THE EVERYTHING ENGINE

Prologue: The Turning of the Great Gears

the forty-third tale

written by Mark Bousquet

2201 / March

SOMEWHERE IN SPACE

There was little the Living Tribunal did not sense. To him, the Everything was a pond in which he stood at the middle, the edges of the universe serving as the great shores, beyond which resided the Void. All that transpired in the Everything caused a ripple to extend out into the great waters, ripples that would eventually wash against the Tribunal, most too small to draw anything more than a subconscious acknowledgment.

As the great being stood in solitude, he felt turbulence upon the cosmic oceans at a degree he had not felt in ages.

His heads looked out across the Everything, as his mind searched inwardly, connecting with the Everything as few others could, searching for a sign, searching for evidence, searching for …

The turning of the Great Gears.

The Living Tribunal knew this could mean only one thing. The Everything Engine was once again active. All that was would soon not be.

GANYMEDE – A Moon of Jupiter

An artificial atmosphere, a gift from the Elders of the Universe, kept a small Cotati colony alive and prospering. They toiled in isolation in the shadow of the red planet Jupiter, a race long forgotten by those mortals who conspired to both destroy and save the Everything.

The Cotati were an old race, a people who’d once shared a world with the Kree, who once upon a legend brought the Celestial Messiah into existence. Their finest had laid with the being called Mantis, celebrated as the Celestial Madonna, to create the Chosen One, the being that would save all that was good in the world.

The Eternal War, they believed, was the fight the Celestial Messiah had been born and bred to win.

It was to their everlasting shame that this Chosen Son, this savior-to-be, was lost.

In the center of their community, a large golden-brown cocoon rested. Their failing with the Messiah had shamed the Cotati, and, searching for redemption, they took in a traveler, promising to protect his rest until the end of the Everything, if need be. For the past forty-four standard years, the Cotati watched the cocoon, protecting it from prying eyes. Of late, the cocoon had begun to crack and flake, and the Cotati stood in vigil, praying while the being inside completed his regenerative process. This was not the first time this being had undergone this process, but it was the first time the Cotati had acted as his protector.

At long last, after a span of six days spent listening to cracking and bubbling, the cocoon released its inhabitant back to the mortal plane. The Cotati watched as a man of golden skin, his golden hair and beard shaggy and unkempt, took his first step in decades. A wooden staff was passed amongst the Cotati, until it came to rest in the hands of the being closest to the cocoon.

"Your staff," the plant creature heralded, and the golden man took the offering, using it to help keep him on his feet. The man nodded his thanks, blinking his eyes to focus them in the light, and the Cotati elder continued, "It is good to have you back, Adam Warlock."

Adam nodded, his voice weak, "It is … good to be back… my friends. A … shifting of the … Great Gears … is upon us."

ASGARD / THOR ODINSON HALL OF PEACE

The Council was in full session, but it was a meeting the likes they had never seen.

"There was a naked man sitting in my lap," Ash’lin said slowly, her face ashen white. "I am not wrong about that, am I?"

Captain America peeled back his mask, an easy smile spread wide across his face, "Indeed there was." *

* See CHAMPIONS 50 or the upcoming AGC GIANT-SIZE 2.

"There’s, there’s … body hair everywhere," Ash’lin stumbled, the quizzical look on her face matched by many in the room.

"The vagaries of time travel," Steve shrugged, shaking his head. "My God, it’s been nearly 200 years since I last saw Batroc." He exchanged a glance with Dani, and his lover saw a look of joy in his eyes she had feared she might never see again.

"Who?" Kovar asked.

"Batroc ze Lepair," Steve grinned through a thick French accent. "During his Champion days, I believe, or perhaps just after."

King Balder rubbed his eyes, letting the conversation burn out naturally. He was feeling old at times now, the tedium of ruling over an Alliance draining him. Thoughts of Thor came to him, causing a slight smile to turn his lips. The Odinson could never handle the duties of rule. His father, Odin, would engineer some plot to put his son on the throne and Thor would invariably fail, adventure calling to him, tearing him gladly away from the Golden Realm. The King yearned for such an adventure, some excuse to lose himself on a quest for-

"This would not be a problem," Kovar’s voice boomed, "if we had not lost the Olympian gold reserves. Let us not forget that they – and Mt. Olympus in its entire – have gone missing." *

* Back in AGC 22: POISONED MOONLIGHT

"In that, at least," Ash’lin nodded, "the Shi’ar are in agreement with the Kree. This should be our number one priority. I will gladly offer the services of the Imperial Guard to discover-"

"I bet you would!" Kovar thundered, slamming his fist on the table. "When the acts of traitors within the Kree Empire have injured our world, a world that desperately needs to be rebuilt to keep the Alliance strong, it is not surprising that the Shi’ar would volunteer to go searching for lost treasure."

"Enough," Balder said calmly. Staying in control, the King looked around the room, meeting everyone’s eyes in turn. "I want detailed plans presented by each member of the Council at our next meeting. It’s time that we-"

Balder’s words were stopped in his throat as the door to the Council Room burst open and a bleeding, wounded Beta Ray Bill fell into the room. Kovar and Steve moved quickly to the cyborg’s side as medical technicians looked on helplessly, moving Bill to lie on his back on the floor.

"He insisted-" a technician pleaded, but silenced herself as Bill waved a hand.

"Who would dare?" Kovar asked, stunned at the sight of Beta Ray Bill injured to this extent.

Bill’s teeth clattered together, and he rasped out the words, "Pluto … has … returned …"

"Pluto?" Steve Rogers asked, wanting to disbelieve, but none answered as the technicians were waved by Balder into the room to care for the injured warrior.

"If Pluto has returned," Dani voiced the concerns of everyone in the room, "are the remaining Olympians far behind?"

Skrull 4, standing as he seemingly ever did, off to the side, shuddered with the feeling that the Everything had set something in motion that they would not be able to stop.

ASGARD / THE FOREST OF EARTH

"Thou art hopeless!"

K’Zan Strange ducked, as a clay pot, tossed by Amora the Enchantress, smashed into the wooden wall above his head. "I’msosorryAmoraIdidn’t-"

"Silence!" K’Zan stayed low, crouching behind a table, as Amora stalked back and forth across the room. His eyes were locked on the eternally youthful form of the Enchantress, the only concession to age the pure white hair that had replaced her once golden blonde mane. She wore royal purple thigh high boots and a form-fitting top that accentuated a physical body that K’Zan figured was the cause of his problems.

Amora turned angrily on him, "Thou art the worst magician I hath ever laid eyes on! Much mockery hath the eons laid on my departed sister Lorelei, young Strange, but thou make her appear the equal of Loki!"

"IsaidIwassorrylemmeexplainmyse-"

"Cease thy prattlings!" Amora screamed, stomping her foot. She began mumbling to herself, "For nearly ten standard years hath Amora stayed hidden in these woods, shutting herself off from the world as she struggled with the grief of so many Asgardians dead, including her beloved." She turned her smoldering eyes on K’Zan, "But the pull of a novice magi pulled her back. The coming to adulthood of those who romped in the house of Amora and Heimdall brought the Enchantress to seek a place in the new world as a teacher, but thou … art … hopeless!"

K’Zan swallowed hard, "I’mtryingIreallyamtryingjustlemme-

"I know thou art trying, K’Zan," Amora threw up her hands. "That is what makes thee as pathetic as thou are! Whichever star thou were born under was surely a cursed celestial body! Thou have the blood of magic in thy veins - aye, the blood of the great Strange at that - but the mutant trait of speed doth also course through thine body. An impossible combination!" She stalked across the kitchen, shoving the table aside with one hand, "Tell me the truth, K’Zan Strange. Hath thee been sent by Hela to torment my soul through eternity?"

K’Zan blinked, "UmIdon’t-"

"Slower," she glared.

A low whine emitted from the thin young man’s mouth as he strained to take control of his body away from his racing thoughts. "Um. I. Do. Not. Think. So," the young magician struggled to get the words out one at a time, his face twisting and contorting.

"Aaarrgghhh!" Amora screamed, turning away in disgust.

"WasitsomethingIsaid?"

HALA – THE KE-RETRIBUTION

Four of the Orphans of War – Ben-Vell Parker, Eshir Maximoff, Attumidunn, and Angelica Osborn – entered the KE-Retribution, a Kree warship that was serving as the current seat of the Kree Empire and holding still inside Hala’s atmosphere. The Orphans tried to remain calm, but the images they saw of the planet’s surface on their journey in were unlike anything they had ever seen.

"It’s horrible," Angel whispered to the others as her eyes were fixated on the smoldering, ruined surface.

Attumidunn shook her head, "It makes the ruinous Earth seem a glorious visage."

"Welcome to Hala." The Orphans turned to see a Kree General approach. "My name is General Van’Rogg, leader of the Kree military. It is I that you will report to during your stay."

"Thank you, General," Eshir stepped forward, then grimaced slightly as Van’Rogg held out a hand to shake. Eshir held up both arms, showing stumps where hands should have been, "You must forgive me for not shaking your hand, General."

Van’Rogg retracted his hand, "No apologies necessary, lad." Van’Rogg looked them over, pleased at what he saw. "It is an honor to have you four here. It brings great pleasure to the Kree to see that Asgard stands with her during her rebuilding phase after the Three Day Civil War. Our hope is that you learn as much of the Kree and our ways as you can during your time on Hala, for even in Hala it is known that great things are expected of you. Now, if you’ll follow me, the Supreme Intelligence would like an audience with you."

It was not lost on the Orphans that it was Ben-Vell that General Van’Rogg looked at as he spoke his final sentence.

EARTH – GRELL CITY, WASHINGTON, UNITED AMERICAN STATES

Rebecca Almond fingered the Palm Pilot in her trench coat, her eyes latched to the overcast sky. Global warming had wreaked all kinds of havoc on the Earth’s atmosphere, she thought to herself, but it still rained constantly in Washington state. The United Nations’ appointed liaison to the Earth Ambassador to the Council – ‘Bureaucracy loves nothing more than meaningless titles,’ Miss Almond mused – entered a high-rise apartment building in what passed as the "nice" section of the city.

The Palm Pilot had messages from her two masters: Asgard and the U.N. The message from Asgard was from Moonstar, informing her that Beta Ray Bill had returned from his mission in Jotunheim, wounded and alerting them to the return of Pluto, the Greco-Roman god of the underworld. Rebecca rolled her eyes, sighing loudly to herself. Characters she studied in middle school English Lit classes were turning out to be more historically true than anything in her History classes ever came close to being. She believed herself to be a practical, professional woman. Her quick ascent to her current position was due, she believed, to her ability to instantly adapt to any new situation that arose.

She supposed it didn’t hurt that most men who met her wanted to sleep with her, either, but love and sex were kept away from her professional life. It was a rule she had yet to break.

The U.N. message was what had led her here, to Grell City, one of the dozen or so "cyberpunk" cities that had cropped up over the past two centuries. These were cities that had been founded by technological corporations as a symbol of their wealth and power. Most flourished for a time, but inevitably they became as outdated as last year’s computer, giving them the simultaneous look of being cutting edge and a relic of the past.

"Hello, Miss, may I help you?" the concierge asked.

Rebecca reached into a coat pocket and dropped her U.N. identicard on the desk, "Let me in."

"As you know, ma’am," the concierge said calmly, smiling his fake smile, "I cannot let anyone into this building who does not live here. Our residents pay an exorbitant fee to have some privacy from-"

"Run the card through the UAS clearance system," Rebecca said crisply.

The concierge frowned, but did as she asked. Rebecca smiled inwardly as the man’s eyes opened wide. "Um, right, ma’am," he coughed, trying to recover. "Would you like any assistance?"

"No, thank you," Rebecca replied, pocketing her identicard, entering through the security gate. She knew the room where the man she sought was said to frequent on trips into this timeline - Room 1317, the residence of Nathan Dayspring Summers.

The man the world knew as Cable. The man Rebecca hoped would be the next Earth Ambassador to the Council.

THE PLANET AK’YEN’JA

Inside Shi’ar space, Galactus fed on a planet that had been abandoned by its inhabitants. It was a planet that was destined to explode at some point in the next fifty years and the small populace this miniscule planet supported had finally left their homeworld for the stars. All, that is, except for a race of insect-like beings called the Eckdrasi, who lived under the planet’s surface and let Fate decided for them all things.

Galactus cared nothing for their fate, knowing that in the larger context of the Everything, one-hundred-thousand people meant nothing at all.

The Shi’ar had offered this planet to Galactus one hundred years ago, part of their attempt to cleanse their present of every lasting influence of their darkest hour, when the earth monarch Victor Von Doom had taken control of their empire. To see a foreigner sitting on the Imperial Throne was more than some Shi’ar could handle, some going so far as to wish to delete any reference to that era in the history books.

This planet, Ak’yen’ja, was the first planet Doom had conquered.* There were those in power on the throneworld Chandilar who had long wanted to see this little, insignificant planet destroyed. Their were six races on Ak’yen’ja, but only one, the Unthans, had ever developed any legitimate technology. To Galactus, planets were sustenance, and Ak’yen’ja, as small and dead as it was, would be something that could hold him for only a standard year; that it had little technology made the feast even less nurishing. That it was once ruled by Dr. Doom was not something that would penetrate his conscious thoughts.

* If you’re curious about the full story, check out FANTASTIC FOUR 421 – 434.

From the soil, comes life. Things planted grow, take root, find life and hold to it dearly.

Under the soil of Ak’yen’ja, the Eckdrasi went about their business as if this were any other day, and not the last day of this planet’s existence. All except one. One Eckdrasi youth who dared to dream of greater things, who had almost convinced his keepers to let him leave with the Ba’na’ay. When his appeals had finally been refused, the Ba’na’ay and Eaau leaders had come to him and given him their greatest gift, the most legendary object in the history of this planet.

The Heart of Ak’yen’ja.

It was a small ruby that the histories said once almost saved the planet from Emperor Doom, as the bravest woman in all of Ak’yen’jan history, El’kana of the Ba’na’ay, had used the Heart to battle Doom on the astral plane.* She lost and Doom’s conquest began, but there was none in all of Ak’yen’ja’s history more celebrated.

* FANTASTIC FOUR 433: Latverian Connection, Part Four

As the core of the planet began to erupt, this unknown Eckdrasi held the Heart close to him. He had been entrusted with the Heart and he would not lose it.

True to his word, when the rock cracked beneath him and the core energies ripped past on their flight to Galactus’ machines, the Heart was still in his grasp, and his mind, though it had been programmed since the day of his birthing to not fight Fate, wished that he was as brave as El’kana, wished that there was someway he could fight Galactus to save the planet.

But the Planet Devourer, who lived in all realities and all times simultaneously, could not be drawn into the astral plane, though, it must be told, when the energies of the Heart of Ak’yen’ja entered into his being, Galactus felt the slightest inclination of a feeling wash over him. A feeling that was forgotten as soon as the singular moment ended.

Several hours later, Ak’yen’ja was a dead planet, and the Planet Devourer was on his way. He would have to feed again, sooner than was absolutely necessary, he knew, for he could sense the turning of the Great Gears.

Perhaps it was time for a new Herald to be created. Into his mind flashed an image of Angelica Osborn and the other Orphans of War. It was time for a new Herald, indeed.

It was time for Galactus to pay the Orphans a visit.

NECROPOLIS

Thanos stood on a mountaintop, looking down at the world that was his. To the west, the Eternal Campground, where the soldiers of Eternal Army trained and awaited their next mission. To the north, the Eternal City, where Ikaris and the Eternals lived their meaningless lives, awaiting the day when they would ride on Earth and reclaim that planet as their home. To the East, the Angelux Encampment and Stables, where the perverted Valkyrie mirrored the actions of the Eternal Army. And behind him, to the South, the Deviant Plains, where the Deviants evolved with every birth of their species.

The Mad Titan was growing impatient, a dangerous state of mind for one whose plans were often devised to last decades, if not centuries. King Balder felt the same, he believed, the recent return of Franklin Richards causing both sides to awake from the slumber of the post-Ragnarok universe.

Ikaris and Bruunhilde had pressured him to move against Asgard as it recovered from its most destructive period in history, but Thanos had resisted. The time was not right. Victory over Asgard would certainly have been possible, if not guaranteed, but not all of the pieces were in place.

What Ikaris and Bruunhilde failed to recognize was that they were fighting for more than the defeat of Asgard and the Four Chosen Races. Both were brilliant generals and dedicated soldiers, but they had the mentality of soldiers and not of dreamers. They did not see the big picture that Thanos was weaving, did not know of those armies that gathered forces in the darkness while they fought against Asgard in the open.

Thanos wondered if there was anyone in the Everything that really knew the size of the forces he would soon command. He thought of the message he’d just received, the message that had set him on this path to survey his world: Pluto was ready to strike. After nearly seven years, Pluto had returned – with troops, he promised, that would turn the tide of the Eternal War.

A shudder ran up his spine at that moment, and he knew there was but one thing that could cause such a reaction in his body.

Without turning, he knew that he was no longer alone. "Welcome to Necropolis, Mistress Death," his deep voice rumbled. "To what do I owe the honor of your presence?"

Behind him, a skeleton inside a purple robe stood completely motionless, making not a sound save for the low whistling of the wind that whisked through her open eye-sockets.

Thanos turned to his dark heart’s desire, his glowing eyes narrowing as he looked at the woman he loved, the woman who would not speak to him, and he nodded. "The Great Gears are once again turning."

Death nodded.

NIFFLEHEIM

Hela, the ruler of Norse Hel, rose suddenly from her throne, looking down from her perch to a cavern in the western edge of her realm. She heard footsteps and the clamping of hooves approach. Reached for her cloak, she calmly prepared herself for whatever it is that was to come. That someone could enter her grand cavern hall without her notice should have caused her alarm, but Hela was not a woman to frighten easily. Whoever it was-

Hela’s thoughts actually stopped for an entire half heartbeat.

"Mine eyes do not believe the images they doth perceive," she whispered as the gods of Mt. Olympus, led by Pluto, walked straight into Niffleheim as if it were the Court of Apollo and not the domain of the Asgardian dead.

She caught Pluto’s eyes, and he smiled easily up at her, "The time for battle is at hand, Hela. Alert your masters that the Olympians seek battle!"

Hela reached for a globe that rested beside her and pressed her hand firmly to its surface. It was a communication device that fed straight into the Hall of Peace. "Balder," she announced strongly, "the Olympians hath returned. Niffleheim is to be the battleground. It would be wise to send your armies. The time hath come again for the spilling of Olympian blood."

And with that, Hela turned back to the approaching battalion far below, her eyes locking onto those of her Greco-Roman counterpart. She was answered with a cold, echoing laugh, "Can you hear them, Hela? The Great Gears of the Everything Engine are, at long last, turning again! And this time, it shall not be the Olympians that retreat from the field of battle!"

The Everything Engine to be continued …

From the soil, comes life. Things planted grow, take root, find life and hold to it dearly.

Y G G D R A S I L

Comments c/o northern022@hotmail.com

Want AGC delivered straight to your inbox as soon as the next issue is ready for print? Head on over to http://groups.yahoo.com/ and search for AGCverse to sign up for the agcverse mailing list. Or drop me a line at northern022@hotmail.com and I’ll add you directly. This is a perfect way for those of you who aren’t on the MV1 mailing lists to be certain to know when the next issue is out and ready to be read.

Welcome again, and thanks, again, for reading this prologue to the most important arc in this series to date. The vignettes included this issue are meant to put in play the plots that will run through this arc. Some will be larger than others, of course, but all should bear fruit by the time issue 50 rolls around. Thanks for reading, and I hope you stick around for the trip.

First letter this month is from Tom Lynch:

AGC 42

Ah-hah...

Right, that's some new and interesting stuff, though... we're only about fifty years beyond when Thor set eyes on Persephone. That's not much time for love to take decades *and* Thor to have died and had a Hall Of Peace built for him.

On the other hand, I still want to see where the other gods/godlike entities are, and as I mentioned before Ghost Rider in particular. I just have this feeling he'd fit in with AGC well.

But you've got Olympus sorta back on it's feet, and you hid Pluto nicely behind the somewhat-hinted Hercules revelation. I do want to see what happens next... and how Thanos has conned his mortal troops into fighting for him, given that they're fighting for the destruction of all (which would include them).

Tony

My Ghost Rider story has been planned for ages, but I just haven’t found the right place to fit it in. Hopefully soon. As for Thor and Persephone, Thor died during Ragnarok, the end of which is now six to seven years in the past. The Hall of Peace is a relatively new building, constructed during Asgard’s rebuilding programs after Ragnarok ended. Many of your questions will be answered, or at least touched upon, during this arc, Tom, so hang tight.

Next up, Russ Anderson:

AGC #42

Mark,

Holy *#!@ing *#@!!

( Now that’s the kind of reaction I live for! )

Santa is really Hercules.  Franklin is scheming.  Thor was going to marry Persephone before his still-mysterious death.  Pluto is up to no good and currently has Beta Ray Bill on the ropes.

This was an issue for revelations.  In terms of the pacing of the series as a whole, it works beautifully, giving some fast-moving insight into past questions after the Hala War madness over the last 6-7 issues.

The revelation of Santa's true identity has me wondering just who the Easter Bunny really is now, though.

As for Pluto, I can't pretend to understand what's going on in that mind of yours, but would I be too far off in suspecting that, when the Olympians died during Ragnarok, they all fell under Pluto's reign?  That would make him the new Zeus, wouldn't it?  With a legion of undead Olympians at his back.  This should be good...

I thought the first scene with Bill and Persephone felt a little rushed, particularly Bill's approach to Persephone's cottage.  That bit could have used a little more description, I thought.  Other than that, this issue was great.  Keep it up.

And yes, feel free to take a break between now and issue #43.  That'll allow me to catch up with what everyone else is writing... :-)

Russ

Well, give Russ an AGC Imaginary Cookie™ for getting the Olympian-angle pretty nailed down, although, like most things in this series, there’s more to the story than what at once appears. I’ll actually give Russ a bit of credit here, as his letter actually inspired the end of this issue. Just that thought of "a legion of dead Olympians at his back" sounded too good not to use. But just what Olympians are here and which are not is a story in itself.

Next up, Dave Evans:

So Hercules is Santa Claus eh! does that mean that the Easter Bunny could be someone we know as well? I loved Embers of Hala, although I was sorry to see Empire go but I think it made the story all the more "epic". Is the next story arc going to take us all the way to issue 50 and do you have something big planned for that milestone?
keep up the good work
Dave
P.S. a second AGC title sounds great "Tales of the Everything" perhaps!

Thanks, Dave, and yes, I do have something big planned for AGC 50. I usually shy away from the idea of making anniversary issues important just because they’re anniversary issues – I didn’t do anything special for AGC 25 – but if they come naturally, I don’t see why something special shouldn’t happen to help celebrate things. Just what and what does not happen in AGC 50 will be determined over the course of this arc and what I can properly build up to, and what needs to wait for another day.

Here’s a review of the AGC story in the 2002 MV1 Valentine’s Day Special from Mike McGee:

Mushy Valentine's Capsule Reviews 

All God's Children: "A Lonely Heart," by Mark Bousquet:
Once again, the special ends with an AGC story, although...damn, this one's a downer. Remember how LAST time, Mark's AGC story reminded us of the redemptive power of love and left you on a high note, filled with hope and promise? Yeah, well, forget about it, because that ain't happening this time. Eshir Maximoff, a lonely guy who got his hands bit off by a big dog, is not a happy camper. There is a glint of light at the end of his emotional tunnel, but will it blossom into something more? I'm not talking, but Mark really gets inside this guy's mind and heart, and the ending -- happy or not -- is as emotionally true as anything he's ever written.

Mike McGee

Two things I love about Mike’s review. One: "Eshir Maximoff, a lonely guy who got his hands bit off by a big dog, is not a happy camper." Damn that’s good writing. Two: "Mark really gets inside this guy's mind and heart, and the ending -- happy or not -- is as emotionally true as anything he's ever written." That is, without a doubt, one of the most satisfying comments I have ever received. Thanks, Mike.

Special thanks to the letter writers; you guys (I can’t remember the last time I received a letter from a female) are much appreciated.

Hope everyone comes back next issue, and, again, I encourage you to sign up for the AGCverse mailing list if you want to make certain to get the new issues when they go to press. Thanks, again.

Next Issue: ALL GOD’S CHILDREN 44: THE EVERYTHING ENGINE, PART ONE

-- Mark Bousquet …

Northern Bear Productions

8 March 2002