My Very Own Avengers

May 25, 2012

So I wrote this thing on G+ the other day. Read it –


“Have you ever observed the ant or the rabbit, Woolsey?” Doctor Albarth Rotterchilde walked down the dark staircase hidden at the back of the Alpha-Beta Club – the newest eugenecist club in the Empire – closely followed by his manservant Cal Woolsey.

“They are cooperative creatures, reliant and trusting on each other. The ant works together as a united organism, gathering food and building large and complex structures to support their diminutive race. Quite inspiring.” The pair swept through a long, dark hallway and passed through a door locked with a complex puzzle of bones, skulls, and weights.

“The rabbit, similarly, is dependent on the rest of the warren. They build together. They warn each other. They elicit some form of information on where food and safety are to be found. And they scream to notify others of death, so that they may prepare the body or bury. Honestly, I am not sure of the particulars of the practices of rabbit burial.” Inside the room at the end of the hallway, Albarth began to strike up electric lamps bolted onto rough-hewn stone walls. The chamber they were in now was large, cavernous, and smelled slightly of dampness, metal shavings, and mechanic’s grease.

“I think that the current political climate, the current philosophical climate, has infected mankind. We have been driven away from cooperation for the betterment of the species and fallen into a trap of superiority. We’ve come to value independence and individuality to the point of sacrifice of our fellow man.” Albarth pulled a sheet off of a massive object at the center of the room, releasing a flurry of dust, grease, and the sound of silk against steel. Underneath sat a massive suit of armor, covered in black silk and holding a staff of brass and copper.

“I believe that this is because humanity no longer has an apex predator to fear. Man believes that it is above the fear of nature, the necessity to work together, the interdependence of the species. So I have built this.” Albarth climbed into the armor, pulled the helmet down, and activated its etherlectric engines. A blue glow filled the death’s head mask and soft, rolling mist poured from the helmet and gloves, while the staff crackled with power and a haunting blue scythe blade grew out of it.

Albarth looked to Woolsey and in a dark, unearthly voice he commanded, “Call me Thanos, God of Death. Bringer of fear. Instructor of mortality.”


So I’m writing my own Steampunk Avengers. Sorta.

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