Journal #2 - Alina

Hey Grams –

We had the meeting today with Shane Stark and his gaggle of lawyers. Can you believe

he actually had the nerve to tell me that I am damaging the Iron Man “Brand”?! As if

there is anything that anyone could do that would make it more of a laughing stock than

it already is, thanks to Shane’s penny pinching and their precious little Jersey boy posing

nude with the helmet! He is such a condescending ass! I seriously don’t understand what

my mother ever saw in him.

I did show him and the lawyers the video of Oscorp testing my repulsor chain technology.

I tried to read his face to see if he knows who was responsible for leaking it. If he does

know, he has one hell of a poker face. Which means I’m going to have to do a lot more

digging on that front. But it wasn’t all for naught. Between that and having Skaar and

Skylar there to intimidate them, I did get Shane to back down. I planted the seed of

doubt. But I don’t know how long that will last. I may have tipped my hand too far. I

got so pissed off at him, and I let my anger get the better of me. I said things I probably

shouldn’t have. I told him he doesn’t deserve to inherit the Stark legacy.

I know I shouldn’t have done that. Even as the words came out of my mouth, I could

hear you in my head, telling to keep my composure, that anger never solved anything.

But it’s true! He doesn’t deserve to have any of what he does. I want so badly for all

his bad decisions and arrogance to come back and slap him in the face! I want him to be

chased out of SST with his tail between his legs! But then what? Who takes over then?

Stane? Osborn? Some random nobody with no more right to the legacy than Shane?

Maybe what you always said is true... better the devil you know.

I really do miss you, Grams. It gets so lonely here. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the team

is all nice and everything, but that’s just work. I don’t really know them, and they don’t

know me. And Tony’s been great. He’s been so kind, and helpful. But sometimes, it

just hurts too much to be around him. I want so badly to tell him everything, who I really

am. But I can’t risk that. Not yet.

Journal #1 - Skaar

“GRRRAAAAAAAAHHH!!”  The Son of Sakaar smashed his fist into the hard-packed ground over and over again, cratering the surface until he sank several feet down.  Baleful, green eyes flashed with fury at this outburst, but they eventually dimmed as exasperation slunk in.  “Curse this planet…” Skaar muttered to himself, settling back on his haunches and staring out at the horizon.  

A hot wind swept his hair back and he surveyed his surroundings.  Desert as far as the eye could see in any direction.  Death Valley to be precise: a perfect place to call upon the Old Power that once coursed so freely through his veins.  Power that he could have wielded to tear an entire planet apart while on Sakaar.  But here?  A million light years from home?  Skaar couldn’t so much as move a pebble.  

Earth’s energy was too young, too hot to tap into… what felt like an ages-worn, slowly spinning globe of mutable energy in his meditations on Sakaar was instead a spiky, twisted, and gnashing mass here on Earth.  It recoiled at his rage, refusing to be tamed or subjugated; a prance white-hot to Sakaar’s dusky red sway.  

Across the gulf of space and time, whispered on a foreign planet’s wind, Skaar heard his mother’s favorite command:  “Again.”

And he obeyed.

With a deep breath and eyes shut tightly against the setting sun, Skaar opened himself up once more.  In his tired mind, he envisioned himself burrowing deep into the earth beneath him, swimming past layer after rocky layer, rocketing faster and faster on his way to the planet’s core.  The Worldbreaker saw himself erupt from the earth into the heart of the world, and immediately felt his rage begin to stoke the core’s fires.  

“No…” Skaar grumbled.  The sweat of exertion pebbled his brow.  “Not again!”  The Earth’s energy was lashing out, flaying him with searing tendrils.  “Cant… make… it… OBEY!!”

“Who are you, Sakaarson, to make this planet obey you?”  A soothing, familiar voice echoed from the recesses of Skaar’s mind.  “You, who are not of this planet, would dare impose your will on it?”  A pause.  “I taught you better than that.”

Skaar’s face slackened in recognition.  “Mm-m…mother?”  In response, Caiera the Oldstrong materialized in his mind’s eye.  

“No matter how many times I tell you, you never listen…  Rage is not the answer to everything.  Your father is proof of that.”  Skaar’s gargantuan hands automatically curled into fists at the mention of his father.  “Stop that,” Caiera softly admonished.  “You gave him no choice, Sakaarson.”  Noticing the floating orb of Earth’s energy, Caiera made her way to it, arms outstretched as if to embrace it.  

“You’re right, you know.  It is young, no more than a babe compared to Sakaar.  And certainly not used to being called upon.”  She held the Earth’s heart in her arms, lovingly caressing it.  “What would you have it do for you, Sakaarson?  Surely your strength will take you far here, no?”

Skaar simply shook his head.  “The Old Power is a part of me.  It’s the only part of me that reminds me of you.”

Caiera nodded slowly.  “It will not submit to you, no matter how angry you get.  In time, perhaps it will trust you enough, but until then… submit yourself to it instead.”  

Skaar tried desperately and failed to resist curling his lip at the thought of submitting to anything, least of all a petulant child like Earth.  

His mother released the pulsating ball of light and turned to go.  “If you wish to wield this planet’s power, my son, it will not be as a weapon with which to smite your enemies, but as a shield to protect you from them...”  

And just as quickly as she came, Caiera Oldstrong returned to the abyss.

“C’mon, hotshot!  I think we’re done out here for today,” Hawkeye flicked his cigarette and stepped back into the jet, thrusters firing up almost immediately.

When his eyes opened once more, Skaar found himself staring up at the stars.  With a heavy sigh, he climbed into the empty cargo hold and headed for home.

Journal #1 - Fuse

Universe #473

He was there again. Accelerator.

Everytime I see him in a new dimension my heart jumps into my throat. I never know if we are friends,lovers or mortal enemies.

YOU WILL ALWAYS BE LINKED. HE IS IMPORTANT TO THE UNIVERSE AS AN ANCHOR FOR MANY.

I was close to speaking with him. So close! Looking into his eyes made me feel like I had a home, if only for a brief moment.

Unfortunately, Armor was in the way. You don’t have to be a mind reader to know that I was an interruption to her “alone time” with him.

A man, well, I assume a mutant, named Bishop tried to abduct Longshot. It was weird. We didn’t know who he was and the inhabitants of #473 didn’t know who he was either. I think I’ve seen him before… in another dimension, but I can’t say for sure.

HE IS A MAN WHO WANDERS THE SPACE BETWEEN TIME AND DIMENSION. HE DOES NOT KNOW HOW LOST HE IS. THERE IS A MISSION HE IS ON. SOMETHING HE MUST FIX. SOMEONE HE MUST FIND. THE ONE CALLED BISHOP HAS SEEN MUCH WITH HIS MUTANT EYES. HIS HEART HAS KNOWN MUCH LOSS. ALL HE KNOWS TO DO IS THE MISSION. ALWAYS THE MISSION. ALWAYS THE SOLDIER.

I think something is going on with Daken. I think he is suffering mental stress from the inter-dimensional travel. He has become increasingly difficult to deal with and more resistant to any authority figure. Of course, he could have always been that way and I’m just now noticing. Maybe I will talk with him sometime.

THE WOLVERINE IS INSIDE OF HIM. HE IS INSIDE THE WOLVERINE. DAKEN’’S STRUGGLE WITH THE SELF MAY HAVE DIRE CONSEQUENCES WHEN HE FINALLY DECIDES WHICH PART OF HIM WINS THE STRUGGLE.

Universe #15

I only dreamt this one. Or at least it felt more dream-like.

We were married. We had a home. We even had a dog named Scotty.

We had a little girl named Rachel Jean after the other two mutants to bear the Phoenix.

I was dead. I saw him weeping over a picture of me. I saw him telling bedtime stories to our daughter. Bedtimes stories telling our little angel what an amazing hero her mother was and how with the help of Rachel Summer and Jean Grey, we saved and united the world.

I spent hours watching them.

I spent hours crying about a home I never knew and never will.

Journal #1 - Alina

Grams -

Well, they passed over my design for the new Iron Man suit.  Apparently, it wasn’t “flashy” enough for a 10th Anniversary edition.  Never mind that the tech was cutting edge and earth friendly.  I guess all that matters is that is has a “futuristic” aesthetic.  I mean, they chromed it, for crying out loud!  Chrome?!  Are you kidding me?  Sure the weapons won’t work, and the damn thing will consume more energy than Stark Tower, but at least he’ll be able to check out his reflection in the chest plate before putting it on.  Of course, considering that over-sex, fake-baked guido Mikey won the show, it’s probably best that he won’t have any real weapons - he may blow himself up at his first public appearance.  

It makes me so angry that they’ve turned Iron Man into a punch line.  I don’t understand why Mr. Stark doesn’t realize that the world still needs Iron Man.  We’re being threatened from all sides, and instead of fighting our enemies and keeping us safe, he’s doing mall openings and entertainment award presentations.  

The other day I was playing around, and ended up drawing out what I think would be the ultimate suit!  It’s not the prettiest, but it combines the best elements of all the classic suits Tony used to wear.  Not that it matters - it will never see the light of day.  But I have to be honest, I’m so tempted to build it anyway.  I bet I could even use the actual parts of the old suits.  I mean, I have access to them, and it’s not like anyone around here will miss them…