A blur of red and blue swung with acrobatic grace, easily matching Ranger's high-speed flight. The excited, slightly breathless voice of the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man cut through the rush of wind.
"Are you okay, Mr. Ranger? Seriously! Both the news and Johnny 'I'm-too-hot-for-my-own-good' Storm said that you were, like, super-duper seriously injured. Johnny was even boasting – you know how he is – that he would have totally killed you if it weren't for his sister and the Thing stopping him. Which, knowing Johnny, probably means he was the one getting clobbered. But still! You look totally fine! So I guess it was just Johnny and the news being all dramatic and boast-y again, right? I knew it! Johnny always likes to boast about stuff like that. Sometimes he does it way too much. Like, he could actually harm you? Pfft! Cap said you sank part of Krakoa when you went giant robot mode. That's nuts! Can you transform to other forms? Can you show me a transformation? Can you tell me about Krakoa? Do the mutants over there really have all those crazy powers the news mentioned? I heard they have people who can control the weather, and metal, and read minds, and do telekinesis, and fly. Because, honestly, all the mutants I've ever met are just, like, low-level henchmen for Kingpin, or some Hand ninjas with slightly pointier powers, like growing spikes. I mean, spikes are cool and all, don't get me wrong, but it kinda pales in comparison to, y'know, flying and shooting lasers from your eyes, right?"
Spider-Man executed a flawless mid-air pirouette, landing on a gargoyle before launching himself back into a swing. "Whoa, am I boring you, Mr. Ranger? My Aun– I mean, other people say I talk a lot, and that it sometimes irritates them. Which, okay, fair. Are you irritated by my talk, Mr. Ranger? Do you have, like, a cool hero codename? The news, mostly that blowhard J. Jonah Jameson, keeps calling you 'Cobalt Blue,' or 'the fourth Iron Man.' Which is dumb, because even I can tell your suits are totally different from Mr. Stark's. Way sleeker! More… blue! So, what is your codename? I'm Spider-Man, by the way! The friendly neighborhood Spider-Man! Your one and only! I know I've probably told you that before, like, a dozen times during the meeting conference, but hey, a proper introduction always takes you far, right? That's what my elders always says!" He did another backflip, his speed effortlessly matching Ranger's.
"Spider-boy." Ranger interjected, his voice calm but carrying an amused undertone that cut through Spider-Man's enthusiastic monologue. "While it is an empirically verifiable fact that you do indeed talk a considerable amount, I also perceive that you are, at your core, a good kid. So, no, I do not find your… extensive verbal processing… particularly bothersome."
He paused. "And yes, to address your earlier inquiries, Johnny Storm, or rather the Human Torch as he so flamboyantly styles himself, did indeed succeed in almost killing me. He simply wasn't able to complete the task. As for Krakoa… I could tell you much, but most of the mutants residing there currently harbor a rather intense aversion to the very fact that I continue to draw breath. However." Ranger's lips curved into a faint smile, "if you truly wish to visit, I can contact a… mutual acquaintance… who might be persuaded to arrange a chaperoned tour of some of the more… 'cool' mutants and their rather unique island. Just a friendly piece of advice: do not, under any circumstances, mention my name in their presence. Unless, of course, you harbor a secret desire to be on the receiving end of an optic blast or a localized blizzard."
Ranger considered for a moment. "I do, in fact, possess a codename for my heroic persona. Several, actually, depending on the operational theater and the desired psychological impact. But I would prefer not to utilize them at present. Not now, at least. I am… waiting for my partner to rejoin me before I fully re-engage with that particular aspect of my identity. And as for 'Cobalt Blue'?" Ranger's voice dripped with disdain. "I despise it. Utterly. When I find a spare moment, I intend to pay a personal visit to Mr. J. Jonah Jameson and… strongly encourage him… to refrain from printing my name, or any of his ridiculous epithets, ever again."
"It's Spider-Man! M-A-N! Get it right, it's not that hard!" Spider-Man quipped, though there was no real heat in it. "And ohmygosh, when you go to see J. Jonah Jameson, the screaming headline-hunter himself, can you please, pretty please with a radioactive spider on top, take me with you? He always makes me out to be a total menace in his stupid newspaper! It's like his favorite hobby! When you're telling him you don't want your name in the paper, maybe you could, like, subtly suggest he tones down the whole 'Spider-Man: Threat or Menace?' angle? Just a little? For your new buddy Spidey?"
Spider-Man clasped his hands together in a hopeful plea, his masked lenses somehow conveying an expression of utter, earnest expectation. "And, uh, speaking of buddies, can you give me the number of your buddy? The one who can get me into Krakoa? Can he really take me there? Can I see the Silent Council? I heard they're, like, the biggest bigshots of all the mutants! The ones who decide what all the other mutants are gonna do next, and stuff!" Spider-Man's voice dropped to an awed, conspiratorial whisper when he mentioned the Silent Council.
Ranger looked at the hopeful, energetic young hero swinging beside him, trying with all his might to match Ranger's effortless pace. A flicker of something almost like fondness crossed Ranger's features. An Ultralink construct, sleek and silver, flowed from his wrist, molding itself with impossible speed and precision into a cutting-edge smartphone, its screen already displaying a single contact.
"Whoa! So cool! Seriously, Mr. Ranger, can these awesome mechanical things turn into, like, any electronics? A phone? A car? Like that amazing white and blue car you had? And what about those giant robot things that were guarding the Baxter Building? Was that giant fire-monster titan thingy your creation too? That was EPIC! Can I have one? Just a little one? For, like, neighborhood watch?" Spider-Man's questions tumbled out again, his earlier ones momentarily forgotten in the face of this new technological marvel.
Ranger simply handed the newly formed phone to Spider-Man. "Untraceable." he stated. "Military-grade encryption, self-repairing, direct satellite uplink, and it has his contact information. He has already been notified of your potential interest. And yes, the Ultralinks can, within certain material and energetic parameters, reconfigure into almost any form of electronics or mechanical construct I require. The perimeter constructs around the Baxter Building were indeed my creation. And yes." Ranger confirmed, a hint of amusement in his voice, "you can certainly have access to such resources, perhaps even command your own Ultralink contingent, should you choose to become an official part of my team."
"Uh, Mr. Ranger." Spider-Man said, his enthusiasm dimming slightly as he clutched the advanced phone, "that's super, super generous, seriously! But… Captain America he's already kinda… drafted me onto his team. The New New Avengers, I guess? So, I can't really be a part of your team right now. Sadly. But hey!" his voice brightened again, "maybe I can be, like, a part-time member? Or an associate? Or, can I join your team after this whole big war thing is over? My contract with Cap will probably end then, and I'll be a free agent! Totally!" Spider-Man pleaded, his masked lenses wide with hope.
"Of course, Spider-Boy." Ranger said, a rare, almost gentle smile touching his lips. "I will wait. And I will ensure a place is kept for you on my team. A permanent one, if you so desire." His flight speed began to decrease almost imperceptibly. "And if you don't mind my asking, what specific role has Captain America assigned you in this grand, upcoming conflict?"
"Oh, nothin' too major, really." Peter replied, a note of pride in his voice, though he also sounded a little disappointed. "I'm not gonna be on the front lines or anything. Cap said I'll be staying here in Queens, mostly. You know, cleaning up any supervillains who try to take advantage of the chaos when all the big-gun heroes are off fighting the war. The government tried to round up most of the bad guys, but a lot of 'em went underground, like cockroaches. They'll probably only crawl out when they think the coast is clear. So, they need a friendly neighborhood hero to keep an eye on things here, and I guess that's me!"
Peter puffed out his chest slightly, then his exuberance seemed to deflate, replaced by a more somber, thoughtful tone. "Mr. Ranger… why do we even have to have a war? From what I've heard, that new metal everyone's fighting over, there's, like, enough of it to last a lifetime for every single person on the planet, and then some. Can't we just… share? It's not like most of us even have a clue how to actually use the stuff properly anyway, right?"
Ranger stopped flying then, hovering in the air with effortless grace. Spider-Man, surprised by the sudden halt, shot a web line, adhering to the side of a nearby skyscraper, and swung to a stop, looking at Ranger expectantly.
"Kid." Ranger began, his voice quiet but firm, "the true cause of this war, and indeed, most wars throughout your species' rather bloody history, is rarely a simple scarcity of resources. It is, more often than not, a far more insidious cocktail of greed, ego, fear, and a lust for power. Look back through your own history books. Wars have been fought for far, far stupider, more trivial reasons than the control of a potentially world-altering strategic metal. In that regard, this particular conflict is almost… refreshingly pragmatic." He sighed, a sound of profound, ancient weariness.
"Don't try to think too deeply about the grand 'why' of it all, kid. It's a labyrinth with no true exit, designed to ensnare minds far more cynical than yours. And frankly, it's not like you, or I, or even the combined might of every so-called hero on this planet, can truly do anything to stop this particular tide from crashing onto the shore. All you can do, all any of us can truly do, is make sure you protect the people you can protect, with the capabilities you do possess. You shield them from the worst of the fallout." He paused, his gaze intense. "Because I will tell you one immutable truth, kid. The so-called superheroes who are about to march off to fight in this grand, glorious war? They aren't universal heroes. They are the heroes in their own stories. And, often, they are the villains in the stories of others."
"It matters not one whit what the world, what J. Jonah Jameson, what even Captain America tells you that you are, or should be." Ranger said, his voice a low, powerful rumble. He floated closer, his gauntleted fist gently bumping Spider-Man's chest, right over his heart. "This. This is what matters. What you tell yourself. Because this, this internal compass, this core of your being… this is what ultimately determines whether you are a good man, or a bad man. And you, kid." Ranger's eyes, even shadowed, seemed to soften, "are a good man. Or rather… a good boy, on his way to becoming a great one."
"Wow… Thank you, Mr. Ranger." Spider-Man mumbled, his hand instinctively coming up to cover the spot Ranger had touched on his chest. "I'll… I'll remember that. Always."
Then, he seemed to shake himself, his usual ebullience returning. "Oh, man! Me and my big mouth! I've been rambling on and totally distracted you from wherever you were going, Mr. Ranger! I'm so sorry! You can totally go back to your important hero work now. I'll just, uh, swing back to patrolling Queens. Make sure no purse-snatchers are getting any bright ideas." He paused, then, with a hopeful tilt of his masked head, "Though… can I ask where you are going? Just curious!"
Ranger looked at the kid, at his boundless optimism, his inherent goodness, and a rare, genuine smile touched his lips. "Sure, kid. I can tell you. But be warned." his smile faded, replaced by a more serious, almost grim expression, "the place I am going, the task I am about to undertake… it is to ensure a very significant, very dangerous threat is neutralized. Permanently. Before this war even has a chance to truly begin." Spider-Man's masked lenses widened, his posture shifting, a new eagerness, a desire to help, radiating from him.
"Would you like to come along, kid?" Ranger asked, his voice casual, yet with an underlying weight. "I can, at the very least, promise your absolute safety. And it might be… instructive."
Spider-Man practically vibrated with excitement. "YES! Are you serious?! YES, I'LL COME! My first official team-up fight with Mr. Ranger! This is gonna be SO AWESOME!"
"It's not precisely a 'duo' team-up, Spider-Man. You'll understand soon enough, kid." Ranger's smile returned, a hint of something almost predatory in it now. "And hold on tight. The ride is about to get… significantly more bumpy." He reached out, his armored hand settling on Spider-Man's shoulder, and then, with a surge of controlled Turbo power, they launched into the sky, a blur of blue and red, Spider-Man's whoops of exhilarated excitement trailing behind them.
---
"Ranger." Doom's voice, metallic and resonant, filled the chamber. "Doom was not informed that you would arrive significantly behind your projected schedule. Nor that you would bring an… unexplained, and frankly, rather garishly attired, guest with you, directly before the presence of Doom." His gaze, cold and analytical, flickered dismissively over Spider-Man, who instinctively tried to hide behind Ranger's larger frame. "And if Doom is not mistaken, this… arachnid… must be the very individual whose fate you profess to care so deeply about."
"Uh… Mr. Ranger… is that… is that the Doctor Doom?" Spider-Man whispered, his voice tight with a mixture of awe and profound terror, peeking out from behind Ranger's arm. "He looks… even more doom-y in person. And way bigger than in the pictures!"
Ranger ignored Spider-Man's panicked commentary, his attention solely on Doom. "Yes, Doom. This young man is indeed the arachnid in question. And I believe his presence here, at this particular juncture, is not merely coincidence, but rather… his destiny. He needs to play a part in what is to come."
Doom remained silent for a long moment, his impassive mask giving nothing away. Then, he inclined his head, a single, regal gesture of assent. "Very well, Ranger. Doom agrees. The threads of fate are often woven in unexpected patterns."
"Whoa, Mr. Ranger, what's happening?" Spider-Man asked, stepping out slightly from behind Ranger, his confusion warring with his fear. "What about my destiny? What part do I play? Are we auditioning for a play? Because I did do a school play once, I was Tree #3, very pivotal role—"
"No time to explain the intricacies of multiversal narrative causality right now, kid." Ranger interjected, his voice calm but firm. "Just get ready. We're here to kill Sentry. Or rather, what's left of him — a living nuclear bomb. Almost a god."
The air grew colder. Even Spider-Man's usual chatter faded into silence, as if the room itself bowed in respect — or fear.
"Ranger." Doom's voice rumbled, a note of cold, metallic amusement in it, "Doom believes you are mistaken about one thing. There is no god. Only Doom."