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MV1 #77 DECEMBER Year 25

by Sam Everett

“Renewal: Part Two”

Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains:

 “The Vault.  There is no better testament to the good the heroes of this world do than this facility.  Even moreso today, Oleeta, as it is about to be destroyed for all time,” Uatu, the Watcher observed, standing alongside his apprentice, the female Watcher named Oleeta.

Below the rocky cliff on which they stood sat the towering compound that was the superhuman detention facility long known as the Vault.  Despite the numerous improvements and refurbishments made to the structure in the past quarter of a century that it stood, it still looked essentially the same as it did the day it was constructed.  The only difference was that this day, it was almost completely empty.  Surrounding the Vault was a group of construction vehicles and various explosive devices that would turn the long-standing facility to rubble later this day.
 
“Ironic, isn’t it, Uatu?” Oleeta said.  “As the Vault stands, it represents the success of the heroes who have captured and incarcerated the world’s deviants; yet as it falls, it represents their complete success, for the villains are now so few and far between that such a place is no longer needed.”
 
“True.  And in the blink of Eternity that I was sole Watcher of these heroes, I often wondered when the need for the heroes themselves would end,” Uatu admitted.  “I fear that if their enemies are extinguished, the heroes’ end is soon as well.”
 
Oleeta looked to her guide with a furrowed brow.  “You fear it?  Ah, that is why the Council of Watchers saw fit to relieve you of your duties as Watcher of the Earth. You have come to care too much for these humans, even to the point of breaking your oath.  Forgive me, but I cannot blame the Council for their decision.”
 
“And forgive me,” Uatu replied, “for envying you, Oleeta.  In seventy-five years Earth-time, this planet will be yours alone to observe.  Its wonders--its marvels--will be light years from my eyes.”
 
“If I may say so, if these heroes are truly as great as you seem to think, then perhaps they will always live in your memory.”  Oleeta almost seemed to sympathize with Uatu--an emotion Uatu had rarely detected in the young Watcher in the twenty-five years that he had spent guiding her in her duties on Earth.  Then, as quickly as she had adopted the emotion, it was gone.  “I, on the other hand, do not fear the emotional connection that you have to these humans.  They are such simple-natured creatures; most-worthy of observance, but hardly worthy of my personal concern.”
 
“As long as you recognize the separation between the two concepts,” Uatu replied, “you will have no need to fear that emotional bond.”
 
Below them, a man unaware of their presence barked, “That’s it, boys.  Everything’s outta there.”  Warden Michael O’Brien walked passed the destruction crew members, who were busy preparing flash explosives.  “Blow her up.”  He and Angelica Jones were the last two Vault staff members to exit the building, and now, for the last time, they walked together away from the place that was practically their home for close to twenty-five years.
 
“You’re sure taking this lightly, Chief,” Angelica noticed, referring to O’Brien by the position she remembered him by most fondly.  “Me, I feel like something keeps calling me back inside.”
 
O’Brien put a grizzled hand on Angelica’s soft back.  “Well, think of all the memories you made in the place over the past two decades--all the people you knew.  Of course it’s not easy to just walk away from all that.”
 
To Angelica, O’Brien’s words rang true, for the most part.  There was one person that kept calling her back; if only that person were really there to receive her.
 
The two stopped in a musty brown field a few hundred yards away from the Vault and began to part ways.  “You’ll be by the house later tonight for dinner?” O’Brien asked, his grey eyebrows arisen in anticipation.  “Joanne’s got something special planned.”
 
Angelica smiled.  “It’s just like her.  Yeah, I’m going to take a lightjet to New York to arrange a few things with Dwayne--he’s going to let me stay with him for some time while I try to find a place of my own in the city--and then I’ll get right back here.  What time?”
 
“Seven’s good,” Michael said.
 
“I’ll be there,” Angelica promised.
 
They both noticed that the destruction crew was already attaching flash-blasters to the outer walls of the Vault, and they stood silent, realizing that this was the last time they would ever see the Vault standing.  Angelica shed a tear, and O’Brien huddled her against his chest.
 
“It is only a building,” Oleeta said complacently, watching the two longtime friends mourn.
 
“It is not the building itself that they will miss, Oleeta,” Uatu corrected.  “It is the connection to the memories that they compiled while there that they will miss.  For instance, some years ago, Angelica--then calling herself Firestar--lost her lover during her time as a Vault staff member.  And Michael O’Brien, he met his wife while working at the Vault.”
 
“They can make memories elsewhere, though,” Oleeta insisted.
 
“Indeed, but to them, the best of times are in that structure.  No matter how long they live, and no matter where they go, there will never be another place like the Vault.  Not to them, anyhow.”

Inside the Vault:
 
“It’s a mistake tearing this place down.  I told the Committee a hundred times,” Raymond Rock, Jr. sighed as he furiously pounded commands into a computer console in one of the darkened rooms of the Vault.  By his calculations, he only had an hour to secure his prisoner and sneak out of the facility before the destruction personnel began placing flash explosives inside the building.  Fortunately, the personnel would avoid this area of the Vault when they set the explosives, thus keeping the prisoner’s unauthorized incarceration a secret.
 
“As long as the likes of you are still around--and believe me, they are--” Rock told the prisoner, who stood placidly inside the clear fibersteel cell, watching Rock work, “--there will ALWAYS be a need for the Vault.”
 
Time was running short, and he was getting nervous, but worked to secure the prisoner all the same.  “I told my dad I’d take care of your kind when he reserved my spot on the Vault Oversight Committee.  He went to a lot of trouble in making sure that I oversaw this place--he had to fool the Committee into bypassing that cretin O’Brien’s promotion to the Committee--he arranged Cartelli’s murder--who knows what happened to Hope and her husband and daughter--all for me.  So I can’t just let the Committee set you heartless creeps up in those substandard federal prisons, and especially not you.  The Vault itself can hardly hold you, so how can a normal prison?  No, you deserve a far worse fate.”
 
“And this is the right thing to do, stripling?” the prisoner asked, a certain amount of unexplained confidence in his voice.  “Murdering the world’s ‘heartless creeps’ is just, despite the laws of this nation?”
 
“I asked myself that,” Rock admitted, “and I came to an answer: it IS the right thing to.  It’s the only thing to do.  It’s what my father would have done.  Heck, even YOU couldn’t return from being blown to smithereens!”  For the next hour, Rock continued to pound at the computer’s security commands until he was sufficiently satisfied that his prisoner would not be able to escape before the Vault was destroyed.
 
He started for the room’s computer-controlled exit, but the door failed to slide open.  “What the--?”
 
“You, too, will meet your doom today,” the prisoner smiled through his glistening mask as he held up his wrist gauntlet, which he had reconfigured to control the Vault’s security functions, to Rock’s horror.  “I promise you I’ll return from this, just as I’ve returned from space, and time, and even death in the past.  I will always return,” the prisoner continued.  “Can you make that same guarantee?”

The lightjet flight from Denver to New York City would last fifteen minutes, including take-off and touch-down.  Angelica fastened herself into her seat and prepared for the flight.  It had been some time since she had been on one of these jets, and she had forgotten how cramped they were; the inadvertent elbow in her side from the passenger on the left reminded her.
 
In fact, it had been quite some time since she had left the secluded Rocky Mountain area at all.  In her youth, there was the occasional romp with her old New Warrior friends, but that stopped fifteen years ago, once she hit her thirties--all of the New Warriors had disbanded around that age, as a matter of fact; it was only recently that they had reunited under Night Thrasher’s command and the shortened name “Warriors.”  There was also the time she spent with...another man, but that did not work out in the end; it was too good to be true, and doomed to failure from the start, if only she had realized it at the time; the man was just so tempting--his looks, his personality....
 
Still, aside from the few adventures with her old friends, Angelica preferred to stay at the Vault.  She was given the opportunity to leave again and again, but she would have been called back every time--called back by the memory of her fiancé, Vance Astrovik--Justice.
 
Even now she felt his summons, and more clearly than ever before.  So clear that she bit her lip to keep from crying, for it hurt so much to leave his memory behind.  What was it about that place?  What was it about the Vault?  And what was it about Vance’s memory that it stayed engraved in her mind as distinctly as it had the day he was killed?
 
“Come back, Angel.  Please,” the voice in her head pleaded--Vance’s voice.
 
Everyday he begged for her, but never like this.  Never so vividly, as if it was really him, and not simply a memory.  She fought to ignore it, as hard as it was.
 
“Come back, Angel.  Please,” the voice continued.
 
Even if it was really him, she flattered herself to think, and even if she did go back, she would only return to a dusty meadow of rubble, for the Vault would be destroyed in a few hours.
 
“Come back, Angel.  Please.”
 
The voice was so persuasive--so real!
 
“Oh, Vance,” she cried, giving in to her pain and attracting the attention of the passengers around her.  “Is it you?”
 
“Come back, Angel.  Please.”
 
She was going insane with his memory.  She knew it.
 
“Why are you doing this?” she asked herself...
 
...and Vance answered.  “I need you.”
 
He answered?  And he needed her?  God help her, she needed him.  If she was going crazy, and hearing voices of a long-dead lover, then so be it.  But she was certain she was not crazy, and continued to listen.
 
Minutes later, their mental conversation ended, and a befuddled and stunned Angelica decided that she would return to the Vault--to Vance?--to help him, but she herself would need help to do so.

Night Thrasher switched the viewscreen off, took the elevator platform down to the third level of the tower, and stepped into the rec-room, where he found the rest of the Warriors--Britain, Citizen V, Proudstar, Namora, and U.S. Agent--relaxing with various activities.
 
“What’s with the armor, kid?” Agent asked Thrasher while he tossed a dart into the blinking board on the wall.
 
“Please tell me you have a task for us, Night Thrasher,” Britain sighed.  “This boredom grows old.  What good is the power of Merlin if I cannot use it to fight for good?  I’m beginning to rethink my decision to leave Captain Britain’s side.”
 
“Calm down, Brit,” Thrasher replied.  “Your temper is probably why Braddock ditched you a year ago in the first place.”  Everyone laughed, but the flag-clad Britain.  “Anyway, guys, Angelica needs our help.”
 
“Oh?” Namora lit up, leaping out of the indoor pool.  “For what?”
 
Thrasher was a bit ashamed to tell them, but said, “Well, she thinks she hears Vance calling her from the Vault.  She thinks he wants her to go back to help him for some reason.  She seemed very secretive--or maybe that was her own dementia, as much as I hate to say it.”
 
“I thought they were tearing down the Vault,” Citizen V said through his pale white mask, sliding his saber into his waistband.
 
“They are,” Agent snorted.  “And good riddance.  I was just waiting for the next riot in there.”
 
“That’s not fair,” Thrasher replied.  “Angelica’s done good work in there, and there hasn’t been a problem in years.”
 
“You don’t sound entirely certain of Miss Jones’ claim, Night Thrasher,” Britain noted.
 
“Well, to be honest, I’m not.  Angelica has always taken Vance’s death hard--understandably--but I’m afraid this may be her breaking point.  Still--”
 
“--still, we have to help her,” Proudstar proclaimed.  “She was a Warrior once, and she deserves our help regardless of what we think.”
 
“Exactly,” Thrasher agreed.  “She came to my aid once, rallying the New Warriors to rescue me from the kinetic dimension.”  He smiled reflectively, proud to restore the spirit of the youthful New Warriors.  “So come on, folks,” he continued.  “We have a reunion to get to, and we don’t want to be late.”
 
The Warriors rushed to the hangar, into the Warrior One jet, and off to the Rockies.

Aspen, Colorado:

Angelica’s aging face flickered and faded away as O’Brien shut off the kitchen’s viewscreen wall and sighed.  Joanne, his wife, was busy putting the dishes from lunch in the waste disposal unit, but still she felt his unease from across the room.  Understanding and sympathizing had been her job for years, and she was quite good at it.  One of the best, as far as O’Brien was concerned, which was why he offered his concern to her--why he married her, in fact.
 
“That Angelica.  She scares me sometimes.”
 
“And she was coming along so well, too,” Joanne replied.
 
“I thought she was over it.”
 
Joanne smirked.  “She’ll never get over Vance’s death; you and I know what that’s like as well as anybody.”
 
“But it HAS been over twenty years since he died,” O’Brien sighed once again.  “She’s a mature woman now, in her forties, but she’s acting like the young girl that she was when I first met her.”
 
“She thinks Vance is calling her to the Vault, she says?” Joanne confirmed.
 
“Yeah, but don’t ask me how,” O’Brien smiled.  “Heh, he had twenty years to call us from beyond the grave, and he decides to do it NOW, of all times, when they’re about to blow the place sky-high?”
 
They both giggled, then Joanne sat next to her husband and rubbed his arm.  Even to someone without a psychological and analytical background such as hers, O’Brien’s anxiety was apparent in his worn face.  And being that he was the man that she had loved for years, it hurt her to see him so helpless while his close friend was falling apart on the inside.
 
“Well, I guess I’d better get ready,” O’Brien said, standing up from the kitchen table and attaching his utility belt around his thick waist.
 
“What?  You can’t be serious!” Joanne joined him on her feet.
 
“Angelica’s gonna be expecting me soon, and we have to get back there before the destruction crew tears the place down.”
 
“Look, Michael, I know you think you’re helping, but it really is better to just let this pass and--”
 
“--have you seen my stun ray?  The small one?”
 
Joanne groaned at his obstinance.  “Michael, please! You can’t go around looking for ghosts, for crying out loud!  Especially not in a building that is about to explode, and for a reason lost on even you!”
 
“I’m going to my friend, Joanne.  She asked for my help, and I’m going to give it to her,” O’Brien replied.  “I’ll just stop the destruction crew’s work long enough to let Angelica snoop around the prison and feel better.”  Then he took Joanne by her cheeks and kissed her wrinkled brow.   “I won’t get into any trouble, and I’ll even be back in time for dinner.  I promise.”
 
As she watched him walk out the door, Joanne could not help but think that, tonight, she was going to lose another husband to his own flawed instincts.
 
Why must history always repeat itself this way? she thought regretfully.

The two Watchers stood over Angelica--unbeknownst to her--and observed her pacing the rocky terrain that surrounded the bustling exterior of the Vault.
 
“They’re coming?” Oleeta asked, hinting at concern in her voice.
 
“We will see,” Uatu replied.  “If these humans’ past behavior is any indication, Angelica’s friends will arrive even earlier than she expects them to.”
 
“She is so nervous,” Oleeta frowned, which worried Uatu.
 
“Is that anxiety I sense?”
 
Oleeta hissed.  “Of course not!  How absurd!  It is merely that I thought I had fully accounted for the behavior of these humans.  I thought, as you did, that Angelica’s friends will come to her aid.”
 
“It does not matter what you THINK you will see, Oleeta.  What you DO see is what matters, correct?” Uatu said, testing the “superior wisdom” Oleeta so often professed.
 
“You should talk, ‘Meddling Uatu.’” Oleeta took pleasure in reminding Uatu of the title he had mockingly been given on the Watchers’ world.
 
“Oleeta...” Uatu chided.
 
Angelica looked back a hundred yards as a worker placed another explosive at a strategic point on the outer wall of one of the Vault’s towers, and she considered going in to search for Vance on her own.
 
Though she was not expecting her friends for another five minutes, she would not be surprised if they did not arrive at all.  After all, she was calling them from their homes, and in the Warriors’ cases, across the country, on a search for a voice in her head.
 
Oh, but it was so much more than that, which was why she was there in the first place.
 
The same reason why the Warrior One lightjet soared at blinding speeds to the plateau on which the Vault resided.  Angelica saw her friends landing, and smiled, ashamed that she ever doubted their loyalty.
 
“Dwayne,” she sang, clutching her armored friend tightly.  “And Nita and James, good to see you again.”
 
“Hey, I was planning on coming down here anyway, visit the old stomping grounds,” Proudstar replied.
 
“We asked Speedball if he wanted to join in,” Namora said, “but he’s very busy setting up the new Teen Brigade.”
 
“I see.  And it’s nice to meet you, Citizen V and Britain, is it?” Angelica said.
 
Both masked heroes bowed and shook her hand in reply.  “The pleasure is ours, m’lady,” Britain greeted.
 
Angelica knew she would be offending U.S. Agent by not addressing him, but she could care less.  His reputation spanned the world and the decades.
 
“You said you were going to contact Mister O’Brien?” Night Thrasher asked.
 
Angelica creased her lips.  “Yes, but I don’t think he’ll be coming.  I can’t blame him, he’s an old man, and--”
 
“--still able to get the jump on a couple of veteran superheroes,” a voice from behind her cackled, “and even a few new ones.”
 
Angelica recognized the voice and turned to confirm the joy it gave her.  “Chief, you came!”
 
“One last adventure in the Vault, alongside some of the world’s greatest heroes?  How could I resist?”  The two hugged, and he continued.  “I convinced the crew to stop work for about an hour, but we’ve got to be out of there as soon as they say.  The explosives are all set, and they’re pretty much ready to go.”
 
Angelica nodded, and looked to the friends that surrounded her, and nearly shed a tear.  “Thanks, guys.  Really.  I know this is asking a LOT, but I wouldn’t do this for nothing.  Vance is in there, I swear it, and he was trying to warn me of something.”
 
“Yes, what was it, Miss Jones?” Britain politely questioned.
 
“And why all the secrecy when you contacted us?” Proudstar added.
 
“I was afraid the channels might have been monitored, and I didn’t want anyone to know what Vance told me that Raymond Rock, Jr. had planned if I WAS being monitored.”
 
“Like father, like son,” O’Brien moaned.  “What’s that spoiled brat got in mind, Angelica?  What’s he hiding?”
 
“Doom.”
 
The whole of the group shuddered at the name.

“Hawkeye, what are you doing here?” Angelica asked.  “I appreciate the help, but I never called you.  How did you know?”

“Jack gave me a ring on his way here in the Warrior One,” the pot-bellied marksman replied, pointing to Agent as they charged through the corridors.

“I couldn’t resist,” Agent huffed.  “A bunch of costumed saps lookin’ for a dead lover?  Come on, Clint!  What’s this remind you of?”

Hawkeye chuckled solemnly, with one woman on his mind--the same woman always on his mind.  “Let’s just hope this hunt is a little more successful than the last one, huh?”

Meanwhile, farther along in the chase, “It’s good to see you back among the living again, Simon,” Proudstar said, keeping pace beside Wonder Man as both teams prepared to round a corner.  “How many times HAVE you died now, anyway?  Four?  Five?”

“Six, actually, but I promise not to die THIS time,” Wonder Man laughed.

“A promise I’ll not allow you to keep,” boasted Doom’s voice, to the teams’ surprise, as he stood still in the corridor.

“Why’d you stop?  Gettin’ tired, Doom?” Hawkeye said, preparing an arrow in his bow.  “I know yer old, but come on; if Agent here can keep up, you should be able to, too!”

“A comic, to the end, bowman?” Doom said.  “I must admit, the arrival of the West Coast unit of the accursed Avengers has caught me by surprise, but it has also worked to my benefit; I cannot pass up the chance to rid myself of the Warriors--and now of an entire branch of the Avengers--before I make my grand re-entry back to the outside world.”

“By my count, it’s thirteen to one, our favor,” Thrasher snarled.

“Indeed, stripling, but I’ve continued the recalibrations of my gauntlets, and now I am not only in possession of a static forcefield--” Doom pressed a series of commands on his metal wrist gauntlets, and a flash of static energy surrounded him, “--but I am also now in control of the detonation codes of the explosives lining the exterior of this facility, and I WILL use them.”  Doom lifted another finger to his gauntlet--the premature destruction of the Vault was moments away.

The two teams of heroes attacked Doom before he could command the explosives, but were thwarted by his forcefield, which allowed none of their assaults through.

“Nothing’s working!” Jolt cried.

“Then let ‘im blow the place!” Agent shouted to his allies.  “I’ll wager that even his field can’t protect him from ALL the explosives.”

“Agreed!” Thrasher bellowed.  “Everyone, scatter!  Someone get O’Brien and Rock and get outta here!”

As the teams separated down corridors and through walls, bracing for the explosions, Angelica remained, and shrieked, “No!  Vance is in here!  Help me!  Don’t let Doom take his essence in the blast!”

Proudstar rushed from his escape back to Angelica’s location and clutched her arm, risking flesh burns from her flaming body.  “Save yourSELF!  Face it, Angelica! Justice is DEAD!”

At that moment, both teams noticed tiny specks of violet ethereal energy spurt slowly from the wall on the far end of the corridor, near the unsuspecting Doom.  Before any of them could express their wonder, the energy bits meshed together into a wave of intangible light that soon took the form of a man.  Finally, the wave dispersed, and revealed the physical framework of a hero long thought lost, youthful as ever, his eyes intent on the green-cloaked man in the static bubble.

“V...Vance...” Angelica’s voice trailed off.  “You’re...back...”

“Boy?!” Doom turned in his field, as shocked as anyone.  “You’re...dead!”

“I’ve known of Rock’s plan for weeks,” Justice touted in his boyish voice, “watching from the walls, the ceiling, all around, as I have since the day I...’died’--and this time I called Angel.  I called her, Doom, to save you...FOR justice.  But you showed no gratitude, reverted back to your old ways, tried to kill my friends--and now, no one can save you FROM Justice.”

While the Warriors and Avengers stood motionless, in awe of their long-lost friend,  Justice’s fist turned to telekinetic energy, and he shoved it through Doom’s forcefield, landing a blow to Doom’s metal exterior and disrupting his field.  “Obviously you only figured in the powers of those present when you were constructing your static field, so you didn’t account for a telekinetic attack.”  Justice landed another fist.  “Then again, you couldn’t have guessed that I’d come back; why would you?”

Angelica pulled herself from her astonished state and joined in the assault, beside her lover.  “He should have!”

Soon, both the Warriors and the Avengers followed suit, and unleashed a violent attack on Doom, weakening him nearly into unconsciousness.  Through the onslaught, he managed to pull a finger closer to his gauntlet.

“He’s still gonna try to blow the place!” Agent shouted.

“No, I won’t.  Something greater than you or even I has taken place this day--something important enough that a literal miracle was performed in order to ruin my glory.  I’ll confront a thousand costumed heroes a thousand times, but even I haven’t the nerve to willfully oppose fate.”  He pressed a command on his gauntlet.  “I did not want resort to this drastic means of escape, for return will be difficult--but, I swear to you, I shall re--” Doom faded out of the facility, armor and all.

“He got away, again!” Jolt pouted.

“It’s always that way, Hallie,” Proudstar replied.

“I can live with that, though,” Hawkeye smiled, gazing at the two reunited lovers across the room.  “Look what we get in return.”

For the passed twenty years, Angelica had tortured herself with the impossibly-unlikely prospect of her sweet Vance’s return, and she had recited over and over in her mind just what she would say to him if such an impossibility showed itself.

Today, it did, and she was utterly speechless.

“Hi, Angel,” Justice smiled, petting her greying hair.

Hearing his precious voice address her again, Angelica let out a tear.  “Hi....”

“I’ve been here in the prison--as a ghost, I guess you could say--and I’ve watched you all these years, but now, you look different--you look so...”

“...old,” Angelica finished.  They both laughed.

“I was going to say ‘lovely.’”  They took hands, and held tighter, tighter.  Justice then addressed the entire group.  “Someone better tell the crew outside to shut down--you see, I can’t conjure myself passed the walls of the Vault, so it would REALLY ruin my day if they blew it up.”  Wonder Man smiled, knowing the feeling Justice was experiencing, and led the two teams outside, leaving Angelica and Justice to themselves.

“You’re probably wondering how I could contact you,” he asked Angelica.  “How I--”

“--later....” Anglelica placed her lips against his, and they made up for lost time.  “Other heroes have returned from the dead, Uatu,” Oleeta observed.  “Why does it still surprise them?”

“Perhaps it is part of their ‘simple nature,’” Uatu poked tauntingly.

“Then I must share a piece of that nature, for I, too, have seen others return from seeming death, and it still surprises even me, I admit.”

“Is that to mean...?”

Ashamed, Oleeta muttered, “Yes, I have something in common with these humans.”

“Do not be embarrassed, Oleeta.  It is a good thing. It is called a heart.”

Oleeta was startled, for Uatu’s reassurance should have been more comforting than the human scene around her, but it was not.  She was surprisingly warmed by the picture of a swarm of defenders blissful in one another’s company, and she was enthused at the fact that a love of two heroes was renewed.