because they will never see it in total. A battle is the same: you will see only the part you play and never the whole. This is as it should be because it is not your job as warriors to see it so."

Mustang wondered distantly what the Valkyrie would think of her students now.

"Your only mission in battle is to survive. Besting your opponent is a secondary concern to you right now. You must survive. And so when in battle do not wonder at what is happening ten or a hundred or a thousand steps from you. Concentrate only upon that which is in front of you and which threatens you.

"Survive the battle and no matter how many stand against you there or then you will persevere."

The practice fields of Little Midgard were very far away right then.

An armored trooper raised it's arm, intent upon further violence. He notched, drew, aimed and shot an arrow directly into the outstretched palm, doing so in such rapid succession it seemed like but a single smooth motion. Driven by gamma-enhanced strength, the shaft tore completely through the robotic trooper's arm and exited it's shoulder, then continued on to skewer another armored trooper, two super shoulders, and an archer before coming to rest in the thigh of one of the marching giants.

Mustang hadn't lingered to watch this, turning away as soon as the arrow was in flight to notch and draw another. As Brunhilde had instructed, he didn't give thought to how long they'd been at this, how many of these robotic mockeries had already fallen to them, never mind how many more were left; he concentrated only upon firing arrow after arrow, cutting down the opposition and silently praying the rest of his team was holding out.

Not to say he was completely blank on everything else, as soon demonstrated by his cry of "Dad! Watch it!" He dropped to one knee and turned as he called out, quickly re-aiming and firing off his drawn arrow to hit the warrior-drone that was about to strike Hawkeye from behind. His aim was true, actually sending the hammer-wielding android flying backwards to knock a whole set of its fellows off their feet.

"Back attcha, kid," Hawkeye snarled, adjusting his own aim and skewering a charging super-soldier in the knee, causing it to stumble and fall; the stomp of a well placed gamma-strength heel on it's head finished it off even as Mustang sent more arrows flying.

Both archers were aware of just how low their quivers were getting of ordinance.

<><><>

ROCKFACE AND URU:Using her geo-morphic power to form the surrounding earth into rocky armor about her, Angelica Grimm felt her strength and energy easily triple; never had she never felt more powerful than right then! Likely there was something about the mystic earth in Otherworld that was assisting her here. Regardless, she made good use of this power-boost, sending attacker after attacker, whether metal or flesh or otherwise, flying and out of action.

“Impressive, Lady Angelica,” Uru smiled as he launched one of Ramades’ mummified warriors into an approaching cadre of Victor’s Exterminator droids.

“Not bad yourself, goldilocks,” Angelica smiled back from beneath her armor. “This kind of thing happens to you a lot?”

Uru simply shrugged. “When you have known Vincent for a time you become used to it.” He then leapt into the air, hovering overhead and unleashing twin blasts of from his bright eyes, reducing a werewolf version of Union Jack who had just emerged from Termina’s timeship to ashes.

<><><>

BRITANNIA AND CAPTAIN BRITAIN: Betsy Braddock took the head clean off of an advancing Ultron robot belonging to Termina's temporal army. "Wow!" gasped her would-be-could-be daughter Britannia, who stood back-to-back with her mother. As they moved from opponent to opponent it was hard to tell who was who, their hair, features and costumes been so similar. This became increasingly more difficult when they would simultaneously perform the same move, whether defensive or offensive.

"You have good command of your abilities," Betsy said, ducking under a swinging warhammer.

"Thanks! I had good teachers!" Britannia smiled back, she couldn't help it despite the stakes of this battle she was actually enjoying herself. For some reason, one of Brunhilde’s little nuggets of wisdom came to her right then.

You will never know the full course of a battle until it is decided. Only then can you be sure whether or not you have either prevailed against your enemy.

Brunhilde of course had the small advantage of being an immortal, not to mention working under the warrant of a higher power, and so could dole out advice like that. In fairness, she probably figured they would be fighting a semi-manageable foe, like a horde of Ice Giants or a few thousand trolls; the prospect of a small team facing three different armies all at once likely hadn’t occurred to her.

Britannia ground her teeth tightly and slashed at another of the robotic troopers who pressing upon them, cleaving it neatly in half then kicking the upper portion back into its fellows.

“Nice technique, Beth!” Captain Britain called over to her, battering off three super-troopers, then dodging out of the way of a half-dozen archers.

“Thanks,” the younger Britannia called back, forcing herself not to add anything further. It likely would’ve gone unheard anyway, given their enemies had evidentially called in reinforcements.

<><><>

DI VINCI: "Stark mode Monday!" Di Vinci yelled to his personal transport, which currently morphed into a metallic backpack.

"Sure thing, Vinnie babe," Monday replied, its Kymellian smart metal composition allowing it become a suit of sleek battle armor that encased Di Vinci from head to toe. The joined pair immediately launched themselves to a nearing horde of Ramades' undead mummified warriors, their right fist forming a sharp-studded mace and the left forming into a multi-barreled Gatlling cannon, each of which mowed or battered down everything between them and the others.

<><><>

JACKDAW: "Holy crap!" Jackdaw squawked as he jumped over an energy blast unleashed from an Iron Man's repulsor gauntlet. "This is now officially way out of hand! Why didn't I just stay in my nice safe W.H.O holding cell, I ask you?" Jackdaw rolled with the impact as he hit the ground once again returning fire with the blaster he still had from the confrontation with Lord Hawk. He missed. A second repulsor blast singed his tail feathers. "Okay, enough is enough! I didn't want to do this, but you time invading nutjobs have really pissed me off!" Jackdaw yelled.

"Cover your ears, guys," he said into the communicator Di Vinci had given him earlier. He took a huge intake of breath, then let loose his mutant ability. The sonic screech that resulted felled the cross time warriors in all directions in a large circle around the bird like hero, who promptly fell to the ground utterly exhausted.

"Wow," Mustang murmured as he unblocked his ears. Colossal as Jackdaw's efforts were, they quickly proved fruitless as further reinforcements for each army poured onto the battlefield, quickly replacing those fallen to Jackdaw's attack.

The heroes were being forced into an ever smaller, ever shrinking circle just by the sheer numbers of their opponents. Britannia wondered what Brunhilde would make of this, only to concede a moment later she didn’t actually care what the Valkyrie would have thought and concentrated simply on staying alive and protecting as many of her team as possible. Never mind how desperately her muscles were aching right then, never mind how numb her mind had gone; all that mattered was their survival.

Even so, she was vaguely aware of how the Captain Britain Corps entered the action soon thereafter.

"Looks like the calvary's here," Betsy announced, pointing skyward as a cadre of the famous Captain Britain Corps approached the amassed armies. A small but powerful troop of Captain Britains were the first to approach the battle. They were lead by the familiar face of Captain UK, who was backed by the reptilian Britannicus Rex, the bearded Captain England, Lady London, Centurian Britannus, Crusader X and the partnership of the humanoid Lockheed Captain and the blue skinned Kymri., both of whom the young heroes had heard of from the tales of Nightcrawler from his time in Excalibur*.

*(see Marvel's Excalibur: Cross Time Caper).

The corpsmen charged or flew or leapt from the Citadel’s main entrance, the Queen Regent Megan Braddock herself leading them into battle. Britannia even caught sight of her aunt shifting form from human to savage werewolf at the sight of herself and Betsy fighting back-to-back, charging forward on all fours and managing to barrel over everything in her path to reach them.

“Hullo, Bets,” Megan greeted them cheerily once she was in earshot. “Now, you know Brian told you no more wild parties.”

“Not my fault, Megan,” Captain Britain ground out, deflecting the strikes of several super troopers at once.

Megan nodded as she reared up and tossed a hammer-wielder across the field. “Thought not. And who’s your lovely lookalike here?”

“Her name’s Bethany,” Betsy began.

“I’m Britannia,” Beth quickly interjected. “From, er, the future.”

“Oh ho, so you’re the beautiful lass little James and Elisabeth are going on about.”

“What?!” This came from both Betsy and Bethany, their shock momentarily overriding their instincts, looking at each other, then Megan.

“Mind on business, ladies,” the latter reminded them, quickly dispatching two troopers who sought to decapitate them both. “There’ll be time enough for that later…”

Captain UK nodded to Betsy as she flew overhead but carried on heading straight for the Bane Wraiths. The Wraiths broke away from their desecration of Otherworld to meet the Corps head on. The resulting clash lit up the sky causing hero and temporal soldier a like to turn their gaze upwards. More Corpsmen had bolstered their fellow Captain Britains. Dark magicks met mystically granted super human powers. The battle was ferocious and deadly, wraith and corpsmen falling a like. Below the battle of the temporal warlords continued with renewed vigor, the young heroes beginning to be overwhelmed.

<><><>

Moments earlier - the throne room of King Brian Braddock

Brian Braddock, King and Protector of Otherworld, glared down from his throne at the young man in ornate armor who had appeared before him just seconds earlier.

"My master sends her regards. I am the last Eternal Apocryphus, of my master's Anachronauts. I bring aid to you in ending this unfortunate situation with my former leige's wayward children." A young dark haired man, dressed in a deep red black body suit announced.

"Am I to understand that you have no interest in Kang's offsprings attempt to conquer Otherworld?" Braddock replied.

"Indeed not, my Lord. My master does not believe that any of these so-called heirs would be victorious, as the forces at your disposal would prove too great an obstacle. She apologies for the affront and offers this weapon as a token of her regard...and in the hopes it will help end this needless conflict, quickly and efficiently," the young Eternal continued as he knelt before Brian's ornate throne, holding up a large multi-barreled hand cannon.

"This weapon will penetrate any of the shielding used by the master's heirs."

"Thank your master for this gift. But pass along my displeasure at recent events," King Braddock stated as he accepted the weapon.

"Of course, Your Majesty,” Aprochyrus answered, giving a final bow as he vanished into the air.

"Sir Bendict. It's time this general joined his armies," Brian commanded to his faithful captain of the guard.

"Be careful, my love," Meggan had said before she herself lead the Corps into battle.

"Always," had been the answer, although he wondered if that were at all possible in his job.

<><><>

Outside - Now

Brian Braddock soared over the battle below. The warriors of Corps who happened to be in Otherworld at the time had already engaged the diabolical Bane Wraiths sent to pollute his home, while the Royal Guard were bolstering the small band of heroes that had heralded this attack on his home. Brian would have to end this and end it quickly.

Despite his long experience with the Corps, he was nonetheless amazed at the multitude of different warriors from across the Multiverse that Termina had gathered, from undead soldiers to alternate versions of those he had called friend. It was quite unsettling in a way, but it would not deter him from his mission. It was then Brian spotted his prey: the temporal Lord Marcus Tempus, who stood side by side with the almost comical looking Lord Pumpkin. They were currently battling the encroaching hordes of the time pharaoh Ramades. The pair were making easy work of the mummified troopers and Brian had to remind himself of the dark magiks that welded inside the odd pumpkin-headed creature.

Brian landed smack dab between the two would-be conquerors and with a wave of his hand sent undead warriors flying in all directions. "I would have a word with you," Brian bellowed.

"I suppose it was inevitable that we would have to oppose you directly," Marcus sneered as he adopted a fighting stance, raising his personal attack shields. Brian smiled, he quickly reached behind him and grabbed the vile Lord Pumpkin by the throat while at the same time he raised his new hand cannon and fired directly at Marcus. The blast passed straight through Marcus' shields and sent him sprawling, shorting out all the circuitry in his armor. He lay on the ground, barely conscious.

"A decidedly unpleasant turn of events," Lord Pumpkin said, still in Brian's powerful grasp. At that moment he unleashed a torrent of green eldritch energy over the King of Otherworld. A second later when the haze cleared Brian found himself completely enveloped by the dreaded Bane Wraiths with Lord Pumpkin at their head.

"Time to step down, Your Majesty," Lord Pumpkin sneered.

"Oh shut up and let's go," Brian almost smiled, welcoming the coming combat.

"I think a new monarch is in order," a voice said from up above. Brian raised his head to see the other four Heirs hovering directly overhead, all weapons trained on him. Even Marcus had regained his footing. With that this unspoken (and undoubtedly) temporary alliance of adversaries in place, all five let loose with their arms on the King.

<><><>

Inside - Now

From her crystal tower in the royal palace Roma watched the events unfold with a keen interest. Her attention was briefly torn away as a ripple in the time stream caught her eye. "Someone is coming," she whispered to herself.

“Indeed, my lady,” a dark voice rumbled directly behind her.

<><><>

Outside - Now

"Not very fair odds, now is it lads?" the guttural-yet-cultured voice of Britanicus Rex bellowed as he plummeted from the sky, yanking Victor Timely III from his sky sled and pinning him to the ground. Meanwhile the Roman-esque form of Centurian Britannus smashed into the ruler of Earth S, Centurius.

"Nice uniform," he smiled as the two warriors began to trade blows.

"Insolent errand boy,” Centurious sneered. “I conquered my homeworld in three days. I brought my home galaxy to heel in a month! Do you really believe you can best me?" As demonstration, he batted away the corpsman clear across the battlefield. A silver streak heralded the arrival of Mercury, Centurius' personal speedster of his elite guard the Squadron.

"No need for aid,” Centurius sneered. “Continue to press your attacks. I am going to kill myself a monarch." The minion gave a quick bow and raced off, the conqueror himself marching on to join his siblings.

<><><>

Captain UK had been busy dodging the energy blasts directed her way by the temporal conqueror Termina, until her personal bodyguard the purple skinned Brute had intervened and tried to crush her to death. Captain UK was well aware of how dangerous this creature was, given he was an alternate version of Reed Richards in a body as powerful as the Hulk's, add to that a vicious streak a mile wide. However Linda McQuilan had a lot of pent up aggression of her own, still reeling from the sudden loss of her beloved husband so soon after their reunion.* She pounded the Brute in the temples causing him to loosen his grip, allowing her to wriggle free. She followed this with a powerful kick to the groin sending the creature staggering back, directly into the path of an energy beam directed at Brian from the staff of Ramades.

(*See the superb DC Collision)

“One down,” Linda muttered to herself as she took to the air ready to pick her next battle. Below she saw her fellow corpsmen the blue skinned Kymri and her partner the humanoid Lockheed defending the downed form of Britannicus Rex from Victor Timely’s robotic minions, while the temporal tinkerer himself had swopped battle opponents to Crusader X.

<><><>

Di Vinci had been drawn closer to the battle Britannia and her 'mother' were fighting. He picked off a number of threatening troopers when Monday’s suddenly called out.

“Proximity alert, Vinnie,” Monday almost screamed. “It’s them!”

“Holy crap” Di Vinci yelped sweat pouring from his brow. “Can you exit into the ‘Stream from here?”

“Sure can, honey.”

“Get a lock on Uru! We’re leaving!”

“What about the battle and the kids, Vinnie?” Monday questioned.

“Think about what will happen if they catch us, Mon. We’ll return as soon as humanly possible, I swear.” Even as he spoke, he could see events literally slowing down around them, as if time itself was coming to a literally halt. Only himself, the morphing smartship, and most surprisingly Britannia appeared unaffected.

Britannia clearly saw this as well, as she looked over to him and called “Vincent? What the bloody hell…?”

“Merda! Monday, phase already!” and with that the three travellers vanished from the battlefield. Di Vinci’s last words were little more than a whisper on the wind, yet Britannia had no trouble making them out.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Beth.”

She stood there a moment, at once too shocked and utterly unsurprised at this turn of events. Whatever she might have said in reply, whether in forgiveness or condemnation, was lost by another, deeper voice speaking directly behind her.

“Oh, dear.” A worlds worth of disappointment was loaded into those two simple words.

Britannia spun, igniting her psi-blade and holding it at the ready. She was half-expecting a platoon’s worth of W.H.O. agents, or perhaps more of the Captain Britain Corps.; regardless she was more than ready and willing to give as good as she got. Positively aching, truth be told, for the excuse to let loose.

Unfortunately, it was not a mass of brightly-clad soldiers or men in dark suits or anything so mundane waiting for her. Rather it was only two men; two very unusually dressed men, granted, but men nonetheless.

The one who spoke, whom she presumed to be the leader, was only half a head taller than herself. He was a slender figure dressed in a form-fitting black jumpsuit, polished flat-toed dress shoes, and a sharply trimmed goatee that highlighted his classically handsome features. The man was glaring at the space where Monday had just vanished, his pale eyes flashing like ice catching the sunlight.

The other was far taller, easily towering over both of them. He was a muscular specimen, so much so Britannia wondered for a moment if he wasn’t the Hulk. The crew-cut blonde hair, fair skin, and ridiculously boyish features quickly put paid to that idea. Plus she seriously doubted the Hulk would have been dressed in a suit of power armor that looked like it came directly from an ancient anime comic.

Neither appeared armed, yet both projected a clear aura of danger about them. The shorter man gestured to the taller one, who moved forward, practically ignoring Britannia herself as he waved some hand-held device in the space where Monday had been. She looked on as the blonde man shook his large head and said “Sorry, sir. They’ve already jumped the timeline.”

“I see,” the darker man purred. “A pity. I’d hoped we would…acquire him this time.”

“You,” Britannia heard her voice murmur. “You’re the one’s he was so worried about…”

“Indeed, Ms Whitman-Braddock.” The bearded man narrowed his dark eyes upon her. There was power within those eyes, power that battered upon her psyche, ordering her to submit to it, commanding with a seductive force that she very, very nearly succumbed to…

Shaking her head, Britannia quickly rallied her psychic defenses and shut that power out of her mind. “Nice try,” she growled, her psi-blade flaring and sharpening. The armored man shifted his stance ever so slightly.

The dark man shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. “I assure you, Princess, it is only because of Article Nine of the Shadow Proclamation that we don’t take more punitive measures here.”

“Excuse me?”

“My superiors do not wish to give your cousins cause to become more deeply involved in matters than they already shall.”

Few things could set her normally calm nerves aflame as mention of her cousins. Bethany snarled “What the hell do James and Elisabeth have to do with all this? They won’t come to power for another decade at least! And your grammar sucks. It should be ‘already are’, not ‘already shall’.”

The bearded man gave her an infuriatingly patient smirk, the sort smug teachers gave stubborn children who didn’t understand simple lessons. “I assure you, my words are very carefully chosen. Come, Christopher. Miss Whitman-Braddock has a battle to survive, and a war to fight.”

With that, both men vanished from sight and time resumed its normal speed. Britannia was afforded no time to ponder the words, forced as she was to dodge several troopers as they tried to decapitate or batter her. She simply responded with equal force, easily sending them flying, her fury fueled by as volatile mix of fear and rage at this sudden betrayal. More than a few androids, undead, and otherwise suffered for her wounded heart.

By the time she’d battled her way to stand back alongside her teammates and allies, it was clear they were collectively exhausted and forced into an ever-tightening knot. “Where the hell is Di Vinci and the big guy?” Jackdaw squarked as he was pushed towards his new friends by the encroaching hordes.

“No idea, bud,” Mustang grimaced unleashing his last arrow into a robotic version of his father. He and the rest were now virtually back-to-back, readying for a last stand.

“It’s been a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Mustang said to his father.

“Honor was mine, kiddo,” Hawkeye smiled as he, too, let loose his final arrow.

“Mum, I …” Britannia started.

Save it! Captain Britain mentally preempted her daughter. None of you are dying here! I won't let you!

It nevertheless looked to be an empty promise as she looked around her allies and their would-be reinforcements: the young speedster was rapidly running out of room to maneuver and the two heirs to the Fantastic Four’s legacy were back to back barely holding off legions of the enemy. In the distance Betsy could see her brother and his corpsmen locked in a ferocious battle with the deadly Bane Wraiths and the heirs of Kang themselves. There was little chance of him coming to aid them, or them to him.

“Miss me?” an Italian accent announced as a flash of light deposited Di Vinci, Uru and Monday directly into the center of the surrounded heroes. Monday – its hull now coloured a burnished gold – quickly morphed back into a battlesuit configuration about Di Vinci, who now sported a crew-cut and vivid scar along his left cheek. Uru likewise appeared subtly different, now looking decidedly stockier and was now clad in a tunic-vest and cape assemblage of royal blue and blinding white silk.

“Sorry about that,” he said, more towards Britannia directly than the rest of them. “I will explain later...” His voice died away at her answering glare.

“If there is a later,” Jackdaw coughed, his throat raw.

“Always a way,” Mustang attempted to force a smile, not sounding at all convincing.

Suddenly the ground under their feet shook and shuddered, even as the sky overhead exploded with equal force.

<><><>

Moments earlier

The quartet appeared far above the battlefield; so far in fact they were completely missed by both those on the ground and by the great warships hovering overhead. They were further cloaked by both powerful magicks and behind a globe of indivisibility.

The sorcerer, two warriors, and scientist observed as events unfolded: the small knot of heroes both young and old holding their own against the massed armies pressing upon them, the Captain Britain Corps fighting their way towards them yet making precious little headway, while all the mystic defenses of Otherworld pitted themselves against the Bane Wraiths that laid siege to it.

“I will take Ramades’ measure and deal with the Wraiths,” the sorcerer declared flatly; a clear sign to them all the true depth of his rage.

“Leave the ships to me, then. And I’ll make sure the kids are safe,” the young woman quietly put in, the air about her shimmering and crackling, as if about to ignite.

“I’ll see to Marcus and the others directly,” the blonde warrior nodded, unsheathing his broadsword. He looked to his larger, dark-skinned counterpart. “Unless you’d like to?” he offered.

The massive hammer-wielder shook his head. “Nay. Those on the ground are my prey.”

“Well, don’t have too much fun, ape,” his lighter counterpart smiled, the mock-glare directed at his chiding quick becoming a true smile.

“I’m dropping the force field in five,” the woman stated, her skin and sentisuit now fully aflame. Each of the quartet counted down silently, weapons and spells and stratagems at the ready.

“Five!” she declared, the invisible shield dropping away from underfoot.

The sorcerer streaked away towards the great pyramid structure that slowly floated towards the palace, his great crimson cloak trailing behind.

The woman became as a lance of fire, heading directly towards the atom-shaped warship that bobbed and wove over the battlefield.

The two warriors entered free-fall, neither appearing the least worried at their descent.

<><><>

Now

It seemed as if time once again stood still, although this was purely illusion. Nevertheless, all who were of mind to paused their fighting long enough to marvel at the sights the followed both overhead and closer to the ground.

First there was the streaking lance of fire, appearing completely from nowhere, shooting through the air and impacting with each of the five warships. The flame itself was almost white, as painful to look at as the noonday sun.

The ‘lance’ burned its way through all five ships, curving in a graceful angle to strike the ships again. And again. And again. Each strike through the fleet seemed to take less and less time, and soon all five warships were riddled with burn holes or smoking from internal explosions and the like.

The Pyramid-ship began to list to one side, while the atom-like vessel swayed like a pendulum for a moment before its central structure completely buckled and broke apart, causing it to collide in mid-air with its Hawk-shaped counterpart. Metal screamed and buckled further as a single, deafening explosion completely consumed both.

This fiery lance abruptly came to a halt in mid-air itself, seemingly shrinking to a fraction its previous length, its flames cooling then extinguishing altogether. This left a sky-and-black colored figure who immediately plummeted to the ground far below. Wild laughter might have been heard from the falling figure, who simply curled into a ball and seemed to inflate to actually resemble…a ball.

A ball that literally bounced, repeated, all about the battlefield, knocking over robots and undead and dimensional doppelgangers like so many tenpins. All the while, wild, almost carefree laughter could be heard from the ball itself.

<><><>

Further ahead, at the very gates of the great citadel itself, King Brian alongside what few of his guards and Corpsmen were still standing fought a defense against the combined forces of the Bane Wraiths and the Heirs themselves, one just as desperate and one-sided as the same his niece, sister and their allies did but only a dozen meters away.

So fierce was the fighting that neither side noticed the arrival of a black-clad figure coming to hover directly overhead. Dark brown eyes glittered with rage at the sight of battle below. Drawing his scarlet cloak about him, the new arrival began to quietly chant in a tongue not heard by mortal ears in eons.

The sound by rights should have been lost in the din of battle, yet Ramades heard it all the same. He looked about, suddenly panicked, recognizing the words...and the power behind them. Spying the figure hovering above the line of Otherworld's defenders, Ramades had the urge to rub his eyes in disbelief! The cloak was easy enough to recognize, a constant as it was in many a timeline and dimension. But the Words...

The Timeless Pharaoh, plunderer of thousand worlds and lives and souls, stumbled backwards as he began frantically muttering multiple incantations of his own. Later he would appreciate the irony of the situation: he was functionally immortal, immune to nearly every possible physical injury. He had already shrugged off a thousand different blows in this one battle already.

Yet, those...Words...they were as surely a death sentence to him as they were to his forces. Likely his so-called siblings weren't even aware of what was about to happen. Likely they'd even celebrate it afterwards.

Eternal take him before he'd give them that satisfaction!

He hastily finished the last incantation just as the hovering figure finished his. What came next was completely invisible to mortal eyes, although many of the Corpsmen and several of the other defenders had to avert their eyes suddenly, many without even realizing why.

With those who could actually perceive it, it looked like a thousand strands of pure light flew outwards from the figure, weaving themselves into a web-like pattern, which promptly floated down over the wide range of both Wraiths and undead warriors. As the light-web touched these combatants, each and everyone became as ash.

To mortal eyes, it looked as if each of the Wraiths and undead suddenly began dissolving to nothing, their ashes blowing away into the air. This easily reduced the attackers numbers by half – Ramades's undead and the Wraiths themselves constituted the most persistent and resilient attackers – but equally cleared the field sufficiently for the remainder of Victor's Exterminators and Termina's Gathered to reorganize and press forward once more.

Ramades himself was barely able to rise back to his feet after his legions were dissolved like so much mist in the rain. The magicks used nearly blew through his hastily-erected shields, barely withstanding the raw powers involved. Even from there, bent over on one knee and barely conscious, he could already see the battle was lost.

Summoning what little strength and power he had, Ramades spoke a simple apportation spell, quickly folding space over himself and returning him to his ship. The great pyramid, its surfaces pitted and smoking from a half-dozen burn holes throughout, shimmered and vanished just a moment later.

Back in Otherworld, the crimson-cloaked figure looked skywards, giving a grim nod to himself at the sight.

<><><>

Even with the sudden (not to mention mildly disturbing) disappearance of the forces of both the Bane and Ramades, the defenders of Otherworld were still being pressed hard by several sides; none moreso than King Brian himself, who had to contend not simply with the armored Marcus, but the equally formidable Centurious and Termina, with Victor Timeley seemingly holding back, calmly assembling a weapon from a variety of components he pulled from various pockets. Lord Pumpkin going unexpectedly limp just as Ramades retreated and the Bane Wraiths vanished from sight should have been a good point, but it merely meant he now had to exchange blows with and deflect energy blasts from three very determined attackers and have to worry about what a fourth was building.

By accident or design, his three attackers all fired upon him simultaneously, not causing any real injury but knocking him completely prone. This was the same moment that Victor completed his weapon: a long-barreled affair that looked more like an elaborate work of art than a conventional rifle. The whine of many weapons powering up left Brian with the sinking feeling their next attack, no matter whether haphazard or carefully coordinated, was certain to hurt.

It took his mind another several seconds for fully grasp what came next: a figure in white, blue and red fell out of the sky between himself and the four Heirs. He hefted a great broadsword and easily blocked the multitude of energy blasts their attackers loosed, moving the blade as if it were no more than a lightsabre in one of those absurd Star Wars movies.

His defender did not prove content with simply this, as he quickly moved forward to deliver a powerful fist directly into Centurious's face, sending the heavily armored figure sprawling, his faceplate and helmet cracking under the glancing impact. At the same time, he swung his sword about, clipping Termina's head with the flat of the blade and sent her to her knees. The sword wielder then swung the sword again, two-handed, bringing it down on Marcus's outstretched arm; he shifted his grip at the last moment, so it again struck with the flat rather than the edge. The blow was nevertheless powerful enough to completely shatter both the armor covering the arm, plus the bones within the arm itself, as testified by wet-sounding CRACK that accompanied impact.

Amazingly Marcus did not cry out from the blow, more likely from sheer shock than anything else. He stared at his now-bare and limp arm for a second before raising his eyes to meet his attacker's. “You...?” he mouthed, paling with further shock.

“Me,” his opponent nodded, thick blond hair waving with the movement. The sword wielder then connected a single boot to the stunned Marcus's mid-section, cracking his chest plate as if it were thin plaster and propelling Marcus himself, all two hundred and seventy pounds of him, backwards nearly thirty meters. His trajectory sent him flying into a thick knot of Victor's Exterminators robots, all of who were themselves knocked aside or simply demolished by this improvised wrecking ball.

Once he settled to the ground, Marcus spat out a mouthful of blood and bile and raised his undamaged arm towards his mouth. He winced with the smallest movement and all but screamed “Get me out of here! Now!” He met the eyes of his attacker again, knowing true fear was showing in his eyes now. He couldn't restrain the cry of relief when he felt himself being teleported away, to see the smoking, nearly gutted interior of his flagship take the place of the battle below.

He managed, barely, to remain conscious long enough to see his servitors somehow fulfill his wish, taking the wounded vessel out of the space of Otherworld and into the more secure path into hyperspace. Only then did Marcus allow himself to slide into complete unconsciousness as his pain and wounds finally overcame him.

Back in Otherworld, the warrior watched as both Marcus and his ship vanished from sight, then turned his full attention upon Victor Timely, who had remained virtually unmoving throughout all this. He still held his weapon at the ready, his manner strangely calm and casual. “Ready to have at it?” the warrior called to him.

Victor simply shook his head and gestured to the battered Termina and Centurious. “And end up worse than them? I'll pass.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out yet another device, this one little more than a palm-sized tube of silvery metal.

“Coward!” the warrior cursed him, though again Victor shook his head, this time with a slight smile on his lips.

“Prudent,” he replied, depressing a button and vanishing in a burst of light.

The warrior sneered at the now-empty air and turned back to his two remaining opponents. Termina had managed to get back to her feet, while Centurious remained on his knees, unable to do more than sit there. Both started over at him, hatred and fear on their faces. Pointing to each of them with his sword, the warrior stated “I give you both the space of five breaths to quit this land, or your sire will have two fewer heirs to bedevil him!” Brother and sister looked at one another, for the first time in living memory, with something other than simple hatred.

The each activated some manner of control or device on their person, causing both to fade from sight just as the fifth breath was counted. The warrior gave a small smirk to himself at their hasty departure, then turned back towards the still-prone King Brian and raised his sword in salute.

Brian regained his footing and moved to return the salute, only to realize a moment later the warrior wasn't looking at him, but rather at a dark-suited figure wearing a strangely familiar red and gold-trimmed cloak who had been hovering overhead all this time.

Cursing himself an unobservant fool, Brian waved back those of the Corps and his personal guard who were still standing. Even so, none of them could help but start at the sudden tremors and lightning strikes that came to dominate the battlefield.

<><><>

The dark-skinned giant landed on the edge of the battlefield with a resounding BOOM. He had not feared for his landing, instead taking the precious seconds to study the terrain and assess the opposition. His plans are conceived in space of seconds, his next actions certain as his landing had been.

No soon had his boots touched the sacred land than he was swinging his great warhammer, once to the left, once to the right; he need space to work, and the dozen or so Exterminator droids nearby were simply in the way. Those metallic monstrosities, each easily twice his mass and equally as solid, were tossed aside as if they were children’s toys. Several flew a quarter mile in distance, landing amid their fellows and becoming so much scrap.

His workspace now cleared, seemingly heedless of the how the majority of the remaining Exterminators and a fair number of Termina’s Gathered were turning to face him. In truth, the warrior-king was anything but heedless to this development; he was in fact counting upon it.

As he swung his hammer once more, this time holding it over his head, he found himself half-wishing he had accepted his once-rival/now-swordbrother’s offer; how much sounder a challenge the four Heirs would have been for his mettle than this. But there was also heritage to be considered, not blood-rights alone.

The remaining armies, disorganized and weakened as they were, required a strong hand to dispatch them without further loss to either the land or its defenders. His weapon was known as ‘The Sunder’ for a reason, proven when he brought block-like head of Uru metal down upon the ground before him. The sky split with a great crack of thunder that very nearly drowned out the explosive collision of two of the great warships overhead, just as the ground surrounding him split and cracked under the feet of those who would attack him and this sacred place.

Many of the Gathered and android troopers simply fell into the crevices that resulted; not simply those who immediately beset him were caught by this, but those as distant as the small knot of the Legacy and their allies found the ground literally crack and fall from under their feet. There were those that sought to avoid their fate, clinging to the edges or collapsing ground, only to soon join their fellows. A very few kept their footing or managed somehow to claw to solid ground.

The warrior counted a short span, then brought his hammer down once again. This time the accompanying thunder was more subdued, almost apologetic for its earlier strength. Amazingly, the ground itself responding in kind, groaning quietly as the crevices and fault lines closed and the land healed, becoming whole once more. The cries of those trapped beneath it were lost amid the low rumble, silencing as one when the healing was complete.

Those few who survived this cleansing looked about, clearly stunned as much by their survival as by the loss of their fellows. His flint-hard eyes upon these few, the warrior held his hammer aloft again, the sky overhead darkening with a sudden storm. He loosed a ferocious snarl, the storm he’d summoned lashing out in kind, what might have been a dozen or a hundred lightning bolts striking down upon the hapless survivors. Most vanished under this onslaught, though a few were stout enough in form that their burnt, smoking shells remained.

To his relief, he saw the familiar figure his last teammate now standing near their known forebears, having ceased her earlier antics and now defended them against the last of the attackers, doing so with all the fury of a mother tiger guarding her cubs.

He let himself grin in admiration of her, the sky quickly clearing and eternal sun shinning overhead once more. The warrior-king hefted his great weapon onto his shoulder and meandered towards his fellows, whistling tunelessly as he did so.

<><><>

Having disposed of the warships as best she was able, the woman proceeded to her second, more critical objective. She was neither flighty nor childish in her action, whatever her colleagues may have thought of her; forming herself into an elastic ball was as much for the sake of further disrupting the invaders as simply having a bit of fun in the process. She chose her targets every bit as carefully as the others, making sure she wouldn’t loose speed or form on whatever she hit.

By the time she reached the small group of heroes, pressed together yet remaining unbowed, the battle was nearly over. The sorcerer had dispatched the Bane and Ramades as promised, the soldier had sent the remaining Heirs scurrying, and the warrior-king was putting the last of the armies literally into the ground. There was still a handful near the Legacy group, now looking desperate and a thousand times more dangerous for it. Most were the last of Marcus’s robots and a couple of Termina’s Gathered; dispatching them would be a mercy at this point.

She let herself bounce once more, angling herself high into the air, resuming her normal humanshape for a moment before willing her skin to bulk and harden into pale orange rock. She landed directly atop an archer ‘droid as it was notching and drawing an arrow. The impact flattened the android, crumpling it like so much tin foil. That same moment she reached out to either side, her now massive hands encompassing the heads of a super soldier and another archer. The gentlest squeeze on her part and both heads were crushed to pulp.

Rather than risk seeing the reactions of those she had just saved, the rock-skinned woman spun about, her form suddenly catching fire once more. A jet of flame shot from her left hand, a ball of fire forming and leaping from her right, the former all but incinerating a cyberdized werewolf-like figure and the latter causing a half-destroyed super soldier to melt to slag.

No sooner was this done than the last three of Marcus’s troopers charged forward: a giant, a hammer swinger, and a super soldier. All three focused expressly upon her, converging from three sides and offering no avenue for escape; even the air was denied her by the giant’s presence. For her part, the woman simply let the flames covering her die out, then folded her arms and tapped her foot in feigned impatience.

Just moments before their coordinated blows fell, the woman vanished. There was no other way to describe it. One second she stood there, solid and clear as life itself, and the next only air occupied the same space. The blows of all three came to nothing, displacing air or torn up soil, but nothing more.

No one, human or otherwise, was afforded even a moment to contemplate this however. The giant suddenly became deformed, its limbs and torso buckling as if pummeled by a dozen different sledgehammers the size of its own fists. The remaining two troopers were soon similarly destroyed, pieces of them literally flying apart or simple being crushed by some unseen force.

As the last trooper fell, the woman reappeared, clapping-rubbing her gloved hands together as if she’d just done the dishes or some other domestic task. With a satisfied nod to herself, she turned and marched towards her three comrades, who themselves now stood under the watchful eyes of Otherworld’s king and his guard.

The footfalls of these four newest arrivals were the only sound to be heard across the now silent battlefield.

<><><>

“You know this lot?” Britannia asked Di Vinci, refusing to meet his eyes or so much as glance in his direction. All their eyes were upon the quartet who now made their individual ways towards each other, seemingly heedless of them all.

“Non. I’m sorry. Sono più formidabili, no?”^[1]

“Se lei mente, il giovane,” Captain Britain replied. “La prometto viverà per lo rammaricare.”^[2]

“La credo,”^[3] Di Vinci laughed under his breath.

Betsy gave him a final glare before edging closer to Valeria and Angelica, both of whom were still staring at the woman in the blue and black suit not too unlike their own. Beth positioned herself just behind her mother, prepared to intervene should it be necessary.

“Girls,” Betsy began, her breathing still ragged and voice unsteady. “Do either of you…do you recognize that person…?”

“No, ma’am,” Valeria murmured with a quick shake of her head.

“Nuh-uh,” mirrored Angelica, who joined hands with her smaller cousin.

“I’ve seen that cloak before,” Di Vinci put in. This caused both Betsy and Bethany to turn and stare at him.

“You just said…”

“I don’t recognize the man wearing it, but I’d swear by the Holy Virgin herself that’s the Cloak of Levitation. Most times worn by Stephen Strange or whatever his counterpart.”

“Meaning?”

Di Vinci shrugged. “It may mean nothing. Perhaps these four are from a neighboring timeline, or perhaps they are more of the quella femmina^[4] Termina’s Gathered.” Looking over the minimal wreckage left of the battle itself, this seemed an absurd notion.

“I think we discount that possibility,” Bethany muttered, meeting her mother’s eyes, then gazing back to the quartet. “Well,” Britannia finally announced. “We aren’t going to learn anything standing here, are we?” Only her mother’s restraining hand on her shoulder kept her from marching forward.

“We’ll go,” Captain Britain assured her, then glanced behind her, meeting the eyes of the rest (including Di Vinci and Uru). “We’ll go, but together. Clint?”

“Right behind ya, Cap’tin,” the Avenging Archer drawled, retrieving a quiver’s worth of arrows from one of the wrecked ‘droid troopers. Mustang similarly scrounged up more ordinance for himself and was quick to mirror his father. Both archers held arrows at the ready, prepared to draw and loose should it be necessary. Between them were Britannia and Captain Britain, marching almost in tandem. Makarra, Valeria, and Angel let the others take the lead, though they followed close behind. Di Vinci and Uru brought up the rear, both prepared for either fight or flight (should it be necessary).

<><><>

“Incoming,” the woman murmured to her colleagues, watching the Legacy group and company approach.

The quartet now stood almost literally back-to-back, with King Brian and his forces to one side, his sister and her allies to the other. The blond soldier had resheathed his sword while the dark giant with the hammer had set the weapon upon the ground, his hand resting lightly upon the upturned handle; the cloaked man looked all about with dark brown eyes; the blond woman was the only one who smiled between them, the simple sky and black colored bodysuit she wore appearing to shift subtle features of its own accord, its colors darkening or lightening of their own accord.

Brian studied the first two the closest, while Valeria and Angelica stared nearly agog at the woman. The cloaked one watched them all, shifting his stance slightly and pulling his cloak tight about him. Everyone else either watched the quartet as a whole or looked over the remains of the battle (what little of it remained, that is, which was somehow more exceptional than the battle itself had been).

Brian quickly looked to Betsy for a moment, the air between the siblings fairly crackling with the telepathic confab between the two.

<><><>

Is that…?

Don’t go there!

James and Elie…

DON’T GO THERE!

Fine. You know this lot?

No, and neither do these others.

You believe them?

Yes. Trust me?

Absolutely.

Then trust me now.

Now and always, Twin.

<><><>

The Braddock siblings nodded between themselves, unaware the cloaked man had heard everything. A sly look passed between the four of them that went unnoticed by those surrounding them. They nevertheless all gave their attention to King Brian as he took a single step forward and addressed them. “You have our royal thanks for your aid in this sudden conflict, strangers. May we know your names, friends, so you may be properly honored?” His tone alone made it clear this wasn’t a request.

Another, more resigned look passed between them all then as they formed a single line, turning their eyes first on Brian and his guards, then Bethany and the rest standing behind them.

“Our names would mean nothing to you, Your Majesty,” the blond soldier declared.

“Ours is a story that will not be told for ages yet to come,” the dark skinned giant rumbled.

It was the young woman who dared to step forward, gesturing to herself and her fellows. “Do not think us sly or sinister, Your Majesty.” She then looked towards the youngsters behind them, eyes upon the slender girl and her taller, redhaired cousin. “We are your Legacy, just as you are that of your forebears.”

As if to underline this point, the blond soldier drew his sword and held it as a salute to the monarch and Corpsmen assembled before them. All recognized the blade as surely as if its name were etched into its unblemished metal. “Caliburn,” someone muttered, the voice low and held in reverence. It was clear in the silence that followed that nothing further would be offered, not by the warriors or the familiar clad young woman or even the cloaked man.

Betsy being Betsy however refused to leave it at that. “If that is so, why are you here now?” she asked.

It was the cloaked one who answered, his voice at once booming and distant, addressing her directly. “The proper stream of events had been altered. The five Heirs of the Conqueror should never have come to Otherworld. Only yourself, the renegade there, those…others should be here.” His eyes bore into her’s nearly causing her to recoil. “Were it not for the Heirs, you would not even know we exist.”

“And yet,” Valeria boldly put in. “And yet, we do know now.”

The cloaked man nodded slowly, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Yes. Now you do.”

The two sides studied each other a short while more. The woman’s suit had somehow shifted to now resemble the single-piece plus gloves and boots worn by Val and Angel; even the color had changed to the darker blue and white scheme their own uniforms sported. Val could make out both the subtle similarities and obvious differences between herself and this woman, as could Angel and Beth if their thoughtful expressions were anything to go by.

The two Clints and Makarra by contrast were focused on the one in the cloak. All of them had extensive experience with their wall-crawling contemporaries, and so could see the family resemblance clearly even without the rather creepy the spider tattoo that snaked (crawled?) along the right side of his throat seeming to move (crawl?) with each movement he made. He made their gaze directly, his own eyes guileless yet offering nothing in exchange.

Betsy, Da Vinci and Uru meanwhile were studying the last two, the clearly superior physiques and cool, measuring gazes both sported being the their only common feature: the one with the sword, clad in a white jumpsuit with a strangely-coloured Union Jack embossed on its front and large scabbard on his hip, was fair skinned with a thick tangle of pale blond hair, while the hammer-wielder wore leather trousers and vest with flared shoulders, which perfectly matched his own dark skin and left his broad, scarred arms bare. The head of the warhammer that rested at his feet was easily as large and block-like as his shaved head, the weapon’s handle nearly as long as his own arm and reaching up to his hip. The stood in easy camaraderie, their stances relaxed and prepared for anything.

It was the man in the red cloak who broke the silence. “We must leave. Now,” he declared, more to his colleagues than Otherworld’s own defenders. The two warriors nodded and took up position near him as a complex sigil shimmered into sight beneath their feet.

As the woman turned to join them, Valeria all but jumped forward and called “Wait. Please.” The woman met the cloaked mage’s eyes for a moment, then spun about and sprinted to stand directly before Val and Angel, quickly gathering both into a hasty hug.

“Tell Grandpa Frank,” she whispered urgently into their ears. “Tell him we listened.”

“Ariel!” called the blond-haired soldier over the suddenly-strong wind that whipped across the once-silent meadow.

A final, heartfelt squeeze and she was gone, running back to her fellows just as the sky began darkening once more. The sigil flaring beneath them lit in time with the lightning that flashed overhead. The air shimmered about the quartet, forming a clear dome over them as a dozen bolts of lightning struck the ground nearby. There was the sound of the air itself screaming as space and time twisting around the invisible dome and its occupants.

A final crash of thunder and lightning, a blinding flash of light, and the quartet was gone. The wind died and the skies cleared almost instantly with their departure. Even the ground they had stood upon was unmarked and undisturbed.

The defenders of Otherworld all looked at one another, each of them at a momentary loss for what to say or do next. The threat of Kang's heirs apparently gone for the time been, and their four strange saviors presumably returning home, there seemed only one thing left to do.

"Well I suppose we ought to get you kids back home" Brian Braddock smiled at the battle weary young heroes of Legacy Five.

"I think the time stream has had enough of a battering for one day."

"Thank you, sir," Britannia answered, stumbling over her words not really sure what to call the man before her, 'Uncle Brian' somehow seemed a tad informal for the situation.

"'Uncle Brian' is fine, lass.” He gently brushed his knuckles across her forehead, a knowing, almost sad smile on his lips. “I'm just glad I could I finally meet you," he added quietly.

"I believe Monday can transport everybody back to their proper place now, she has attuned to the energies of otherworld" Di Vinci loudly declared.

"Sure can, just give me a second to tune up and..."

FLASH! The world was momentarily obliterated in a burst of pure white light coming from the sentient time vehicle. Once everyone's vision cleared, they found to their considerable shock Da Vinci, Britannia, and all their companions had vanished from sight.

"Where the hell are they now?" Hawkeye yelled, instinctively notching an arrow. “Clint!” he called out uselessly. Betsy and Brian by contrast simply looked at each other, then turned as one towards Monday, who actually inched itself back a couple paces.

"Ooops," Monday added, sounding somewhat chagrined. "Don't know my own strength sometimes..."

<><><>

The 31^st Century

"Crap crap crap!" Di Vinci mumbled as the flash of light vanished and he found himself not in the palace of Otherworld, but in the bowls of some space-borne vessel. "This I do not need," Di Vinci continued to mutter, taking a communications device out of the interior of his jacket.

"Now...a power source, a power source...ah ha!" Di Vinci afixed his device to a nearby computer terminal. The device instantly molded it's circuitry to the new piece of technology, at which point multiple alarms went off.

Ignoring this, Di Vinci hissed into the device "Monday, you reading me?"

"Vinney? Oh, thank goodness. Everyone's ready t'scalp little ole me," the voice of Monday responded.

"Lock onto me and open a temportal straight away." A second later a glowing white portal appeared before him.

"Not so fast," a voice ordered and Di Vinci found himself held fast in some kind of telekinetic grip. He was rotated until he was face to face with the black suited Major Vance Astrovik, leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy. Beside him stood his wife and fellow Guardian Aleta, misstress of solid light.

"Now how the hell did you get on board The Icarus, friend?"

"Sorry, Major, but I just don't have the time." Di Vinci smiled as a shield arose around him blocking the Major's mutant power. Di Vinci dived into the temportal. "I'll explain it all at your youngest kid's birthday," he yelled as the portal closed.

"Kids? Who the hell was that?" Aleta gasped.

"I don't know but I intend to find out," Vance Astro growled. "Marty? I need a full temporal energy scan," he said into his star shaped communicator.

<><><>

Falsworth Manor - 2099

Mustang came to suddenly, feeling a weight on his chest. Opening his eyes, he'd half-expected to see Angelica or one of the others lying atop him; instead, he found the business end of an energy staff pointed at his face, the foot of a dark clad figure pressing on his chest, and not a sign of his teammates to be seen. His attacker wore a full body suit colored a dark blue, complete with full head mask, the only color to which was an elongated Union Jack design along its left side and the man’s own eyes, which glowed from within.

Mustang assumed he could have easily thrown this guy off him, but immediately thought better of it. After all, he needed intel on where and when he was; better to ride out whatever came for the moment. There was a rush of air to his left, a young girl with short blonde hair suddenly appearing. Mustang had been around Makarra often enough to recognize super speed when he saw it in action. The girl wore a red and yellow bodysuit emblazoned with a deep red fiery bird on the chest, she looked down at Mustang through her yellow tinted visor.

“Who the frak is he, UJ?” the girl asked.

“Unknown at this time, Spitfire,” the dark clad man replied in clipped tones.

“Erm, hi,” Mustang piped up. “Y’all can call me CJ. I think there has been some kind of mistake…”

“How the hell did you get into the cave?” the man growled, pressing slightly harder with his foot.

“Think I might have the answer,” a female voice shouted from deeper into the room. “He’s giving off temporal energy residue, indicating he’s just traveled either through time or across it.”

“Run the files, Raven,” the man ordered, removing his foot and throwing some adamantium cuffs down. “Secure yourself,” he simply stated. Mustang sat up and compiled with a calm smile, happy to ride this out a little further.

“Well, Johanna?” the dark figure asked his other companion, an auburn haired woman in some kind of hover chair, sat in front of a vast array of monitors.

“Unbelievable,” the woman muttered to herself. “He appears to be Clint Barton Junior, eldest son of the legendary Avengers Hawkeye and the She-Hulk. He fought during the Martian invasion in the first half of the century and later…” Raven cut herself off there, then spun her chair about to look directly at her teammates, studiously avoiding Mustang’s own eyes. “What he’s doing here, god only knows. He should be about ninety years old by now.”

“Thank you, Miss Killraven,” Union Jack responded with strained formality. “Now, how did you get here?” he questioned the now cuffed Mustang.

“To be honest, I’m not sure. My team and I were just about to leave Otherworld when there was a flash of light and I woke up here.”

“So you were in the nexus world,” Union Jack mused.

“Seens he’s got unstuck in time somehow,” Johanna Killraven, the Raven, added from her monitor array. The screens depicted characters that were at once familiar, yet not, to Mustang: a Spiderman in a dark blue and red suit with a large skull on the chest, a blue cloaked Doctor Doom, a savage lizard like Hulk, and an unfamiliar team of mutants wearing the X.

“Well, anyway, welcome to the Cave,” Spitfire beamed at their guest.

“Erm, what year is this?” Mustang enquired.

“Its 2099,” Spitfire replied removing Mustang’s cuffs at a nod from Union Jack. “I’m Spitfire, this is my boss Union Jack, and our resident genius over there is the Raven. We protect Britain from the corrupt Megacorp’s less than benevelont schemes, especially Banetech.”

“Banetech?” Mustang echoed worriedly.

“Enough!” Union Jack ordered. “We should not give our guest too much information. If anything, we need to get him back to his proper place in the timestream. Raven, any ideas on that?”

“I will need to think about…”

“Perhaps I can help there,” a voice added from the far end of the cave. Di Vinci materialized into sight a moment later.

“Oh, no,” Union Jack groaned. “Not you again.” He began reaching for his sidearm, eyes glowing even more fiercely than before.

“Hiya, Vinnie,” Mustang waved at the new arrival.

Di Vinci gave a formal if quick bow to Union Jack as he grasped Mustang by the arm. “My apologies for gatecrashing, milord. We had a little trouble on Otherworld, won’t happen again.” With that, Di Vinci and Mustang vanished in a flash of pure white light.

“Kwel,” Spitfire gasped. Union Jack however was not so impressed.

“Raven I want ideas on how to shield the Cave from temporal incursion.”

<><><>

New York City - early 21^st Century

Makarra opened his eyes to find himself laid flat out on the rooftop of the skylines many skyscrapers. He got to his feet and surveyed the scene before him. He could see from the architecture and the automobiles below him that he was roughly in the early 21^st Century pre-invasion, if an invasion ever happens here. From the corner of his eye could see an approaching form swinging towards him on a line of webbing. As the figure came closer Makarra could see a very familiar red and blue costume. The figure released itself from it’s webline and landed on the water tower Makarra was stood by.

“What the heck are you?” the figure asked looking over Makarra.

“What am I! You…you’re, you’re a pig!” Makarra stammered.

“Damn straight! The amazing Spiderham to be exact, you shaven ape” the porcine hero replied tartly.

“This is the most bizarre yet,” Makarra mumbled to himself.

“There you are!” Di Vinci smiled appearing through a pure white portal with Mustang in tow, and then with a flash they were gone leaving a very confused Spiderham behind.

“Well, at least we didn’t have the usual pointless fight,” Spiderham mumbled to himself just as his New Avengers communicard began to buzz.

“What’s the problem, Cap?” Spiderham answered into the device.

“Hulk Bunny is tearing up down town and it looks like Ducktor Doom is launching some kind of attack,” Captain Americat announced from Avengers Mansion into the comms system.

“On my way,” Peter Porker sighed. “Here we go again.”

<><><>

Sherwood Forest Nottingham - Thirteenth Century

“Aaaah!” Valeria screamed as she opened her eyes to see an arrow whizzing towards her head. She instinctively raised her force field and the arrow bounced harmlessly away.

“Milady!” a rather charming if momentarily shocked voice yelled. It was at this point Valeria noticed she was stood in front of a line of target boards.

“Witchbreed!” another, gruffer (not to mention outrightly sinister) voice declared. “Kill her! She seeks to murder Prince John!”

The next thing Valeria knew she had been scooped up in the arms of the archer who was running towards the forest.

“Lord God! It’s him, it’s Robin Hood in my own archery contest!” the aforementioned Prince John was heard to screech from his throne placed alongside the erected contest venue.

“Kill them! Kill them now!” the gruff voice continued. Valeria realizing where and when she must be assumed this to be the voice of the infamous Sheriff of Nottingham. It was only at this point Valeria took a good look at her rescuer.

“Fendral!” she gasped in awe. “You’re Robin Hood?”

“How is you my true name, child?” the dashing Asgardian, dressed in Lincoln green asked as they reached a clearing and he set Valeria down.

“Oh, er, well let’s just say we will meet some time down the road,” Valeria answered.

“Ye are you a traveler of time?” Fendral smiled at the young blonde in front of him.

“Indeed she is. And telling more than she should,” Di Vinci answered as he Mustang and Makarra stepped out of a pure white portal.

“Time to go, Val,” Mustang smiled. “Say isn’t that…?”

“Yes it is,” Di Vinci interrupted. “But we have to go.” They vanished just a heartbeat later.

“Robin? What was that strange light?” Will Scarlet asked as he dropped out of the tree tops closely, followed by the Herculean form of Little John.

“I do not know. But I suspect I shall find out eventually.” Robin grinned.

<><><>

Behind the clockface of Big Ben, London, Mid 20th Century

"Riot, who is she and how'd she get here?" the Lady Falsworth asked her brother Brian, the Union Jack.

"No idea,” he shook his head. “But if I'm right we can trust her. You feeling what I'm feeling, Peter?"

"Indeed, my friend. She is surely a Pendragon, although I’ll wager not of this era," Albion replied as he hovered over the prone form of Britannia, who lay on the floor of the Pendragon's headquarters.

Britannia's eyes fluttered open, and she was on her feet and in a defensive stance quicker than even Spitfire could react. "What? Where am I?" she stammered.

"Easy, luv. Yuir okay here. We Pendragons stick together," the British Bulldog smiled his massive hands upraised. "Nice uniform by the way."

"Thanks," Britannia said returning the smile, relaxing her stance.

"Any idea how you got here, young lady?" Spitfire interjected as the Bulldog lead Britannia to a seat.

"Not really. The last thing I remember was fighting the heirs of Kang and the Bane in Otherworld."

"Otherworld under attack? Sounds nasty," Spitfire gasped.

"Oh, it was. Then we tried to jump into the Timestream to return home and I woke up here," Britannia finished. “I probably shouldn’t say more…”

"Good idea," Di Vinci added as he appeared out of his temportal, with Mustang, Makarra and Marvel Girl in tow.

"Friends of yours?" the broad shouldered British Bulldog inquired as he and the rest took up defensive stances.

"My ride actually," Britannia smiled. "Thanks Mr. Hunter. Bye, Aunt Jackie." Then Britannia was gone along with her companions, leaving some very confused Pendragons in her wake.

Union Jack turned to Spitfire and parroted “’Aunt Jackie’?”

<><><>

Asgard, The Training Fields

Uru looked on in stunned silence. He had used his limited magics to shield himself from detection since he awoke in the home of the gods, and could only stand there and watch the young Asgardians train to hone their skills. Many he recognized only dimly, others more readily, all of them on their way to becoming the warriors of legend they were destined to be.

"Is he my father?" Uru whispered as he heard the familiar sound of a temportal opening behind him, he extended his spell to it's passengers.

"One of the main ones, yes," Di Vinci replied quietly.

"I forgot you've never actually meet a version of him."

"Could we just...?" Uru began to ask.

"You know we don’t dare! And we’re kinda on a clock here, considering whose on our tail. But…soon, I promise you." Di Vinci smiled at his best friend as they entered the portal.

As the temportal closed, a figure materialised from his own cloacking spell. "Wayfarers," Loki Lofreyson mused to himself.

<><><>

The Security Office of Onanrwo, Chief of Security, Space Ark Sol III - late 31^st Century

"So he's a mutant?" the huge half-Jovian security chief asked.

"As far as I can tell," Senior Sci-tech Lang the tiny science officer said from his floating hover ship.

"Right. So we know what he, is but how the cruk did he get on board?" Onan questioned as he looked at Jackdaw through the two-way plexiglass.

"No idea. Perhaps Shan is having more luck," the diminuative replied.

"So let me get this straight," Shan O'mera said. "Your a mutant from a 21st century Earth, a portion of which is under a mystical barrier and the rest is been invaded by Martians.” Jackdaw nodded with exaggerated patience. “And you ended up here when you helped some other time lost heroes defend against five temporal warlords on a Nexus reality called ‘Otherworld.’"

"Yup, that about sums it up," Jackdaw squawked. "Got anything to eat around here?"

"Later. So how did you board the Sol III?" Shan continued.

"Beats me," Jackdaw shrugged.

"He speaks the truth," the sultry voice of the former herald of Galactus, Dark Angel announced as she phased into the room. "And his ride home is on the way, so may want to move back a few paced, Shan."

With that a flash of pure white light deposited Di Vinci, Uru and the rest right on top of the table between Shan and Jackdaw, which promptly gave way under the weight.

"Hello there," Mustang smiled. "Just came to pick up our friend, got a bit lost on the way home."

And just as suddenly as they appeared the young assortment of heroes were gone.

"Care to explain what all that was about?" Onan's deep voice came over the comm system.

"Not really, no," Dark Angel smirked.

<><><>

The Island Home of the Cyclops

"Avast, Lady Angelica. The beast attacks!"

"Oh, thanks. I didn’t notice!" Rockface yelled back sarcastically in rough Ionian Greek as she dodged the mighty swinging club of the towering Cyclops. Of course The Argo just had to have docked on the only island in the flipping Aegean Sea that harbored a damned wild Cyclops, didn’t it? Not for the first time, Angelica Susan Grimm had cursed her good luck of falling onto the ship of the Argonauts.

She rolled to the side of her shipmate Hercules (who looked every inch the titan his future son would emulate) just in time to join him in hitting the great beast into the path of the giant cross bow Jason and the crew had erected on the beach.

“Nice shot" Di Vinci said exiting his temportal. "But I do wish you hadn't got quite so involved in the events of the timestream." Further comment was cut off when Angelica grabbed him about the lapels and effortlessly lifted him several inches off the ground.

"You!" Angelica yelled. "You miserable…and I’ll have you know, it’s a little hard not to get involved when your stupid machine dumped me on Jason's ship a godsbedamned month ago!"

“Angelica!” Val chided, stepping quickly around Uru. “Put him down.” Angel couldn’t help grinning as her foster sister did her level best imitation of Alicia Masters.

"A month!" Di Vinci yelped. "Crap I need to check some calculations."

"Yeah, you do that. Hiya, Goldilocks," Angelica winked at Uru as she moved to entered the temportal, only to turn back for a moment. "Herc, tell Jason thanks for everything, but I found my own way home."

"Fare thee well Lady Angelica" the prince of power beamed at his young friend.

<><><>

Otherworld – early 21^st Century

Queen Meggan waited in the doorway of the room her husband, Captain Britain and the Avenger Hawkeye had retired to consult the stranger’s self- aware vehicle about the young heroes sudden disappearance. Apparently some progress was been made. Suddenly Roma materialised beside her, looking some what panic stricken.

"He is returning. You must hold him at bay," she stated hurriedly, then vanished again. An irritated Meggan was about to go find the some-time Omniversal Guardian and give her a piece of her mind, when she noticed everything around her slowing down, as if time itself was getting heavier. Meggan turned to see Hawkeye running in what looked like slow motion, managing to close the door to the room housing Monday and the others.

"So here we are again," the Agent stated as he and his large associate appeared in the hall. He pressed a small button on top of the pen-like device he held and the time flow returned to normal.

"Ah! Queen Meggan is it?" the Agent began, offering her a stiff, precise bow. "I believe your House has seen a few surprise guests recently. It is my admittedly unsavoury responsibility to take a number of them into custody. If you would be so kind..."

"On whose authority to you invade my House univited, sir?" Meggan interrupted imperiously, playing for time. Meggan was sure with the abilities this man had demonstrated and purely from the confidence he oozed, he could simply pass her if he wished. Despite his impeccable manners and evident respect for her title, Meggan couldn’t help but be unnerved by the flat, snake-like stare he gave her. The Agent's partner grunted as several of the Corps formed up behind her.

"What ‘authority’ do you represent, sir?" Meggan tried again. “The Cross Time Contiuum? The Infinites?”

The Agent smiled. "Hardly. An Authority even your vaunted husband must recognize, my queen." There was no amusement, or any other emotion to his voice.

"Well, if you could explain the nature of this Authority to me, mayhap I will allow you to pass," Meggan thought quickly knowing this was quite possibly a very complicated explanation.

"Very well," the Agent sighed, this time with some small trace of amusement. Additional Corpsmen entered the hall and he caught a glimpse of Roma on a high balcony.

<><><>

Inside the room, three decidedly tense and worried figures clustered about and equally worried and tense sentient dimensional transport.

"So the boy is now gathering them?” an increasingly frustrated Brian Braddock asked, his fists clenching and unclenching reflexively.

"Couple more seconds, Yer Highness," Monday replied.

"Strange dude with a beard and walking mountain were just trying to get in," Hawkeye added. However the archer was cut off from saying anything further as a flash of pure white light erupted in the centre of the room, which when it disappated revealed the missing young heroes.

"Thank god you placed trackers on them all," Di Vinci sighed to Monday. "Else we'd be in real trouble."

"We are in real trouble!" Monday replied quickly. “You-know-who is right outside.”

"Mother and Holy Ghost! And he hasn’t done anything yet?" Di Vinci yelped. "We gotta go right now. Monday, you have the co-ordinates?"

"Triple checked ‘em, sugah."

"Right everybody in and quickly please," Di Vinci declared.

Hawkeye quickly pulled his green-skinned, near-twin into a quick hug. “2005,” he asked urgenly. “Where're you an' your mom?”

“Er, I'm in Asgard...Mom...she's somewhere in Arizona...they captured her when we all..." Hawkeye quickly shook his head.

“I swear, I'll find her and we'll get to you, together.” He then all but shoved the younger man away. “Now, git outta here before I say something really stupid!” Mustang nodded and followed the rest as they all entered Monday. Only Britannia lingered, who was still looking a little shocked to be in a full embrace from her mother and uncle.

"Take care, Bethany. You are destined for great things," Brian grinned.

"Your mother will be proud. I am," Betsy Braddock smiled.

"Thank you, I..."

"Beth, please!" Di Vinci yelled. Britannia quickly boarded Monday and in a flash they were gone.

<><><>

The Timestream – No/All Times and All/No Places

It was then Jackdaw realized he was also on his way to another reality. "Not sure I'm supposed to be here,” he squawked as Monday jetted through the Timestream and into the spaces between realities. The Legacy 5 had traveled through there briefly before, yet it was still awe inspiring. "Anyone else feel sick?" he squealed, only to be ignored.

"Anyone following?" Di Vinci enquired.

"Nope. We're clean," Monday answered. "But, Vinnie, he is getting awful close lately."

"Tell me about it," Di Vinci sighed. “I’m just glad he didn’t initiate Block Transfer Computation or anything this time.”

The young heroes stared out over the sides of Monday catching brief flashes of other worlds. Suddenly two figures flashed passed, one was a large red haired man with a huge gun and the other was a young girl with white and black hair, swearing loudly but with practiced skill. "Hey it's Harley and Julius!"^[5] Uru shouted as the red haired man waved at them before vanishing out of the stream to some other reality. "Oh, sorry, you still a bit touchy about Harley?" Uru asked Di Vinci, getting a strange glance from Britannia.

"Not now, okay?" Di Vinci winced.

Just then a team of heavily armed soldiers appeared into the stream and followed the departed Motormouth and Killpower.

"Was that Liger's Warhead troop?" Di Vinci asked.

"It was," Monday responded.

"I do not envy Julius and MM taking on those guys" Uru added.

"We'll try and track them down to see what the problem is once we have finished here," Di Vinci replied. At this Britannia involuntarily gulped as it hit her they would soon be parting from these two, quite likely never to see either of them again.

She found the thought…unsettling.

Di Vinic suddenly jerked Monday’s control bars hard to the right, only just avoiding colliding with a transparent sphere that had come barreling from the opposite direction. “Sunday drivers!” he called over his shoulder with a shake of his fist. Val giggled aloud at this.

From her vantage point, Beth could make out a momentary flash of details of the other ships passengers: a man with dirty blonde hair and an eye-patch, a smaller form with green skin coloring and light hair, a woman wearing a mask and long brown hair. The one with the eye-patch had looked over at them as they brushed past, and for a bizarre half-second she would have sworn she recognized him.

“Franklin?” she muttered quietly, disbelieving.

“What was that?” Di Vinci called, eyes still fixed ahead.

“Nothing. It was nothing.”

<><><>

Otherworld

"As you can see,” Queen Meggan stated as she pushed the door to Monday’s former hiding place open. “We have no uninvited guests currently at the palace." She was flanked by a whole platoon of Captain Britain Corps, all eyeing the Agent's associate with steely eyes, the latter simply giving them what he likely thought to be a disarming grin.

"So it would seem," the Agent responded flatly, offering no clue to his thoughts right then. "I thank you for your time, Your Highness. We should be on out way, then."

"A very good idea," Meggan replied with an uncharacteristic sneer as the Agent and his partner faded from sight.

<><><>

Brian found his sister at one of the palace’s many balconies. “Barton is ready to go if you are…”

“They’re gone?” Betsy asked superfluously.

“Yes.”

“You know about…her?”

“Yes.”

“You know who her father is…will be…?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me when?”

“No.” They were silent after that for a time.

“She was good, wasn’t she? Strong, confident…”

“She’ll be great, twin.” Betsy let her brother draw her close, closing her eyes and unsure if she wished she could just forget the past day or not.

<><><>

Little Midgard – early 21^st Century

The Play Pen, North Quarter

It has been 153 days since the loss of the “Legacy Five”

Little Midgard had but one holidays to call its own. Most holidays that the township observed were actually holdovers of half-remembered ‘holy days’, bits of the citizens shared heritage that seemed far away from their daily lives. King Thor’s first decree as monarch had stated the citizens of the township were free to worship and celebrate as they saw fit, and certainly Lady Frigga and great Volstagg enjoyed their roles as “Mother and Father Christmas” they played every Candlesmass, while Hogun was a regular attendee at the observances of Passover and the first night of Ramadan. Sister Samson and her Order were ever respectful to the Asgardian Court, as they were to her’s, and always consulted with them on these issues.

There was one day observed each year that was uniquely their own, imaginatively titled “Landing Day” and counted as the fortieth day of spring, marking the day the ‘great evacuation’ from Montreal touched down in the fields outside Asgard. The normal business of the township wasn’t readily disrupted by it, drills and training continuing unabated throughout the day; there special services held at the Cathedral and much of the village gathered for a single, massive picnic held in the evening in the Play Pen training ground.

The recent losses to the ranks of Legacy Cohorts notwithstanding, the events for Landing Day were still held. The Cathedral services were a bit longer as extra prayers and readings were offered for those missing in action, and the mood of the evening’s picnic was more subdued than in previous years. Ben Grimm and his wife Alicia, their foster daughter Jonni, and sister-in-law Lyja were all in attendance and involved, as were Scott Lang and his fiancée Alyssa, plus Clint and Jennifer Barton and their girl Jenny. Mary Jane Parker was voluble as ever, doing one-woman renditions from “Hamlet” and “Romeo and Juliet”. Her boy Ben was hovering near Jonni, keeping her in sight at all times, with Jenny Walters acting as back-up. Rumors of course ran rampant amongst the Cohorts about them and their families, all of which was naturally ignored.

Surprisingly, Princess-Regent Elisabeth Braddock and several of The Starjammer’s crew were likewise in attendance. Mar’i Grayson led the way for the recent arrivals from Earth and elsewhere, engaging the older Cohorts in talk and play. There were moments of tension, true, but none worse than other days.

Astra sat by Lake Namor, staring at the cool waters and listening to the festivities with half an ear. She watched as the Akum, the Atlantean ambassador lead his charges in a merry game of leap-and-tag in the waters nearby. Astra began stretching out with her fledgling Cosmic Awareness hoping that she would tap into something, anything that would help her locate Makarra and the others or, gods and Powers willing, maybe even Franklin’s lost team.

Suddenly Astra's mind was on fire burning with a pure white light. She screamed, causing the aquatics to start making their way towards her to see what was wrong. Some of those at the edge of the festival likewise heard and began making their way over. The sky overhead suddenly erupted in a flare brilliant white and Monday came crashing through. Its descent was anything but controlled, causing it to plow straight through the various picnic tables that had been set up, throwing food and drink and decorations in every direction and sending the party-goers scattering. Its bike-form anything but aerodynamic, Monday lost all orientation and practically threw its passengers off, several landing amid the upturned tables and food.

Silence reigned for several beats while the various Cohorts moved forward cautiously. "Oh my god!" Astra screamed again, this time with pleasure as their lost friends began to pick themselves up and look around, all of them looking worse for wear.

"We'rebackIcan'tbelieveitgodwe'vebeenthroughsomuchbutwe'rebacknowcan'twaittotellyouallaboutit!" Makarra blurted out as he raced up to hug Astra.

"Easy! Slow down speedtrap! Ack! Ease up or your gonna pop a rib!" Astra giggled, returning the hug fiercely.

"Hard to breath here guys" Valeria gurgled as she and Angelica were engulfed in a massive bear hug fro Angelica's father, Ben Grimm. Ben was quickly followed by Alicia, Lyja and Jonni.

"Never do this to me again," Alicia growled through the tears cascading down her face as she physically shook both girls.

"Didn't really have much choice in the matter," Angelica growled back.

"It's so good to have my baby home," Ben Grimm grinned, sparing a glance to Lyja, who gave him a brilliant smile of her own.

<><><>

Med-Center One

An hour later

Valeria looked around the room they had been ushered into upon their return to Little Midgard. Mustang had already been fused over and released to the waiting arms of his parents and adopted sister. Britannia herself suffered through Doctors Foster and Moy’s many exams, all under the watchful eye of her cousin Elisabeth. Makarra was chatting excitedly to Astra and Starbird. Val and Angel both calmly waited their own turn, the rest of their family waiting for them outside. In the far corner of the room Di Vinci, Uru and Jackdaw sat flanked by a cadre of the Midgard Corp Mayor Rhodes had assigned to watch them; a sensible precaution Di Vinci himself had affirmed, despite Britannia's assurances.

Eventually, all five were all given a clean bill of health and allowed to go home, with strict orders they were to rest for the next few days. There were a few goodbyes to make first.

Di Vinci, Uru and Jackdaw stood by Monday, preparing to leave.

“Do you really have to go right now?” Britannia asked with remarkable calm.

“’Fraid so, Beth. Wars to win, lotteries to fix, fat cats to annoy,” Di Vinci smiled, his tone light but forced. “Besides I think we make the locals a tad nervous,” he said indicating with a nod of his head to Mayor Rhodes, who still had a full compliment of Midgard Corps watching the travelers every move. He finished some small adjustment to Monday’s instruments, then closed the hatch and turned back towards her. He couldn’t meet her eyes however, instead focusing on his boots.

“You could, you know, come with us…” he offered quietly.

Bethany bit her lip against her first words, instead taking a breath and shaking her head. “I…I can’t.” Di Vinci nodded, but said nothing, instead turning back to climb aboard Monday, head still bowed.

“Fare thee well, new friends,” Uru bellowed grandly.

“To hell with it,” Rockface practically screamed, unexpectedly rushing forward. “C’mere, Goldilocks!” she said grabbing Uru and planting a huge kiss on his lips, which he readily reciprocated.

“We will definitely be back,” he grinned, nodding nervously to Ben Grimm, who gave him the look fathers always give their daughter’s first boyfriends.

“Will you?” Britannia asked Di Vinci, who still wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Will you come back?”

Instead of answering, he reached into his coat and tossed her a small disk. “Here, this should help with the oldies over there,” Di Vinci said with a shrug. “It’s info from Monday’s systems about what happened to you guys. You ready yet, Jack?”

“Sure. Being a transdimensional revolutionary beats a life of petty crime any day,” Jackdaw squawked as he settled himself aboard Monday.

“See ya, dude” Mustang waved, as did the others (save, noticeably, Britannia).

“’Bye, muh darlins,” Monday announced. The bike and its riders vanished in a rainbow flare of light an instant later.

<><><>

The next few hours saw the Legacy 5 spend in the briefing room, trying they’re best to explain all that had happened to them since their sudden disappearance. Where their own narrative faltered, the disk Di Vinci had supplied them filled in relevant and irrelevant details. The kids themselves were filled with questions of their own, about the newcomers and missions that had gone on in their absence and the like.

Throughout it all, Britannia had been strangely subdued, letting the others talk and picking up only when needed. Rather, she would often stare at the wall across the room, her thoughts far away, riding with a wild Italian and his magical bike.

<><><>

Epilogue One

A Place Outside Space and Time

The Agent stood before his nominal superiors, the only illumination in the great chamber being the column of soft light he himself stood within. All else was dim shadows.

He could only just make out his temporary partner, still clad in that ridiculous armor, standing blank-faced near the circular bleachers where their self-styled 'masters' sat right then (at least insofar as remote, pseudo-conceptual entities like them could 'sit' in the material sense). The Agent understood this place had been constructed solely for the benefit of his far too limited senses; his 'superiors' normally operating on a completely different plane of experience than himself or his partner.

The emptiness surrounding them all was filled with the whispers of voices that were saying words; accusations, recriminations, meaningless threats, foolish boasts, and nearly any other manner of declaration the self-righteous and self-appointed might whisper to themselves, the to better convince themselves of their own import.

He could only sigh in an approximation of irritation and abject boredom. No doubt they were debating his invocation of the Shadow Proclamation, bringing his pursuit of the Florentine and that Asgardian mongrel to an early end. No doubt they were displeased with his decisions; he had yet to observe them express any other emotional state.

The Agent wondered what his former companion and still older rival would think of what his labors had wrought: the restoration of the Great Houses, now merely and deliberately shadows of themselves, still bent upon fighting their little War. Why they were bothering with an annoyance like Kang or risking antagonizing the Omniversal Nexi escaped him, never mind sending him on meaningless missions to assist those scavengers on Earth and those who would make use of them...

Rather than further ponder these odd little missions, the Agent refocused his attention upon the whispers, ever attentive for some clue to his master's intentions. One secret, one slip was all he needed, all he ever needed.

So he stood there, listening to Their well-night-infinite arrogance, and waited for his moment.

All things in time.

<><><>

Epilogue Two

Limbo, the private quarters of Elena Zarko, commander of the Chronopolis Guard

The servitors and sycophants and temporal paladins had all been dismissed, leaving the Commander alone to rage and ruminate over the children's latest foolishness. That one of them would have the audacity to actually attack Otherworld directly did not surprise her; that all five of them would do so simultaneously left her utterly appalled at the sheer idiocy of it all.

Did none of them understand the value of subtlety? Could none of them grasp the need to use proxies and the value of subterfuge in facing their enemies? Speaking of whom.

“It appears that this ‘Di Vinci’ is more adaptable than I give him credit for,” Zarko mused, as her personal service droid recorded her private diary.

“The situation with these wayward children is both pleasing and disturbing. The race to be the true heir is most assuredly heating up but a move against myself may come sooner than expected.” She paused to muse aloud. “Young Victor will likely…no, no. I cannot guess at these things. Preparations must be made.” Zarko continued as she paced the room.

“Droid, summon Aprocryphus and my personal guard. And issue an invitation to the lady Ravalona; we must discuss her daughter’s…choice…of benefactor. I would also know what it is she’s thinking allowing Marcus and Ramades such freedom of action.”

At this point Zarko exited onto her balcony, signaling to his assembled guard below, who promptly unleashed their laser rifles on the bound temporal resistance fighters who had been captured earlier that week.

<><><>

Epilogue Three

Early in the Sixth Millennium, Amino Domini

The gray robed man, who has remained immobile through this all, stays where he is. He resolves to wait for their return, how ever long or short this span will prove.

It proves, in relative terms, a short wait. Long enough for the sky overhead to clear and the sun to begin its slow descent to the horizon. The air remains crisp and chilled despite it.

The quartet return suddenly, appearing in thin air directly above where they had disappeared. The sorcerer hovers in the air for a moment to get his bearings, while Ariel simply ignites, remaining aloft while she catches the others with invisible tethers. The warriors bickered in their respective languages – the hammer-wielder cursing her lineage in Wakandan, his tow haired counterpart doing the same in Low Gaelica – as she let them dangle there for a few heartbeats, all the while grinning like a fool.

Eventually she lowers them to the rooftop, drifting down herself and turning to her Grandfather. “Welcome back,” the robed one called, the smile evident in both voice and the mouth still half-hidden under the hood. The sorcerer, his Roym’a manners ever-present, landed and gave a courteous bow to the robed one, due respect given age and wisdom. Both warriors went to one knee, the weapons held in respect before him. Only Ariel remained standing, her smile as warm as the air they breathed was frigid. Already the sky darkens with twilight, the moon overhead casting its pale light across the ice-covered land below.

“It is done,” the sorcerer declares. “The time-lost ones are restored to their home.”

The robed man nods in acknowledgement, then turns and waves them off. “HERBERT has dinner prepared for you. Go inside and warm up.” The three young men do as bade, but Ariel lingers. The sentisuit she wears shifts a bit in empathy for her sudden anxiety.

“I gave her the message you wanted, Grandfather,” she states, hoping against hope there are no eavesdroppers for a change. “Surely I could have told her more...”

A raised hand silences her, causing her to bite her lip in worry. Has she overstepped herself here? Daring boldly, she closes the distance between them and places a hand upon his shoulder. “I...” she begins, only to realize there was nothing to be said. Nothing that can be said. Not to him. Not about this.

Instead, she asks him “Will you come to dinner?” She is prepared to threaten if that is required.

The robed one nods and mutters “In a few minutes. I’ll be there, just...in a minute.” There are centuries of weariness in those words.

Ariel knows better than to offer to stay. Such offers, no matter how frequent, will not be accepted or readily appreciated. He is still lost in this time and place, a part of him still dwelling in a time long past.

“A few minutes,” she mimics, then smiles. “Or I’ll send T’Chaqa to fetch you.” The image of the warrior-king ‘fetching’ him, carrying him over his broad shoulder like a produce sack, is enough to elicit a laugh from them both.

She will make him feel at home here, and remembered he is loved. This she and the others have sworn between them and he knows it. Had he any sense, he’d have surrendered his melancholy long ago. He is stubborn, she equally so. The contest of wills is but the weakest, most ephemeral link binding them.

He waits until she has left him before pulling his hood away, letting the wind play at his short brown hair, temples streaked with early gray. His brow, furrowed by constant puzzlement at the world around him, eased for just a moment as his every-busy mind turned to other times, other places.

Reed Richards - once known as Mister Fantastic, once husband and father, now grandfather to his many-millennia distant kin - looks out across the ice-encrusted land below him.

He closes his eyes to the gentle yet sharp breeze, knowing it is not the cold that brings tears to his eyes right then.

The End of Legacy 5

AUTHOR'S NOTES

Phew that took some doing, but here we are with the final part of the Legacy 5 story arch. I have really enjoyed creating this story and Di Vinci has been a character in my head for quite a while. It also gave me a chance to tie Legacy into the main Pendragon’s universe a little more. After the whole DC Collision thing I thought it would be a good time to do a spot of time hoping. Anyway I hope you enjoyed this little tale and as always your comments are greatly appreciated. You can contact me on daveevans78@hotmail.com or via the Pendragons mailing list.

I hope the large size of the final issue makes up for the wait and as a little extre present from me to you we have “Glimpses” a special back up feature which may become a regular thing. Now time to meet our very own trainee Watcher as he catalogues the next generation of Marvels.

Cheers

Dave

And now for something completely different…

Glimpses

Greetings. I am Ute, a Watcher. I have been apprenticed to the infamous Utau, once the Watcher of this sector.

I am still unsure whether this is an honour or a punishment; my instructor's methods have oft been questioned as proper for one of my race, but his knowledge is unquestionable. Already he has appeared in Asgard, knowing full well that his mere presence would serve as a warning and he has allowed the Inhumans living on his satellite planetoid home to take up residence in his citadel, so as to escape the scavenger race that attacks the world below.

But my master has charged me with the task of monitoring the next generation of Earth heroes and this I shall do to the best of my abilities. Already he has chosen certain areas he feels are worthy of my attention, even though some are nowhere near Earth…

Chandilar – Shi’ar Homeworld

The young Shi'ar warrioress K'ara Kal'ark stepped out of the shower, her hair hung down her face in long wet strands as appose to her usual stylized mohawk. She crossed the large bathroom and entered the drying chamber and was instantly as dry as a bone. Her quarters were as spartan yet elegant, her personal preference despite being privy to the upper echelons of the Empire.

Kara quickly dressed, deciding to put on her comfortable training suit of red and gold. She sat in front of her desk and activated the holo screen. "Play contents of message bank, user Gladatrix Prime."

"Certainly, Miss Kara," the chosen voice for her unit – that of a friendly male – responded promptly. "First message received: Imperial Cadet Starlight."

A different voice now spoke, young and breathless. "I have followed the trail we discovered back to Sector Chy’m-slash-Opheag. It terminates in the dead zone there. I fear your suspicions were all correct, my friend. As ordered, I am now en route back to The Star Imperial."

"One other message received. Access authorization code required," the computer continued after Starlight's message finished.

"At last," Gladatrix grinned in her seat. "Authorization code: Jolly Roger," she announced.

"Code accepted" the computer confirmed. The screen was then filled with the face of a young dark haired man, obviously human. "We got your message and have reviewed the datapac. Consider The Starjammer at your disposal. We will be at the co-ordinates no later than tomorrow."

"Purge message from all data tracks," Gladatrix commanded, then sat back to think. The Majestrix still needed to approve of her strategy, although she half-suspected Lilandra probably already conceived the scenario herself. Kara only hoped she would not have to go through with the whole of her plan to save the Empire from the infestation.

<><><>

Castle Zemo

Baron Helmut Zemo stood on the balcony of his castle home, surveying the paradise he had created, safe from the Martians within a sub-dimensional tesseract. But Castle Zemo was far from just a foxhole from alien invaders; as ever, the eighth Baron Zemo had a plan, having realized early on this newest invader would not be easily or quickly defeated, thus necessitating a long game. However, it wasn't until he heard of the partial evacuation of children and refugees to Asgard that Zemo's scheme really took shape.

"A good idea is a good idea," Zemo had thought to himself and so he set about gathering to him the children of his allies, promising to protect them from the alien invaders and considering the devastation happening around the globe it proved quite an easy decision in most cases. Thus were The New Masters born, Zemo and his allies raised the children as the next generation of the Masters of Evil to one day take the Earth from its alien overlords.

"They will be ready soon," the voice of Karla Sofen, Zemo's chief advisor said as she joined the Baron on the balcony interrupting his reminiscing.

"Indeed. And how is Ebersol coming with the Iron Cross robots?" Zemo enquired.

"He is finished, and the Thunderbolt clone troopers are near gestation," Sofen answered.

"Excellent!" Zemo smiled beneath his mask.

Zemo and the former Moonstone looked onto the courtyard below as their charges assembled ready to go through the days training. Zemo's own daughter had already lead a small squad into the Martian arena in order to asses Martian strength. the information she had managed to secretly gather had proven invaluable to Zemo's plans. Karla Sofen looked at her own son, his blonde hair blowing about his face, he was the spitting image of his father, the Moonstone glinting at his throat.

"Release the beasts," Zemo commanded as doorways around the courtyard opened and huge mutated creatures charged snarling at the young warriors. The Young Masters all grinned in anticipation of the death and destruction they were about to hand out.

<><><>

The Savage Land

Doc Simian swung gracefully through the tree tops of his new home. Below his friend and prince of the realm Matthew Plunder raced along at pace with Simian. Plunder's hunting cats, the saber toothed Zaba and Zabine ran just ahead.

Simian shouted down to his friend "Anything yet?"

"Nothing yet, professor. Nevertheless if Dusk says something is out here then, it's out here," Matthew Plunder, Jak-al yelled back.

"Tribal reports of talking apes are promising, but the animal and Man-ape disappearances are worrying," Simian replied down.

Jak-al was just about to suggest a change in direction when he noticed his cats had stopped dead in their tracks. However he noticed too late to stop his own momentum and he ran, face first, into some kind of invisible wall.

"Most interesting," Doc Simian said as he dropped to the ground.

"Tell that to my nose," Plunder groaned as he wiped his face clean of blood.

"This appears to be some sort of force field, if we can bypass it..." Jak-al immediatly jumped up into a defensive position as his cats adopted an aggressive stance around their master. "What's wrong?" Simian asked in a whisper.

"We are not alone, sir," Jak-al replied drawing his trusty hunting knife, a gift from his father.

"Indeed, you are not young human," a rather cultured voice announced as the shaggy form of an orangutan floated out of the jungle canopy to hover in front of them. Simian felt his every hair stand on end, and he recognized the use of magnetism after his recent visits to Magnus and the Savage land Mutates. More significantly, recognized one of the three Super Apes.

"Hello, son," another voice added as a large gorilla very similar in appearance to Simian revealed himself. Then the pliable form of a baboon, the last of the Super Apes also dropped from the tree tops.

"Thank God,” the baboon declared. “We thought you were dead, son. Or worse, that those alien reprobates had gotten you," the baboon said.

"But we're ready for them now" the gorilla added.

"Come, let us show you our and your new home," the orangutan smiled clapping his hands.

"Wait, wait.” The Super Apes all looked at him. “Its marvelous to see you three again, but…what do you mean you're ready for them?" Simian asked.

With that the orangutan waved his arm across the air in front of him and his barrier fell to reveal a small army of mutated animals and Ape-men all heavily armed. All looking quite ready to attack anything and everything in sight.

Both Zaba and Zabine tensed and growled.

“Oh dear,” Simian sighed.

<><><>

Subterrania

Digory Harvey made his way along the long dark tunnel on his way to the surface. The blackness of the tunnel was complete, this however did not bother Digory as the son of the Mole Man and having lived most of his life underground Digory’s eyes worked just as well in complete darkness as in daylight, if not better.

Truth be told he hated going to the surface world despite the fact that it was currently occupied by a hostile alien armada, he also found surface dwellers to be selfish and corrupt at all levels. It was only in the most dire circumstances that he would make the trip but someone was abducting his people and mutating them and it transpires these Skorpsmen troops had now found themselves a new sport, Moloid Hunting. Digory would put a stop to both of these or die trying.

Digory Harvey, better know to his people as Digger or Prince Digger was about as far away from his father as possible. Where as his father was small and physically weak, Digger was large and powerful, much stronger than your average human, possibly a gift from his deviant mother. He also possessed large clawed hands excellent for unneling and deadly as an offensive weapon.

Now these aliens and abductors would find out exactly why he was regarded as Subterrania’s greatest champion.

<><><>

The ruins of New York City

Lauren Howlett - aka X-23 - and Julie Power - aka Lightspeed - made their through the gloomy, rubble-strewn streets of New York City. They kept their heads down and avoided eye contact. Although there was no Martian patrol in sight, it was hard to know who to trust, and they were both on a wanted list. Rounding a corner off old Broadway into a dark alleyway, they found the sewer entrance they were looking for. Lauren paused a moment to make sure the coast was clear, then the two dropped into the cities underbelly.

Once in the sewer line, X-23 promptly threw the bag of food she was carrying to the young dark skinned male who had been standing at the bottom of the ladder she was currently descending.

"Heads up, Rook," X-23 called to her teammate, Marcus Bishop. Rook caught the groceries and was immediately pounced upon by Weasel, their rodent-like guide.

"What we got? I'm starving!" Weasel squeaked as he quickly rifled through the bag.

"You're not starving, you’re just hungry," Julie Power corrected. "I'll go tell the old man we're back," she said and shot off down the tunnel, leaving a rainbow light trail in her wake.

An hour later X-23, Rook and Weasel made it back to their current hideout. "Took your time, darling," a gruff voice said from behind a cloud of cigar smoke.

"Didn't realize I was on the clock," X-23 replied calmly.

"Always," Wolverine smiled, or rather as close to a smile as he ever got. The rest of his team had gathered round eager to eat. “Eat up, squirts. This time tomorrow, I want us twenty miles from the city, got it?” The small group nodded more or less as one, then went back to their meal. The squad he had christened Mutant X comprised of young mutants he had rescued from various death camps, experimentation labs and other equally harrowing places. Logan hadn’t wanted to form a new team, but the damned kids had simply refused to leave him. Well, come morning he was marching them upstate; the plan was to hook them up with that SHIELD cell operating outside Toronto, then he could get back to doing his preferred Lone Wolf routine.

As the young resistance fighters torn into the supplies Lauren walked down one of the tunnels along side her mentor and kind of father. “So,” she started after a moment.

“So?”

“You decided what ya gonna do about Shaw’s offer?”

“Not yet, darlin’,” Logan answered. “I don’t trust Shaw as far as I can throw this whole island. But he does want the Martians gone as much as the next man.”

“Yeah, there’s that. But we could be swapping one problem for another.”

“True enough,” Logan nodded, silently proud of his pseudo-offspring’s perception. “Still, with his control protocols in hand, we can reprogram all of ‘em once we get one of the resistance’s big brains to help us.” Logan sighed. “And god knows we could use the help.”

“Again, there’s that. It’s just…”

“What?”

“Well, kinda uber ironic that a mutant team is gonna bring back the Sentinels?”

<><><>

Somewhere near the ruins of Montreal

The boy’s awoke suddenly, freezing cold and covered head to toe in some thick slime. Forcing his eyes open, he was startled to find another pair of eyes watching him intently; sea-green eyes, framed by a pretty face whose features he found…unnervingly familiar.

“I know you,” the girl crouching before him whispered, a touch of wonder to her voice. That same voice pulled at his heart and brought tears to his eyes.

“I…I…” His own voice failed him. Instead he stared at the girl, taking in every inch of her features, his eyes shamelessly roving over her nude form. She did not shrink from this, nor make any effort to cover herself. Like him, she was shivering from the cold air, her skin glistening in the weak light with the same slime his own was covered in. She was staring at him equally intently, watching and searching for something as well.

Before either of them could speak or take note of anything else, a voice directly behind them rang out. “Ah, you’re both awake. Good, good.” The boy and girl both turned as one to see the massive figure that stood mere feet away from them. It was impossible to make out distinct features in this darkened place. Both noticed for the first time the rows of upright glass tanks surrounding them, odd shapes and things contained within each.

“You must leave this place. Quickly now!” the figure urged a hushed voice.

The boy stood first, helping the girl to her own feet. Both watched the figure approach, both tensing in anticipation. “Why?” the girl asked, gripping her new companion’s hand tightly.

To their surprise, the figure shrugged. “Penance, I suppose. A futile gesture of repentance and defiance. It doesn’t matter.” The speaker now moved into the minimal light, throwing his chalk-white features into full view. He stared at them with pitch black eyes, his dark lips curving into a ghost of smile. “My greatest creations,” he whispered, sounding in awe of them both, only to give himself a quick shake and continue in a harder tone.

“You must leave this place, now, before our…my…so-called masters realize you have been released.”

“Where…?”

“There is no time!” the white-skinned giant quietly raged. “You must escape, now, while I can still conceal you. Please, go!”

The girl still looked hesitant. She ran a hand over her scalp, feeling the soft red fuzz covering it. The boy by contrast, his own brown hair thicker and tangled, appeared ready to take this advice. He turned and began moving in the direction the figure had previously indicated, having the tug on his companion’s arm to get her to follow. The pair were quickly gone from sight.

Nathaniel Essex nodded to himself as they fled, and allowed the illusion surrounding him to shimmer and fall away. All that was left behind was a small hoverdisk, atop which sat a goldfish bowl-like container. The container itself was filled with a brackish, bubbling fluid which supported a mass of gray matter vaguely resembling a human brain.

The hovering unit lingered a few moments longer, then departed, evidentially satisfied at seeing small servitor droids zip forward and clean away any trace of the pair’s departure.