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24: Marvel's Green Lantern, The Revengers pt.6
🕑 Added 2025-07-30 11:09:52 +0000 UTCMax hadn’t expected the campaign to reclaim Wakanda to drag on this long. Rama‑Tut’s forces had gone to ground, employing the same guerrilla tactics the Wakandans themselves had been using. Worse still, they were hiding behind cloaking tech much like Rama‑Tut’s own.
That, at least, turned out to be a mixed blessing. Working with Jade, Max was able to study the captured gear; Jade was certain Tut relied on a slightly more advanced version, and every scrap of data helped them spot the faint telltales sooner than before.
As for Azzuri… In the short time Max had known him, the Black Panther had proved himself honorable, brave, and remarkably sharp. But Max also knew when he was being used. It wasn’t malicious—Azzuri’s hesitation was plain. Max suspected Bast herself had ordered the king to enlist outside aid and then, once victory was won, cut ties: take whatever was offered and give nothing in return. Typical divine pettiness, Max thought; Khonshu had said enough about how the Ennead loved their games—especially Bast.
So Max placed his own pieces on the board. Whether Azzuri noticed or not, Max was weaving a subtle thread of guilt into every conversation, every act of service planting doubts that might tip the king’s heart when the moment came. And if it didn’t? Max would still help, though he’d be disappointed. He’d hold no ill will toward Azzuri or Wakanda.
He fired a precision blast into the treetops. A shimmer appeared, then a figure tumbled from the canopy one of Tut’s cloaked assassins, his tech flickering out before his lifeless body struck the dirt.
“More incoming,” Jade warned.
“This is a trap,” Azzuri said, dropping into a stance behind him.
“Yeah, I can see that,” Max muttered as the brush erupted.
They came from all sides, Tut's robotic foot soldiers, drones, and more of those cloaked assassins, dozens of them spilling from the shadows with inhuman speed.
Max summoned a towering suit of emerald armor around himself nine feet tall and charged.
His first swing sent three drones pinwheeling through the air; the second crushed a cloaked assassin beneath its weight. He plowed forward like a battering ram, soaking up incoming fire and hurling it back tenfold.
Beside him, Azzuri was a blur. Vibranium armor deflected blasts while his claws carved through mechanical limbs. Every strike was fast and brutal, sharpened by the Heart‑Shaped Herb and the suit’s tech.
The fight raged on, the last remnants of Tut’s ambush pressing in. Max handled most of them with ease his construct swatted robotic soldiers aside like toys while precise green beams sliced them apart.
Then he turned just in time to see five of Tut’s soldiers unleash concentrated plasma fire at Azzuri.
Too late to raise a shield.
The blasts slammed square into the Black Panther’s chest, flaring against the vibranium weave in a blinding flash. For a heartbeat, Max thought Azzuri was done for.
But then—
BOOM.
A brilliant purple shockwave erupted from Azzuri’s armor, rippling through the air like thunder. Trees bent, soil cracked, and Tut’s troops scattered like ragdolls.
“Whoa!” Max exclaimed, hovering. “Where the fuck did that come from?”
Azzuri straightened, faint violet light glowing at the seams of his suit. “The armor could always absorb energy,” he said, “just not on that scale.”
Max grinned behind his construct. “Tut’s tech is hitting harder than you’re used to, but that gives me an idea…” He drifted closer. “If I blast you, can you do it again make an even bigger shockwave?”
Azzuri tilted his head, then smiled. “We can try, Lantern.”
“Let’s go.”
Max raised his ring, summoned pure willpower, and fired.
A focused, continuous beam of green light surged from Max’s ring and struck Azzuri square in the chest. The vibranium drank it in like parched earth drinks water; energy pulsed along every seam, glowing brighter and brighter.
Azzuri clenched his fists and let out a war cry.
BOOOOOOM.
The shockwave he released was titanic ten times stronger than the first. It rolled through the forest like a tidal wave of kinetic force. Trees flattened. Camouflaged soldiers were exposed as their cloaks flickered out. Dozens of Tut’s men flew through the air like leaves in a storm.
Max stared at the destruction. “Holy shit,” he said with a satisfied nod. “We make one hell of a team.”
Azzuri laughed, matching Max’s energy. “On that, I agree.”
With Tut’s ambush crushed, Max conjured a protective sphere and carried Azzuri out of the ruined forest, flying toward the nearest liberated Border Tribe village.
“We must strike at Mount Urkani now,” Azzuri said as they touched down.
Max nodded. “Yeah. Last I checked, Tut’s remaining forces were falling back there getting ready for a last stand.”
The damage from the occupation was immense. Azzuri did what a king must, ensuring his people were safe. Max helped, too rebuilding shattered structures, pulling twisted metal from homes, and using his constructs to ferry water and supplies.
In the week he’d been here, public opinion had begun to shift. Villagers who’d been wary at first now greeted him with gratitude, and the soldiers treated him with growing respect.
And Azzuri? The Black Panther had started to open up. Distrust still lingered, perhaps maintained by Bast but Max could feel it fading. Through his actions, he’d shown the king he wasn’t just another outsider looking to plunder Wakanda.
As they returned to the capital, Max saw the city in a frenzy of preparation. The Dora Milaje and frontline warriors drilled in every courtyard. Messengers sprinted between towers with last‑minute orders, while artisans lugged crates of spears, shields, and armor.
Wakanda was ready for the final assault.
“You know,” Azzuri said as they walked through the bustling streets, “every outsider we’ve ever met has wanted just one thing, our sacred metal.” He glanced at Max, his expression unreadable. “And yet… you show no interest in it.”
It was the first time Azzuri had spoken openly about vibranium.
Max chuckled and raised his ring hand, its green glow pulsing faintly. “Azzuri, I’ll be honest with you. This” he wiggled the ring “is the most powerful weapon in the universe. I don’t need any sacred metal.”
Azzuri’s brow furrowed. “No interest at all?”
“None,” Max replied. He lowered his voice as they passed beneath a stone archway. “And to be even more honest, if I really wanted the metal, I know other places in the universe where I could get it.”
“Other places?” Azzuri’s eyes narrowed.
Max remembered a trivia snippet he’d read: vibranium did exist beyond Wakanda, though few knew where.
“The Spartax Empire,” Max said with a shrug. “They have an entire planet of it. If I wanted the metal, I could buy it from them.”
Azzuri stopped short. “A planet…? But Bast—she—”
Max met his gaze and sighed. “Bast’s power like the other gods here doesn’t extend far beyond this world, or maybe her own realm. Out there” he pointed toward the sky “she’s a small fish in a very, very big ocean.”
Shock washed over Azzuri’s face, quickly followed by anger. “That is blasphemy.”
“No,” Max replied softly. “It’s the truth. And I’m guessing Bast has already spoken to you about me.”
“She… yes,” Azzuri admitted.
“I don’t know what she told you, but I’ve been nothing but honest with you, Azzuri.”
Guilt flickered behind the king’s composed mask.
“I’ll help you end this war,” Max continued. “Whatever you decide afterward whether Wakanda joins my fight or not is up to you. I’ll still stand with you.”
A long silence hung between them. Finally, Azzuri looked down. When he raised his eyes again, shame mingled with something new—respect.
“You truly are an honorable man, Lantern.”
Max smiled. “It’s what I do.”
Azzuri drew a deep breath, straightened, and nodded. “Then come. Let’s end this.”
======
Max hovered high above Mount Urkani. Far below, carved into the jagged cliffs, lay the mine—ringed on all sides by the last of Rama‑Tut’s entrenched troops.
He slowed, scanned the terrain, then descended beside Azzuri and the assembled Wakandan generals. The moment his boots touched stone, he conjured a luminous emerald screen, and everyone gathered around it.
The display flared to life real‑time footage streamed from the tiny emerald drones he had deployed moments earlier, gliding silently down the mine shaft.
“There,” Max said, pointing.
The feed steadied as the drones entered a vast subterranean chamber, and the sight drew a chorus of gasps.
Captured Wakandans hundreds of them were hacking at glowing veins of raw vibranium with bare hands and rusted tools. Even children toiled among them.
“No,” Azzuri whispered, his voice cracking. “They’re mining without protection. They’ll get the mining sickness—”
“Then we go now,” Max said, firm and steady.
Jadaka clenched his fists. “The enemy knows we’re here. Why haven’t they pulled out?”
Max studied the scan readouts. “Is there another exit?”
Azzuri shook his head grimly. “No. One entrance, one exit. That shaft is the only way in or out.”
Max’s eyes narrowed as he expanded the scan. No secondary tunnels, no hidden escape routes—Azzuri was right.
“They’re stalling,” the Black Panther muttered. “Trying to rip out as much metal as they can before we hit them.”
“Or,” Max added darkly, “they may have already moved some of it. Maybe they’re just buying time.”
Azzuri wheeled on him. “No. Bast would never allow it.”
Max met his gaze, voice flat. “Bast isn’t all‑powerful.”
“You dare—!” Jadaka snapped, stepping forward.
Max raised a hand. “We don’t have time to argue about gods. We hit them now, hard. The king and I will go into the mine—just us. We move fast, clear the way, and secure the hostages before it’s too late.”
“My king,” Nehada of the Dora Milaje began, “that’s too dangerous. Let us lead. The risk—”
“No,” Azzuri said, voice firm. He looked at Max, then back to his generals and guards. “You have your orders: finish the forces outside. The Lantern and I will enter the mine, end this, and I will kill the one who murdered my father.” His eyes flashed. “My mind is made up. I will not change it.”
The generals bowed reluctant, but obedient and turned to rally their troops.
Max glanced at Azzuri. “Ready?”
Azzuri gave a single nod. “Yes.”
Without another word, Max conjured a glowing emerald sphere around them. It lifted off and streaked toward the dark, gaping mouth of Mount Urkani.
======
Inside, Max dropped the emerald sphere, and the two men slipped deeper into the mine. The narrow tunnel soon opened into a cavernous expanse, lit by the eerie purple‑blue glow of raw vibranium veins that laced the stone.
Azzuri ran his hand along one glowing ridge. “You know, Lantern… if the sacred metal has truly been taken from this mine into Rama‑Tut’s hands I would have no choice but to hunt it down.”
He paused.
Max glanced sideways at him, a faint grin playing on his lips. “Oh? That would be very unfortunate… if it happened.”
Azzuri gave a low hum. “Even Lady Bast would have to bless such a quest… I would need to unite all of Wakanda’s might against Rama‑Tut.”
“Then let’s hope no vibranium has left this mine,” Max said, chuckling under his breath.
“Yes… let us hope,” Azzuri murmured.
Max had done it. The king of Wakanda, dutiful, devout, was now looking for a reason to defy the divine, and Max had no intention of stopping him.
They reached the main chamber.
It was vast. Hundreds of captured Wakandans were hacking at vibranium under the cold gaze of Tut’s remaining soldiers.
“There,” Azzuri growled, pointing.
At the far end of the cavern stood a tall figure, armored like the fallen pyrokinetic general but shot through with cold blue conduits of power. Frost shimmered across his plates, and the ground around his boots was slick with ice.
Jade’s voice crackled in Max’s ear. “Cryokinetic confirmed matches Rama‑Tut’s elite parameters.”
Max’s eyes swept the chamber. “How many?”
“Seventy‑three active hostiles. Civilian workers: two hundred twelve.”
He raised his ring hand and conjured a cluster of emerald projectiles precision charges no larger than pebbles but strong enough to punch through armor. With practiced ease he loosed them in silent waves, green sparks streaking through the cavern like comets.
One by one, the guards fell. Each explosion was sharp and controlled focused blasts that dropped every soldier cleanly without harming the Wakandan captives. Shouts became screams, then silence.
Max had been thinking of using small constructs for a while now and it seems they were very potent.
Azzuri watched, impressed. “You truly do wield the most powerful weapon in the universe.”
From the far end of the chamber, the cryokinetic general bellowed, “Come out, green ghost! I know you’re here. I know you killed my sister!”
“I killed her,” Azzuri corrected, offended.
“Well, I did most of the work,” Max added.
“I want to finish him myself,” the king muttered, voice tight with rage.
Max gave a short nod. “He’s all yours.”
Together they strode into the heart of the mine toward the last of Tut’s invading force.
The icy general snarled as they approached. Blue energy crackled around his raised arms, aimed at a cluster of cowering Wakandan prisoners, men, women, and children dusted purple‑blue from the vibranium ore.
“I’ll kill them all,” he growled, his voice echoing coldly. “If I die, they die with me.”
Max didn’t flinch. “No, you won’t,” he said calmly.
With a thought, a shimmering emerald cage snapped shut around the general. He unleashed frigid blasts, ice spreading across the construct’s walls, but it held Max reinforced it with a flick of his fingers.
At the same time, he conjured two massive green hands, gently scooping the prisoners away and setting them safely beyond the battlefield.
Azzuri stepped forward, claws already bared. “Open it, Lantern.”
Max nodded, and the emerald cage dissolved.
The cryokinetic lunged, a jagged spear of ice forming along his forearm but Azzuri was faster. Vibranium claws met the ice‑blade mid‑air; the kinetic energy bled into his suit, which glowed faintly at the seams.
The general swept a wave of frost toward him, trying to encase the king in ice. Azzuri ducked, leaped, and slashed his claws rending through the frosted plating on the general’s shoulder.
“Lantern!” he barked. “Blast me!”
Max didn’t hesitate. A beam of emerald energy struck Azzuri square in the back. His armor absorbed the power at once, seams flaring violet. With a roar, the Panther released it in a violent pulse.
A purple shockwave ripped across the cavern, flattening stone and hurling the cryokinetic across the chamber like a rag‑doll. He smashed into the far wall, dazed. Azzuri gave him no chance to recover—pouncing, he drove both knees into the general’s chest.
Claws slashed once, twice then found a weak seam. With precise fury, Azzuri opened the armor and slit his throat.
Max landed beside him.
“It’s done,” Azzuri said, chest heaving as the glow faded from his suit.
“You fought well,” Max replied. His gaze shifted to the exhausted prisoners nearby. “I’ll get them out. Some are in rough shape.”
“They must be taken to the capital,” Azzuri ordered. “Exposure to unrefined vibranium causes the sickness they'll need treatment.”
Max nodded.
He raised his hand, conjuring an emerald transport that unfurled like a hovering train. One by one, he lifted the Wakandans aboard. When the last survivor was settled, Max rose into the air, the glowing conveyance following effortlessly.
Night air met them at the mouth of the mine as Max guided the construct toward the capital.
The war for Wakanda was over.
======
Max returned to Mount Urkani after delivering the rescued prisoners to the capital. Some were in critical condition and unlikely to survive; most could be treated, though they would suffer side‑effects for the rest of their lives.
The moment he touched down, cheers erupted from the warriors outside the mine, their eyes shining with gratitude. Max smiled and landed lightly before Azzuri, who stood tall at the entrance. The king returned the smile.
“Thank you,” Azzuri said, his voice warm with genuine appreciation.
“Happy to help, Your Majesty,” Max replied.
Without another word, Azzuri motioned for him to follow. They slipped away from the crowd and into a quiet command tent.
“I must confess something,” Azzuri began, facing Max squarely. “When you arrived, I was expecting you. Lady Bast told me you would come and ordered me to use you to win the war—then cast you aside afterward. She feared you would take our sacred metal, or worse, claim the kingdom.”
Max stood silently, letting him speak.
“I believed she was infallible,” Azzuri continued. “But I was wrong. You have shown nothing but honor, and now I wish to aid you.”
“Even if that means defying Bast?” Max asked softly.
Azzuri nodded. “Yes.”
A sly smile touched the king’s lips. “I had the mining guild inspect the vaults to be certain no vibranium had been taken.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“They reported none missing,” Azzuri said, “but I asked them to check again.”
Max tilted his head. “Let me guess some are missing?”
“Indeed,” Azzuri confirmed, a conspiratorial grin spreading. “A theft, it seems. And as king of Wakanda, I am honor‑bound to retrieve it.”
Max smirked knowingly. “Of course. You must.”
Azzuri squared his shoulders. “My finest warriors will be ready within a week. Wakanda will join the struggle against the false Pharaoh.”
Max extended his arm, and Azzuri clasped it—two warriors locking forearms in a bond of mutual respect.
As their grip tightened, Max leaned in and whispered, “Are you sure Bast won’t be angry?”
Azzuri smiled faintly. “Let her be angry. I’ll face her wrath. In my heart, I know this is the right path.”
Max stepped back, respect shining in his eyes. “You’ll be a great king, Azzuri.” Then, with a grin, he added, “And welcome to the Revengers.”
“Reven… what?”.
.
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Comments
Tyler Karp
Thank you for the chapter
Kenadams
Thanks for the chapter
