Incarnates, Leagues, & Marvels 2 (Patreon)

[center]<<Harry Alexander, “The Final Straw”>>[/center]

The first thing I did when my body had restored itself enough for me to think was to leave the vicinity of the Lincoln Memorial. Wrapping myself in shadows, I used them to carry my broken and battered body away from the rather public location. Flying had taken a lot of getting used to, but it was both faster than walking, and I could do it before my regeneration got my body to a point that walking wasn’t agonizing.

My first thought was to get somewhere relatively safe, and then wait the few minutes it would take for my regeneration to restore my body to full. After that… well, if it was anything like the last time I’d been kicked from one universe to another, and based on how it felt I was pretty sure that was what happened, I’d be interrupting a mystic ritual by a group of villains based out of a lost underground city by the end of the week.

Honestly, despite the fact that I’d gotten powers out of it the first time, I rather hoped I’d be able to avoid that this time. That was the sort of thing that ended up hurting a lot, and despite my regeneration and medi-porter I really wasn't a big fan of pain.

After a bit, I found a building that looked like an old warehouse and settled down on the roof. The sun was shining down on me, and when I'd first arrived on Primal Earth it would have been hazardous for me to stay on an exposed roof like this, but even before drinking from the Well of the Furies I'd become one of the top heroes in the world. A little bit of sun wasn’t going to hurt.

Taking a deep breath, I leaned against the chain link fence at the edge of the roof. For the moment, I just wanted to enjoy the sun, the breeze, and the sounds of the city around me. It felt like ages since I'd been able to take a moment and decompress.

I wasn't sure how long I lay there, just soaking in the feeling of the sunlight, before a faint sound of leather reached my ears. The overwhelming majority of people, even most supers, wouldn't have heard it, but you don't reach the level I did without being observant. Still, I didn't move, simply listening. Based on the weight of the footsteps, a woman who had been well trained and was extremely light on her feet, and the length of the stride, probably around five foot three.

The footsteps came to a stop right beside me, and I asked, “So is this an interrogation, forced recruitment, or a mugging? Because if it's a mugging, it's a new one even for me.”

I opened my good eye, seeing a redheaded woman in a black catsuit standing in front of me, a look of surprise on her face there for an instant before it vanished. She was an attractive woman, with a lithe build and an athletic, yet curvy figure. She had a strong, proud jawline and a pair of blue eyes that were sharp and piercing.

“You're a new one,” she remarked, a faint hint of a Russian accent coloring her words. “I was told there was an individual who had crashed into the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. You were described as an emaciated, eyepatch wearing, and rather obviously injured individual.”

I winced, “That's a bit harsh. I know I haven't exactly been hitting the gym much lately, but emaciated?”

In truth, my powers consumed a massive amount of calories, so I was always looking like someone a grandmother would insist on feeding. I hadn't actually seen a mirror yet, but I had no doubts that I probably looked rather sickly, especially after being caught by that energy blast.

The woman smirked, the corner of her lips turning up slightly, “It wasn't an exaggeration.”

I chuckled, moments before the last of my ribs restored itself with a loud crack, and I let out a sigh of relief. She, on the other hand, looked slightly unsettled. Still, she'd probably seen some crazy stuff, and had a better poker face than most, so I didn't comment on it.

“What are you doing here?” the woman asked, her eyes narrowing. “Who are you?”

“Just a guy, trying to relax,” I answered, standing up. “You can call me Harry.”

“Do you often relax on the roofs of abandoned buildings?” the woman asked.

I shrugged, “It's quiet, and peaceful. There aren't a lot of places you can find that on Ouroboros.”

“Ouroboros?” she questioned.

“Long story,” I said, before sighing. “Look, do you want to have this conversation here, or at a location where your bosses can record everything I say for their eggheads to overanalyze for a decade or two?”

I wish it was a joke, but I had a feeling that the eggheads of whatever organization she worked for would spend that long going over anything and everything I said. Still, I was reasonably confident in my ability to fight my way out if it came down to it, but I would rather start out with the diplomatic approach.

She he studied me for a moment, before holding out a hand. I took it, and she pulled me to my feet.

It didn't take long for her and I to arrive at a small office building, with a sign reading “Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division”. The redhead had introduced herself as Agent Natasha Romanov, and informed me that she worked for an organization that honestly sounded like a mix of E.L.I.T.E., S.E.R.A.P.H., and D.A.T.A. back on Primal Earth. I thought about asking about the analogs of G.I.F.T. and M.A.G.I., but resisted the urge.

So I was soon in a fancy boardroom meeting with a man who looked like he belonged on the political campaign trail and a bald black guy with an eyepatch. I did not see something like this coming when I became an Incarnate of Shalim, the Canaanite god of dusk.

[center]<<Victor Smith, “Cyber-Claw”>>[/center]

{Ambient Temperature: 55° F/13° C}

A quick check of my cybernetics reassured me that there was little damage, less than I’d honestly been expecting after crashing on a beach. There were a few minor issues, mainly due to a small amount of sand that had gotten into my joints, but I could live with that. I'd dealt with far worse in the years since I'd replaced the majority of my body with cybernetics.

Rising to my feet, I looked around to take in my surroundings. Based on the trees, I was in a temperate region, on either a beach or an island. Movement in the distance made me narrow my eyes and lean forward slightly.

What I saw made me raise an eyebrow. Women on horses wearing togas and what looked like bronze while carrying spears? Did I land in ancient Greece or something? I sincerely hoped not, I’d go insane if I was in a time period prior to the Industrial Revolution.

One of the women raised a bow and shot an arrow at me, with quite impressive aim considering she was on a galloping horse. I reached out and grabbed the arrow out of the air, giving the women a deadpan look.

The woman in the lead, wearing something that some would call a crown, spoke as they approached, “Man! You are trespassing on Themyscira!”

So the women with pointy sticks spoke English. That was good, it greatly reduced the likelihood of me being in Ancient Greece. I wanted to get to proper civilization anyway, so I responded with, “Give me a boat ride to someplace that has internal combustion engines and I’ll gladly leave this place behind.”

That seemed to surprise some of the women behind the one who’d spoken, and there were some whispers between them. A blonde woman in particular was making particularly vehement and heated whispers, that I could just barely make out. Specifically, since I was a man, I was clearly there with the intent on serving as a scout for a force that would attack and try to enslave the inhabitants as sex slaves.

I scoffed, making all of them turn to look at me as I reached down and knocked on the metal plating that was where my genitals had once been, “Woman, I got rid of those parts for a very good reason. I have as much interest in any of you as Zeus does in swearing and keeping a vow of celibacy.”

All of the women stared at me, and I rolled my eyes before letting the outer armor plating open up briefly, revealing the complex cybernetics that replaced the entirety of my entire body below my neck. Just long enough to show that I wasn’t an ordinary flesh and blood human anymore, at which point the plating closed.

My cybernetics, designed and installed by myself, perfectly replicated the human body at its finest, while discarding the inefficient holdovers from evolution that had stuck around. Also my reproductive organs, like I told these women, on account of even when I was a teen the thought of sex made me sick to my stomach.

There was a pause, as the woman who appeared to be the leader seemed to process what I’d said and showed her, before speaking, “Men are forbidden on the shores of Themyscira, as such you will be sent away. Should you return, the punishment is death.”

Better and far more powerful than her had tried, but verbalizing that wouldn’t help matters, so instead I just nodded. I could put up with being surrounded by misandrists with primitive weapons if it meant getting out of here. Once I was, I’d be able to set myself up to get back to doing what I’d been doing before circumstances forced me to drink from the Well of the Furies.

Smuggling high tech equipment wasn’t glitz and glam, but I’d had more than enough exposure to that from my attention whore of a mother. Seriously, that bitch had made Flambeaux look humble and camera shy. I honestly celebrated when I learned that she’d died during the first Rikti Invasion.

I was escorted, at spear point, to a city that looked like it hadn’t seen any sort of change in two thousand years. Some might feel a deep sense of awe at seeing something so ancient, but I just wanted to get the hell out of here even more. There were more whispers and discussions, but I managed to overhear that apparently the woman who had the most interaction with proper civilization wasn’t on the island.

As a result, there was some question as to who it would be to take me away from here. I couldn’t care less, so long as they decided quickly. The sooner I left, the better.

Fortunately, it took less than a day. My escort a redheaded girl in her late teens, at most, serving as my escort. Assuming she didn’t turn around and sail straight back upon dropping me off, I’d put her through her paces and see if she could serve as a henchman. Good henchmen were a pain in the ass to find, but when you could find them they were worth their weight in gold.

“Got a name?” I asked, a few hours into our voyage.

The girl looked at me suspiciously, before slowly answering, “Grant Greer.”

I raised an eyebrow, pointedly looking at the toga she was wearing as I noted, “Not the sort of name I’d expect to belong to someone from an island that looks like it hasn’t done anything new since the discovery of iron.”

She glared, “Themyscira is blessed by the gods and goddesses of Olympus, a paradise of-”

“You weren’t born there, were you?” I interrupted before she could start in on the nationalistic propaganda she’d been fed for who knows how long. Still, I filed the information away. Apparently the Greek pantheon were more active in this world than in the form of Incarnates.

“...no, I was not,” Grant finally answered.

Supposedly the trip would take a few days, so I pulled out a few tools I kept in a compartment on my torso and started absently cobbling something together. It wasn’t particularly important or anything advanced, but ever since becoming an Incarnate of Hephaestus, I got antsy if I went too long without making something.