Incarnates, Leagues, & Marvels 1 (Multicross Commission) (Patreon)

On one of the balconies of Ouroboros, a group of six stared out at the multitude of ships exiting from storming, crackling portals. The six were only one group of many that were defending Ouroboros, the citadel at the end of time, but they were certainly some of the most powerful.

One of the six, an average sized man in ragged clothes with a manhole cover strapped to his arm, shuffled on his feet. That was the only visible motion that any of them made as the ships made their way towards Ouroboros.

Some of the ships below were small, only a handful of people could fit on board them, but they were filled to the brim with powerful individuals. Individuals from innumerable realities, who each had, in some manner, been akin to the gods of their worlds. It was what the fleet did: travel the multiverse for treasure, resources to maintain the fleet, and recruits to replenish their ranks.

“Here they come,” one of the six, an orange skinned woman with a pair of leathery wings and a lashing, spade tipped tail, said with a roll of her neck as navy and dark purple flames enveloped her hands. “Final Straw: you’re the tip of the spear. Cyber-Claw, Street Wretch: keep between him and the rest of us. Sadistic Light, Red Riding Hoodlum: focus on taking down as many as you can. I’ll support and set them up for the rest of you.”

Most of the others with her glared at the sole surviving member of the Hellions gang, but there were nods and sounds of reluctant acceptance. It was not the time to question her judgment, even if she was an ‘upjumped Hellion.’

As Final Straw moved towards the edge of the balcony, Cyber-Claw and Street Wretch followed him. Street Wretch took a deep breath, raising the manhole cover that was his shield, as the red and black clad cyborg gave a growl and six black claws snapped out from between his knuckles.

There was a cackling laugh, as a green clad figure on a mechanical glider rushed towards Ouroboros. A young woman with an eyepatch and wearing a red cloak raised a rifle, and after a moment fired. The green figure recoiled, before falling off his glider into the sea below.

“If they all die as easily, this’ll be even easier than the wolf was,” the young woman, Red Riding Hoodlum, remarked.

Cyber-Claw nodded in agreement, but then his eyes narrowed as he focused on something further away. He didn't need the targeting data the cybernetics in his right eye fed him to tell him what was coming. From what he was seeing, the issue wasn't going to be the strength of the enemies. The majority moved like mortals, even if enhanced ones.

The six of them could no longer be casually called such, no matter how it rankled his personal preferences. Having drank from the Well of the Furies, they were no longer mortal humans, but Incarnates of something much greater. Two Incarnates had shaped the last century of their world, now Ouroboros was host to over a hundred of them.

“Super Psychos incoming!” Street Wretch shouted, lifting his manhole cover to block a beam of green energy sent by a bald man in similarly colored power armor.

A man in a costume modeled after an owl leapt from the back of the bald man, throwing a brace of similarly themed shuriken at the group of six. Before they could hit, a wall of blue and purple flame intercepted them, and Final Straw stepped up to intercept the man. His hands, shrouded in coiling, twisting shadows, lashed out, delivering a series of blows to the owl themed attacker. The first few landed, and then the owl themed figure twisted, ducking under one of the blows and delivering a spinning heel kick to the side of Final Straw's head.

There was a crack of splintering bone as Final Straw's head partially caved in, before visibly restoring itself to its prior state.

The owl themed attacker fell back, only to be met by a beam of light. The energy blast from Sadistic Light punched a hole clean through the owl man, who fell to his knees, muttering under his breath, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Stop playing around, goody-good,” Sadistic Light snapped, sending another blast of energy at more oncoming attackers. “The time for hero bullshit is long since past!”

Cyber-Claw gave a grunt as a man in yellow with red accents blurred past, only for him to launch his claws at the speedster, burying them in his back. He was dragged off his feet and the cyborg slammed the speedster into the ground, before ripping his claws free.

“Ereshkigal, we could use a bit more firepower!” Cyber-Claw called out as the speedster tried to scramble back to his feet, his arm swiping down and decapitating the already injured speedster.

The orange skinned woman gave a nod and with a single flap of her demonic wings launched into the air. She spread her wings wide, and the flames enveloping her hands extended forward into twin, whirling torrents of flame. Sending a blast into the deck of one of the oncoming ships, where it exploded and sent it down to the ocean below, her eyes narrowed in focus as her other arm came up, tracing a fiery rune in the air.

“Tazin Zinsha,” she intoned, the rune flashing and revealing half a dozen previously invisible attackers attempting to sneak past them.

They were a motley mix of races and styles, but the two things that they had in common was that they were all armed and armored, and that they were all staring up in shock as they realized they had been spotted.

There was a brief pause, and then a massive explosion engulfed them. When it faded, they were gone, the only sign of them left was the ash and a scorched patch of the balcony. Red Riding Hoodlum cackled, ratcheting the slide of her rifle, fractal runes and sigils along the stock briefly lighting up.

“Gimme more!” the woman cackled wildly, raising her enchanted rifle and firing at another attacker.

The one she shot at, a flier in sleek, black and red power armor, cried out as the glowing light in the center of his chest piece shattered and went dim, lifting up his palms to fire a pair of blasts at the group. Street Wretch and Sadistic Light, the ones closest to the now falling attacker, lifted up their arms, a shield and wall of hastily formed ice blocking the attack.

“This is too easy,” Ereshkigal muttered to herself, her eyes taking in the battlefield, both her companions and the rest of Ouroboros.

Her brows furrowed, as she saw a man, pale skinned and wearing a black tuxedo and tophat, standing atop the tower in the center of Ouroboros. In one hand was a glass, filled with some sort of alcohol, the other was resting on the top of a cane. His eyes were closed, and the man seemed to be ignoring the battle that was raging around him.

Her eyes narrowed, and Ereshkigal sent a burst of flames at the man, only for a pair of massive hands to suddenly form out of a nearby shadow, the fingers closing around the flames and absorbing them. Her eyes widened as the shadows surged, and then the two massive hands opened up to reveal the pale skinned, tuxedo clad man.

He didn't say a word, simply raising an eyebrow, and a moment later, a blade made from shadows cut through the air at her. Folding in her wings, Ereshkigal dropped down, dodging the attack, before her wings opened yet again.

“So you are among the last of this reality’s defenders,” the man said, his glass disappearing as he reached up and tipped his tophat. “I must say, there’s hardly any plunder worth obtaining here. It makes a captain wonder just what happened to this cluster of realities.”

Ereshkigal sneered, flying down at him. As she approached, the shadow hands formed again, and she lashed out with her flaming claws, the shadowy hands catching her wrists. Once, before she'd drank from the Well of the Furies, it would have been enough to sear through her wrists down to the bone. Now, an Incarnate of the fiery realm of Muspelheim, it merely tickled.

The man's eyes widened in surprise, and Ereshkigal used the momentum to bring a leg around, slamming a fiery, high heeled boot into the man's gut. He cried out, his form vanishing into a shadow and reappearing a moment later a short distance away, his tophat askew.

The man, so cocky a moment ago, stared in shock, finally taking notice of how his forces were being decimated across Ouroboros.

“This isn’t the end, defender,” he called out, as shadows crawled up his form. “This isn't the first time this has happened, and it won't be the last! There will be others, and they will take everything that you have ever known and loved and turn it into ash and dust!”

“Tell them to get in line,” Ereshkigal growled, her teeth bared in a demonic, bloodthirsty grin.

Before the shadows could completely envelop him, a blast of energy slammed into him, shattering his concentration. The shadows went wild, blanketing Ouroboros and everyone within. With a deep, bone chilling pulse and burst of sound, everything went dark. No one was able to see or hear anything, only feel their bodies being thrown through the chaotic maelstrom between universes.

[hr][/hr]

At the end of a bridge that shone with the colors of the rainbow, a golden eyed watcher received a glimpse at the fabric between timelines. In a mansion on a seemingly insignificant planet, a man clutched at his head as his vast telepathic might was assailed by fragments and incomplete thoughts from countless worlds. On the far side of that same planet, an order of protectors recoiled at the wave of magic that passed over their world. Between the fabric of reality, a member of an extradimensional race watched and observed. Countless entities across the cosmos sensed a change, as the threads of fate and destiny were torn and settled into new, altered patterns.

On that seemingly insignificant planet, six figures appeared, scattered across the western hemisphere. One was dropped on the western coast of a powerful nation, one on an island hidden by divine power, one in the slums of a city that didn’t sleep, one on the campus of a high school, one in the back alleys of an east coast city, and the last one was blasted from the air into a set of stone steps leading to the monument of a great leader.

“Hill, talk to me!” Nick Fury, Head of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, snapped as his lone eye roamed over the multiple screens.

“An unknown energy surge, sir, but no sign of a threat or hostile incursion. Everything was scrambled, but as far as we can tell, there were no casualties. Though... the readings are odd, the energy doesn’t seem to have a source, just seems to have appeared out of nowhere,” his second in command reported. “The only item of note that we have eyes on is in Washington DC, on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. At the time of the surge, a man appeared from thin air and crashed on the steps. We have a team on route to check it out and contain him if need be, but he hasn't moved, and based on preliminary analysis of the security footage we believe him to likely be in critical condition.”

Fury nodded, turning his gaze to the feed of a man in a suit standing in front of a room of reporters, “Have Coulson check California to see if any-”

Fury’s order was cut off as the man in the camera feed tossed a cue card behind him and declared, “I am Iron Man.”