Illusiveone
patreon
23: Marvel's Green Lantern, The Revengers pt.5
🕑 Added 2025-07-30 11:02:11 +0000 UTCMax soared over the battlefield. Smoke and fire clawed their way through the jungle canopy, rising into the night sky. Explosions thundered in the distance.
“Jade, what’s happening down there?” he asked, narrowing his eyes against the haze.
“Scanning… One of the Kheru‑Sekhem is present—a pyrokinetic. She’s leading Tut’s forces and actively burning through the jungle. I’m detecting multiple Wakandan settlements in the path of the flames non‑combatants are still inside.”
Max gritted his teeth. “And the Wakandan soldiers?”
“Thirty of them surrounded. They won’t last long.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Then let’s save them first.”
Max angled downward, his ring pulsing brighter as he gathered power. With a wave of his hand, a flurry of emerald missiles streaked outward in carefully calculated arcs. Each one found its mark, blasting apart squads of Tut’s robotic foot soldiers. The explosions lit the clearing, yet none of the missiles touched the Wakandans still fighting.
He landed hard, emerald light crackling around him as he came to a halt before the trapped soldiers. Their vibranium spears tips glowing rose instinctively, until their leader stepped forward.
He wore armor similar to the Black Panther he had seen from the movies and comics, though more low‑tech: sleek, segmented, and functional. His face was partially exposed beneath the panther helm, the eyes and mouth unobstructed.
Max offered a half‑smile. “Looks like you could use some help.”
The Black Panther nodded without hesitation. “Yes. Yes, we do.”
Max raised his hands, channeling his will and an emerald century of Roman legionnaires sprang forth, shields gleaming as they charged. The constructs slammed into Tut’s forces, cutting through synthetic and human enemies alike.
The Panther and his warriors did not remain idle.
With a low battle‑cry, he signaled his men, and they followed him into the smoke and flame. The battlefield roared anew as metal met metal, vibranium blades and spears clashing with Tut’s future tech.
Max joined the fray, unleashing precise energy blasts from his ring, striking enemy soldiers and drones while shielding the Wakandans from incoming fire.
“Jade, status on those settlements?”
“The fire has reached all three settlements.”
Max’s jaw tightened. He turned to the Panther, who was now fighting two opponents at once with deadly elegance.
“I’ll be right back!” Max called.
“Where are you going?” the Panther shouted, spinning mid‑leap to slash through a drone.
Max launched himself into the sky. Below, flames devoured everything in their path—trees, huts, crops. Three settlements burned, rooftops collapsing as families fled in panic. Time was running out.
He concentrated, focusing his willpower and imagination, and formed two massive cannon‑like constructs. Inside, he fabricated emerald, flame‑retardant foam. It was difficult, but he succeeded, and the emerald foam blasted toward the inferno below, snuffing out the flames and coating the jungle and villages in thick clouds of protective material.
Sweeping across the sky like a low‑flying bomber, he extinguished fire after fire until the red glow finally began to fade.
When the worst was over, Max dove toward the scorched remains of the villages, scanning for survivors. Moving fast, he tore through debris with constructs shaped like shovels, claws, and crowbars. He found a mother and child pinned beneath a collapsed roof and carefully pulled them free, conjuring a stretcher to carry them away. A badly burned man lay barely conscious, his skin blistered; Max stabilized him and pressed on.
Not everyone was so fortunate. In one hut he found a man and woman who hadn’t survived, locked in each other’s arms during their final moments. He discovered ten more casualties. He couldn’t save everyone.
When he had gathered every survivor he could find, Max raised his hands and conjured a large protective dome. He lifted it gently, carrying the survivors through the jungle air, far from the fire and the battle.
“Jade, where’s the nearest secure location?” he asked.
“Coordinates set. There’s a small lake five miles out.”
Max deposited the survivors beside the lake, ensured they were safe, and immediately streaked back toward the fight. Green light skimmed the canopy as he re‑entered the clearing where the battle still raged. His Roman constructs held firm, formations methodical and precise. The Wakandans fought with unmatched grace, blades flashing, their vibranium shields deflecting and absorbing blasts from Tut’s tech. Their war chants echoed through the jungle.
They were winning.
Jade’s voice crackled in Max’s ear. “Max, the Kheru‑Sekhem she’s near.”
He spotted her at once.
A figure in a high‑tech suit strode through the chaos like a living inferno. Fire poured from her hands in screaming jets, shattering constructs and incinerating soldiers. Her armor glowed orange at the seams, absorbing and channeling the heat. Max realized—
“It’s the suit,” he muttered.
The Kheru‑Sekhem raised both hands, ready to unleash a sweeping wave of fire toward the Black Panther.
Max didn’t let her.
He surged forward in a burst of light, fist cocked. His punch slammed into her chest plate, and a shockwave rippled outward, extinguishing the flames mid‑air. The pyrokinetic hurtled backward, crashing through the treeline.
She didn’t get up.
Max hovered where she had stood, eyes glowing emerald.
“Stay down,” he warned.
The woman stirred, her armored frame twitching against the scorched earth. Max tensed, raising his ring‑clad fist to strike again—
—but a blur shot past him.
CRACK!
The Black Panther’s punch landed squarely on her helmet, snapping her head to the side. She collapsed, dazed. Without hesitation, the king followed through, slashing with his vibranium claws. The blades gleamed in the moonlight as they cut her throat.
She died, still clutching at the wound.
“Damn,” Max breathed, watching the Wakandan king stand over the fallen elite.
The Black Panther turned slowly, eyes narrowing behind the dark mask. Around them, the battlefield fell silent as Max’s constructs and the Wakandan warriors finished off the last of Tut’s forces.
The two stared at each other for a long, silent moment.
“Why did you flee?” the Panther asked, his voice low and faintly accusatory.
Max raised a brow. “Flee?” he echoed, a little offended. “Three villages were up in flames. People were trapped. I had to save them.”
The Black Panther didn’t answer right away. His gaze lingered on Max before his shoulders finally eased, just slightly.
“I thought it was too late for them,” he said at last. “Thank you.”
Max nodded solemnly. “There were casualties,” he admitted, “but I saved most of them. They’re safe by the lake now.”
The Panther dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Then I apologize for my words. You have rendered Wakanda a great service.”
“It’s fine,” Max replied. “I’m a Green Lantern. We have a common enemy.”
The Panther’s eyes narrowed. “Rama‑Tut?”
Max nodded. “He’s upset the natural order. A grand rebellion is forming to remove him once and for all. I came to ask for your people’s help.”
“I doubt we can spare much,” the Panther said. “Our lands are besieged. Half the realm burns. We are losing.”
“Then let me help,” Max said simply.
“And what do you want in return?” the king asked.
“Nothing,” Max answered. “It’s the right thing to do. All I ask is that, once your realm is secure, you consider joining our fight.”
The Wakandan king looked surprised, reassessing his visitor. Slowly, he removed his helm, revealing a young man only a little older than En Sabah Nur, by Max’s reckoning.
“I am King Azzuri,” he said, “the Black Panther and protector of Wakanda.”
He extended his hand.
“I welcome your help, Green Lantern.”
=========
Max helped Azzuri oversee the return of his men and the survivors to Wakanda’s capital. He offered to fly them there, but Azzuri was unsure, so Max decided not to push it. They traveled by riverboat, then on foot through dense jungle, where the land gradually gave way to crafted paths and terraced hills.
At last Max saw it: the Great Mount. It towered over the city black, glinting, and laced with deep veins of faintly glowing metal: vibranium.
Wakanda itself was a marvel. While the rest of the world was only entering the Bronze Age, Wakanda looked as though it belonged in the medieval era. A soaring palace was carved into the mountain, surrounded by neatly connected buildings of wood, stone, and perhaps even vibranium; the entire city shone with color.
Max caught himself staring, and Azzuri’s voice brought him back.
“That is the Great Mount,” the king said, still gazing at the jagged peak. “That is where the Sacred Metal is mined.”
Max nodded. “I can see it’s been quite the boon to your people.”
“It is Bast’s gift,” Azzuri replied simply. “Her blessing ensures Wakanda’s prosperity.”
Bast’s gift? More like a meteorite that happened to land in the right place. Did the goddess really take credit for that? Max scoffed inwardly but said nothing aloud.
“Come,” Azzuri said, leading him toward the palace nestled at the mountain’s base.
As they walked, dozens of citizens bowed low to Azzuri, whispering among themselves. Yet most eyes were on Max wide, curious, some awestruck, others wary.
“We don’t see many glowing green men here,” Azzuri remarked dryly.
Max chuckled. “Yeah, well... I’m an acquired taste.”
As they approached the palace, Max leaned in. “So, the other Elite. Where is he?”
Azzuri’s expression darkened. “We’ll speak inside.”
The interior of the palace was vast and cool, its high ceilings etched with intricate carvings. Torches burned with blue fire, and attendants moved silently across polished stone floors.
At the far end of the hall, a regal woman stepped forward. She stood tall and graceful, her head crowned with gold and wrapped in deep purple cloth.
“My son,” she said, descending the stone steps toward Azzuri. Her voice was warm but carried the steel of a queen.
“Mother,” Azzuri replied, clasping her hand and bowing his head. “I have killed one of Tut’s creatures.”
A flicker of emotion crossed her face, sorrow, then pride as she gently touched his cheek.
Azzuri turned to Max. “This is the Green Lantern. He aided us in the battle.”
The Queen Mother’s gaze shifted to Max, and her eyes widened. She froze for a second.
“The green one…” she whispered.
Max narrowed his eyes. That’s strange, he thought. Jade, did you—
Her voice came softly in his mind. “Yes. She’s not surprised to see you. We were expected.”
Something’s going on here…
======
Max followed Azzuri through the palace’s inner halls, flanked by members of the Dora Milaje. The all‑female special forces did not take kindly to his presence and kept glaring at him.
“The invasion began a year ago,” Azzuri explained as they walked, “and now they control nearly one‑third of Wakanda. Thousands have died.”
Max looked straight ahead but nodded solemnly. “That woman during the battle,” he said, recalling the pyrokinetic elite’s wild, almost panicked attacks, “she seemed… desperate.”
“She was,” Azzuri replied. “After the Battle of Orokar, one of our worst defeats, my father changed tactics. We turned to the shadows: hit‑and‑run strikes, sabotage, assassinations. We made them bleed slowly. Now the enemy is growing frantic.”
Max glanced sideways. “You mentioned your father…”
“He’s gone,” Azzuri said, voice steady. “When one of the three lesser mounts fell, he led a force to retake it. He never returned.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Max said quietly.
Azzuri gave a curt nod. “You asked about the other general, my father's killer. He hides in Urkani now, protected by Tut’s metal men and his strange magic. He commands ice, not fire like his counterpart.”
“Then that’s where we go,” Max said.
“Yes,” Azzuri agreed. “With you, perhaps a full assault is possible. We could take back the mount.”
They entered the throne room, and Max slowed to take in the space.
It was enormous. Towering columns of pure vibranium glinted with pale‑blue hues in the flickering firelight. The throne itself was carved from gold‑veined black vibranium, flanked by two colossal panther statues that crouched like silent guardians.
Three men waited at the base of the throne.
“Minister T’Chaka, General Jadaka, Elder M’Kiri,” Azzuri announced as he approached.
“My king,” the three said in unison, bowing deeply.
Max felt their eyes on him at once curious, suspicious, cautious.
Elder M’Kiri narrowed his gaze. “My king… who is this?”
Before Max could speak, Azzuri stepped forward. “An ally, Councilors. The Green Lantern. He is here to help.”
General Jadaka straightened sharply. “But my king—”
“I have made my decision,” Azzuri said, firm. “One of Rama Tut’s generals is dead the fire‑wielder. We struck them a great blow.”
Minister T’Chaka’s eyes widened. “This is wonderful news, my king. Truly.” He turned to Max. “And what of him, Your Majesty?”
“The Green Lantern was indispensable,” Azzuri replied. “Without him, many more lives would have been lost.”
Max simply gave a respectful nod.
“Update me on Urkani Mount,” Azzuri said as he strode toward the throne.
“The icy one still lingers inside, my king,” T’Chaka replied. “With the fire‑wielder dead, we believe the war can be ended swiftly if we collapse the mines.”
Not a bad idea, Max thought.
But Azzuri shook his head as he sat on the throne. “No. We’ve discussed this already. We don’t know how many of our people are still captive inside.”
Okay, Max corrected himself silently. Horrible idea.
Jadaka stepped forward, his tone sharp. “We have no choice. If he keeps his grip on Urkani, he’ll turn it into a fortress. Collapse the tunnels, seal them in that’s the only way.”
“You heard the king!” M’Kiri snapped, face flushed. “Our people are inside men, women, and children. We cannot sentence them to death!”
“The war has taken much from us,” T’Chaka said, his expression hardening. “The people will understand.”
Azzuri raised a hand. “No.”
“But, my king—” Jadaka began.
“I said no.” Azzuri’s voice cut through the chamber like a blade, and Jadaka fell silent.
T’Chaka exhaled sharply. “Then do you suggest we go in? We will lose more men than we save.”
“I’ll go,” Max said.
All four Wakandans turned toward him.
“You are not needed,” Jadaka said at once, his voice laced with contempt. “This is Wakanda’s war, outlander, not yours.”
M’Kiri added sharply, “The mount is sacred ground. We cannot allow a stranger to trespass on it.”
Max’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Strangers already occupy it. One more won’t change anything. I can go in and end this with fewer casualties.”
T’Chaka folded his arms and looked to Azzuri. “My king, I do not trust this sorcerer. For all we know, he could be working for Rama Tut.”
“Rama Tut is my enemy as well,” Max said evenly. “I’ve told your king as much. I didn’t come here to take or conquer, I came to help, because we share a common enemy.”
The chamber fell silent. Azzuri studied Max for a long moment, then turned to his council.
“Tut’s forces occupy one third of our realm,” he said, his voice quiet but unwavering. “Help me liberate it, and then we will turn our strength toward Urkani. I want you Green Lantern at our side.”
Max allowed himself a faint smile. “Wise choice, Your Majesty.”
Jadaka looked away in frustration, M’Kiri remained tense, and T’Chaka lowered his gaze silent but seething.
Azzuri stepped down from the throne and met Max’s eyes. “It is time to make my realm whole again.”
Comments
Tyler Karp
Thank you for the chapter
