Fic: Self-Made Man (1/2)
Title: Self-Made Man
Author(s): lilac28
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Bullseye/Daken
Summary: Daken Akihiro finds out what it really means to wear his father’s costume. Can he get the guy, battle alien threats, vanquish his past, and look damn good while doing so?
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Crack, camp, violence, fucking, psychological warfare, alien artifacts, family dysfunction, and maybe a liiiiiiittle dub-con (but hey, it’s Daken and Bullseye!).
Word Count: ~16k (Complete, four chapters across two posts. I wanted it all in one entry, but LJ slapped me with a "post too large"!)
Notes Slight AU. Set after the events of Wolverine Origins but assumes Siege never happened, and Noh-Varr never left the group. Instead Osborn takes his maladjusted team of Avengers across the stars to bring law and order to the galaxy. That’s right. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Dark Avengers….in spaaaace!
Chapter One
Eventually, you will be able to make others feel as you want them to, rather than only how you, yourself, feel.
"Lorazepam, Seroquel, Chlorpromazine, hmmmmm…."
Daken Akihiro hummed to himself as he thumbed through endless bottles in the makeshift apothecary aboard the USS Avenger. The tiny room held all the medication for Norman Osborn's team of fake heroes, a rainbow of anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, anti-anxiety, and even anti-symbiote pills. There were bottles, liquids, syringes, suppositories, and even some weird-smelling substances that Daken had never heard of before.
On the opposite wall was a series of small drawers with the names of everyone on board who took medication. While the pills themselves were only protected by lock and key, the drawers were behind some sort of force field that emanated from a keypad. One would need a key card and passcode before he or she could mess with the dispensary of individual team members.
The very same key card and passcode that Daken had obtained days ago, after a brief tryst with one of the medical technicians. She had been all too eager to give him the code, which he had been disappointed to discover was 1234567. Osborn's flimsy operation at work.
Daken slid the card, keyed in the ridiculous code, and opened the dispensary to pull out the drawer marked "Venom".
"Let's see now, Mac. You've been looking a little tense recently. Perhaps some Klonopin to loosen you up?" He fished around in the pills. "Oh, but we don't want you to get too relaxed! Maybe a little Adderall to keep you on your toes."
The pill game had become his new favorite distraction, switching around Venom's medication with whatever struck his fancy at the time. The results were starting to show. Venom had lashed out at Ares during yesterday's meeting, and then collapsed into tears as he regaled them all with a story about a dog that he had right before he had bonded with the symbiote. A dog that he had no doubt eaten, if his blubbering was any indication of what happened to the poor creature.
Daken despised Venom, an ignorant hack with no real skills. Although truly his worst offense was that he was a garden variety fucking moron, something that Daken refused to tolerate. The man was useless, so useless that insults and fights with him aboard the ship weren't even all that satisfying.
Yet screwing around with his medication was proving very satisfying. And it was annoying Osborn and the others, an extra bonus. After all, he had to do something to keep himself amused as they hurtled through space between missions.
When Daken had agreed to join Norman Osborn's team aboard the old Avengers ship, he had been hoping for more action. A chance to experience the universe through his father's costume. A chance to show everyone that he could do anything the old man could, only better. That he was a more powerful Wolverine than even the real thing, a fact that would burn the hairy idiot when he heard about Daken's exploits. Even if only a few people knew it was him in the costume, the idea that his father would be out there somewhere seething over it was the reason he had joined Osborn's team of incompetent fools in the first place.
Daken had found out within the first month that life aboard a space ship was actually quite boring. There were a lot of meetings and hopping from planet to planet trying to quell insignificant mutant uprisings or dispatch mid-level monsters. And even though he was out in the middle of bum fuck nowhere space, he still received constant communiqués from Wolverine. Pathetic messages extolling the virtues of forgiveness and family, or at least that's what Daken assumed they were about. He never actually listened to them to find out. The transmission room aboard the ship always routed them to his quarters, so they couldn't contain anything too interesting.
There had been such a message waiting for him when he had woken up that morning, the red blinking light on his comm panel admonishing him with its very existence. After an angry swipe at the delete key, he had made his way to the medication room. A little "fuck with your teammates therapy". Not galaxy wide domination, but also fun.
Daken shut the drawer and armed the security system just as a familiar scent wafted towards him. The smell of aftershave and madness. An unhinged precision that shouldn't smell as good as it did.
"What the fuck are you doing in here?"
Daken whirled around, innocence plastered all over his face. "Lester! Fancy meeting you here. I was just looking for some aspirin. Space travel gives me such a headache."
"How did you even get in here?" Bullseye looked around. "What is this place? Is this the medication room?"
"I got in the same way you did, through the open door."
Daken kept his tone light, but cursed himself for leaving the door open. An amateur mistake. Romulus would have kicked his ass if he had been there.
Bullseye wasn't letting it go. "Seriously. What are you doing in here? Do I need to tell Osborn about this?"
"Really, Lester. Telling on people? Where's your team spirit? I wasn't going to tell anyone about the bottle of Cialis I found with your name on it."
As he said it, Daken focused on relaxing his body and releasing a coil of scent towards Bullseye.
It had taken him years to learn how to make someone feel what he wanted them to feel, rather than what he was feeling himself. The key, Daken learned under Romulus' tutelage, was in relaxing and keeping himself as separated as possible from the emotion he was trying to generate. While the effect was all physical, the crux of the process was all mental. It was about releasing, focusing, and pushing out. Where his intentions went, the pheromones followed.
Funny how the foundation of control lay in letting go. He had always imagined it was kind of what telekinetics or those who practiced mind control did.
Relax, push out. You're getting angry, Bullseye.
Bullseye was on him in an instant, slamming his back into the wall of medication. "Fuck you, Daken! You'd better not tell anyone that. I have NO problems in that department."
Daken exposed every one of his sharp teeth in a vicious grin. "I'm sure you don't."
He had been doing it for weeks, bouncing the assassin's emotions around like basketball. He was furious one second, confused and jealous the next. Lately Daken had made sure that almost every encounter ended with a dash of arousal. The man was obviously a closet case, and there was something about him both deliciously manipulatable and sexy. He was tall, muscular, and although Lester wasn't the most self-aware person in the world, he had some talent and was actually good at what he did.
Being powerful and useful was more of a turn-on for Daken than looks or gender. He pushed out further. Don't you find me attractive, Lester?
"Listen, you mutant freak. You may have the rest of them fooled but I know what you really are. Do NOT fuck with me or I'll jam an arrow so far up your ass that…..that……you'll….."
Bullseye faltered as the pheromones hit him. Eyelids fluttering, he sputtered something semi-coherent, no doubt suddenly aware that he was very close to Daken. Pressing both of them against a hard surface, twitching and struggling to breathe.
"What was that about my ass?"
"I….um…."
Daken could feel a hot pulsing against his hip. Bullseye was getting hard in his costume. Too easy.
While the other man struggled to get himself under control, Daken took the opportunity to tuck the keycard to the medication room into the utility belt of the Hawkeye costume. He then patted Bullseye on his flushed cheek, and eased himself away.
"You can tell me later, sweetheart. Don't forget to shut the door on your way out."
And with that he was gone, leaving Bullseye to marinate in his own sweat, wondering what the fuck had just happened.
"Why should you respect him? He's more your jail keeper than your superior."
Daken and Moonstone strolled through the corridors of the ship on their way to the main meeting room, late again for another one of Osborn's morning sermons. Lately their pre-meetings walks had turned into what Daken liked to call "therapeutic Norman bashing sessions", where he persuaded Karla to open up about her frustrations with Osborn.
It wasn't difficult, with Osborn controlling her freedom and her team leader status seeming more and more like an empty title. Soon the tension would stretch to some sort of snapping point, and whatever happened was sure to further damage their leader's credibility.
"I know! I'm supposed to be in charge of this team when he's not around, not her. What does Hand even do, anyway? Can she even fight? Does she have powers?"
"Maybe her bad dye job is her superpower," Daken said.
Moonstone laughed. "You think so? She's such a bitch."
"She's just jealous of you."
"Why would she be jealous of me? She's here voluntarily. I'm on a fucking leash."
"Because you're prettier than her."
Far too savvy to blush, Moonstone just smiled.
They continued to walk, passing by one grey bulkhead after another. By now they would be just late enough to irritate Osborn, but not too late to infuriate him. Perfect timing.
For Daken, the strolls served another purpose as well. The mere act of being tardy together was a bonding experience. Who always walked into class late, giggling about something secret? Friends. Only friends sauntered into an event on their own time, not caring how it inconvenienced anyone else. I'm your friend, Karla. You trust me.
"This is all just further proof," said Daken.
"Of what?"
"That Osborn has space madness."
"What!?! No he doesn't! How do you know that?"
Space madness. The sanity scourge of galaxy travelers everywhere. Avoiding space madness was the first thing that every person on every ship anywhere learned how to do. After all, months and months on what was essentially a floating submarine could drive anyone crazy. It was a condition that everyone thought about, but few people discussed. The prospect was too terrifying, especially since there was no real cure. Treatment involved putting someone in a padded room in a diaper and medicating them until they stopped screaming.
A space madness rumor about Osborn was just what the ship needed. Ares hadn't believed it when Daken had insinuated it the previous morning, but that didn't matter. For a good rumor to be effective all one needed was that stray suggestion. That precious little particle that would grab hold of people and feed their doubt and distrust until they could no longer ignore it. Until it became far more powerful and compelling than the truth itself.
"You're a psychiatrist. Can't you tell? He's obviously in the first stages."
"He can be an unstable prick but he doesn't have space madness, Daken."
Daken shrugged. "Suit yourself. Just keep your eyes open. You're more qualified to see it than anyone else."
They arrived at the meeting room and waltzed in, earning them both a look of not quite contained exasperation from Osborn.
"Nice of you two to show up. When I say 0900, I mean 0900, people. And Daken, why aren't you in costume?"
Daken was dressed in a pair of finely tailored pants and that matched his fitted vest and light blue shirt. Armani. It would have cost a fortune, if the man who gave it to him hadn't begged him to accept it as a token of his undying affection. Daken had made sure not to get any blood on the outfit when he killed the guy.
"I'm sorry, Norman. I wasn't told that this was a costumed meeting."
"Okay, team. From now on, every meeting is a costumed meeting." He glared at Daken. "Got it?"
Daken nodded, ignoring the muttering around the table and the whisper of "idiot" from Venom.
"Moving on." Osborn gestured to the view screen, which displayed an orange, swirling globe. "This is planet Zerkalo, a barren rock that S.H.I.E.L.D. discovered some fifteen years ago. While it has no resources, an outpost was established there to study what was believed to be the ruins of an ancient civilization."
Noh-Varr nodded. "I have heard of this planet. My people believe a great power used to live there. One that has since died out."
"Well something's going on there now," Osborn said. "Listen to this."
He pressed a button, and over the speaker came the sound of a hysterical woman's voice. The recording didn't make much sense, but Daken could make out the words "they're dead" and "we couldn't get it to work". It ended with screaming, and then static.
"Whaddya know, Venom," Bullseye said. "It sounds like one of your dates."
"Har har, Bullseye. At least my dates have a woman's voice. That's more than I can say for you, homo."
Only Daken was perceptive enough to see how Bullseye's fingers twitched towards his quiver of arrows.
"Who are you callin' a homo, you fucking--"
"ENOUGH."
The group fell silent as Osborn pounded his metallic fist against the table. "This isn't a joke. We lost contact with the research station right after they sent this message. There were fifty people there. American citizens turned space researchers. We need to get out there and find out what the hell happened. Be ready, 'cause we'll be there in two hours. Then we'll take the shuttle to the planet's surface."
The order was accepted by the group of hateful heroes with the same lack of excitement that began all missions. Only Noh-Varr seemed to care.
"And Daken, I want you in costume now. We need to present a unified front. There is no 'I' in team."
Daken couldn't help himself. "Well, no, Norman. There is no 'I' in team, but there is a 'me'."
Moonstone chuckled, Bullseye chimed in with "he's gotta point", and Ares wrinkled his nose to look more pissed off than he usually did.
"JUST PUT YOUR COSTUME ON! We leave in two hours."
The group shuffled out as Osborn played the recording again. The question of what happened to the remote outpost still unanswered.
"We're approaching the planet now."
Daken piloted the Avengers shuttlecraft towards planet Zerkalo. Osborn had been pleased to discover that due to his extensive training, Daken was one of the few people who actually knew how to fly a shuttle. It was a little more difficult than what he was used to, but easy enough to maneuver and land.
Of all the places and spaces relating to the main ship, Daken hated being in the shuttlecraft the most. It was cramped and had a smell that made him want to gag every time he was in it. The whole ship smelled bad, with his room always stinking like mead and smoked meat. No doubt Thor's old digs.
Yet the shuttle reeked the worst. Daken figured that Tony Stark must have spent a lot of time in there, if the pungent funk of sex and old semen were anything to go by. One could also posit that perhaps Stark wasn't as sober as he claimed to be, as Daken could sense the lingering aroma of Glenfiddich Single Malt.
The heroes of earth were such hypocrites, telling people how to behave while they themselves drank, smoked, fucked, and even sometimes killed their way across the galaxy. All that power wasted in the name of "good". So many of them could have taken control and risen up to really be something, to rule and wield power in a way that mattered. Like Daken would someday.
He may not have gotten Romulus' empire, but he was still a being of immense power and potential. Potential he would live up to, even if he had to kill everyone in his path to do it. That would show fucking Wolverine.
"Are we there yet?" whined Venom.
"Almost."
"This planet is shrouded in mystery," said Noh-Varr. "Legend says the beings who lived here eons ago had the power to show you the inside of your soul. To reveal your greatest fear. Or they could choose to heal the sick, grant youth to the elderly, or make an invalid walk again."
"My Lord, that's wonderful," said Daken, whirling around to look at Noh-Varr in earnest. "Did you know that I'm Japan's official ambassador to the handicapped?"
Noh-Varr's eyes widened. "Truly, Daken? That's so noble of you. You must be a great activist for your country."
"Equal rights for everyone, that's me."
Noh-Varr didn't seem to notice the sound of barely contained snickering, or that Moonstone's face was turning red as her shoulders shook.
It had somehow come to Moonstone's attention that their Kree teammate had no concept that they weren't a group of real heroes, rather murderers, psychopaths, and thieves. Daken had a pretty good idea of how she discovered that, but didn't comment when she had told him. Instead he had instituted a game that involved convincing the poor alien that the group of criminals was anything but. As far as Noh-Varr knew, Moonstone used to head the Red Cross and Bullseye volunteered to teach underprivileged kids to read.
"Aye, a great activist," scoffed Ares. "Perhaps a great embarrassment to your country."
Ares wasn't in on the joke, as he lacked a sense of humor or whimsy. Daken suspected that the over muscled hairy jerkoff thought that fun meant whipping himself with a mace while he lectured about honor. So boring.
Osborn's voice interrupted over the intercom. "Put it down one hundred yards East of the research complex, Daken. We're sensing some sort of power emanation from that area. It's affecting our sensors. Life signs inconclusive."
Osborn wasn't riding in the shuttle with them, opting instead to fly in front of the ship in his Iron Patriot outfit. Armor so sophisticated that he could travel short distances in space with it. The Sentry flew next to him, clad in only his costume and cape. The vacuum of space seemed to have no effect on him, something that Bullseye had accurately described as "in no way unnerving or creepy as fuck."
"What do you think we'll find down there?" said Venom.
"It could be anything," said Noh-Varr. "Possibly just ruins. Or a monster. Maybe even an old God." A look of repulsion crossed his face. "Or some sort of Skrull trickery."
Everyone groaned, sick to death of Skrulls.
"If it is Skrulls," said Ares. "We shall crush them!"
"Oh man, if it is Skrulls," said Venom as he looked around. "We're gonna need more firepower. We're gonna wish we had Captain America or Thor. Or Wolverine. The real one."
Daken bristled. It took every ounce of his self control not to reach over and hit the emergency eject button for Venom's seat, the one that would drop him and his chair into a tube that then shot into space. A tube that only had about five hours of air.
It was a feeling Daken often experienced when in the shuttle. How could he not? The button was so big and round and tempting, and just the perfect clichéd shade of bright red.
Instead he swallowed down his rage and said: "Or Spiderman? The real one?"
"Whatever. Loser."
He put the shuttle down without a bump or even the slightest jostle. Daken always executed the most pristine landings, not that any of his mouth breathing teammates ever noticed.
"Hey Daken," Bullseye unbuckled his safety harness and brought his lips to Daken's ear. "Do you know I'm gonna stab you? My best knife, man. When you least expect it."
"It's always penetration with you, Lester." Being this close to me turns you on, and that makes you so angry.
Before the threatening flirtation could continue a wail came over the intercom. The Sentry. Shrieking in terror.
And then Osborn's voice. "Bob? BOB!?!? Oh my god….."
Through his many years in Romulus' training camps, Daken was always known as the one with the fastest reflexes. Yet even he didn't have time to react as he stepped out of the shuttle and was immediately bowled over and bitten in the face by some sort of creature. He growled and lashed out, attempting to dislodge the hideous thing that was gnawing on his skull.
"Whoa whoa!"
They were all taken off guard, scrambling to defend themselves as a wave of creatures overwhelmed them. They looked like a cross between a dog and a wild boar, with six red eyes and rancid, foaming saliva.
"What are they? Daken, what the fuck!?"
"I don't know!" Daken yelled as he threw the creature off him and stabbed it in one of its many eyes. "They weren't on the scanners."
There were hundreds of them, a seething wave of blurry black matter.
Ares managed to grab one by the throat, hurl it to the ground, and chop its head off with his axe.
"They die like the living! Do not falter. We shall have victory this day!"
They spread out, leaping and slashing to kill as many as possible. The things died easily, but seemed to have no register for pain or fear. Their main strength was in numbers and single-minded ferocity.
Moonstone took to the air, blasting anything that came too close to the group. Bullseye scrambled up the wing of the shuttle to stand on top, notching an error as he dropped to one knee.
"Watch this," he said. "Three in a row. Middle right eye."
In less than a skipped heartbeat, he shot three arrows into three different creatures, embedding them into the middle eye of each one. They went down in a pool of blood and frothing spit.
"Not bad," said Daken as he eviscerated the nearest two monsters.
"That was their left eye," yelled Venom.
"I meant my right," said Bullseye, launching more arrows.
"Whatever," said Venom, swallowing a creature in a single gulp. "Hey, they look gross but these things don't taste too bad."
Another blast came from the side to fry a few more. Osborn finally showing up. "Stay focused, team."
With the added firepower of Osborn's armor they made short work of the rest of the creatures.
Daken scanned the horizon. "I don't see any more. What the hell were those things? They didn't appear on any of my instruments and…..what?"
They were all staring at him with saucer wide eyes.
"Daken, are you all right?" asked Noh-Varr.
"It's an improvement," said Bullseye.
"I'm fine." Daken reached up and felt the side of his face. His cheek was covered in blood, although what was no doubt shocking his teammates was that it was also hanging off his face, exposing tissue and bone. Blood was gushing down his costume. He pushed the flesh back in place, already feeling the familiar tingle that meant his skin and gristle was knitting itself back together.
"Does that hurt?" said Venom. "That looks like it hurts."
"Not really."
It hurt like hell.
Osborn walked to the center of the group. "Nice work, Avengers. We have a serious problem here. Come look at--whoa, Daken…"
"It's fine." Dammit. Daken knew that Osborn knew about his healing factor, but now he'd also get an idea of how fast it worked.
Osborn nodded. "Come look at this."
Two things were evident as the group walked to the research centers.
The Sentry was sitting on the ground, shaking. He held his face in his hands, muttering to himself.
"You told me there was no Void. You told me there was no Void."
"Oh boy," said Moonstone. "That's not reassuring."
"Agreed," said Osborn. "Now what do you make of that?"
A few yards to the left of the Sentry was what looked like a single pane of glass, standing vertically. It was tall, taller than Ares and a few feet wide. It appeared to be anchored into the earth yet suspended by nothing.
"A mirror," said Daken. "A giant mirror?"
"It's more than that," said Osborn. "It doesn't register on my scanners. It has no weight or mass. Like it's not even there."
"If it's a mirror then you can see yourself in it," said Bullseye. "Venom, go look at it."
They were all approaching cautiously.
"You told me there was no Void….."
"Daken, are your senses telling you anything?"
Daken edged in closer, the glint from the sun making it hard to see what the surface texture of the object. No scent came from the mirror, no sound. He stood in front of it and shielded his eyes. Yet what looked back at him wasn't his own reflection but that of someone else. Someone familiar. Unmistakable.
Someone that had ruled his whole life. Owned him from birth until the day he had tossed Daken away.
It was Romulus.
"Daken, my son. I have waited lifetimes for my worthy successor. Come, boy. Free me, and we shall rule the universe together!"
Chapter Two
Romulus....
Daken couldn't believe it.
In the months since Wolverine had told him during their last meeting on Earth that Romulus was gone, Daken had thought of their old leader constantly. What did Wolverine really do to him? Had he killed him? Was it possible to find him? If so, what would Daken do if he ever saw him again?
The questions stormed through his mind every night. Although he flirted and swaggered and annoyed his way through the ship during waking hours, a sliver of so many evenings was devoted to ruminating about the ultimate fate of Romulus.
It's impossible. It's impossible. It can't be him.
And yet it looked just like him, right down to the beautiful flowing hair that Daken had always so coveted. Oh, how he used to beg Romulus to tell him which hair products he used. Not that the selfish son of a bitch had ever shared that secret either.
The air was even beginning to smell like him.
Daken saw red, his pulse pounding in his ears as all the years with Romulus flashed before him. Time that he had thought meant something. He unleashed his claws, breathing shallow.
How dare he? How dare he reject Daken in favor of Wolverine?
"How dare you use me the way that you did? You bastard..."
Ignoring Osborn's cries to stop, Daken launched himself at the mirror. He swiped at Romulus, berserk with rage. He couldn't see, couldn't even think. All thoughts reduced to a single command: kill.
Kill him. Get the deserved revenge. Take everything that was rightfully his.
The next thing Daken knew, he was lying on the ground in an undignified heap a few feet away.
Ares. Ares had pulled him off and thrown him, and was now screaming at him.
"What in the name of Zeus are you doing?!?"
"Get off me!" Daken struggled to stand. "I almost had him! That was...that was..."
He looked around. The mirror was still intact, the image of Romulus gone. The smell of burnt, rotting flesh assaulted his nose.
His arm. His arm was on fire. Or it felt like it was.
Anyone who wasn't a mutant regenerator used to extreme physical pain would have screamed and passed out. Daken just raised his arm in shock. His entire forearm was burnt and blackened, as though he had just stuck it in campfire. It was excruciating.
He could hear his teammates' heartbeats thundering at various levels, voices ranging from stunned to anxious.
"Did you see that? His arm just went right though..."
"....not solid at all. Looks like it is, but it ain't...."
"You told me there was no Void."
"Daken," Osborn grabbed him and shook him. "What the hell was that? What did you see?"
"I'm not....I don't...get your hands off me....."
"Okay, easy." Osborn removed his hand. "Everyone just take it easy. Are we all ok?"
Moonstone had tears in her eyes. Bullseye was pale and shaking. Everyone moved back from the mirror.
Osborn, to his credit, still seemed calm. "All right, everyone. We need information on this...thing. There are three buildings here. Captain Marvel, you and Ms. Marvel check out that on the left. Ares and Spiderman, you take the middle. Daken and Hawkeye, you two take the one on the right. Access the computers if you can. Look for journals, survivors. Any clue as to what happened here. Something is messing with our sensors, so be ready for anything."
"What are you going to do?" Moonstone asked, voice trembling. Why was she so nervous?
"I'm going to try and take care of this." He pointed to the Sentry, still mumbling to himself on the ground.
Everyone paired off and headed to their respective buildings. Daken took a deep breath to steady himself. He nodded to Bullseye, trying to affect his usual breezy demeanor. In the blazing sunlight of planet Zerkalo, he could see a sheen of sweat on Bullseye's bald head.
Everyone was freaked out. Had they seen the image of Romulus too? What would that do? They didn't even know who he was.
Daken and Bullseye entered the building, wary of whatever they might find.
At first, the cramped research building didn't seem to contain anything in the way of helpful information. Daken wasn't able to access most of the computers, and the terminals that didn't need a password contained useless observations about temperature and weather systems. The place screamed with the quiet of an abandoned complex, filled with half-eaten food, stale air, and lockers stuffed with alien porn.
And bodies. Lots and lots of bodies.
Every room seemed to have a dead body in it. A few looked as though they had been mauled, possibly by the creatures the team had met outside. Most appeared to have been victims of foul play. There were stab wounds and head traumas. Evidence of beatings. One man was missing his eyes.
"He did it to himself," Daken commented.
"What the fuck happened here?" said Bullseye.
"Madness. Suicide. Mutilations. Typical alien artifact stuff."
"I miss New York."
Daken was inclined to agree. His senses were on high alert, mind whirling to make sense of what had just happened outside. Having Bullseye next to him wasn't helping. The other man was practically sweating adrenaline, twitching at the slightest sound.
All efforts to unwind himself were failing. Fucking alien planets. He was usually so good at this.
"This is so fucked." Bullseye looked at him. "Your arm's almost back to normal. I knew you were a freak. Too bad you didn't put the other one in. Maybe you coulda burned off that gay tattoo."
"Gay tattoo?" Anger flared in Daken. He heard it leaking into his own voice but was powerless to stop it. "Tell me again about that thing on your forehead?"
Bullseye was on him in an instant, breathing fire inches from Daken's face.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
Daken had learned early in life that is was best for one to hold one's cards close to the chest, never revealing anything unless it was the right time. And then only in pieces.
"You did it yourself, didn't you? Just like that man over there with no eyes."
Bullseye grabbed the front of his costume and slammed him backwards.
Unwind. Push out. I'm right behind you, Bullseye.
They were so close. Daken could feel the other man's pulse leaping in his neck. Yet he wasn't turning around. The normal confusion that Daken could always cultivate in an opponent didn't seem to be working.
He couldn't relax enough to get his pheromones under control. The icy cool just wasn't there. Daken couldn't even remember the last time he failed to control his powers. A child. A scared, angry child that he swore he'd never be again.
"You know nothing. Nothing about me, or what I'm capable of, you..."
Something beast-like began to bubble up in Daken as Bullseye continued to rage in his personal space. No matter if he couldn't use his pheromone control, he could still kick Bullseye's ass the old fashioned way.
The assassin went reeling back when Daken head butted him, blood exploding from his nose. Despite the shock, Bullseye was already throwing projectiles from his belt as he staggered. Daken felt the ripping sting of a knife lodging in his shoulder.
Get in close. Grab his hands and you'll have him. He's fast, you're faster.
He launched himself at Bullseye, sending them both crashing to the ground in a flurry of punches.
"Bring it on!"
Daken punched him again, ignoring the flaring pain as Bullseye stabbed something into his leg. Instead he used the opportunity to grab the assassin's wrist and pin it to the ground. He then managed to snatch the other hand and settled his weight on top of him.
Bullseye struggled against Daken's superior strength, trying to twist his way free. He spat blood and insults.
"You motherfucker. You little faggot."
Daken held tight, although it took significant force to restrain the hurricane of a man beneath him.
And then he felt it, brushing up against his right buttock. Bullseye was hard. Without any pheromone push, without any manipulation. The guy was getting a hard-on just from Daken sitting on him.
A rather sizeable one, Daken couldn't help but notice.
He started laughing. "Is this turning you on? Who's the faggot now?"
Bullseye kept struggling. "Don't flatter yourself. I always get turned on when I fight."
Daken leered over him, the smile that Bullseye hated so much dripping malice.
"When you fight? Or just when you fight me?"
And then his right eye erupted in agony, causing him to loosen his grip just long enough for Bullseye to throw him off, roll across the floor, and resume a fighting stance.
Daken pulled something out of his eye. A paperclip? Did Bullseye really palm a stray paperclip with his pinned hand and flick it into his eye?
Respectable. Not that Daken would ever admit it.
Bullseye grinned triumphant and threw another projectile. His face was bloody, eyes shining with unbridled insanity.
"Had enough, Daddy's boy? I can do this all day."
"Actually, sexy. I'm just getting started. Try not to trip over that boner you're swinging."
They circled, each ready to pounce at the right moment. So intent on each other, that it came as a shock when the door burst open and a gibbering, hysterical man ran into the room.
"Thank God! Thank God you're---erk--"
He fell to his knees, clutching his neck as blood sprayed the floor and wall in ribbons. Something was embedded in his throat.
"Oh fuck," Bullseye breathed. "Oops."
The stranger gurgled, choking on blood as it ran into his lungs. He reached out a trembling hand, and then toppled over into a puddle of his own fluids.
Daken and Bullseye could only watch, bewildered, as the man took in one last ineffectual breath. Fight forgotten for the moment, they looked at each other, and then back at the body.
"Congratulations, Lester," said Daken. "I think you just killed the only survivor."
"It was an automatic reaction! He just burst in here! Who the fuck interrupts people during a fight?"
"Yes, well, he won't be making that mistake again."
Daken knelt next to the man, watching the river of blood from his throat become a trickle. Lodged in his trachea was a card with a pretty woman's face. Her title said "Senior Medical Technician."
It was the woman he had slept with to gain access to the medication room. This was the keycard he had tucked into Bullseye's costume yesterday, unwittingly grabbed and thrown into the man's neck.
"Perfect," Daken whispered, wiping off the card and putting it in his own costume. He then began to search the body.
Bullseye didn't even notice. He paced around the room, muttering and swearing.
"Son of a bitch. Fuck. Osborn's gonna lose his shit. I don't believe this."
Daken rolled the man's pockets, and to his surprise he discovered something hard. He pulled it out to reveal some sort of gem. It was red, light gleaming from every facet. It looked like a ruby only much more brilliant and larger, almost the size of his palm.
Bullseye had started to pay attention. "What the fuck is that?"
"I don't know," said Daken, turning the gem over in his hands. It was beautiful and strange. He could feel it almost...resonate with him on some level.
Bullseye balked when Daken put the gem in one of the pouches on his belt. "What are you doing?"
"I'm holding onto this for now." Always keep your cards close to your chest.
"Man, we gotta tell the others about that thing. They might know-"
"Shall we tell them how we obtained it?" interrupted Daken, gesturing to the dead body.
"Don't you dare! Do NOT tell Osborn about this, Daken. I'll kill you in your sleep. I fucking swear it."
"I can keep a secret if you can. It would be a shame if your Avengers career ended so suddenly over this. But Osborn wouldn't be too pissed off, right?"
Bullseye ground his teeth. Stuck between a rock and the threat of Osborn's control over him, he could only grunt assent. He regarded Daken with hate and disgust. A very serious look, if it weren't for the hard-on still evident through his costume.
They were interrupted by Victoria Hand's voice coming through their transmitters.
"Iron Patriot. Avengers. Report in. We have company."
Things were weird back outside.
Things were always weird when the team was concerned, but they seemed extra weird when the group reconvened next to the complex. Gathered together as far from the mirror as possible, nobody dared to look in its direction.
Victoria Hand's voice was coming over the transmitters. "It's Luke Cage's ship, sir. They've just come into orbit on the far side of the planet. They're not responding to our hails."
Daken simmered. Luke Cage's ship of renegade Avengers, or whatever the hell they were. A group of ex-heroes flouncing about the galaxy still trying to help people while they evaded arrest by Osborn. For free. Pretty lame.
Wolverine was sure to be on that ship. Just what he needed.
"Uh huh. Yes. Start tracking them."
Osborn stood with his back to the mirror, his helmet covering his face. The Sentry was huddled up next to him, calmer but still radiating his unique, crackling tension. He had stopped talking, instead just standing there with black orbs shining from his eye sockets.
"Sir," said Noh-Varr. "We discovered something important-"
Osborn held up a hand for him to be quiet.
"Advise returning to the ship," said Hand. "Things are too hot down there and we need a new strategy."
"Retreat?" scoffed Osborn. "And leave this site for Cage's people to investigate? I don't think so. This is a matter of galactic security…"
He droned on about duty and galaxy-wide safety. His voice was…off. Just a little off. Daken couldn't exactly place how, but he didn't sound right.
He didn't smell right either. Despite Osborn being covered in armor, Daken could still catch the faintest whiff of something strange. Something he hadn't smelled on the other man before. It wasn't cologne or soap, it wasn't even an emotion.
Bullseye interrupted. "Are you kidding? We just fought off hundreds of things, there's a mind bending alien artifact here that looks like it belongs in IKEA, the enemy just showed up, and our most powerful member has lost his shit." He then bit his lip while glancing at the Sentry, as if wishing he hadn't added that last part. "Um, no offense, buddy."
Osborn looked in Bullseye's direction, seeing him for the first time.
"Why are you bleeding?"
Daken's wounds had already healed from their fight, Bullseye's hadn't.
"I fell." He shot Daken a glance that was at once both pleading and threatening.
"He did," confirmed Daken. "You know how clumsy he is sometimes."
"C'mon, let's get out of here," whimpered Venom. "This place is scary."
"I hate to agree with this pussy, but…well, I agree with this pussy. What is up with you, anyway?"
"People, we're not-"
"But sir, we have information."
"Sir, requesting immediate evac for you." Hand's voice again. "It's not a retreat, it's a strategic re-evaluation."
That smell. That smell. Daken sniffed harder. What the hell was it? So familiar.
Osborn continued to ignore Hand's advice. "Teams, what did you find in there? Report. Ares?"
"Aye. Nothing. Dead bodies and a few rogue creatures, which we dispatched heartily."
"Daken?"
Daken just shrugged. "Same thing. Dead bodies. No information."
"Captain Marvel?"
Noh-Varr was exasperated. "That's what I've been trying to tell you! We found notes and half-translated scrolls. The researchers were digging up ruins, and one day the object just appeared next to the complex. The first man who looked in it had a nervous breakdown and never recovered. Soon after, a few of those creatures came out of the mirror. The researchers were able to kill them, but whenever someone new looked in it, those monsters would start coming out in greater and greater numbers."
"Holy shit," said Bullseye. "So more of those things could come out at any second?"
"Yes."
The scent was driving Daken crazy. It was definitely coming from Osborn. It was almost…good.
Everyone else was staring at their armored leader. Even Ares looked like he wanted to go.
"All right. All right." Osborn said in defeat. "We need to come up with a plan and we can't do it here under constant threat. Hand, we're coming back. Radio Luke Cage's ship and tell him they're fugitives from justice and violating our airspace. If they attempt to come near us or the planet, we will arrest them immediately."
"One more thing," said Noh-Varr. "There is something that can destroy the mirror, or at least cause it to disappear back from where it came. Created by the original aliens, they translated the name as 'The Red Eye of Zerkalo'. The researchers thought they had found it, but couldn't get it to work. The scrolls said that only a man of focus could wield it, that only a man of true power could mold it into something deadly. Something heroic."
Focus and power? Daken's ears perked up. He could smell the irritation on Bullseye while he palmed the gem in his belt. This was one key to the puzzle that he wasn't willing to reveal to the group just yet. Not while an image of Romulus was tearing through his mind.
"So where is this thing? What does it look like?"
"I don't know. One of the researchers took it out weeks ago to try to use it. It hasn't been seen since."
"Uh, guys…" Venom pointed to the mirror in the distance. "Is it just me, or is that thing wobbling?"
"I would like to go now," said the Sentry.
Everyone regarded him, stunned. It was the first thing he'd spoken since they got to the planet that made any sense.
Even Osborn listened to him. "Okay. This is a mess here. Strategic planning session back on the ship. We're not breaking orbit until we get this sorted out. Hand, inform me of any changes with that other vessel."
They trudged back to the shuttle, everyone trying to walk fast while looking like they weren't trying to walk fast. Daken managed to stroll the slowest of everyone, yet still he was unable to get back to his preferred plateau of calm breath. Romulus' voice still whispered in his ear, telling him he could have everything. Then telling him he was nothing. That it was Wolverine who deserved an inheritance.
Wolverine in the same orbit, no doubt sending him more gruffly heartfelt communiqués.
A man of power, Daken was also a man of opportunity. Perhaps it would be best just to get the hell out of here. Steal a shuttle and try to make it to the nearest planet. Fuck the Avengers and sadly transparent Bullseye with his great bone structure and deliciously huge hard-on.
And fuck heroism.
Yet he knew a shuttle would never make it. They were so far out. He'd have to come up with his own plan.
Somehow.
(To be continued in the next post!)
Author(s): lilac28
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Bullseye/Daken
Summary: Daken Akihiro finds out what it really means to wear his father’s costume. Can he get the guy, battle alien threats, vanquish his past, and look damn good while doing so?
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Crack, camp, violence, fucking, psychological warfare, alien artifacts, family dysfunction, and maybe a liiiiiiittle dub-con (but hey, it’s Daken and Bullseye!).
Word Count: ~16k (Complete, four chapters across two posts. I wanted it all in one entry, but LJ slapped me with a "post too large"!)
Notes Slight AU. Set after the events of Wolverine Origins but assumes Siege never happened, and Noh-Varr never left the group. Instead Osborn takes his maladjusted team of Avengers across the stars to bring law and order to the galaxy. That’s right. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Dark Avengers….in spaaaace!
Chapter One
Eventually, you will be able to make others feel as you want them to, rather than only how you, yourself, feel.
"Lorazepam, Seroquel, Chlorpromazine, hmmmmm…."
Daken Akihiro hummed to himself as he thumbed through endless bottles in the makeshift apothecary aboard the USS Avenger. The tiny room held all the medication for Norman Osborn's team of fake heroes, a rainbow of anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, anti-anxiety, and even anti-symbiote pills. There were bottles, liquids, syringes, suppositories, and even some weird-smelling substances that Daken had never heard of before.
On the opposite wall was a series of small drawers with the names of everyone on board who took medication. While the pills themselves were only protected by lock and key, the drawers were behind some sort of force field that emanated from a keypad. One would need a key card and passcode before he or she could mess with the dispensary of individual team members.
The very same key card and passcode that Daken had obtained days ago, after a brief tryst with one of the medical technicians. She had been all too eager to give him the code, which he had been disappointed to discover was 1234567. Osborn's flimsy operation at work.
Daken slid the card, keyed in the ridiculous code, and opened the dispensary to pull out the drawer marked "Venom".
"Let's see now, Mac. You've been looking a little tense recently. Perhaps some Klonopin to loosen you up?" He fished around in the pills. "Oh, but we don't want you to get too relaxed! Maybe a little Adderall to keep you on your toes."
The pill game had become his new favorite distraction, switching around Venom's medication with whatever struck his fancy at the time. The results were starting to show. Venom had lashed out at Ares during yesterday's meeting, and then collapsed into tears as he regaled them all with a story about a dog that he had right before he had bonded with the symbiote. A dog that he had no doubt eaten, if his blubbering was any indication of what happened to the poor creature.
Daken despised Venom, an ignorant hack with no real skills. Although truly his worst offense was that he was a garden variety fucking moron, something that Daken refused to tolerate. The man was useless, so useless that insults and fights with him aboard the ship weren't even all that satisfying.
Yet screwing around with his medication was proving very satisfying. And it was annoying Osborn and the others, an extra bonus. After all, he had to do something to keep himself amused as they hurtled through space between missions.
When Daken had agreed to join Norman Osborn's team aboard the old Avengers ship, he had been hoping for more action. A chance to experience the universe through his father's costume. A chance to show everyone that he could do anything the old man could, only better. That he was a more powerful Wolverine than even the real thing, a fact that would burn the hairy idiot when he heard about Daken's exploits. Even if only a few people knew it was him in the costume, the idea that his father would be out there somewhere seething over it was the reason he had joined Osborn's team of incompetent fools in the first place.
Daken had found out within the first month that life aboard a space ship was actually quite boring. There were a lot of meetings and hopping from planet to planet trying to quell insignificant mutant uprisings or dispatch mid-level monsters. And even though he was out in the middle of bum fuck nowhere space, he still received constant communiqués from Wolverine. Pathetic messages extolling the virtues of forgiveness and family, or at least that's what Daken assumed they were about. He never actually listened to them to find out. The transmission room aboard the ship always routed them to his quarters, so they couldn't contain anything too interesting.
There had been such a message waiting for him when he had woken up that morning, the red blinking light on his comm panel admonishing him with its very existence. After an angry swipe at the delete key, he had made his way to the medication room. A little "fuck with your teammates therapy". Not galaxy wide domination, but also fun.
Daken shut the drawer and armed the security system just as a familiar scent wafted towards him. The smell of aftershave and madness. An unhinged precision that shouldn't smell as good as it did.
"What the fuck are you doing in here?"
Daken whirled around, innocence plastered all over his face. "Lester! Fancy meeting you here. I was just looking for some aspirin. Space travel gives me such a headache."
"How did you even get in here?" Bullseye looked around. "What is this place? Is this the medication room?"
"I got in the same way you did, through the open door."
Daken kept his tone light, but cursed himself for leaving the door open. An amateur mistake. Romulus would have kicked his ass if he had been there.
Bullseye wasn't letting it go. "Seriously. What are you doing in here? Do I need to tell Osborn about this?"
"Really, Lester. Telling on people? Where's your team spirit? I wasn't going to tell anyone about the bottle of Cialis I found with your name on it."
As he said it, Daken focused on relaxing his body and releasing a coil of scent towards Bullseye.
It had taken him years to learn how to make someone feel what he wanted them to feel, rather than what he was feeling himself. The key, Daken learned under Romulus' tutelage, was in relaxing and keeping himself as separated as possible from the emotion he was trying to generate. While the effect was all physical, the crux of the process was all mental. It was about releasing, focusing, and pushing out. Where his intentions went, the pheromones followed.
Funny how the foundation of control lay in letting go. He had always imagined it was kind of what telekinetics or those who practiced mind control did.
Relax, push out. You're getting angry, Bullseye.
Bullseye was on him in an instant, slamming his back into the wall of medication. "Fuck you, Daken! You'd better not tell anyone that. I have NO problems in that department."
Daken exposed every one of his sharp teeth in a vicious grin. "I'm sure you don't."
He had been doing it for weeks, bouncing the assassin's emotions around like basketball. He was furious one second, confused and jealous the next. Lately Daken had made sure that almost every encounter ended with a dash of arousal. The man was obviously a closet case, and there was something about him both deliciously manipulatable and sexy. He was tall, muscular, and although Lester wasn't the most self-aware person in the world, he had some talent and was actually good at what he did.
Being powerful and useful was more of a turn-on for Daken than looks or gender. He pushed out further. Don't you find me attractive, Lester?
"Listen, you mutant freak. You may have the rest of them fooled but I know what you really are. Do NOT fuck with me or I'll jam an arrow so far up your ass that…..that……you'll….."
Bullseye faltered as the pheromones hit him. Eyelids fluttering, he sputtered something semi-coherent, no doubt suddenly aware that he was very close to Daken. Pressing both of them against a hard surface, twitching and struggling to breathe.
"What was that about my ass?"
"I….um…."
Daken could feel a hot pulsing against his hip. Bullseye was getting hard in his costume. Too easy.
While the other man struggled to get himself under control, Daken took the opportunity to tuck the keycard to the medication room into the utility belt of the Hawkeye costume. He then patted Bullseye on his flushed cheek, and eased himself away.
"You can tell me later, sweetheart. Don't forget to shut the door on your way out."
And with that he was gone, leaving Bullseye to marinate in his own sweat, wondering what the fuck had just happened.
"Why should you respect him? He's more your jail keeper than your superior."
Daken and Moonstone strolled through the corridors of the ship on their way to the main meeting room, late again for another one of Osborn's morning sermons. Lately their pre-meetings walks had turned into what Daken liked to call "therapeutic Norman bashing sessions", where he persuaded Karla to open up about her frustrations with Osborn.
It wasn't difficult, with Osborn controlling her freedom and her team leader status seeming more and more like an empty title. Soon the tension would stretch to some sort of snapping point, and whatever happened was sure to further damage their leader's credibility.
"I know! I'm supposed to be in charge of this team when he's not around, not her. What does Hand even do, anyway? Can she even fight? Does she have powers?"
"Maybe her bad dye job is her superpower," Daken said.
Moonstone laughed. "You think so? She's such a bitch."
"She's just jealous of you."
"Why would she be jealous of me? She's here voluntarily. I'm on a fucking leash."
"Because you're prettier than her."
Far too savvy to blush, Moonstone just smiled.
They continued to walk, passing by one grey bulkhead after another. By now they would be just late enough to irritate Osborn, but not too late to infuriate him. Perfect timing.
For Daken, the strolls served another purpose as well. The mere act of being tardy together was a bonding experience. Who always walked into class late, giggling about something secret? Friends. Only friends sauntered into an event on their own time, not caring how it inconvenienced anyone else. I'm your friend, Karla. You trust me.
"This is all just further proof," said Daken.
"Of what?"
"That Osborn has space madness."
"What!?! No he doesn't! How do you know that?"
Space madness. The sanity scourge of galaxy travelers everywhere. Avoiding space madness was the first thing that every person on every ship anywhere learned how to do. After all, months and months on what was essentially a floating submarine could drive anyone crazy. It was a condition that everyone thought about, but few people discussed. The prospect was too terrifying, especially since there was no real cure. Treatment involved putting someone in a padded room in a diaper and medicating them until they stopped screaming.
A space madness rumor about Osborn was just what the ship needed. Ares hadn't believed it when Daken had insinuated it the previous morning, but that didn't matter. For a good rumor to be effective all one needed was that stray suggestion. That precious little particle that would grab hold of people and feed their doubt and distrust until they could no longer ignore it. Until it became far more powerful and compelling than the truth itself.
"You're a psychiatrist. Can't you tell? He's obviously in the first stages."
"He can be an unstable prick but he doesn't have space madness, Daken."
Daken shrugged. "Suit yourself. Just keep your eyes open. You're more qualified to see it than anyone else."
They arrived at the meeting room and waltzed in, earning them both a look of not quite contained exasperation from Osborn.
"Nice of you two to show up. When I say 0900, I mean 0900, people. And Daken, why aren't you in costume?"
Daken was dressed in a pair of finely tailored pants and that matched his fitted vest and light blue shirt. Armani. It would have cost a fortune, if the man who gave it to him hadn't begged him to accept it as a token of his undying affection. Daken had made sure not to get any blood on the outfit when he killed the guy.
"I'm sorry, Norman. I wasn't told that this was a costumed meeting."
"Okay, team. From now on, every meeting is a costumed meeting." He glared at Daken. "Got it?"
Daken nodded, ignoring the muttering around the table and the whisper of "idiot" from Venom.
"Moving on." Osborn gestured to the view screen, which displayed an orange, swirling globe. "This is planet Zerkalo, a barren rock that S.H.I.E.L.D. discovered some fifteen years ago. While it has no resources, an outpost was established there to study what was believed to be the ruins of an ancient civilization."
Noh-Varr nodded. "I have heard of this planet. My people believe a great power used to live there. One that has since died out."
"Well something's going on there now," Osborn said. "Listen to this."
He pressed a button, and over the speaker came the sound of a hysterical woman's voice. The recording didn't make much sense, but Daken could make out the words "they're dead" and "we couldn't get it to work". It ended with screaming, and then static.
"Whaddya know, Venom," Bullseye said. "It sounds like one of your dates."
"Har har, Bullseye. At least my dates have a woman's voice. That's more than I can say for you, homo."
Only Daken was perceptive enough to see how Bullseye's fingers twitched towards his quiver of arrows.
"Who are you callin' a homo, you fucking--"
"ENOUGH."
The group fell silent as Osborn pounded his metallic fist against the table. "This isn't a joke. We lost contact with the research station right after they sent this message. There were fifty people there. American citizens turned space researchers. We need to get out there and find out what the hell happened. Be ready, 'cause we'll be there in two hours. Then we'll take the shuttle to the planet's surface."
The order was accepted by the group of hateful heroes with the same lack of excitement that began all missions. Only Noh-Varr seemed to care.
"And Daken, I want you in costume now. We need to present a unified front. There is no 'I' in team."
Daken couldn't help himself. "Well, no, Norman. There is no 'I' in team, but there is a 'me'."
Moonstone chuckled, Bullseye chimed in with "he's gotta point", and Ares wrinkled his nose to look more pissed off than he usually did.
"JUST PUT YOUR COSTUME ON! We leave in two hours."
The group shuffled out as Osborn played the recording again. The question of what happened to the remote outpost still unanswered.
"We're approaching the planet now."
Daken piloted the Avengers shuttlecraft towards planet Zerkalo. Osborn had been pleased to discover that due to his extensive training, Daken was one of the few people who actually knew how to fly a shuttle. It was a little more difficult than what he was used to, but easy enough to maneuver and land.
Of all the places and spaces relating to the main ship, Daken hated being in the shuttlecraft the most. It was cramped and had a smell that made him want to gag every time he was in it. The whole ship smelled bad, with his room always stinking like mead and smoked meat. No doubt Thor's old digs.
Yet the shuttle reeked the worst. Daken figured that Tony Stark must have spent a lot of time in there, if the pungent funk of sex and old semen were anything to go by. One could also posit that perhaps Stark wasn't as sober as he claimed to be, as Daken could sense the lingering aroma of Glenfiddich Single Malt.
The heroes of earth were such hypocrites, telling people how to behave while they themselves drank, smoked, fucked, and even sometimes killed their way across the galaxy. All that power wasted in the name of "good". So many of them could have taken control and risen up to really be something, to rule and wield power in a way that mattered. Like Daken would someday.
He may not have gotten Romulus' empire, but he was still a being of immense power and potential. Potential he would live up to, even if he had to kill everyone in his path to do it. That would show fucking Wolverine.
"Are we there yet?" whined Venom.
"Almost."
"This planet is shrouded in mystery," said Noh-Varr. "Legend says the beings who lived here eons ago had the power to show you the inside of your soul. To reveal your greatest fear. Or they could choose to heal the sick, grant youth to the elderly, or make an invalid walk again."
"My Lord, that's wonderful," said Daken, whirling around to look at Noh-Varr in earnest. "Did you know that I'm Japan's official ambassador to the handicapped?"
Noh-Varr's eyes widened. "Truly, Daken? That's so noble of you. You must be a great activist for your country."
"Equal rights for everyone, that's me."
Noh-Varr didn't seem to notice the sound of barely contained snickering, or that Moonstone's face was turning red as her shoulders shook.
It had somehow come to Moonstone's attention that their Kree teammate had no concept that they weren't a group of real heroes, rather murderers, psychopaths, and thieves. Daken had a pretty good idea of how she discovered that, but didn't comment when she had told him. Instead he had instituted a game that involved convincing the poor alien that the group of criminals was anything but. As far as Noh-Varr knew, Moonstone used to head the Red Cross and Bullseye volunteered to teach underprivileged kids to read.
"Aye, a great activist," scoffed Ares. "Perhaps a great embarrassment to your country."
Ares wasn't in on the joke, as he lacked a sense of humor or whimsy. Daken suspected that the over muscled hairy jerkoff thought that fun meant whipping himself with a mace while he lectured about honor. So boring.
Osborn's voice interrupted over the intercom. "Put it down one hundred yards East of the research complex, Daken. We're sensing some sort of power emanation from that area. It's affecting our sensors. Life signs inconclusive."
Osborn wasn't riding in the shuttle with them, opting instead to fly in front of the ship in his Iron Patriot outfit. Armor so sophisticated that he could travel short distances in space with it. The Sentry flew next to him, clad in only his costume and cape. The vacuum of space seemed to have no effect on him, something that Bullseye had accurately described as "in no way unnerving or creepy as fuck."
"What do you think we'll find down there?" said Venom.
"It could be anything," said Noh-Varr. "Possibly just ruins. Or a monster. Maybe even an old God." A look of repulsion crossed his face. "Or some sort of Skrull trickery."
Everyone groaned, sick to death of Skrulls.
"If it is Skrulls," said Ares. "We shall crush them!"
"Oh man, if it is Skrulls," said Venom as he looked around. "We're gonna need more firepower. We're gonna wish we had Captain America or Thor. Or Wolverine. The real one."
Daken bristled. It took every ounce of his self control not to reach over and hit the emergency eject button for Venom's seat, the one that would drop him and his chair into a tube that then shot into space. A tube that only had about five hours of air.
It was a feeling Daken often experienced when in the shuttle. How could he not? The button was so big and round and tempting, and just the perfect clichéd shade of bright red.
Instead he swallowed down his rage and said: "Or Spiderman? The real one?"
"Whatever. Loser."
He put the shuttle down without a bump or even the slightest jostle. Daken always executed the most pristine landings, not that any of his mouth breathing teammates ever noticed.
"Hey Daken," Bullseye unbuckled his safety harness and brought his lips to Daken's ear. "Do you know I'm gonna stab you? My best knife, man. When you least expect it."
"It's always penetration with you, Lester." Being this close to me turns you on, and that makes you so angry.
Before the threatening flirtation could continue a wail came over the intercom. The Sentry. Shrieking in terror.
And then Osborn's voice. "Bob? BOB!?!? Oh my god….."
Through his many years in Romulus' training camps, Daken was always known as the one with the fastest reflexes. Yet even he didn't have time to react as he stepped out of the shuttle and was immediately bowled over and bitten in the face by some sort of creature. He growled and lashed out, attempting to dislodge the hideous thing that was gnawing on his skull.
"Whoa whoa!"
They were all taken off guard, scrambling to defend themselves as a wave of creatures overwhelmed them. They looked like a cross between a dog and a wild boar, with six red eyes and rancid, foaming saliva.
"What are they? Daken, what the fuck!?"
"I don't know!" Daken yelled as he threw the creature off him and stabbed it in one of its many eyes. "They weren't on the scanners."
There were hundreds of them, a seething wave of blurry black matter.
Ares managed to grab one by the throat, hurl it to the ground, and chop its head off with his axe.
"They die like the living! Do not falter. We shall have victory this day!"
They spread out, leaping and slashing to kill as many as possible. The things died easily, but seemed to have no register for pain or fear. Their main strength was in numbers and single-minded ferocity.
Moonstone took to the air, blasting anything that came too close to the group. Bullseye scrambled up the wing of the shuttle to stand on top, notching an error as he dropped to one knee.
"Watch this," he said. "Three in a row. Middle right eye."
In less than a skipped heartbeat, he shot three arrows into three different creatures, embedding them into the middle eye of each one. They went down in a pool of blood and frothing spit.
"Not bad," said Daken as he eviscerated the nearest two monsters.
"That was their left eye," yelled Venom.
"I meant my right," said Bullseye, launching more arrows.
"Whatever," said Venom, swallowing a creature in a single gulp. "Hey, they look gross but these things don't taste too bad."
Another blast came from the side to fry a few more. Osborn finally showing up. "Stay focused, team."
With the added firepower of Osborn's armor they made short work of the rest of the creatures.
Daken scanned the horizon. "I don't see any more. What the hell were those things? They didn't appear on any of my instruments and…..what?"
They were all staring at him with saucer wide eyes.
"Daken, are you all right?" asked Noh-Varr.
"It's an improvement," said Bullseye.
"I'm fine." Daken reached up and felt the side of his face. His cheek was covered in blood, although what was no doubt shocking his teammates was that it was also hanging off his face, exposing tissue and bone. Blood was gushing down his costume. He pushed the flesh back in place, already feeling the familiar tingle that meant his skin and gristle was knitting itself back together.
"Does that hurt?" said Venom. "That looks like it hurts."
"Not really."
It hurt like hell.
Osborn walked to the center of the group. "Nice work, Avengers. We have a serious problem here. Come look at--whoa, Daken…"
"It's fine." Dammit. Daken knew that Osborn knew about his healing factor, but now he'd also get an idea of how fast it worked.
Osborn nodded. "Come look at this."
Two things were evident as the group walked to the research centers.
The Sentry was sitting on the ground, shaking. He held his face in his hands, muttering to himself.
"You told me there was no Void. You told me there was no Void."
"Oh boy," said Moonstone. "That's not reassuring."
"Agreed," said Osborn. "Now what do you make of that?"
A few yards to the left of the Sentry was what looked like a single pane of glass, standing vertically. It was tall, taller than Ares and a few feet wide. It appeared to be anchored into the earth yet suspended by nothing.
"A mirror," said Daken. "A giant mirror?"
"It's more than that," said Osborn. "It doesn't register on my scanners. It has no weight or mass. Like it's not even there."
"If it's a mirror then you can see yourself in it," said Bullseye. "Venom, go look at it."
They were all approaching cautiously.
"You told me there was no Void….."
"Daken, are your senses telling you anything?"
Daken edged in closer, the glint from the sun making it hard to see what the surface texture of the object. No scent came from the mirror, no sound. He stood in front of it and shielded his eyes. Yet what looked back at him wasn't his own reflection but that of someone else. Someone familiar. Unmistakable.
Someone that had ruled his whole life. Owned him from birth until the day he had tossed Daken away.
It was Romulus.
"Daken, my son. I have waited lifetimes for my worthy successor. Come, boy. Free me, and we shall rule the universe together!"
Chapter Two
Romulus....
Daken couldn't believe it.
In the months since Wolverine had told him during their last meeting on Earth that Romulus was gone, Daken had thought of their old leader constantly. What did Wolverine really do to him? Had he killed him? Was it possible to find him? If so, what would Daken do if he ever saw him again?
The questions stormed through his mind every night. Although he flirted and swaggered and annoyed his way through the ship during waking hours, a sliver of so many evenings was devoted to ruminating about the ultimate fate of Romulus.
It's impossible. It's impossible. It can't be him.
And yet it looked just like him, right down to the beautiful flowing hair that Daken had always so coveted. Oh, how he used to beg Romulus to tell him which hair products he used. Not that the selfish son of a bitch had ever shared that secret either.
The air was even beginning to smell like him.
Daken saw red, his pulse pounding in his ears as all the years with Romulus flashed before him. Time that he had thought meant something. He unleashed his claws, breathing shallow.
How dare he? How dare he reject Daken in favor of Wolverine?
"How dare you use me the way that you did? You bastard..."
Ignoring Osborn's cries to stop, Daken launched himself at the mirror. He swiped at Romulus, berserk with rage. He couldn't see, couldn't even think. All thoughts reduced to a single command: kill.
Kill him. Get the deserved revenge. Take everything that was rightfully his.
The next thing Daken knew, he was lying on the ground in an undignified heap a few feet away.
Ares. Ares had pulled him off and thrown him, and was now screaming at him.
"What in the name of Zeus are you doing?!?"
"Get off me!" Daken struggled to stand. "I almost had him! That was...that was..."
He looked around. The mirror was still intact, the image of Romulus gone. The smell of burnt, rotting flesh assaulted his nose.
His arm. His arm was on fire. Or it felt like it was.
Anyone who wasn't a mutant regenerator used to extreme physical pain would have screamed and passed out. Daken just raised his arm in shock. His entire forearm was burnt and blackened, as though he had just stuck it in campfire. It was excruciating.
He could hear his teammates' heartbeats thundering at various levels, voices ranging from stunned to anxious.
"Did you see that? His arm just went right though..."
"....not solid at all. Looks like it is, but it ain't...."
"You told me there was no Void."
"Daken," Osborn grabbed him and shook him. "What the hell was that? What did you see?"
"I'm not....I don't...get your hands off me....."
"Okay, easy." Osborn removed his hand. "Everyone just take it easy. Are we all ok?"
Moonstone had tears in her eyes. Bullseye was pale and shaking. Everyone moved back from the mirror.
Osborn, to his credit, still seemed calm. "All right, everyone. We need information on this...thing. There are three buildings here. Captain Marvel, you and Ms. Marvel check out that on the left. Ares and Spiderman, you take the middle. Daken and Hawkeye, you two take the one on the right. Access the computers if you can. Look for journals, survivors. Any clue as to what happened here. Something is messing with our sensors, so be ready for anything."
"What are you going to do?" Moonstone asked, voice trembling. Why was she so nervous?
"I'm going to try and take care of this." He pointed to the Sentry, still mumbling to himself on the ground.
Everyone paired off and headed to their respective buildings. Daken took a deep breath to steady himself. He nodded to Bullseye, trying to affect his usual breezy demeanor. In the blazing sunlight of planet Zerkalo, he could see a sheen of sweat on Bullseye's bald head.
Everyone was freaked out. Had they seen the image of Romulus too? What would that do? They didn't even know who he was.
Daken and Bullseye entered the building, wary of whatever they might find.
At first, the cramped research building didn't seem to contain anything in the way of helpful information. Daken wasn't able to access most of the computers, and the terminals that didn't need a password contained useless observations about temperature and weather systems. The place screamed with the quiet of an abandoned complex, filled with half-eaten food, stale air, and lockers stuffed with alien porn.
And bodies. Lots and lots of bodies.
Every room seemed to have a dead body in it. A few looked as though they had been mauled, possibly by the creatures the team had met outside. Most appeared to have been victims of foul play. There were stab wounds and head traumas. Evidence of beatings. One man was missing his eyes.
"He did it to himself," Daken commented.
"What the fuck happened here?" said Bullseye.
"Madness. Suicide. Mutilations. Typical alien artifact stuff."
"I miss New York."
Daken was inclined to agree. His senses were on high alert, mind whirling to make sense of what had just happened outside. Having Bullseye next to him wasn't helping. The other man was practically sweating adrenaline, twitching at the slightest sound.
All efforts to unwind himself were failing. Fucking alien planets. He was usually so good at this.
"This is so fucked." Bullseye looked at him. "Your arm's almost back to normal. I knew you were a freak. Too bad you didn't put the other one in. Maybe you coulda burned off that gay tattoo."
"Gay tattoo?" Anger flared in Daken. He heard it leaking into his own voice but was powerless to stop it. "Tell me again about that thing on your forehead?"
Bullseye was on him in an instant, breathing fire inches from Daken's face.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
Daken had learned early in life that is was best for one to hold one's cards close to the chest, never revealing anything unless it was the right time. And then only in pieces.
"You did it yourself, didn't you? Just like that man over there with no eyes."
Bullseye grabbed the front of his costume and slammed him backwards.
Unwind. Push out. I'm right behind you, Bullseye.
They were so close. Daken could feel the other man's pulse leaping in his neck. Yet he wasn't turning around. The normal confusion that Daken could always cultivate in an opponent didn't seem to be working.
He couldn't relax enough to get his pheromones under control. The icy cool just wasn't there. Daken couldn't even remember the last time he failed to control his powers. A child. A scared, angry child that he swore he'd never be again.
"You know nothing. Nothing about me, or what I'm capable of, you..."
Something beast-like began to bubble up in Daken as Bullseye continued to rage in his personal space. No matter if he couldn't use his pheromone control, he could still kick Bullseye's ass the old fashioned way.
The assassin went reeling back when Daken head butted him, blood exploding from his nose. Despite the shock, Bullseye was already throwing projectiles from his belt as he staggered. Daken felt the ripping sting of a knife lodging in his shoulder.
Get in close. Grab his hands and you'll have him. He's fast, you're faster.
He launched himself at Bullseye, sending them both crashing to the ground in a flurry of punches.
"Bring it on!"
Daken punched him again, ignoring the flaring pain as Bullseye stabbed something into his leg. Instead he used the opportunity to grab the assassin's wrist and pin it to the ground. He then managed to snatch the other hand and settled his weight on top of him.
Bullseye struggled against Daken's superior strength, trying to twist his way free. He spat blood and insults.
"You motherfucker. You little faggot."
Daken held tight, although it took significant force to restrain the hurricane of a man beneath him.
And then he felt it, brushing up against his right buttock. Bullseye was hard. Without any pheromone push, without any manipulation. The guy was getting a hard-on just from Daken sitting on him.
A rather sizeable one, Daken couldn't help but notice.
He started laughing. "Is this turning you on? Who's the faggot now?"
Bullseye kept struggling. "Don't flatter yourself. I always get turned on when I fight."
Daken leered over him, the smile that Bullseye hated so much dripping malice.
"When you fight? Or just when you fight me?"
And then his right eye erupted in agony, causing him to loosen his grip just long enough for Bullseye to throw him off, roll across the floor, and resume a fighting stance.
Daken pulled something out of his eye. A paperclip? Did Bullseye really palm a stray paperclip with his pinned hand and flick it into his eye?
Respectable. Not that Daken would ever admit it.
Bullseye grinned triumphant and threw another projectile. His face was bloody, eyes shining with unbridled insanity.
"Had enough, Daddy's boy? I can do this all day."
"Actually, sexy. I'm just getting started. Try not to trip over that boner you're swinging."
They circled, each ready to pounce at the right moment. So intent on each other, that it came as a shock when the door burst open and a gibbering, hysterical man ran into the room.
"Thank God! Thank God you're---erk--"
He fell to his knees, clutching his neck as blood sprayed the floor and wall in ribbons. Something was embedded in his throat.
"Oh fuck," Bullseye breathed. "Oops."
The stranger gurgled, choking on blood as it ran into his lungs. He reached out a trembling hand, and then toppled over into a puddle of his own fluids.
Daken and Bullseye could only watch, bewildered, as the man took in one last ineffectual breath. Fight forgotten for the moment, they looked at each other, and then back at the body.
"Congratulations, Lester," said Daken. "I think you just killed the only survivor."
"It was an automatic reaction! He just burst in here! Who the fuck interrupts people during a fight?"
"Yes, well, he won't be making that mistake again."
Daken knelt next to the man, watching the river of blood from his throat become a trickle. Lodged in his trachea was a card with a pretty woman's face. Her title said "Senior Medical Technician."
It was the woman he had slept with to gain access to the medication room. This was the keycard he had tucked into Bullseye's costume yesterday, unwittingly grabbed and thrown into the man's neck.
"Perfect," Daken whispered, wiping off the card and putting it in his own costume. He then began to search the body.
Bullseye didn't even notice. He paced around the room, muttering and swearing.
"Son of a bitch. Fuck. Osborn's gonna lose his shit. I don't believe this."
Daken rolled the man's pockets, and to his surprise he discovered something hard. He pulled it out to reveal some sort of gem. It was red, light gleaming from every facet. It looked like a ruby only much more brilliant and larger, almost the size of his palm.
Bullseye had started to pay attention. "What the fuck is that?"
"I don't know," said Daken, turning the gem over in his hands. It was beautiful and strange. He could feel it almost...resonate with him on some level.
Bullseye balked when Daken put the gem in one of the pouches on his belt. "What are you doing?"
"I'm holding onto this for now." Always keep your cards close to your chest.
"Man, we gotta tell the others about that thing. They might know-"
"Shall we tell them how we obtained it?" interrupted Daken, gesturing to the dead body.
"Don't you dare! Do NOT tell Osborn about this, Daken. I'll kill you in your sleep. I fucking swear it."
"I can keep a secret if you can. It would be a shame if your Avengers career ended so suddenly over this. But Osborn wouldn't be too pissed off, right?"
Bullseye ground his teeth. Stuck between a rock and the threat of Osborn's control over him, he could only grunt assent. He regarded Daken with hate and disgust. A very serious look, if it weren't for the hard-on still evident through his costume.
They were interrupted by Victoria Hand's voice coming through their transmitters.
"Iron Patriot. Avengers. Report in. We have company."
Things were weird back outside.
Things were always weird when the team was concerned, but they seemed extra weird when the group reconvened next to the complex. Gathered together as far from the mirror as possible, nobody dared to look in its direction.
Victoria Hand's voice was coming over the transmitters. "It's Luke Cage's ship, sir. They've just come into orbit on the far side of the planet. They're not responding to our hails."
Daken simmered. Luke Cage's ship of renegade Avengers, or whatever the hell they were. A group of ex-heroes flouncing about the galaxy still trying to help people while they evaded arrest by Osborn. For free. Pretty lame.
Wolverine was sure to be on that ship. Just what he needed.
"Uh huh. Yes. Start tracking them."
Osborn stood with his back to the mirror, his helmet covering his face. The Sentry was huddled up next to him, calmer but still radiating his unique, crackling tension. He had stopped talking, instead just standing there with black orbs shining from his eye sockets.
"Sir," said Noh-Varr. "We discovered something important-"
Osborn held up a hand for him to be quiet.
"Advise returning to the ship," said Hand. "Things are too hot down there and we need a new strategy."
"Retreat?" scoffed Osborn. "And leave this site for Cage's people to investigate? I don't think so. This is a matter of galactic security…"
He droned on about duty and galaxy-wide safety. His voice was…off. Just a little off. Daken couldn't exactly place how, but he didn't sound right.
He didn't smell right either. Despite Osborn being covered in armor, Daken could still catch the faintest whiff of something strange. Something he hadn't smelled on the other man before. It wasn't cologne or soap, it wasn't even an emotion.
Bullseye interrupted. "Are you kidding? We just fought off hundreds of things, there's a mind bending alien artifact here that looks like it belongs in IKEA, the enemy just showed up, and our most powerful member has lost his shit." He then bit his lip while glancing at the Sentry, as if wishing he hadn't added that last part. "Um, no offense, buddy."
Osborn looked in Bullseye's direction, seeing him for the first time.
"Why are you bleeding?"
Daken's wounds had already healed from their fight, Bullseye's hadn't.
"I fell." He shot Daken a glance that was at once both pleading and threatening.
"He did," confirmed Daken. "You know how clumsy he is sometimes."
"C'mon, let's get out of here," whimpered Venom. "This place is scary."
"I hate to agree with this pussy, but…well, I agree with this pussy. What is up with you, anyway?"
"People, we're not-"
"But sir, we have information."
"Sir, requesting immediate evac for you." Hand's voice again. "It's not a retreat, it's a strategic re-evaluation."
That smell. That smell. Daken sniffed harder. What the hell was it? So familiar.
Osborn continued to ignore Hand's advice. "Teams, what did you find in there? Report. Ares?"
"Aye. Nothing. Dead bodies and a few rogue creatures, which we dispatched heartily."
"Daken?"
Daken just shrugged. "Same thing. Dead bodies. No information."
"Captain Marvel?"
Noh-Varr was exasperated. "That's what I've been trying to tell you! We found notes and half-translated scrolls. The researchers were digging up ruins, and one day the object just appeared next to the complex. The first man who looked in it had a nervous breakdown and never recovered. Soon after, a few of those creatures came out of the mirror. The researchers were able to kill them, but whenever someone new looked in it, those monsters would start coming out in greater and greater numbers."
"Holy shit," said Bullseye. "So more of those things could come out at any second?"
"Yes."
The scent was driving Daken crazy. It was definitely coming from Osborn. It was almost…good.
Everyone else was staring at their armored leader. Even Ares looked like he wanted to go.
"All right. All right." Osborn said in defeat. "We need to come up with a plan and we can't do it here under constant threat. Hand, we're coming back. Radio Luke Cage's ship and tell him they're fugitives from justice and violating our airspace. If they attempt to come near us or the planet, we will arrest them immediately."
"One more thing," said Noh-Varr. "There is something that can destroy the mirror, or at least cause it to disappear back from where it came. Created by the original aliens, they translated the name as 'The Red Eye of Zerkalo'. The researchers thought they had found it, but couldn't get it to work. The scrolls said that only a man of focus could wield it, that only a man of true power could mold it into something deadly. Something heroic."
Focus and power? Daken's ears perked up. He could smell the irritation on Bullseye while he palmed the gem in his belt. This was one key to the puzzle that he wasn't willing to reveal to the group just yet. Not while an image of Romulus was tearing through his mind.
"So where is this thing? What does it look like?"
"I don't know. One of the researchers took it out weeks ago to try to use it. It hasn't been seen since."
"Uh, guys…" Venom pointed to the mirror in the distance. "Is it just me, or is that thing wobbling?"
"I would like to go now," said the Sentry.
Everyone regarded him, stunned. It was the first thing he'd spoken since they got to the planet that made any sense.
Even Osborn listened to him. "Okay. This is a mess here. Strategic planning session back on the ship. We're not breaking orbit until we get this sorted out. Hand, inform me of any changes with that other vessel."
They trudged back to the shuttle, everyone trying to walk fast while looking like they weren't trying to walk fast. Daken managed to stroll the slowest of everyone, yet still he was unable to get back to his preferred plateau of calm breath. Romulus' voice still whispered in his ear, telling him he could have everything. Then telling him he was nothing. That it was Wolverine who deserved an inheritance.
Wolverine in the same orbit, no doubt sending him more gruffly heartfelt communiqués.
A man of power, Daken was also a man of opportunity. Perhaps it would be best just to get the hell out of here. Steal a shuttle and try to make it to the nearest planet. Fuck the Avengers and sadly transparent Bullseye with his great bone structure and deliciously huge hard-on.
And fuck heroism.
Yet he knew a shuttle would never make it. They were so far out. He'd have to come up with his own plan.
Somehow.
(To be continued in the next post!)