>>6133685>Art: Alex Ross>Alt-Text: Painting of the Fantastic Four. For astronauts, led by Reed Richards who gained superpowers in space.<span class="mu-s">August, 1961</span>
The day has come. The brightest of this planet reached for the heavens and returned with the gods' fire.
The Marvel Age has begun.
Nathanial Essex (in quotation marks) “Can you believe this? I spend decades trying to crack induced mutation and some poindexter in a rented spaceship becomes a mutant by ACCIDENT!”
<span class="mu-r">A MuTATE, not a Mutant. No amount of sapiens technology could recreate our natural gifts.</span>
“I have a lab in New Mexico that says otherwise.”
<span class="mu-r"> I can rip you to atoms with a thought!</span>
<span class="mu-s">SILENCE!</span>
Magneto and your host both kneel before your might.
The boy Hank does not. For all his genius, your Pestilence cannot hear your voice.
Hank (in blue): <span class="mu-b"> While I find fisticuffs as dreadful as the next academic, I wouldn’t faint at their mere suggestion.</span>
<span class="mu-r">Stay your tongue boy, we deal with matters beyond you.</span>
<span class="mu-b"> Beyond me? How dare you? Have YOU studied Dr Richards’ work on cosmic rays? You wouldn't know a beaker from a Bunsen burner, let alone be able to hypothesize how he and his crew gained their fantastic abilities.</span>
<span class="mu-r">The question isn’t how, but when? When will the human nations of this world, in their quest to make anything a weapon, figure out how to mass-produce those changes? The first time the sapiens attempted to match our power, they used a man of rare honor. I don’t want to take my chances with whoever Jack Kennedy shoots up with cosmic particles.</span>
“Oh that Irish letch is more likely to shoot HIMSELF up than make a super soldier of any worth.”
<span class="mu-r"> It's not just the US. I am the master of the Electromagnetic Spectrum. I can feel the radiation fields of the Earth like my own skin. And every day, I sense more spikes of power. Across the globe, nations and corporations are racing to have the next Ubermensch. I know where this leads, and it won’t happen again—not on my watch.</span>
<span class="mu-s">What would you do, War?</span>
<span class="mu-r"> Strike while we still can. I am an Omega Mutant, the pinnacle of power. Even with our small numbers, I could take over Cape Citadel. With its Nuclear Arsenal, we could bring this planet to heel.</span>
“Or get us all killed! Bossman, a sidebar if you will.”
<span class="mu-b"> Is Dr. Essex... talking to himself? </span>
<span class="mu-r">These days, I’m not sure.</span>
“While I’m sure Tinhead here would love to go out in a blaze of glory there is a better option. I theorized that with the combination of the right twelve Essex factors, I could build you a body. One with Ultimate power.”
<span class="mu-s">How many of these Twelve have you acquired?</span>
“Two. Amusingly that magnetic blowhard with the inferior cape is one of them. But I know where five more are. The rest can’t be too hard to find. It will take time, but godhood is on the table. No need for haste.
>Attack Cape Citadel>Hold off on direct conflict. Keep assembling The Twelve. 