VANISHING STORMS, PART ONE:
SEX, DRUGS, and WHO THE HELL IS PHIL SINTON?
IN MEMORY OF JOHN BROOME
MIDGARD STANDARD YEAR 2200 / OCTOBER
LOGAN'S BAR AND GRILL
There were few spots in the Golden Realm that were appreciated by the Earthers more than Logan's Bar and Grill.
Despite the Eternal War that raged on endlessly, there was still a place in the Everything off of Midgard where one could go to get a cold beer, a cold, carbonated, caffeine laced beverage, a greasy cheeseburger and extra thick steak fries.
It's owner was a man named Logan.
He was an old robot now but still slick and shiny. His solid dark green metal body unnerved some at first, but they quickly grew used to the gregarious barkeep at Logan's Bar & Grill, finding him just like all the other barkeeps they'd ever run across.
Logan's life was long and fulfilling and he knew that it would soon be over. Maybe another 35 years if he was lucky. There was no need for him to die, he knew, as he wiped down the bar. He was, after all, just a robot and could easily, even during the worst days during the Eternal War, find replacement parts to fix himself up.
He didn't want that, though. His father and mother struggled too long to come to achieve humanity for him to just throw it aside. No, Logan wanted to live a life that was long, but fair, and he would meet his death head on and not try to live forever.
Logan sighed mournfully thinking about his parents.
He was not truly his father's son and not truly his mother's son and he never could quite get over the fact that he was a disappointment to the both of them. He had taken to drinking in his youth, but the robot thing never let him get more than a buzz going. So he turned to drugs, which had only proven a bit more effective. It got to the point where he had to download computer viruses into his body just to get high.
He had grown up not knowing either of them very well - they were good people but horrible parents. The only time he really ever talked to his old man was on his father's death bed.
Logan had looked at his father lying there in the bed and wanted to be just like a man who would give his life for a cure to a horrible disease. Drunk on parental love, Logan had donned the costume and taken the moniker of Machine Man in his honor and went out to do his father right. He found a place with the Defenders and started trying to be a hero.
His tenure lasted not more than a year - his heart wasn't in it.
'Not to mention,' he admitted to himself, 'I rather sucked at it.'
He loved nothing more than to pry stories from the old-time Defenders. He couldn't bring himself to do any kind of training - not that the Defenders did much of that together - but he could listen to Valkyrie and Dane and Rogue talk forever about their past exploits.
Chuckling as he thought of the good times, Logan checked the draft taps, preparing for the arrival of Balder and the Council. Apparently, the Cosmic Flame had returned and he wasn't the Cosmic Flame everyone - including Galactus - had been anticipating.1 Whatever the story was, it was bound to be a good yarn. Logan loved a good yarn - the longer, the grander, the better.
1 - ALL GOD'S CHILDREN 6 - FRAGMENTED BALANCE, PART ONE
More than that, he just liked saying the word 'yarn'.
It was that love of stories that led him to opening up a chain of themed steakhouse restaurants on Midgard which eventually led to him moving to Asgard. He figured he'd been here for over 100 years by now.
Why should he have stayed on Earth when the stories of Asgard were sure to be that much more grand?
He looked around at him restaurant as proud as any human could ever be. The all wood floors, walls and tables shone in the dim light and in the distance an Asgardian-modified pool table sat waiting for it's players.
It should be a good, long night.
"So this is good-bye."
"Yes."
The word hung in the air between two people who, at this moment, were not aware of anything but the gulf that the silence signified. The last time Steve Rogers and Dani Moonstar said good-bye it took them over two standard years to reunite. They were not looking forward to the time spent apart, their time together here on Asgard a too-brief reprieve from the duties of war.
"You could stay … hear the Cosmic Flame's story," Dani offered, hating her weakness.
"No … no, I can't," Steve answered, hating his weakness. "I can't stay here and listen to stories of days gone by when the days of the present demand my attention. I am the Cosmic Protector, Dani …" he let his voice trail off as if the words were any kind of real explanation.
"Will you see the Orphans before you go? To talk to them about their recent actions?" 2
2 - ALL GOD'S CHILDREN 6 - 11: FRAGMENTED BALANCE
"No …"
"Why?" Dani asked, knowing the answer.
"Because I do not lead anymore, Dani. But you knew that, so I can only surmise that by asking me the question you hope to prod me into the answer you wish - going to see them to depart my wisdom on them." Steve broke contact with Dani's beautiful eyes to stare out the window at the Golden Realm beyond.
Dani took Steve's hand in hers, squeezing them gently at first, and then harder until Steve turned to look back at her.
"You were the greatest leader of the greatest team I ever saw, Steve," she whispered to him, knowing that each word was a dagger in the heart of the man she loved. "That day … that final day …"
"That final day every last Avenger died," Steve said coldly. "All but me are gone."
"I was an Avenger once. So was Bill," Dani said gently.
"But you do not hear the call," Steve squeezed her hands back. "Not like the rest of us did."
"Hank Pym is-"
"Hank Pym is dead." Steve looked at her hard.
Dani shook her head and then thought better of it. "This is why you leave me, to chase the shadows of days gone by after you give that as a reason for leaving. These kids you have sought,3 the ones who took the name Avengers in your honor … you have no need to find them. They are not your responsibility."
3 - ALL GOD'S CHILDREN 1 - THE VENGEANCE OF HOPE
"The Avengers are no more. The sooner the Everything realizes this fact, the sooner it will come to realizing there is no salvation in the past. We need to forge new destinies."
The two lovers stared at each other for a long moment and then the gulf between them dissolved into a long, smoldering kiss.
THOR HALL OF PEACE
Ben-Vell Parker.
Attumidunn.
Eshir.
Angelica Osborn.
Four of the Orphans of War stood before their King, Balder the Brave.
Balder sat on his throne, staring down at the hope of tomorrow. He was angry and proud, the father in him wanting to scold them while the warrior in him wanted to clasp them on the back and hear their tale. Which side to let dominate, the father or the warrior?
As was always his way, Balder chose the way of the King.
"The path you hath chose was not a wise one," he began slowly, taking time to meet all of their eyes in turn.
Ben-Vell stood off to the side, nervous, fidgeting, uncomfortable. Balder frowned internally, but did not let his disappointment show through. It was becoming clear that Ben was not going to be the great leader that so many had hoped he would become.
He was destined to be the Cosmic Protector, but Balder had his doubts about that, too. The Everything wanted - needed - Ben to be the next Captain Marvel, but more and more it looked like they would get the next Spider-Man instead. King Balder frowned, not because he wished for more than Ben appeared to have, but because he knew the Everything would not be so kind to the young, blue-skinned, blond-haired man before him. Balder knew beyond all else that Ben-Vell Parker would be a great man, but would that be enough if the Everything demanded he be a great warrior instead?
"Thou left without explanation, journeying on a quest as a rat scurries from the light," Balder continued.
Attumidunn, Ben's girlfriend stood beside him, strong and proud, every bit Inhuman, every bit Atlantean, every bit Valkyrie. Her light, aqua-green skin seemed to become one with the light beneath her Valkyrie gear. She was proud, arrogant, strong. She wanted to be great and was willing to work for it.
Here was a warrior destined for greatness.
Of all the Orphans raised on Asgard who were not of Asgard, she was the most Asgardian among them.
"Thou left with pride in thy heart, desperate to prove yourselves," Balder scolded. "That road leads only to ruin. Fitting that your corrupt path led you to Olympus, the former home of the most prideful, cowardly race the Everything hath ever known. Is that what you wish to become?" Balder asked, his voice and passion rising in measured tones. "To wrap thyselves in cloaks made from the same cloth as the Olympians did? May Odin himself damn you if that is your wish!"
The Orphans winced at the words. To an Asgardian, there was few insults greater than to be compared to an Olympian.
Eshir stood his ground, a fact that made Balder proud. Eshir's was a proud heritage, but one that had been lost to the sands of time, becoming soft when the Everything demanded strength. But Eshir was not like his parents or his grandparents, he was like his ancestors from the First Age.
Balder was proud of the young man before him. Half his face was scarred and he had nothing but stumps where his hands should have been, the losses resulting from a childhood prank played on him by Ben-Vell. A prank that went horribly wrong.
But Eshir Maximoff never once asked for the return of his hands, never once asked for his scarred visage to be repaired.
He was truly the descendant of Heaven. The descendant of Luna. The descendant of Quicksilver.
He was the descendant of Magneto and he knew it - he walked with the purpose of one who knows that tomorrow is won today.
"There is no denying the fact that thou hast performed admirably in the face of grave odds," Balder leaned back in his chair. "So I applaud thee for the results, if not thine decision. Perhaps thou art ready to leave the nest, after all."
And then there was Angelica Osborn. At long last her secret was out for all to know.
She was an Osborn and thus subject to the Goblin Legacy of Evil, the madness that came from within to corrupt even the heartiest of souls.
She stood proud, almost … happy.
The weight off her shoulders had done her a world of good. She looked stronger than she had in a long time, ready to meet the demons of her heritage head on.
Balder was proud of her most of all.
"Go forth, Orphans, the wiser for the journey, if nothing else."
The Orphans turned and left a smiling King Balder, though none saw the smile on their King's aging face.
LOGAN'S BAR AND GRILL
"Greetings and salutations, mon frere! Let's get them tap's a running!"
Logan sighed, a sigh that was part joy and part contempt. Eros had arrived.
"You left the fire pits roaring and a large kettle of Surtur Chilli hanging over it," he scolded the fat Titan. Eros had the tun of most of Asgard, the Bar and Grill included because everyone felt bad for what he lived through back on Titan I. "Not to mention one of my large pots that I can't use anymore because the Chilli burnt so bad that it caked into the insides of the kettle."
"Not to worry, old man," Eros laughed, pouring himself a drink. "Just put it all on my tab and I'll take care of it."
Logan shook his head, knowing full well that Eros wasn't going to pay for it. He never did. His tab had grown so large over the last century that he'd need one of the Infinity gems to pay it off.
"Why don't you tell me that story you've been promising," Eros suggested as he helped himself to a large bowl of Zodiac Stew. "The one with you and that computer magik lady you used to shag circuits with."
"No, not tonight, Eros," Logan shook his head.
"Aw, come on," Eros dropped his spoon into his stew, causing the broth to splatter up onto the table. "Why not?"
Logan grimaced. He didn't like telling Eros stories because he'd go off and repeat them to everyone he came across. Rule number three of listening to a tavern story according to the Guide Book:
One Never Repeats Stories Told in a Tavern Outside a Tavern. Tavern Stories are the Sole Property of the Taverns of the Everything. Under No Circumstances Is One to Repeat Stories Told Inside a Tavern.
Exception # 1: Unless You are Confronted by a Private Investigator That Can Kiss Your Ass For Not Spilling the Beans. But Only After He's Hit You Once as Proof. If You are Not Man Enough to Take At Least One Punch, Stay Out of Taverns!
"Why not, Eros?" Logan smiled his barkeep smile, "Why, because no barfly worth his weight ever tells a story that he knows will be beat. And with that Cosmic Flame guy coming in tonight," he shook his head, smiling, "I'm not wasting one of my best stories."
"Bah! The stories Eros could tell! Let me regale you with one of my favorites about an old Earth hero named the She-Hulk. That woman was …"
Logan did his mental fade on the fat and balding Titan, turning his audio receptors down as far as they could go.
His memories of that time were only for his very best customers, and they were amazing times at that. It was back during the height of his experimentation period, back after he had given up alcohol and drugs and turned to the hard stuff.
One weekend at a Stark munitions factory - back during Stark's twenty year reign as President of the United States (was that during Summer's time as Vice President? Fisk's? Hardy's? He couldn't remember … part of being a good barkeep was letting all the past years blend together. Nobody liked a know-it-all serving them drinks.) - when he and Wanda v3.2 (the illegitimate bio-organic daughter of the Anti-Vision and Agatha Harkness) had busted into the Alpha Level wing and infected themselves with a double-hit of Phalanx.
That was a good time, he smiled to himself. A weekend bender with Wanda v3.2, gods, she was a foxy machine … the good thing about being a robot, Logan knew, was that no matter how messed you got, you could always shut off your recorder units from the rest of your body. So even if you got so wasted that you didn't remember what you did, you just had to rewire the recorders back in to the mainframe and you'd be able to see and feel everything that you did by Virtual Reality memory.
Logan shuddered. He still had that VR recording (and twenty back-up copies) stashed away in his vaults. That was too good a memory to ever erase from the harddrive.
It was soon after that, Logan recalled, that Wanda v3.2 finally told the Scarlet Witch just what Agatha had been doing by creating her and her sisters (Wanda v1.5 and Wanda v2.18) and how she had lied to her all those years before about the Scarlet Witch's own twins with the Vision.
That was some fight, he remembered fondly, when the Scarlet Witch went after Agatha Harkness. Logan was lucky to be one of the few people in attendance to see the two old broads go at it. The Scarlet Sisters were caught in the middle-
He frowned as his memory recalled just what he had done on that day. No serious harm, he thought, but it was the last time Wanda v3.2 (who had become Wanda v3.4 by then) had ever spoken to him with romantic kindness in her computer heart. She didn't like that Logan had replaced his normal left eye hardware with a camera that sent a live-feed of the event back to Mojoworld, where Mojo made millions selling the fight as a Pay-Per-View event across several worlds.
He didn’t see what the big deal was - he thought it'd excite her. She was always doing things to snub her nose at her mom and dad, he didn't see why that time was going to be any different.
He sighed (a world weary sigh that, ironically, had taken him years to develop). It was almost time to open up and he'd have to increase the intensity of his audio receptors. Which meant listening to Eros.
" … I mean, she almost killed me. But what a way to go, huh? I tell you, she could …"
It would be a legendary night if they could ever get Eros to shut his fat mouth.
MIDGARD - NEW YORK CITY
Horrible, horrible laughter filled the night time air of a dying city.
What few residents that were out tried to find what shelter they could. Windows slammed shut despite the warm night.
The Green Goblin was on the loose again.
Pumpkin bombs rained down upon the city, chaos coming with them. The Goblin rode on her winged glider, standing tall in her green and purple costume, enjoying the fear that she spread to the citizens below. She was in an awful mood since her daughter, Angelica, had come back to Earth without so much as stopping by and saying hello.(4)
4 - ALL GOD'S CHILDREN 8 - FRAGMENTED BALANCE, PART THREE
Felicia Osborn hated her daughter. She was good for only one thing, carrying on the Goblin Legacy. The rest of her miserable life had been a failure. Felicia had heard rumors that Angelica had been whisked away to Asgard and now lived her life trying to be some kind of hero in some cosmic war. Bah. Felicia's own father, Flash Osborn had tried to be a hero, too, and had failed miserably. Just as had every other Osborn that stupidly tried to outrun the Legacy of Norman.
Angelica could run, but not escape her Legacy.
There was no escape from Norman.
'Let her try,' the Goblin smiled to herself. 'Just let her try.'
"Tonight, your reign of terror comes to an end, Goblin!" came an all-too-familiar shout across the Manhattan skyline. Felicia smiled to herself at the arrival of one of her foes.
"Not tonight, not ever, Lynx!"
Laser beams flashed out of her gloves at the furry figure below her. Lynx easily dodged them, bouncing across the rooftop of a building. "You're time has arrived, Goblin! You will be brought into custody this night, or I shall die trying!" Lynx screamed up at her, daring her to dive in close where he'd have a chance to use his claws.
"Then you shall die! HAHAHAHAHAHA!" The Green Goblin descended, dropping pumpkin bombs as she went. The furry hero leapt in a random pattern across one rooftop to another, daring the Goblin to follow him. "But maybe I shall keep you as a pet, dear Lynx! I have watched my share of pleasure-vids made by the legendary Cat People! If you are anything like your cousins …!"
And so it went on the planet Midgard, content to follow in the path it laid itself centuries previous. While the Eternal War rocked the cosmos around them, Earth was content to spin on it's tilted axis as the third planet from the sun Sol, ignorant as it could possibly be.
ASGARD - THE RAINBOW BRIDGE
Captain America did not look back as he prepared to leave the Golden Realm of Asgard behind him.
He was afraid he'd see that his heart was refusing to leave with him.
LOGAN'S BAR AND GRILL
The tavern bustled.
Logan couldn't help but grin as he rubbed his round stomach. Barkeeps - even robotic ones - couldn't be thin. It was written down in a rulebook that he kept behind the bar when he wasn't sure how to act in a certain situation.
Logan's Bar and Grill was packed - not an unusual occurrence in and of itself, but tonight … tonight there was magic in the air. Logan could taste it. It was the night barkeeps dreamed of - a packed house in the mood to regale those around them with stories of wars gone by and battles won by hard fought victories against ancient, deadly opponents.
Asgardians packed the tavern. King Balder, wisely sensing the mood of his people, had invented everyone to come in and listen to the story of a very strange Midgardian named Phil Sinton. A man who was, impossibly, the Cosmic Flame.
"Hurry with those drinks, Angelica!" he cajoled one of his waitresses. "Asgardians want ale with their tales of triumph!" He watched the young woman work her way through the crowded floor, smiling and nodding at the calls for more food and drink as she passed table after table. She was a nice girl, Logan thought, if a bit quiet. Good worker, though. Never misses an order, never complains that her tips aren't as large as the other waitresses.
Must be the small breasts, Logan thought.
The other waitresses knew just how to show off their bosoms and how to cut their skirts to reveal just the right amount of leg to keep the patrons eyes on them more than the food. Patrons didn't just want good food, they wanted good flavor and part of that was attractive waitresses. Not Angelica, though. She wore a skirt, yes, and was attractive enough, but there was no slice down the side and her blouse was buttoned all the way up to her neck. It was a sure sign of a busy night when she loosened the first button on her collar.
The long legs and bountiful bosoms were just as much a part of the expected flavor of a "fantasy tavern" such as this as the rooms for rent, the fireplace with roaring logs of fire, mysterious mages sitting in darkened corners while sipping on herbal teas with their heads covered by the hood of a robe (Balder wouldn't let him have real mysterious mages, of course, so he hired some of the locals to play the part), the horses tied up out front and, of course, the gregarious barkeep.
There were two barkeeps to choose from, the shifty, seedy greasy man who watered down the ale and the kinder older gent who secretly helped the heroes and protected the waitresses while opening his doors to anyone who would choose to enter.
Logan preferred the second option.
He walked back to behind the bar to make sure his guide book was still there. It was. He felt the rough leather binding in his hands and ran his metallic fingers over the imprint of the cover design.
Was there a finer book in all the land than "Guide Book of Cliched Locales: Taverns of the Everything" by Kei Giffen? Logan knew that the book was ostensibly written as a novel to parody the cliches of bad "hack-style" writing favored by fantasy, science fiction, film, television, graphic literature, romance, western and horror writers of the late 20th standard century, but clearly it was what it was: a Guide Book on how to effectively run a tavern. The Everything was a big, scary place for it's citizens and they needed certain locales where they could frequent and be sure of what they would find inside. Taverns, prisons, vampire castles, warehouses, strip clubs, science-fiction conventions, sporting events, frat houses, fast food restaurants, fashion shows … none of them had ever really changed or ever really would. People needed these constants in a crazy world.
He didn't actually need the Guide Book anymore - he'd already downloaded the contents of the book into his internal circuitry, complete with back-up files in seven different sections inside his body casing for verification purposes - but he liked having it to hold. It was reassuring to him. There was always the chance that some evil schemer could rewire his memory circuits and change what he knew to be true about running a tavern.
But the Guide Book couldn't be changed. It was right there in black and white.
Logan's smile grew even wider as he looked across the tavern at the man everyone was here to see, an eternally young man in appearance thanks to the power of Galactus. He fidgeted nervously on the stage and kept trying to talk his way out of the scene by complaining that he needed to use the men's room.
No one was buying it. How could he need to relieve himself? He hadn't even had a pint to drink yet.
Clearly a man not used to taverns and tavern-etiquette.
Logan created a daily reminder file inside his head so that he could remember to give Mr. Sinton a copy of the Guide Book if his story was good.
The door to Logan's Bar and Grill opened.
Not an unusual occurrence in and of itself, especially in a bar and especially on this crowded night, but the man who had opened the door was an unusual occurrence.
Sensing that something special had just happened, the Bar and Grill quieted as mugs were stopped in mid-flight and heads turned to the open door.
Volstagg the Lion had arrived.
Logan's circuitry went into overdrive. This was going to be a very, very special night indeed. He hoped the cameras were recording perfectly.
Somebody better call King Balder and get him here quickly, however. It wouldn't do to keep the Lion of Asgard waiting.
THE CLUBHOUSE
There were no lights on in the Clubhouse.
"We are to be at Logan's, Ben!"
"Come on, Toomi, it's been so long."
"It hath been a week!"
"I know!"
"Ben-Vell, Parker, stay thy hands! There is no time for this … frivolity to go more than it already hath gone."
"Toomi, you're the most beautiful woman in all of Asgard. How can I ever hope to control myself when I'm alone with you?"
"Cease your flatteries, Ben. They do not work."
"The most beautiful of all the Valkyrior even."
Pause.
"You jest."
"Nay, fair maiden! Your beauty makes even Moonstar look like an elderly hag. She has no hope of matching your fi- hey!"
The lights came on and K'Zan stood in the doorway, his robes flowing in the breeze. "Ooops, heh, uh, heh, sorry guys, I uh … I was just uh … woo, this is embarrassing, huh … uh, coming to tell you that … uh … it was time for uh … the Flame's story to start and uh, Balderreallywantedyoutheretoseeitand … uh … no Toomi, I didn't see anything, honest. No, really … please don't hit me."
"K'Zan!" Ben roared, standing up from the couch. "Did you really think that we'd forget about the meeting! We were just on our way! Shrabnit! For a magician you're awfully stupid!" He stormed out the front door, knocking his fellow Orphan of War aside.
Toomi and K'Zan stared at each other.
"Uh, you think maybe he shoulda taken his shirt with him? It is kinda chilly out tonight." Toomi glared at him. "I'm … uh … really not a magician, just an apprentice and-"
"K'Zan!"
"Right, sorry, I'll just … uh … I'll just be going. You can … uh … give him the shirt and …"
"K'Zan!"
"Right, I'lltaketheshirt!"
LOGAN'S BAR AND GRILL
Volstagg could not fit through the door.
Logan was ecstatic. This night just kept getting better and better. "Help the Lion of Asgard!" he called to the patrons, but all he got in response was blank looks.
"The Lion of Asgard needs no help to enter a tavern!" Volstagg roared and walked forward, though his width was twice that of the doorframe.
To say that Volstagg was fat was an understatement, akin to saying Thanos "wasn't a nice guy". He was always a large man, but the depression that had enveloped much of his life in the days post-True Ragnarok had caused his girth to swell to mammoth proportions. During the First Age, he was "fat" and Eros was thin. Now, Eros was the size of the First Age Volstagg and Volstagg was proportionally more rotund.
There were rumours that his girth was so large that his own powerful legs couldn't support the weight. Volstagg would have none of that talk, he was an Asgardian, after all.
The wood of the doorframe creaked and cracked as Volstagg walked inside, pushing his stomach through the wall instead of trying to make it fit in the door.
"Apologies, Innkeeper," he nodded to Logan, whose own stomach now looked immeasurably small.
"Think nothing of it!" Logan called in return. To have the door of his inn broken in by Volstagg … the night was already legend and the tale of the Cosmic Flame hadn't even started yet. "Angel, bring Volstagg his choice of food!" he called to the Lion's adopted daughter. If they were lucky, Volstagg would eat the Bar and Grill empty of food and add another legend to this night, late in October in standard year 2200.
Logan looked around at the packed tavern, smiling from audio receptor to audio receptor. On the stage sat the Cosmic Flame, alone save for the Recorder, the Royal Crier of King Balder. On the far left, near the entrance to the back area where the waitresses went to pick up the food and ale, many of the Orphans of War - Eshir, Ben-Vell, K'Zan and Attumidunn - sat huddled together. To the far right sat several of the members of the Council: Beta Ray Bill, adopted son of Asgard, Ash'lin of the Shi'ar, Kovar the Accuser of the Kree and Skrull 4 of the Skrulls. Kovar complained throughout the night that the potatoes weren't burnt enough for his liking. Dead center sat Volstagg the Lion, King Balder by his side. Sprinkled throughout the crowd Asgardian warriors and Kree, Shi'ar and Skrull rebels sat together, toasting their mead together. Some were noticeable by their absence, but Logan did not really except Galactus, Captain America the Cosmic Protector or the Enchantress to attend.
Huddled in the back, Moonstar of the Valkyrie kept her eye on a small table of Elders of the Universe: the Collector, Kamo Tharnn the Possessor, Grandmaster and Astoria. Sugar Baby and Tree Baby were present, representing the Intergalactic Council on Creating Life. Dirty looks passed between Astoria and Sugar Baby all night.
Eros sat behind the bar, near his beloved taps of drink. Hela made a rare appearance, stationing herself near the fireplace.
Logan was pleased. It was one of the better crowds he had ever had, on Midgard or Asgard. He took his prize standing position at the far end of the bar as the Recorder, a small, pinkish robot, floated to stage center and began to speak.
"Attention, fellow Asgardians! Attention, Allies! The reason many of you have come to Logan's Bar and Grill is about to begin! For those of you who have wandered into this fine establishment, you have stumbled upon a night you shall remember for the rest of your lives."
The Recorder pushed a button on his stomach and music began playing from his body.
"LAAAAAAAAAdies and GentleMEEEEEEN!
Children of AAAAAAAll AAAAAAges!
King Balder the BRAAAAVE bids thee welcome to …
… an AMAZING …
… a FANTASTIC …
… a SPECTACULAR …
… a SENSATIONAL …
TALE TO ASTONISH!
So sit back, relax and tilt thine ears to the front of the room.
In conjunction with Logan's Bar and Grill,
We are proud to present …
VANISHING STORMS!
The Saga of the Cosmic Flame!
Sub-Titled:
Who the Hell is Phil Sinton?"
The Recorder floated off the stage to take his place next to the Council as the crowd roared in approval.
Phil Sinton looked like he had to go to the bathroom, if a man completely on fire could ever look like he had to go to the bathroom.
"Uh, hi," he said meekly as the audience silenced themselves. He froze. He'd never given a speech or a performance in his life, excluding the odd oral report in English class. He'd even begged out of the Salutatorian speech at his high school graduation. Giving the first Salutatorian speech of the New Millenium was too much pressure for him to handle.
Normally, he coulda handled this, but given the fact that he'd spent the last 150 years completely isolated from everyone searching the Dead Corner of Space and had only recently returned to the living sections,(5) he was understandably a little unnerved.
5- ALL GOD'S CHILDREN 6 - FRAGMENTED BALANCE, PART ONE
He sighed.
He really, really had to go the bathroom.
He took a deep breath. "So ... I guess the question on everyone's mind is … uh, just exactly how am I the Cosmic Flame when the Cosmic Flame is supposed to be the Human Torch, right?"
"AAAYYYEEEE!" the crowd erupted suddenly, causing Phil to jump back a bit and the flames around him to grow larger.
"Well, then, I guess I should start at the beginning. Back during, uh, 1998, I guess, yeah, that was my freshman year of high school … the Fantastic Four left for space."
"HURRRAH!" the crowd erupted again, clanging mugs of ale together.
"Actually, it wasn't the entire FF, just Mr. Fantastic, Invisible Woman and Franklin Richards who-"
At the mention of Franklin Richards the crowd leaned forward and quieted even further if that was possible.
"Well, they left for space. Yeah, they went to live on Titan-"
The crowd bowed their heads at the mention of Titan, unnerving Phil again.
"They went to live on Titan," he tried again, "to help Franklin learn to use his powers. Meanwhile …"
Logan knew right then that this was going to be a finely told tale, because the Cosmic Flame used the word "Meanwhile" to segue from one scene to another. If he was a really classic storyteller, he'd bring in "In another part of the universe" before long.
"Meanwhile, in another part of the universe, Dr. Doom would soon take over the entire Shi'ar Empire. Back on Earth, the Thing and Johnny Storm added the She-Hulk and Cannonball to take the open slots on the roster."
The crowd started murmuring to one another, and the Cosmic Flame realized he was in danger of losing his audience. Better skip ahead to the fighting stuff, he told himself.
"When the news of Doom's conquest spread throughout the land, a call to arms was sounded!"
The crowd roared and clanged their mugs again. Phil saw this as a good sign.
"So there was a … a gathering of … of heroes!" They were eating out of his hand. "The Fantastic Four gathered to defeat their accursed foe, Dr. Doom! It was a battle that came to be known as … DOOM'S EMPIRE! The battle was long and hard, many lives were lost-"
"VALHALLA!" the Asgardians roared as one.
"-and many men became legends in those dark days! Finally, there came to be a confrontation between good and evil as the Fantastic Four challenged Dr. Doom in person! It was a night of legend. On the planet Chandilar, the throne of the Shi'ar Empire …"
MIDGARD STANDARD YEAR 1999 / JANUARY
CHANDILAR
Inside the Throne Room of Castle Doom, classic combatants face off again in another battle of good vs. evil.
"You are fools to try to stop me." The words are cold and final as they poor from the lips of Dr. Doom. He stands in front of his throne, facing down his most honored enemy - the Fantastic Four. Reed Richards (Mr. Fantastic), his wife Susan Richards (Invisible Woman), her brother Johnny Storm (the Human Torch) and their best friend Ben Grimm (the Thing) stand reunited after time apart, ready to take down the man they consider to be the most evil man in all the Everything. To the side, the most recent members of the Fantastic Four, She-Hulk and Cannonball, lay unconscious, perhaps dead.
"Yeah, well, yer a fool fer thinking you wuz gonna get away with this!" the Thing roars back.
"I already have gotten away with it, you belligerent dolt!" Doom gloats as the energy from his armor pours around him. "From the time we returned from the Universe that your precious little god created in the wake of Onslaught, Doom has spent his time lost in the far reaches of space, away from the mud-ball planet we were born to. Doom has conquered planets. Doom has conquered an Empire.
"Not get away with it? You are ever the fool, Grimm. Doom controls the entire Shi'ar Empire, the most powerful Empire in all the Everything!"
"Yeah, well, yer breath smells then," Ben shot back.
"I have no time for your childish games, Fantastic Four," Doom dismissed them, turning his back to them. "If I were you I would return to Earth and prepare for what comes next."
"What comes next, Victor?" Reed asked worriedly. "What comes after conquering an Empire?"
Doom strode to the window, looking out at the throneworld of the Shi'ar - of HIS - empire. "The invasion and subjugation of the planet Earth, of course."
The Fantastic Four felt shock envelop them. Earth had it's share of brave heroes, but could the planet withstand a direct assault by an intergalactic Empire?
"You're not serious!" Sue yelled. "You're going to invade Earth?"
"I did not stutter, Susan," Doom answered, still not turning around.
"But why?" she pleaded. "You've got an entire Empire here to keep you busy. Why bother yourself with a place you just called a mud-ball planet?"
"It don't matter, Suzie-Q," Thing took a step to Doom. "We can stop him and his precious Empire."
"Maybe you can," Doom said slowly, "but I doubt very much you could stop an Invasion that was not only just the Shi'ar, but the Kree and Skrulls as well!"
"You're full of it, Doom!" the Human Torch shouted.
"There is no chance of those three people working together for you, Victor," Reed admonished.
"Oh no, Richards? Then you are as big a fool as the buffoons that travel with you in your precious group. The Kree want their freedom. I have given it to them. The Skrulls want a homeworld. I have given it to them. I have done this all to conquer Earth."
"But why?" Sue implored yet again. "Why is the Earth so important?"
"Why?" Doom sounded surprised. "Earth has always been the crown prize among the world conquerors of the Everything. It is the one prize that has never been attained. Earth has turned back all who have sought to enslave it. No longer, my dear friends. No, Earth shall fall beneath the heel of Doom!"
"No chance, Metal Face!" the Human Torch roared, blazing his flame around him as he charged through the air at Dr. Doom.
"Johnny, no!" Reed yelled, but Johnny wasn't listening.
The Human Torch approached Doom, flames pouring straight at the back of his most hated enemy. "I'll kill you, Doom!" he roared. "I'll freaking kill you!"
Dr. Doom vanished inside the raging storm of fire around him and Johnny just kept pouring it on, hotter and hotter as he slowly approached the center of the fire where Doom stood.
The Fantastic Four watched on in shock. Johnny had been severely effected in recent months by a feeling of personal failure, a downward spiral that pushed him to act wilder, to try to be the Fantastic Four all by himself and not just be a part of the team. The signs of War that they had faced as they sought Doom had been incredibly difficult for him to deal with. All the pain, all the horror at what Doom had done while they had been back on Earth completely unaware of where he was came out in that moment.
A man who feels worthless will push himself to be meaningful.
The Human Torch pushed and pushed and pushed to be meaningful. In his mind if he could just make sure Doom never again bothered anyone, his life would again have purpose and meaning. He wouldn't be the ex-star athlete who was forced to sit on the sideline and just tell old stories. When Reed and Sue had left for Titan, they had been given a heroes send-off a hearty fare-thee-well and a hurry back.
The world had then forgotten the Fantastic Four. They no longer called for scientific emergencies because without Reed they couldn't handle them. All those years of work and they all but vanished in four months. The other members thought Johnny was seeing something that wasn't there, but he felt it and that was enough.
No more. He was going to take out Doom all by himself and put everything back the way it was when they were just starting out.
The heat in the stone chamber became so hot that Sue had to erect an invisible force shield to protect them. They shielded their eyes. All they could see was Johnny entering into a huge ball of flame and then nothing but the roaring, rolling ball of fire.
Then, with the suddenness of all the oxygen in the room being removed, the flames were gone. Dr. Doom stood, his green cloak burnt away, his armor scorched and partly melted, with hatred in his eyes, staring directly at the Fantastic Four. His left arm held the throat of Johnny Storm, who grabbed at Doom's metal gauntlet weakly. Doom forced him to his knees.
"Never again, indeed," was all he said.
With the twist of his gauntlet, Dr. Doom snapped the neck of the Human Torch backwards, breaking his spinal cord in half.
All the life in Johnny Storm's eyes disappeared.
Dr. Doom tossed the broken body out his window, where it crashed into the ground eight-hundred feet below.
The Human Torch was dead.
MIDGARD STANDARD YEAR 2200 / OCTOBER
LOGAN'S BAR AND GRILL
The Cosmic Flame played the audience.
"So you're probably wondering where I was at this time, right? Well, I was busy failing a Physics test back on Earth."
VANISHING STORMS to be continued …
VANISHING STORMS, TWO
-- MBQ … 25.April.1999
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