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Super-Villain Team-Up #22 by Jess Nevins

FUTURE OF PAST DAYS

Part 4: Beware of the God

When the seven arrived back in 2003, Pete, who was still wearing the time machine belt (being no fool, he trusted none of the others to use the time machine in any way but selfishly), was the first to solidify. As he'd feared, they reappeared in the Doom's labs in the basement of Avengers Mansion, from where he'd left. Pete immediately whipped out his glue gun and ducked into a firing position, but there were no immediate threats. Pete holstered his glue gun and turned to the others. "This is where I left from, but--."

"Enough, Paste Pot." Pete fell silent at the Leader's annoyingly high-pitched voice. "We must find a safe place from which to work. I recommend we go to my base beneath the ruins of the Statue of Liberty."

Pete allowed himself a quiet smile. "Sorry, Leader. The Hulk and the Pantheon took that base apart in ‘02."

"What? But I--"

"Enough! You humans quarrel amongst yourselves, overlooking the obvious leader among you! I, Maximus, have the greatest scientific knowledge of any of you, the fiercest intellect, and the most military experience! We shall proceed to my moonbase, where--"

Pete shook his head. "No, sorry, that was destroyed when the Fantastic Four and the Thunderbolts stop you from using the Nega-Bomb on humanity, in '99."

Maximus spluttered, "But...but how? None knew of my possession of the--"

"Enough."

It was only one word, but there was something about it - or perhaps the voice that uttered it - that caused everyone to fall silent. All eyes turned to face Baron Mordo.

"Mister Petruski, you mentioned that Dr. Strange is dead. You are certain of this?"

Pete nodded. There was something about Mordo's voice that made you want to agree with him and tell him what will please him the most. "Yes - one of the Nimrod units sent a baby nuke into it."

Pete's words seemed to strike Mordo as peculiar in some way. He said nothing for a moment and simply stroked his beard, looking pensive.

"How strange. I should feel exultant, and yet....well, no matter. Here's what we'll do. This Centurion of yours controls all things technological, yes?"

Pete eagerly nodded. Part of him knew he looked ridiculous, but he couldn't help himself; Mordo's voice made you want to...well, serve him.

"Then he will undoubtedly have assumed control of everyone's bases. This Mansion of yours seems to be absent of his creatures; it will do as well as any other. First, however, we must make sure that the Centurion is truly gone. Warlock, use your powers to search for our foe. The rest of you, inspect what is left of this laboratory, and report back to me with your findings. I must contemplate our next move."

The others turned and began to look over the lab; Pete joined them, willingly, but noticed on an almost subconscious level that the Warlock didn't immediately obey, but seemed to glare at Mordo for a moment. Pete wondered why that was, but quickly put it out of his mind.

Fifteen minutes later, Pete shuffled in to line next to the others. Mordo, sitting cross-legged five feet above the air, turned to look at them. Without taking his eyes from Maximus and the Leader, who seemed to particularly concern him, he said, "Merlin, is he here?"

The Warlock seemed almost to snarl (which Pete couldn't understand; why would anyone react with hostility to Mordo, who was clearly the best and most powerful person among them, and the best suited to lead?) but he kept his voice even as he said, "Not that I could tell. Baron."

Mordo nodded. He looked at Pete and said, "You may begin, Mister Petruski."

"The lab's a wreck, sir. None of Victor's more advanced weapons are here. His prototype time travel belts are gone. Even the....uh....I think he called it an "anti-tachyon gun"....even that's gone. Sorry, sir."

Mordo slowly nodded. "As I anticipated. Mastermind?"

Mastermind looked somewhat glum, but immediately responded. "It's been trashed. But I'm not a tech guy, sir, I don't know what's left that's worth using."

Mordo nodded again. "I know, Mister Wyngarde. You will have other uses, I'm quite sure." The Mastermind beamed at this.

Mordo looked at the Leader and said, "And you?"

"Doom's inventions are quite ingenious, sir; some of them even I could not have come up with. His more advanced work is gone, but given time I could reconstruct most of it from first principles."

Mordo nodded once. "How much time would be required?"

The Leader said, "Two weeks?"

Mordo slowly shook his head. "I'm afraid that is time we do not have, Mr. Sterns."

The Leader's expression changed; he was obviously crushed at Mordo's words.

"Never mind; we shall have something for you to do, never fear." And the Leader visibly brightened.

Mordo turned to the Wizard. "I take it you concur with Mr. Sterns' judgment?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Mmmm-hmmm. And you, Maximus?"

"The Leader is quite qualified to judge, sir. I have nothing to add to his words. However, I see no evidence of any biological experimentation on Doom's part. Was this a field that he chose not to experiment in?"

Mordo cocked an eyebrow at Pete, who said, "I....I really don't know, sir. Sorry."

Mordo said, "Well, I suppose it is of no matter. We've established that there is nothing here to help us. Nonetheless, we must devise a means by which to defeat this Centurion. Mr. Petruski, you mentioned a stratagem that von Doom devised that affected the Centurion directly?"

"Yes sir. While the Centurion was listening in to us, Pietro - that's Quicksilver's name, sir - vibrated in place and broke the sound barrier."

"Ah. Quite painful to the Centurion, I would imagine. This would seem to indicate that he's vulnerable to sense-based attacks....hmmm. One would expect him to take steps to protect himself from a sonic-attack - once burned, twice shy, after all - but it may not have occurred to him to protect his eyes. Hmmm....yes, Leader?"

"Sir, I was working on a cognitive virus that may be of some assistance."

"A cognitive virus?"

"It's like this, sir. A meme is an information pattern which is contagious and which propagates itself by replicating, parasitically, in the minds of human hosts, and which causes them to alter their behavior so that the pattern itself can be further propagated. A typical meme is something like a slogan, catch-phrase, popular melody, or icon. The song-stuck-in-your-head syndrome is an example of a meme at work.

"Now, normally a meme is a benign parasite. That's because the memes which are transmitted as a part of human society are of minimal size and, with rare examples, are not deliberately programmed or created. However, a meme could be made into a malign parasite if one were designed to carry a sufficient amount and kind of information and alter its host's behavior in ways that were not socially beneficial - i.e., the host would be controlled by the meme's programmer."

Mordo broke in, looking thoughtful. "And you have such a thing?"

The Leader said, "The blueprints, yes, although I had not yet created a suitable vector."

Mordo said. "Excellent. Very well. All of you, gather 'round. Here's what we'll do..."

The Scarlet Centurion was in the Blue Area of the Moon, trying to crack the mystery of the strange white structure by sending various robots into it and seeing if any returned, when the signal came from Earth.

"Centurion - are you out there? You missed us, Centurion. You missed all of us. If this is the best you can do, I somehow think your boasts about having conquered the other Earths are just that - boasts. We're the real Avengers, Centurion, and we're waiting for you - if you can find us."

The Centurion, in His own crazed way, was amused by the message. The effrontery of these little specks, to actually challenge Him like that! Although there was no possible way they could overcome Him - He was God, after all - He decided to investigate. Could some of the mortals have somehow hidden from Him? The files in His armor's computer indicated that all the superhumans of Earth were accounted for - but that was the tricky part about conquering dimensions - there was always something different to deal with.

The Centurion next ran an analysis of the voice that had broadcast the message. It matched Captain America's voice perfectly, which was very strange, because the Centurion had captured Captain America and was now subjecting him to various tests. Perhaps the human that he'd caught wasn't the real Captain America? Hmm. If that was the case, then the Centurion should investigate it.

The Centurion summoned 4 of the Nimrod units and teleported to Earth, where He immediately began searching for these "Avengers." The signal was of course long gone, but He ordered the Sentinels patrolling the skies over the Earth to search for heat signals matching body temperature, and within 30 minutes they found them - oddly enough, in the ruins of Avengers Mansion, where He'd beat them (He thought).

They were clustered together, staring at Him with cool and calculating expressions, which He found quite irritating. Suddenly the humor of the situation was lost for Him, along with his patience. Who were these gnats to mock Him? He, who'd subjugated entire galaxies? He raised His hand to order the Nimrods to execute the mortals, when Captain America said, "You know you can't kill us, don't you? The Avengers are an ideal, and they are notoriously hard to destroy."

The Centurion, again amused, stayed his hand long enough to say, "Oh? And what, pray, is to stop me?"

Captain America smiled - it was a typically quiet and self-assured smile, but something about it struck the Centurion as threatening in its very confidence - and the Centurion began to feel the first stirrings of disquiet. Captain America said, "Why, us, of course. And the marvelous plan we've cooked up."

The Centurion spent a second checking the defensive systems of his armor, and then his cybernetic connections with the Nimrod units, and - finding all was still well - smiled beneath his mask and said, "Come, come, Captain, let's not kid each other. I'm God. You are, respectively, Captain America, Paste Pot Pete, the Sandman, Darkhawk, Mantis, Hawkeye, and the Swordsman. Heroes all, but none of you have the power to stop Me."

Captain America's smile grew wider as he said, "We aren't relying on superpowers, Centurion, but on a simple technological trick."

The Centurion's unease deepend. "Oh?" The blaster in his gauntlet began glowing as he mentally activated the sequence preparatory to firing.

Captain America, still grinning, said, "You know what a cognitive virus is, Centurion?"

Over the next three seconds the Centurion cybernetically sent a signal to His armor, calling up everything its computer banks had contained memetics and cognitive theory; the armor's computers arranged the information and summarized it, and then downloaded it directly to the Centurion's mind. The Centurion read the report and became highly alarmed by its implications; He activated His armor's defense protocols, so that everything He saw and heard was a digital reconstruction - the armor's sensory input devices rereouted light, sound and smell through its computer, which broke it down and rebroadcast it to the Centurion, so that nothing got in or out directly. Assured that He was now safe from external input such as a cognitive virus, but still feeling a most un-God-like anxiety and nervousness, the Centurion said, his voice, rebroadcast via his suit's throat-speakers, now possessing a slight metallic tinge, "Ah, but that would depend on whatever you sent at me - and now that I've put my armor's guards in place, nothing is going to directly get into my brain."

Captain America smiled and said, "Sure, if we were going to do it now. But, Centurion--" and suddenly it wasn't Captain America at all, but a shorter, bearded man who the Centurion's armor recognized as Baron Karl Amadeus Mordo, who was speaking, "--we did it 5 minutes ago, when you first got here."

And then Mordo smiled again, a truly evil smile. "We just wanted to keep you occupied you long enough for it to work. Distraction, after all, is the hallmark of a good magician, and I am nothing if not that." And Mordo bowed.

The Centurion heard these last words, and saw Mordo's bow, through a dimming, blood-red haze; his brain was on fire and he heard a dull roar, fading away. The meme - a vicious combination of Mordo's magic, the Maha Yogi's psionics, and Mastermind's illusions - ate the Centurion's consciousness with the speed of a striking rattlesnake, and the Centurion's last sight before death was of Mordo's self-satisfied smile.

With the destruction of the Centurion's consciousness his control over the technology of the Earth ceased. The military computers of the US, Russia, and China, aware that they'd been invaded and that the invader was gone, instantly switched to Hotwar status and launched according to their preset codes. Within two hours their missiles arrived at their targets, leaving much of the Earth an irradiated ruin. Among those caught in the blasts were Mordo and the others. Pete died thinking that it was a good day to die.

The definition of a meme is taken from the work of Richard Dawkins and Glenn Grant.

jess