Craig Thomsen
A Good Man Goes to War
Blood and Iron
Several Hours after Registration DeadlineCraig landed at the steps of Princeton’s main hall, his wings and armor disappearing revealing Craig in a polo shirt and jeans. The dean moderating the forum welcomed him. “Craig, how are you doing?” He asked with a friendly smile. “I’m doing good, Don, and you?”
The dean smiled. “Getting older, but I’m doing well. Welcome back to your alma mater. How does it fear to be back home?”
“Like I never left. Shall we get started?” Craig asked, the dean nodding and leading him through.
It was a forum open to the public, to discuss both sides of the Registration argument, and Princeton, being the college Craig had come from, had invited him, and he had accepted. He sat now, before a microphone, a water bottle beside him, tapping the microphone once, he began. “It’s good to be back.” He said, to cheers. “My name is Craig Thomsen, and I am against Registration. I won’t deny that it’s a controversial issue, and colleges have always been a good forum for discussions. That’s why I’m here. In light of Stamford, some might say that Registration is absolutely necessary, and that Stamford proved that. But I disagree. Anyway, I welcome your questions, and I hope this is an informative afternoon for all of us….”
Three Hours laterIt was indeed an informative afternoon. He had been challenged, and also gained some supporters. Unfurling his silver wings and soaring up in the sky, he flew nowhere in particular. And then, all of a sudden, he began to count down, smiling to himself as he looked up at the sky. “3….2….1...and here he is. Tony.”
“Craig,” said Iron Man, “You’re flying too close to the sun.”
Craig shrugged, spreading his arms out, the sun glittering across his silver suit. “I am Icarus.”
“You do know the point of that story was that he flew too close to the sun and got burned for it. And he died,” said Iron Man, ominously.
“You know what, Tony? The people who say that? I think that they’ve never truly flown before. Never felt the wind at your back, the mighty flapping of wings, and all of the forces that go into flying.”
“I? I have never flown? Who was the first one to create a power suit? And look at the suit of armor you have on, a direct copy of mine. You might as well have painted it red and gold and called yourself Iron Boy.”
“Oh, this suit?” Craig said, looking at it. “You should know that generally, I’m a technological pacifist. I’m sure you were planning to call me out on it, so let me tell you why I created this. I created it to remind myself of my potential, of all the weapons I could create. This suit isn’t here to protect me. It’s here to protect the world from me.”
“That….is probably the most arrogant thing I have ever heard you say.”
“Rich coming from you,” quipped Craig.
“I’m Iron Man, Craig. I’m every kid’s favorite hero. You? You are a byproduct of my rise. An inferior model that needs to be erased.”
“So then, Tony, erase me.” Craig said, beckoning Iron Man. And the armorclad hero responded, throwing up a palm, blasting his repulsor beams at Craig’s unfurled wings, damaging them and sending the hero hurtling down below with chips of his wings broken. However, metal from his armor, by Craig’s will, reattached themselves to the wings, allowing him to right himself without using the alternate flight system he had. That weakened the durability of his armor, slightly, but it was irrelevant, Craig thinking that just before Stark tackled him, sending him hurtling to the floor below.
Controlling one of his disks with his mind, Craig activated the electrical field around the disk and sent it flying at Stark’s back, but the Golden Avenger barely noticed. “Electricity, Craig? You’re going to have to do better than that.”
“It is a good thing I have better, then,” he responded, as they neared the Earth. Managing to grasp his wrist, he managed to type in a few numbers, inputing the rest through his suit, and then, he was gone, Stark hurriedly braking to prevent crashing into the ground below. Craig reappeared just above Stark, Craig’s nanites popping into existence and forming a giant fist which crashed into Iron Man, sending him tumbling, Craig following up with another hit which sent his foil crashing into the ground.
“Alright, tank missile time!” Shouted Stark, a patch of his suit opening up to reveal a dozen tank missiles which flew at Craig. The mutant raised an eyebrow, and, used his laser, given accuracy down to the millimeter due to the calculations he and his on-board AI ran simultaneously. However, when he finished slicing them in half, new tank missiles emerged, Craig glancing up to see Stark grinning. However, Craig simply said, “Shields, 100%,” just before the tank missiles crashed into him. His shield cracked, but held against the tank missiles, Craig keeping it up as Stark charged at him and started punching at the bubble-shaped shield, Craig being knocked around in it for a while, flailing, as more cracks appeared in the shield. As Stark was about to throw one last punch that would probably break the shield, Craig managed to right himself, and lift a finger, halting Stark’s armored fist.
“What?” The man said in confusion, telling Jarvis to exert more energy into propelling his fist forward, only to no avail, the act barely costing Craig anything. Stark, coming up with a solution, detached the gauntlet, which flew at Craig, the mutant flicking his finger, sending the gauntlet way off course. “Your suit, Tony, is completely, utterly technology. I could sense you coming from hundreds of miles away, I can pinpoint the location of you, wherever you are. Your suit is mine.” Craig said confidently, as Stark began to see error messages all over his HUD. “Hydraulics, failing,” Jarvis reported. “Flight system, failing. Life support, failing. Communications, 50 percent. Shields, failing.”
And Stark began to drop, weighted down by a now-useless metal suit, he heard Craig’s voice. “This is what you get for supporting my torture, Stark. What you suffered all those years ago was nothing to what I suffered. By your support for Registration, you endorse my torturers, you reward them.”
“Give me a break, Craig, and stop talking. I’m the one who’s supposed to be the talkative one, not you. Now shush and let Uncle Tony think,” he quipped back, as he began to do just so, the pieces of the Iron Man suit flying away, Craig waiting to see what Stark would do. Next, the Golden Avenger commanded Jarvis to fly his uru armor out to him, the armor quickly wrapping itself around the man before he hit the ground, soon leveling off.
Craig raised an imperceptible eyebrow, questioning, “When did you get your hands on uru?”
“Odin was feeling merciful and a tad guilty after the thing with all of the hammers falling to Earth. Now, Craig, time to end this. Your technopathy is now negated. Give up this useless cause. You have no chance of winning this. Register, and tell the world, and you’ll face no charges, and be given everything you desire.”
“And what could you offer me?” He said to Tony, reaching over his shoulder and grabbing a disc which he hurled at Iron Man, Craig’s foe twisting in the air to avoid it. Craig blasted energy from his palms as his disc flew back to him, throwing it at Iron Man again, summoning several other discs from their dimensional storage. Iron Man, in a show of expert flying and skill, evaded, blasted away or countered all of Craig’s attack, landing a crushing uppercut to Craig’s jaw, repulsor blasts and laser beams keeping Craig under a slew of attacks, along with more tank missiles. Craig, now focusing solely on defense from the onslaught in a show of his own multi-tasking abilities, calculated angles, wind, and likeable movements of Stark as his palms blasted energy to match Stark’s repulsor beams, lasers cut apart tank missiles, and his nanites swarmed Iron Man’s armor. The Avenger responded to the nanites by unleashing an electrical surge which crippled the nanites.
Growing of the contest, he then simply flew forward at speeds that surprised Craig, grapped the mutant’s armored leg, and threw him crashing down to the ground below, Iron Man picking him up and letting loose an overwhelming flurry of punches at Craig, who had little he could do, save put up his shields and watch the energy bars on his HUD dwindle.
“You’re no fighter, are you, Craig?” Asked Tony, pausing, his right fist drawn back as his left gripped Craig.
“No, I’m not. Never was, and probably never will be. But before you start whaling at me again for who knows how long, you’ll want to hear this.”
Stark stepped back and crossed his arms. “Speak, buddy, and then let’s end this.”
Craig’s faceplate disappeared, and he sighed in relief, several cuts and scrapes being made evident. “Now, as to what I was saying. In exactly 5 seconds, I estimate, Jarvis is going to alert you of something alarming. I’ve taken the time, while you were furiously letting go of your anger, to take control of something of yours.”
Five seconds later, after he had spoken, Tony’s own faceplate popped up, his face paling. “You didn’t…”
“Yes I did. Sol’s Hammer. One of your more admirable creations, I will admit. A Dyson Sphere, capable, at 0.008%, to provide enough energy for an entire moon. I have no idea why you haven’t used this to end our energy problems, but away. 2% of it’s power is enough to destroy a moon. And Jarvis is telling you right now who it’s aimed at.” Craig said.
“Me…”
“Yes, you. Now imagine the precision required for the calculations, to take over, control and aim a superstructure that is 92.96 million miles away from the Earth. I’m keeping it’s power down to to an infinitesimally small number. But my control isn’t perfect Stark, far from it. One slip in concentration, one distraction, and who knows what could happen. I could easily blow both of us up, or the entire Earth.”
Stark stood, helpless, grappling with what Craig had done, surprised...by the audacity, the daring of it all. “Fine. You win this time. But seriously, Craig, “ and here he genuinely looked sincere, “Please never actually use it for anything other than energy and the damn Apocalypse itself. I know you hate me, and that feeling is mutual, but we can both agree that this is one thing that should be kept out of this little war of ours.”
“Agreed, Tony,” said Craig, letting the Dyson Sphere power down. As Stark turned his eyes upward, readying to fly out, the mutant spoke once more. “And Tony?”
“Yes Craig?”
“You were never my favorite hero.” He said with finality, Tony, for once, speechless, Craig smiling to himself as he unfurled his wings and flew up into the great, expansive sky above.