|SILVER SURFER VOLUME 1|
Editor's note: At the end of Silver Surfer Vol. 1 Issue #18 (published in 1970 and written by Stan Lee), the Silver Surfer, still trapped on earth for betraying Galactus and still feared and hated by all of society, declared revenge on the human race. This is a continuation of that.
Silver Surfer Volume 1, Issue #19
"Terminal Ferocity" Part 1
Written by Matt Hamilton, Edited by James
Published by the Cosmic Power Fan Fiction Group
Silver Surfer created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby
Silver Surfer is a trademark of Marvel Comics
Click here for black&white text version (good for printing!)
The people of Latveria, being a simple folk, were carrying out chores or browsing at the local marketplace on this particular morning. Most of the village that served as the nations capital was basking in the glorious spring sun. The rest was cowering in the shadow of Victor Von Doom's castle.
Busy as they were, not many of the villagers noticed the bright flash of silver cross their sky. Those who did might have remarked to their comrades of a shooting star in the daytime, and get little more than doubtful laughter in return.
Soon enough, their observations would be proven true.
The Silver Surfer's voyage ended just outside the Latverian dictator's castle.
"Doom! Show yourself, coward!"
The Surfer's voice could carry through the vacuum of space. Von Doom had no trouble hearing the call. Within seconds his armored form appeared atop one of the castle's towers.
"I'm here, philosopher! Why do you risk my wrath so?"
Cosmic fire leaked from the eyes of the surfer as he turned to face his old nemesis.
"You'll find my philosophies have changed, Doom. It is time for vindication!"
With that the Surfer pointed both arms toward the figure, and released a barrage of energy in his direction. Protected by his force field, Doom began to laugh at his enemy's onslaught, until he realized that his footing was giving way. The tower, old as it was, could not withstand the assault, and collapsed beneath its owner.
"Curse you, silver one!" cried Doom as he pushed his way to the surface of the pile of rubble. "You won't get away with this!" Once atop the wreckage, he located the Surfer's form in the sky and released a series of energy bolts in his direction.
The Surfer did not even bother dodging. Instead, he shrugged off the attack, and flew closer to Doom's earthbound figure.
"I have suffered enough indignation at your ands, Doom! It ends now!" He raised a hand, and turned his head before releasing a wide beam toward Doom.
The evil monarch's eyes widened momentarily, expecting a killing blow. The Surfer could not have known that his force field was depleted from the first assault. Instead, the beam seemed to pass right through him, having no effect at all!
He smiled, and prepared to raise his gauntlets once more to retaliate. However, he soon realized that the Surfer had completely fused his armor in place! He could not move!
"What have you done!!?? How dare you insult me so in my own homeland??!!" he writhed with anger within the armor.
"I hope for your sake, Doom," spat the Surfer, "that whoever finds you is loyal to your cause, and not one of your oppressed peasant countrymen."
And with that, he flew off.
Doom could do little but stand and wonder if this was the same silvery alien he had fought so many times before.
Professor Charles Xavier sat peacefully in his wheelchair in the quiet of his study. Atop his head rested a metal skullcap, connected by dozens of cables to Cerebro, a massive computer that enhanced his formidable psychic powers. While his five prodigies trained in one of the building's gymnasiums, he scanned the world for anomalies.
His eyes suddenly snapped open, wide with shock. Somewhere in Europe he had sensed the tortured psyche of an alien mind, bent on revenge against humanity.
More worrying, however, was the assuredness he had felt that this being was capable of terrifying destruction. Quickly he telepathically notified Jean Grey, who, although still a teenager, was already an accomplished psychic.
Within minutes his X-Men were in the room with him.
"What is it, Professor?" asked Jean, dressed in her Marvel Girl costume.
"Has Magneto been pursuing his malevolent agenda once again?" inquired the Beast, crouched in what most people would consider an uncomfortable position.
"The mind I sensed was quite different from Magneto's, my pupils," began Xavier, "but at least as dangerous."
"Someone we know of?" asked Cyclops, trying to maintain an authoritative tone despite his misgivings about being placed in charge of his friends.
"No, Scott. And not a mutant. This mind is as alien as any I have read. Perhaps it is neither homo-sapien nor homo-superior. It is, however, frustrated and tortured beyond my comprehension. And I fear that its owner is fully able to pose a threat to all humanity!"
"Just tell me which way to fly!" exclaimed the Angel, stretching his wings.
"Eastern Europe right now," replied Xavier, "but headed quickly back to the States. By Cerebro's judgement I'd say it will be in New York within the next half-hour!"
"Then let's move!" commanded Cyclops, and the five raced to the rooftop helicopter.
Years of being trapped on this planet had eaten away Norrin Radd's judgement. As the Silver Surfer, herald to the planet-devourer Galactus, he had been free to roam the cosmos in search of new worlds.
Until he had found earth. Curse this planet! In his folly he had considered it worth saving, and rebelled against his master. Since that fateful day almost ten years ago he had been grounded here, unable to fly any further than the upper reaches of the atmosphere. Galactus had erected an impenetrable barrier around the world, and clipped his former-herald's wings.
But it was more than just cabin fever. For over a century before becoming the Surfer he had lived on the peaceful utopia of Zenn-La. Whilst he had found it tedious at the time, he longed for his home now. He longed for a world where people cared for each other, and existed purely for the advancement of their race.
And he longed for Shalla Bal. His one true love.
Instead, he had lived with the humans, and their petty wars. He had lived with the evil madmen of this world, who sought to dominate civilization or steal his power.
Well, enough was enough. If he could not be free of earth, he would make it Zenn-La. He would "fix" humanity so there were only peaceful beings left.
One madman at a time.
And, after a quick detour to settle a score in Latveria, he was heading back to the den of iniquity where it all started.
"What's our ETA, Cyke?" asked Iceman as the chopper neared New York City.
"I can see the target on the radar," replied Cyclops, "and he's headed this way in a real hurry. Most likely we'll have visual contact in less than five."
Angel spoke from his seat in the back. "I'm glad I decided to sit this one out - you guys would have left me behind ten minutes ago!"
"Save your strength, my ornithological companion," said the Beast, "I believe you are going to need it!"
"Heads up guys!" exclaimed Cyclops suddenly, "I've got--"
There was a flash as the silvery form of their target flew by them at enormous speed, and the chopper lurched from the turbulence.
"Where's he headed?" cried Marvel Girl, trying to look behind them through the side window.
"X-Men!" The chopper's radio sprang to life. "This is Professor X! Your target has slowed, and is headed down toward the outskirts of the city!"
"Roger, Professor," replied Cyclops, "we've got him on radar, and we're closing in as we speak. ETA one minute!"
As they drew closer to the junkyard where their target had landed, the five mutants saw him for the first time.
"He looks human enough to me," commented Iceman.
"What is that, a surfboard?" added Angel.
"Be ready for anything," snapped Cyclops.
As if in answer, the figure turned around and rose his hands toward the chopper. Suddenly a brilliant flash filled the cockpit, and the engines died!
Quick to react, Angel had already grabbed the Iceman, and quickly pulled him out the door. "Do your thing, frosty!" he shouted.
Iceman gestured, and a column of air condensed beneath the copter. It froze suddenly, and the craft came to rest atop the ice platform. One by one, Angel lowered his comrades to the ground.
"Quick thinking Angel," Cyclops said as his feet hit terra firma. "I wonder why our foe has not struck again?"
The silver figure was simply watching the five from several hundred meters away. He had made no gestures since downing the chopper.
"All right guys, spread out. Jean, keep a barrier between him and us if you can, and Angel: Don't get too high. Let's go!"
The five advanced slowly, trying not to show their enemy the trepidation they all felt.
Continued in Issue #20
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