CONTROL

Genghis Khan conquered all of Asia thanks to his mounted archers. Even though the bows and arrows weren't anything new, people who could shoot them while riding horses had a unique skill, one that gave Khan and his empire the upper hand against their adversaries.

Raza Hamidmi Al-Wazar shared his boss' admiration for Khan. Despite being just a general of just one branch of the Ten Rings organization, he dreamed big: an empire as big, if not bigger, than that of Khan's, which answered to him and no one else.

But he's also a realist. He wouldn't dare to conquer more than he can control, and, at the same time, he wouldn't be stupid to defy his master with such a small army. No, he needed something powerful that could be used by a few people that were under his control. Stark Weapons fit that bill.

Their "benefactor" inside of the company would provide them with state-of-art weapons. The Ten Rings would provide him with money and some conflict on the Middle East that would warrant them a demand from the military for more weapons to counter-attack. Play both sides. Everybody wins. Rinse and repeat. Standard warmongering M.O.

When their benefactor asked for a "special service", an execution, Raza agreed. If only he knew who he was supposed to kill… It didn't matter anyhow as luck smiled at him: their target survived and now, Raza had Tony Stark all for himself. It was better than he could ever hope for: why bother with the (lying and treacherous) middleman when you can go direct to the source?

Raza thought he had everything under control, but Stark outsmarted him. He created something better than a "feeble" missile. Something that he used to escape. Something that will change modern warfare forever. Something that Raza wants.

Scavenging the suit prototype off the sands, Raza had something to bargain for. He didn't have the tech and knowledge to duplicate Stark's mechanical wonder, but that will be his benefactor's job. He wants the armor, he can have it as long as Raza gets a few for his own use. He can't refuse. He will be on his turf, surrounded by his people, in debt over his past lies, and in desperate need of what Raza has. He can't refuse. He will give Raza what he wants. Once again, everything is under control.

A few dozen Iron Men and Raza could finally have control over the entire world!

Actually, the world is too hard to control. Asia will suffice.

GREED

"For the day of the LORD is near upon all the heathen: as thou hast done, it shall be done unto thee: thy reward shall return upon thine own head" - Book of Obadiah Ch. 1 V.15

Obadiah Stane was a self-made man.

He fought for his country at war. He built a millionaire company from nothing. He held it together when his partner passed away. He never received many credit for any of that. I mean, his name isn't even on the side of the building! It's not "Stark & Stane associated", it's simply "Stark Industries". Of course, Stark's brilliance with weapon innovations is what made the company, but if wasn't for Stane's entrepreneur know-how, there wouldn't be a company, and Howard would be just another mad scientist living on the streets tinkering with a box of scraps.

Not that Stane cared about that kind of recognition. He pays no attention to spotlights, but a little financial recognition would be more than welcomed.

Sure, he receives plenty already, but after everything he had done? It's not enough! It's insulting! Especially considering that he's the one keeping the company alive while that spoiled, shallow brat Anthony gets all the money and all the credit just for showing his face and bullshitting people. Just because he's a Stark.

It's a crime that he needs to deal under the table just so he can receive what he deserves. Making sure that some weapons go "missing" so he can sell to the highest bidder. So much money coming in, so much weapons coming out. Who would notice really?

It helped, and for a while he was content with it. But, honestly, if this world was in any way fair, Stane would have the company's entire net worth all for himself. He's the one who build it, he's the one who's always been there, he's the one who extinguished the fire of any crisis that appeared on the way, and, basically, he's the one doing all the work.

The only way Stane could get the bountiful remuneration he so rightfully deserves is if he was made CEO. The only way he could be made CEO is if something rather unfortunate happened to Stark.

That could be arranged…

AMBITION

Thaddeus Ross worked hard to acquire the title of General (and the nickname of "Thunderbolt"), but good generals come a dime a dozen. Legendary Generals, however, come once a generation, and Thaddeus Ross didn't came this far just so his name will be forgotten as soon as he retires. No, he will be remembered.

Achieving greatness wasn't exactly easy on the glory days of the military, nowadays, on this, if you can pardon his French, pussified generation, is nearly impossible. If a war hero like Patton marched the streets today, he would have been booed and throw tomatoes at by a bunch of spoiled rotten kids who never had to fight for a single thing in their lives and yet dare to talk about injustice and insult those who died to give them their freedom on a silver plate.

No, if you want to make a name for yourself on the military today, you can't simply win a battle or even a war. No, you have to do something truly revolutionary. And what better way to do that than starting a revolution that should have happened 70 years ago?

Reviving the Super Soldier Project took him a lot of political favors, especially so he could have his daughter and, begrudgingly, her boyfriend on the team. After all, having a second Ross involved in the project is another guarantee that his name will be remembered.

Of course, he didn't tell them what they were really working on. All these melodramatic Oppenheimers with their "destroyer of worlds" bull crap never really understand the necessity of military advancement. Tell them they're making the cure for baldness and they will happily go to work. Tell them they're making better soldiers and they all get up in arms.

What resulted wasn't the expected, but it was phenomenal! What Banner became was something incredible! Who needs an army of Steve Rogers, when you could have a squad of… well, whatever the hell that was? Just a squad of five or six men with that power could put an end to all wars. America would become undefeatable, un-attackable. The President would congratulate him personally. His name would be branded in history!

But then, that worm Banner run away. People like him never understood necessity, never understood power, never understood GLORY. So, be it: Run, hide. It won't matter. General Ross won't let a dweeb like him steal his ticket for a stellar career. He will chase him. He will find him. He will catch him.

He will harness that power or else his name isn't Thunderbolt!

THRILL OF THE FIGHT

Emil Blonsky isn't getting any younger.

The Russian-born English captain always dreaded times of peace. Fighting was in his nature and it was his philosophy that we should never contradict our nature. Or do you think you're smarter than nature? Blonsky would always fight as long as he was able. And that's the problem. While not old, Blonsky's days on the field were counted, and the little time he had was spent on the base, twiddling his thumbs. And even when he had a mission, it was nothing new, nothing challenging.

He was growing tired, bored, restless, and, worst of all, old. He needed action and he needed it now!

That's why he didn't think twice when he was asked to participate on a secret mission with the Special Ops of the U.S. Army to track down a fugitive. Nothing exciting, but, honestly, he would have accepted anything. Then that happened...

At first it was panic and fear, then it was anger and frustration for letting it escape, for failing, for being left in the dark, but as soon as he found out what he really was dealing with, adrenaline and excitement took hold of his body. Finally, a challenge! Something new! Something to fight! Something to die for!

But the best thing is General Ross provided him with the means to fight it. A serum that would make him faster, stronger, more agile…

Emil Blonsky is getting younger.

Round Two. Blonsky was holding his own against the monstrosity, adrenaline pulsing through his veins. He was feeling alive again. The only setback, he thinks, is that he became so powerful that the possibility of challenges became even smaller. I mean, he probably could take the thing down all alone…

Well, apparently not.

Doesn't matter. Even with all his bones broken, Blonsky have never felt better. It's official, confronting that beast is his destiny, the meaning of his life. Nothing could ever make him happier than have another bout with it, and, it seems, that he would have his chance as his body, against all probabilities, healed itself to perfection. Blonsky was ready for Round Three.

But there was no Round Three, no, that son of a bitch Banner with the help of his little sissy-pants friend stole that from him. They got rid of the creature. They took it out of Banner and stored it on a test tube. How could that wimp dare to get rid of the thing? He didn't deserve it! No one who rejected all that power could ever deserve it! Deprived of his battle fix, Blonsky was getting angry and, believe me, you won't like him when he's angry. He was looking forward to this battle, and it was all over with a fucking tranquilizing dart! There's no way that he will go back to the base now, to spent his time, wasting his power, scratching his balls 'til retirement, NO WAY!

If he can no longer fight it… He will become it.

REVENGE

Butchers, Murderers, Thieves…

The Vanko family name was forever stained with such "accolades". Accolades given to them by their own people, by the Government, by the American Government, and by the Starks.

Butchers, Murderers, Thieves!

Butchers. Over a lie, they sold his father out, backstabbed him, and threw him to the wolves. Knowing very well how treason was punished in Soviet Russia.

Murderers. As him and his father were left for dead in Siberia, they lived in poverty and misery for years until he's father couldn't endure any more. The Stark family took two lives: His father's and the one he, Ivan Vanko, could have had had the Starks not done what they did.

Thieves. The worst insult is how, after destroying his father's life, they stole his idea and made fortune with it.

And now Tony Stark, the sole container of what's left of Howard Stark's filthy blood, parades around the world with his glorified homemade flying Ferrari powered by his father's creation. It's kind of infuriating to know that a Vanko invention saved the worthless life of a Stark.

But now is Ivan's turn. The Starks aren't the only ones capable of building an Arc Reactor, the Vankos, the real creators, can build one too. And so, Ivan will build his reactor, and his suit, and his weapon of choice, and he will attack Stark when he is most vulnerable, and he will make him bleed, and he will make him suffer, and he will make the whole world see the fall of the Starks.

Stark will try to claim innocence, of course, that he's never done anything wrong, that is his father's fault and the grudge should have died with him. He doesn't understand that his father had a debt with them for all the misery he brought, and now that he's dead, Tony Stark has inherited this debt.

It's time for Stark to learn that the vile acts of one generation can and will whiplash on the next.

ENVY

The weapon business has never been a glamorous job. It really wasn't supposed to be. Arms dealers are just supposed to do their job, sell their weapons, get their contracts, and never step into the spotlights. I mean, do you even know the name of the CEO of Lockheed Martin? Or Alliant Techsystems? Didn't think so.

That was how things were and everything was fine. Then Tony Stark and his oh, so great armor came along. All of sudden, it wasn't enough to be a businessman; you had to be a showman. You can't simply build better missiles; you have to build fucking RoboCop!

Justin Hammer thought that Stark Industries getting out of the game was his golden chance to shine. How wrong he was. Hammer could give them the best tanks and missiles in the market, but did the government cared about those? No, all they want is fucking Iron Man! So, you have to go and give them Iron Man suits, but you can't! Because you're not Tony fucking Stark!

And that's why, even though he's out of the business, the government only wants to deal with Tony Stark. They call him. They give him a subpoena. They threaten him. They pursue what they don't have and completely ignore what they have, which is Hammer.

They want Tony Stark? Then he will become Tony Stark!

He will build them Iron Men! He will get fancy! He will get showy! He will get boastful! He will prove that there is room for two beloved, celebrity weapon businessmen!

That… didn't really work out… But he didn't stop trying, even though Stark kept humiliating him, Hammer would still try to mimic his way of being and, therefore, his success.

Fate seemed to smile at him that afternoon in Monaco. It was good to see Stark become the clown for a change. And that man with the whips, that man with an arc reactor, say what you will about Justin Hammer, but he recognizes talent when he sees it, and that man have what it takes to beat Tony Stark at his own game. And do you know the best thing about convicts? They are cheap.

Working with Vanko wasn't easy, and Hammer now questions himself if faking his death, rescuing him from prison, and hiring him was really worth it. It didn't matter though because Stark had a fallout with his best buddy, who stole his armor and delivered it right into Hammer's lap. Watch Stark's life crumbling was wonderful.

Now, Hammer had his own (Vanko-designed, but nobody needed to know that) army of drones (and a Navy of drones and an Air Force of drones and a Marines squad of drones) and a modified version of one of Stark's own armors, and he was presenting them on Stark's own expo!

Hammer was stealing Tony's thunder! It was glorious! It was his moment of crowning! It was a slap on the face, a spit on the eye! He just took a dump on Stark's cornflakes! All it needed was for Stark's former P.A. to step in the stage and give him a blowjob and Justin Hammer's ultimate middle finger to Tony Stark would be perfect.

Just look at the crowd! Hear the applause! See the amazed faces!

Hammer's time has arrived!

FEUD

It was so long ago… Who started it? Was it they? Or was it the Asgardians? Laufey doesn't remember and, frankly, he doesn't care. Fact is, Asgard and Jotunheim have been in war for as long as anyone can remember.

Laufey sits on his throne (or what's left of it), reminiscing over and over again the moment of his worst failure: When the troops of Odin All father defeated the Jotun legions, invaded Jotunheim, and stole the Casket of Ancient Winters, the source of their very power. And so, powerless, the Jotun had to agree on a truce, and so they stood for thousands of years on this humiliating "peace", imprisoned on the frozen wasteland that once was his beautiful and majestic realm.

Laufey lost everything that day: his power, his realm, his freedom, and his son (though, to be honest, that freakily dwarfing excuse for a Jotun infant wasn't a big loss), but he kept the loyalty of his people who still look up to him as their king, he kept his honor, his self-respect, and, more importantly, the hatred for Odin and all Asgardians.

That hatred manifested itself once again, as Laufey stared down with tranquil fury at the two petulant children of Odin and their friends who trespassed their territory, throwing accusations. All Laufey wanted was to squash them like ants, but he wasn't stupid. He would let them drop first blood, which, knowing the dimwitted heir of the Asgardian throne, won't be long.

War was declared. Technically. Asgard would wait for Jotunheim to make their move, and Jotunheim didn't have resources, personnel, nor the means to reach Asgard. It was an impasse. Until, one of Odin's sons proposed a deal: He would provide a passage for the Jotun to invade Asgard; in exchange Laufey would kill Odin so he, Loki, would be the new king. No downsides, Laufey agreed.

And there was Laufey, inside Odin's chambers, looking at the sleeping, helpless monarch of Asgard, the sum of everything he despises. Laufey wanted to savor this moment, to savor the final victory of Jotunheim over Asgard. He wants Odin to know that his death is coming from the hands of Laufey, and after he's done he will kill the treacherous Son of Odin who brought him here and the entire royal family too. Like he would really let any prince of Asgard alive…

Death to all Asgardians! Laufey rises triumphant!

RESENTMENT

"Some do battle, others just do tricks"

That was how they saw him. The one who just do tricks. Loki knew his family loved him, he had no doubts about it, but it didn't stop him from feeling a little underappreciated. His brother, Thor, was always the favorite, that he also had no doubt. Maybe, it was because he was the first-born, or because he was the strongest, or because he was a great warrior, or because he never got in trouble for cutting Sif's hair, but, hey, that was just a harmless prank.

Whatever it was, Thor always had more: More friends, more admirers, more chances to get to the throne. Oh, who is he kidding? Thor had 100% chance to get the throne. And Loki knew that, as a first-born, that was a given but it didn't matter! Even though he loved his brother, Thor was a dolt who thought with his hammer rather than his head. His reign would be nothing but a disgrace. Loki would be a much better ruler. All he needed was a little disturbance to ruin his brother's day. It was time for some mischief.

It worked. The crowning was postponed and Asgard is safe from his brother's idiocy for one more day, a day in which they will hopefully realize how Loki was the one who should be king. Some lives were lost thanks to his "prank", it's true, but what's the worth of the lives of mere servants? You don't really expect him, the prince, to lose any sleep over such insignificant beings, do you?

The trip to Jotunheim caused his brother to be banned, a fact which gave him conflicted feelings of rejoicing and sorrow, and it also shed light over some things… Remember that thing about his family loving him? Well, Loki is not so sure anymore. Specially, now that he knows that this isn't his family.

A Jotun!? He was one of those monsters? No, it couldn't be! He is a prince of ASGARD! Not of that sinkhole Jotunheim. Yet, it explains everything. The real reason why he was the neglected one. Why everyone always loved Thor more than him. He never had a real shot at the throne, had he? They would never let him, a monster, someone who only do tricks, the mediocre foster child, be the king. Well, that's just too bad! Because he's the king now, and everyone who once scoffed at him will have to KNEEL!

Let all the Nine Realms know that Loki is the true Heir of Odin!

SCIENCE

Arnim Zola loved doing what he does.

Design machines that could change the world, uncover the mysteries of the universe and the human mind, and play with them. The possibilities are endless.

While not agreeing with the Nazi philosophy (frankly, the pseudoscience they use to explain away their superstitious prejudices are quite childish and insulting to real science), Doctor Zola wasn't stupid to challenge their regime. So, even if he internally sneers at their "science", Zola will be a good boy and do as he's told. When in Germany, do as the Nazis do.

Zola did have some fun designing new vehicles and weapons that could turn the tide of war, but they were always discarded as being "unpractical", "expensive", and even "impossible". Well, if they spent a little more budget and attention on his projects rather than in their moronic concentration camps and that clown Mengele's "experiments", then maybe they would see that his projects could grant them their victory, but you can't expect those brainless, self-important monkeys to understand even basic algebra, how can you expect them to be able to comprehend the future? Hitler shouldn't be his führer. He should be his Guinea pig.

Finally came the day that Zola's work caught the attention of Johann Schmidt, the head of HYDRA, the deep science division of the Third Reich. Schmidt had a lot of faith on Zola's designs and said he knew something that would make them work. Schmidt was very cryptic and, to be honest, quite scary, but he was lending him a hand. He was finally going to do what he always wanted to do: Science with no reprisals. Sure, HYDRA, their agents and their facility gave him the creeps. Sure, he wasn't completely keen on the purposes that his services would be put to work. Sure, he didn't agree with the Nazis. Sure, he didn't agree with Schmidt. But does it matter?

An opportunity to do all the experiments and research he wants, unrestrained, without having to worry about pesky "ethics"?

Just what the doctor odered.

POWER

If there was something that Johann Schmidt has always been sure of is that he was destined to greatness. More than that, he was the only one deserving of such greatness. So, he did find slightly irritating to receive orders from a little angry Austrian with no vision or intelligence. Our great leader, BAH!

Sure, he's leading us... leading us to failure!

Someone who thinks so small doesn't deserve to be called führer.

But Schmidt would be playing their game until he gets what he needs, and what he needs is power! Real power, not this leader of a nation nonsense. Hell, once he has the power there'll be no nations. Leaders have no power. They always fall prey of those they presumed to control. Revolters, conspirators, traitors, and backstabbers. Leaders fall. Gods stand. Schmidt will harness the power of the Gods and, therefore, he shall be one with them.

His first attempt at Godhood produced satisfactory results, with a minor setback. Because his power scarred him, Schmidt no longer represented the Aryan ideal and was exiled to the Alps. Aryans, bah, what a pathetic, shallow excuse for superiority. Schmidt could kill the entire SS with his bare hands without breaking a sweat. That was superiority!

But wasn't enough. To become a God, Schmidt would need to go beyond the feeble science of man. He would need to go direct to the source. To Odin's treasure room.

The Tesseract was his. He now had unlimited power.

Hitler's mistake was pursuing his foolish idea of a superior race. There is no such a thing as a "superior race". There's only a superior man. And that man is Johann Schmidt.

And so, he will use the funding, personnel, and equipment that the Reich, oh, so thoughtfully, gave to him to further his own goals, and soon, they will learn the true meaning of power.

The führer and the rest of the world won't even see what hit them.

Hail Hydra

FEAR

Sentimentalist imbecile.

He thinks I can simply give up now? When I came this far? After everything I've done? After all the people I've killed? All the things I've destroyed? All the chaos I created?

He thinks I can simply turn back? That I can go back home? That I can face everyone who'll be there judging me, hating me? Does he think I can face mother? Does he really think that things can go back to the ways they were? That I can be so easily forgiven?

Or does he expect me to surrender? To return to Asgard not as a king, or even a prince, but as a prisoner? To suffer the punishment that waits me? To be disowned by a father who was never mine? Does he think I can endure that? That I can survive such humiliation?

Or does he think I'll fail? I can't fail! I won't fail! If I fail… he will pursue me… he will make sure I'll serve as an example for those who fail him… How? I was a prince! How have I fallen so far?

…

No! I won't fail! You'll fall before me! Your friends will fall before me! Everyone will fall before me! They will all kneel, and those who refuse to, will have their legs cut off. Defeat is not an option. I will be victorious!

And, once I win, they'll have the Tesseract, I'll have the Earth. And then I'll be king! And they'll be my army, and he'll leave me alone…

Do you think this madness will end with your rule?

…and then they'll get rid of me!

By Asgard, what have I done?

LOVE

I remember the first time I saw her face, my beloved Mistress Death...

She was so beautiful. It was unreal. I never thought I would ever feel that emotion they called "love", but that was it: I, Thanos, was in love with Death.

Ever since my fateful encounter, I've dedicated my life to please Death anyway I could.

I've journeyed through the universe, annihilating any civilization I came across, giving billions of fresh souls to my beloved, but nothing ever seemed to be enough…

That's when I've learned about a gateway in the shape of a cube. A gateway to other worlds, worlds full of life to sacrifice for the beautiful Mistress Death. I couldn't collect it alone though, so I made an alliance with a hopeless, broken, desperate and pathetic little creature. I would give him an insignificant floating rock, he would give me the gateway.

He failed. And for a moment I got frustrated. But then, I had an epiphany. I was doing everything wrong! Of course my beloved wasn't impressed, all I offered her were puny lives of frail civilizations that fell too easily. I needed to deliver worthy lives to her and the warriors of the planet they called "Earth" (what a pedestrian name for a planet) may be exactly what I need.

To challenge them is to court Death? Why, I'll be more than glad.