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Novus Lupus	By : TheMadSlasher Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Avengers, The Views: 8392 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The Avengers and all related characters are property of Marvel, not the author. The author makes no income from this fiction.

Chapter List
- 1-Novus Lupus
- 2-Act 2
- 3-Act 3
- 4-Act 4
- 1
- 2
- 3
ACT 2

Part 13

An enthusiastic bellow echoed through the Malibu house.

"I hath the mead!!!"

A tall man stood at the open door with a duffel bag and two kegs slung over his broad shoulders. His immense muscles bulged as he casually strode inside. His towering frame measured six feet and three inches tall; his hair was a slightly-reddish blond that came down to his thickly-bewhiskered chin. He wore blue jeans, tan hiking boots, and a tight gray t-shirt with three blue runes printed horizontally across the chest.

As the front door closed behind him, he placed the kegs of honey-wine down on the floor.

"Greetings, Mister Odinson."

"Hail, JARVIS!" he replied as he walked into Tony's living room. At that moment he got a sight of the flexible archer lying on the couch.

"Brother Clinton!" he exclaimed with his warm grin only growing larger. Without thinking, the longhaired man dashed over to the shorter man; Thor wrapped his arms around Hawkeye, picked the man up off the couch and held him tightly.

Clint grimaced and grunted at the feel of his arms pinned to his sides.

"Hey Thor!" he replied with a strained voice, "gotta breathe, man."

"Right," Thor quickly said as he lowered Hawkeye's feet to the floor and slackened his grip.

"Thanks," Clint continued through a gasp as he looked up at the taller man. He smirked, "nice to see you too. So... mead?"

The Asgardian would have turned towards the kegs if he didn't hear someone descending the stairs. He looked and saw a slightly shorter, short-haired blond man of marginally smaller build to his own.

"Who are you?" Steve asked in a harsher tone than usual. He still wore only a white bathrobe.

Thor's own blue eyes moved over the Super Soldier, sizing up the man, but not as if he were sizing up a hostile. The Asgardian's smirk softened into something more affectionate as he strode towards the other man.

"Captain Rogers," he began in a softer than usual tone, "I have heard many great stories about you." His meaty hand clapped over Steve's left shoulder.

Part 14

"Brother Antony!" the Norseman boomed as he saw the familiar black-haired man climb the stairs from the lab. He stood up and took a tall glass of mead over to the inventor.

"Hey big guy!" Stark replied with a smile as he accepted the glass. Cap (still in bathrobe) and Hawkeye (in the usual omnipresent motorcycle leathers) sat on the couch with glasses in their hands. He felt Thor's large arm move around his back and direct him towards the couch.

"Join us, friend. I'm truly honored to be meeting the good Captain and hearing of his valor!"

"Speaking of the good Captain," Tony continued after making eye contact with the man, "wanna get outta that bathrobe?"

Clint snickered as he watched a blush creep up Steve's neck.

Tony rolled his eyes, "not THAT way. Well, not yet at least," he quickly added, "JARVIS, is the gear behind the panel?"

"Indeed Sir. Shall I do the honors?"

"Go for it," Tony replied as Thor sat on the couch next to Steve and Clint.

Captain Rogers saw the wall panel spin around. The glass and metal cabinet held his shield and a new outfit; a royal blue T-shirt with a white star in the center of the chest, a black leather biker jacket with silver zips and buckles and US flags sewn to the upper biceps, black leather gloves, gray-and-white urban camouflage pants, a black leather belt with a US flag buckle, and black leather lace-up combat boots that reached the knee. Steve's gaze analyzed how the light gleamed off the bootleather, diffused into a shimmering haze.

"I think he likes it," Tony said with a filthy smirk on his face.

Steve smiled and nodded. "I do. Thank you Tony."

"Aye," Thor commenced, "'tis a most heroic image!"

Clint nodded, "I'm mostly straight and even I find it hot!"

Part 15

He was relieved that Tony let him examine the entire outfit in his room privately. He could already hear Clint's hysterical reaction to the piece he held in his hand.

The waist strap was white, but the pouch was the familiar blue covered in white stars. And the straps which attached the pouch back up to the waist strap were red.

The Star-Spangled Jockstrap. This is supposed to be my underwear. His face was nearly as red as the rear straps.

In spite of that, he slid the jockstrap onto his naked body. The shirt came next, although it felt a little tight (knowing Tony, that's a feature and not a bug). The urban camouflage pants and belt followed. The jacket slid over his shoulders and the familiar feeling of empowerment returned. His heartrate increased slightly as he looked into the mirror and saw that ideal become progressively more real as the outfit encompassed more of his form.

He pulled the tall combat boots over his socked feet and tucked the urban-camo pant legs down into the shaft. His gloved fingers grabbed ahold of the laces and started to tie the boot tightly. With each tug on the laces he felt the limb become strengthened with the leather's reinforcement. [i]I'd rather die on my feet than live on my knees[/i] he mentally recited as he looked in the mirror at himself; he didn't care if his childhood church considered it sinful that in his reflection he saw a godlike figure, a strong and powerful and worthy being that would never grovel.

He stood at his full height and looked over the image again. The light from the window moved over his boots. He remembered the Mil-Dom at the Resoc Camp and gritted his teeth. I'd never lick the boots of him or anyone like him... he doesn't know the meaning of 'respect'. Yet the man standing in the mirror... a different story, Cap thought as he felt his mouth go dry.

A few seconds later he picked up his shield and left the room. The familiar weight at his right arm felt comforting as he descended the stairs. Over on the couch, Thor, Clint and Tony were still guzzling mead.

"Ahh, Steven! You've returned! I shall refill your glass!" Thor declared.

Clint and Tony's eyes wandered over his body. Tony wolf-whistled. Clint flashed a thumbs up.

Part 16

Thor stumbled into his bedroom with his bag over his shoulder. His face flushed red and his grin didn't fade as he threw the bag on the bed.

I shall buy more of that mead, he thought as he opened the duffel bag. At the base of it, beneath the clothes, were two objects wrapped in bubble wrap. He picked up the first; the hefty weight and familiar shape soothed the Norseman. Mjolnir, old friend.

He took a glance out the window and observed the glittering spread of stars above the sea. He turned his face away from the window. At least you remained loyal to me. He remembered the faces, the sneers, the tyrant on the throne that stripped him of his armor and would have stripped him of Mjolnir if it weren't for some convenient sabotage of the enchantment. Only one person Thor knew of could possibly do that; what I would give to see you again, Brother.

Thor looked back into the bag and picked up the second object; it was long and rectangular with a handle at one of the narrow ends. He didn't unwrap it before he opened the closet. He smiled when he saw the familiar four-legged padded wooden sawhorse sitting there. I knew you were a trustworthy man, Antony. The rectangular object was leaned against the wall of the closet, beside the sawhorse.

Odinson closed the cabinet and moved back to his bed. All the mead had made his stride less sure than usual. He fell back onto the soft mattress and began to pull the tight gray shirt off his body.

Thank the Norns that Lady Jane Foster found me before this land's government did. They'd have probably given me title over her. He couldn't deny that Jane had been the only woman other than Lady Sif he had felt attracted to, but the way she averted his gaze and apologized for every single thing took her off that short list. She's always more beautiful when she's working with those charts, he thought as he remembered how her work simply melted away under her skill, the confidence that sparkled in her eyes as she scrawled out equations like a sorcerer spouted incantations. A competence that nearly made me blind to the collar encircling her neck.

Part 17

Another day, another hangover, Tony thought as he splashed his face with cold water and swallowed some painkillers before gingerly descending the stairs. Eggs Benedict. Double size serving. Generous with the hollondaise. And coffee... lots of coffee he thought as he walked into his kitchen.

Only to have his ears assaulted with what sounded like a jackhammer to the skull.

"Brother!!!" Thor boomed before he took a long inhale of the air above the toaster. The box of double chocolate poptarts sat beside the appliance.

Tony raised his hand, cringed and clamped his eyes shut. "Keep it down, Thor... feeling like shit today," he croaked.

"Oh." Thor responded in a subdued and deflated tone as he looked back towards the toaster. "Apologies, friend."

"JARVIS, usual morning-after thanks."

"Yes Mister Stark," JARVIS replied. Whirring noises emerged from the cabinetry around the kitchen. "Agent Barton is still asleep, and Captain Rogers is performing calisthenics in the basement. Perhaps you'd like for the camera feed to be directed to the big screen in the living room?"

"Not now. Thor?" He asked, raising his eyebrow in the Asgardian's direction.

The blond smiled, "I would welcome the opportunity but would prefer the good Captain to grant me that privilege himself. I must decline, JARVIS."

Tony picked up a now-steaming mug of coffee. "Last arrival should be today. Then we can actually do something. This place is becoming like an improv frathouse." He took a sip of his coffee, "no offense big guy."

"None taken," Thor replied with a sly smile.

Part 18

Steve stood on the balcony, leaning upon the guardrail as he took in further breaths of sea air. The salt on his tongue tasted harsher than usual; only ten minutes ago he had just gotten out of the shower and put his new outfit on.

He felt a hand impact his back and was suddenly thankful the lash marks had mostly healed. He turned around to see Clint's mischievous smile and feel the shorter man shove a cold glass into his hand.

"Steve."

"Clint." He looked at the dark amber of the liquid inside the glass. "Can't seem to get away from liquor around here."

"Hair of the dog, Steve. Besides, Tony's place means free top shelf everything." Clint held up his own glass and tilted it towards Steve's.

Rogers reciprocated. The glasses refracted the sunlight and they chimed with a pleasant harmonic 'clink.' No hangover, but might as well he thought as he took a sip. The sweet smoke trickled down his throat and left a warm glow in its wake.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it buddy," Clint responded.

"I don't want to pry... but you aren't exactly deferential. How did they mistake you for a submissive?"

"Simple," Clint immediately replied. "If you don't bully others, you're a sub. Fight back against the bullies, and that just means you secretly wanna be broken and are in denial of it." Bitterness crept into the archer's tone with each successive syllable.

Sick excuse for logic he thought as he remembered his own multitude of bullies. He looked again into Clint's eyes. "They used something heroic about you as a weapon against you," he said.

Clint's smirk became a smile with a touch of eagerness. "Heroic? You think so?"

The Captain responded with a nod. "Novus Lupus says we're wolves. In this world, it takes a hero to act like a man."

Part 19

Hawkeye peered off the edge of the balcony and towards the horizon. The setting sun cast ribbons of rich orange-bronze atop the surface of the water. His eye gazed down the shaft of the arrow; his right arm was fully drawn. The wash of the wind and lapping of the waves drowned out the creaks made by the bow.

"Good luck, Thor."

Thor stood next to the archer, Mjolnir in hand. "I appreciate the good wishes, Brother Clinton. But I need no luck." He smirked.

"Aaand... fetch!" Clint exclaimed as he released the arrow.

Thor immediately took flight. Wind whipped around his body as he felt Mjolnir drag him forth at ever-increasing speeds. The black arrowshaft emerged in his field of vision and he willed Mjolnir onwards; the roar in his ears only intensified. He extended his free arm and in a quick motion, snatched the arrow from the air.

Clint smiled as he watched the Asgardian loop upwards and begin to return to Tony's balcony. A few seconds later he felt the Norseman politely place the arrow back in his hand. Clint slid it back into his quiver.

Thor raised his hand. Clint obliged with the high-five; their hands gripped each other comradely. Both men smiled at each other.

"Nice catch, Thunderer."

"Skilled shot, Brother."

"I should get down to the lab... Tony's probably working on some new trick arrows. You know where to find me."

"Aye," Thor replied as he turned back towards the sea.

Part 20

Clint walked through the glass door to Tony's lab. Stark stood behind the bench, making upgrades and alterations to various components the archer couldn't identify.

"Trick arrows that way," the inventor pointed to the far side of the bench behind him.

"JARVIS," he continued without taking a breath, "get Steve down here."

"No problem Mister Stark."

Twenty three seconds later, Captain America opened the glass door and strode inside.

"Wanted to see me Tony?"

"Yeah," Tony continued as he picked up something from behind the bench; the familiar shield. "I've modified it slightly, now when you throw it, it should return faster. Also," he picked up a few flat gray rectangular objects, "this is some armor-plating. Monomolecular kevlar fibres plus a whole lot of other crap I shoved into the mix. Should stop or slow most bullets, fits into the various inner pockets of your jacket."

"Thank you," Cap replied with a nod, "your technology is amazing, but how are you going to fight alongside us yourself?"

Across the room, Clint chuckled as he picked up one of the new trick arrows.

"Just something I whipped up a few years back. Don't worry you'll love it," Tony continued in a rapid pace with a big smirk.

Suddenly, Steve heard the familiar sound of a motorcycle. Unlike the precise, refined humming of Clint's bike, this sound was the familiar growl Steve remembered; a filthy roar that guiltlessly proclaimed its presence.

Clint instantly grinned. "What took him so long?"

The bike entered the garage; the Harley was jet black and chrome. Atop it sat a short, stout figure in classic black motorcycle gear. The figure's hair was an unruly black tangle. The figure parked his bike, and stood up, only to be immediately approached and hugged by the archer.

"Hey buddy!"

"Clint," the figure replied in a rough, warm gravel as he returned the hug.

After Clint released him from the embrace, the figure moved towards Steve and Tony. "Tony," he politely said with a wave, but his cobalt gaze remained fixed on Steve.

"Logan," Tony replied, "this is our new firepower, Steve Rogers."

"That's some high-grade firepower... real high-grade," Logan replied as his eyes continued to move up and down the super soldier's body. His smirking mouth and filthy tone left no question in Steve's mind about whether or not he was assessing combat-worthiness.

Clint chuckled from across the room, "I think he likes you, Cap!"

Steve felt a blush begin to creep up his cheeks, but his eyes remained locked on the shorter man's and he offered his hand forward.

"Pleasure to meet you, Logan."

Logan clasped Captain America's hand firmly and shook.

"I'll go upstairs and get the party ready," Clint said enthusiastically before leaving the lab and bounding up the stairs. "Hey Thor, Logan's back!" he called.

"Another welcome party?" Steve asked the inventor. "We had one when I arrived, when Clint arrived and when Thor arrived. How are these productive?"

"They're good team bonding," Tony fired back without even the slightest hint of irony. "Alright, party's waiting. You two play nice with each other."

Part 21

A few hours later, Thor was sitting on the couch with a flushed face; the Norseman had his left arm across Tony's shoulders and his right arm around Clint. Before them were several pizza boxes. His booming laughs echoed through the mansion.

Logan sat next to Clint and munched through a slice. He looked at the archer's own slice as it rapidly disappeared.

"Good pizza, huh?" he said with a smirk.

"Hell yeah!" Barton replied enthusiastically. "Feels good to eat with my hands.. or at least not off the floor," he added. Only the mutant could hear the bitterness creep into the inflections.

An angry growl began to well up Logan's throat but he held it down. His free arm moved towards the table and picked up one of the many bottles of beer sitting near the pizza boxes. He took a swig.

"I'm curious, Logan," came Steve's voice. The super soldier sat at the other end of the couch, next to Tony; a bottle of cola sat in his hand. "How did you come to be involved in this?"

"That's a story fer another time," Logan quickly replied back as he averted Rogers' gaze and picked up another slice. He felt Clint's hand move across his back comfortingly; thanks Arrowhead he thought.

"Why not sit more closely amongst us, Steven?" Thor asked in a magnanimous tone. "Surely, you are part of this endeavor as much as we are! Would Antony be willing to trade places with you?"

"You know big guy there are many more subtle ways to get someone to sit close to you so you can put the moves on them," Tony replied nonchalantly as he finished his slice and picked up his glass of whiskey. He motioned toward Steve.

Steve blushed slightly and slid across the couch towards the Asgardian.

"Tony Stark talking about subtle ways to get people into bed?!?" Clint snarked back. He then turned to Logan, "was he subtle with you, Canucklehead?"

The feral let out a slow, filthy chuckle as a depraved leer spread across his face. "Not countin' Steve, no one's been subtle with anyone else in this room."

Steve felt his face go red and his heartbeat accelerate as the wildman's cobalt gazed remained fixed on him. He gulped as he heard the mutant's subterranean growl continue;

"And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Part 22

Several hours later, Clint's arms were wrapped around Thor and Logan's steady bodies. All three men moved carefully up the stairs before turning into the hallway. Steve had crashed an hour before, and Tony stayed downstairs with the final inch in the bottom of the bottle.

"Easy, Arrowhead," Logan said to the unstable figure next to him.

"Don't have a healing factor... not Asgardian or a super-soldier either..." Clint began; his half-lidded eyes, flushed cheeks and slurred syllables said everything. "An' Tony's gotta tolerance usually found only in Irish dockworkers... can't blame me for getting so wasted.."

"Blame?" Thor remarked with an affectionate smirk. "'Tis unthinkable to abstain during a feast!"

The trio moved down the corridor with deliberate, yet swaying steps. When they reached Clint's door, the archer opened it before turning around and looking at the elder two men.

"Thanks guys. You're the greatest."

"See ya tomorrow Barton," Logan responded. The Canadian gave the younger man's shoulder another pat before he watched Clint turn around and stumble towards the bed. He then quietly closed the archer's door.

Thor and Logan continued further down the hall to their own rooms. The blond man had his own arm over the short man's shoulder. "'Tis good to have you back, brother."

"Thanks," the Canadian said with a nod. "Heard anythin'? Y'know, from Asgard?"

"Nay," Thor replied in a tone drained of enthusiasm. "Asgard remains silent to me."

Logan's hand moved over the larger man's back. "Silences get broken," the Canadian replied softly as he opened his own door.

"Aye," Thor responded as he removed his arm from the black-haired man's thick shoulders. "May your sleep fare well, Brother Logan."

The feral entered his room again and gave the blond a final nod before closing his door.

Sleep. That's always tha tricky part.

.....

"Today, we make history," proclaimed the project director. He paced around the room with quick steps, occasionally casting his glance towards the thrashing creature bound against the metal table.

"The Novus Lupus movement was shocked by the discovery of the genetically anomalous amongst humans. Their deviant nature threatened to undermine our vision of humanity. But today, with the final stage of the project, we prove once and for all the truth that mutants are merely a kind of human being and man is merely the New Wolf!"

The observers atop the catwalk mostly remained silent, but a few gave short, polite claps.

"This subject," the director pointed at the snarling, stocky creature, "a genetically anomalous human male plucked from a resocialization camp. The reflex test coded him as dominant, yet he refused his assigned submissive. The submissive confessed under interrogation that the subject was in denial of his nature and claimed to want someone that was his peer."

The observers all remained silent.

"Apparently, the genetically anomalous are no less likely to run from the truth. Today, the truth becomes undeniable. Before the founding of Novus Lupus, the United States created a super-soldier to embody its principles. Today, we do the same. We immortalize our principles not in words but in Adamantium. We initiate the Procedure, and we unleash the animal that lives within us all!"

And then the subject felt the table begin to descend; the water began to rise around him. His jaw clenched around the breathing apparatus.

Seconds later, he felt the needles.

Logan's eyes opened; his breaths came in ragged gasps. The sheets were soaked in cold sweat and tangled around his limbs. He steadied the rise and fall of his chest as he stared at the ceiling.

Part 23

The next morning, both Tony and Clint were sitting at the breakfast table. Two alka-seltzers were fizzing away in Tony's morning Screwdriver and the inventor sluggishly turned the pages of the business section. Bunch of idiots make a stupid decision here, some investors gamble billions on something I'm gonna render obsolete within the next month here, government finds some company's CEO was a switch instead of a dom and dragged him off to the gas chambers there... nothing new.

Clint had a sausage between his thumb and forefinger. He dipped the end of it into the hollondaise that smothered his eggs benedict. An icepack rested on his head. Even lifting this is an effort...

Neither of them said anything to each other.

Both of them heard the distinctively clunky footsteps of the wildman. None of them reacted when Logan entered the kitchen.

The feral moved towards the refrigerator and tugged at the door. It didn't open.

"Mister Stark has made the refrigerator off-limits unless you refrain from drinking out of the carton, Mister Logan." JARVIS' voice was set at a lower volume than usual.

The Canadian made a low, dangerous growl and shot a glare towards the inventor. The inventor didn't even look up from the business section as Logan trudged over to the glasswear cabinet. After picking a large tumbler he moved back to the fridge and jerked the door open. The frosty mist and harsh white light spilled over him as he grabbed the milk carton and poured the contents into his tumbler. After closing the door, the Canadian grumbled and left the kitchen.

"You think he's grumpy now," Clint said with a small smirk, "you should see him when he gets cock-blocked."

"Well I'm glad that no one gets cock-blocked in my house," he responded quickly, with a small but wry smile.

Part 24

Later that day, Tony stood behind his workshop bench. His fingers moved over the arrowhead; the seams between the curved metal plates could hardly be spotted.

Not like they'll have time to look, and when the payload hits 'em they won't be conscious for a week... Clint's gonna love these.

But every few minutes or so he placed the arrow down on the bench and raised his glance to the show on the other side of the room. He didn't even try to conceal the licking of his lips as he watched; muscles bulged and flexed, droplets of sweat slid down through the ridges and valleys of the man's perfect body. And JARVIS is recording this in super-hi-def. I'm a total genius.

Steve stood up and began to walk towards the exit. "Thanks for letting me do my workout here, Tony."

"Finished already?" Stark replied with an exaggerated disappointed pout that quickly turned into a smirk.

Steve just nodded back. "Sorry if I interrupted your work or made it hard for you to concentrate."

"You did the latter not the former and you have nothing to apologize for," the inventor fired back without taking a breath. C'mon, ten more crunches, show the audience some love!

Steve opened the glass door and began to ascend the stairs.

Back in the workshop, Tony heard JARVIS' voice. "Shall I replay the footage for you, Sir?"

"Maybe later. Could you put 'Fuck Steve's Brains Out' on my To Do List?"

"Immediately, Sir. The new entry has been placed alongside 'Meeting with Obie on the Fifth of August,' 'Find Out if the Hot Chick in Legal is Secretly a Switch' and 'Overthrow the Government.'"

"Thanks JARVIS. See if you can reschedule the thing with Obie; it's the least important matter there."

Part 25

"Okay people, we've been sitting around and playing make-new-friends for a while so let's get down to business. This revolution needs a plan and of course I have one."

Tony stood behind his workshop bench. A holographic projector sat alongside him. Thor, Logan, Steve and Clint stood around the inventor; Clint and Logan casually leaned against the wall, Steve was nearly standing at attention, and Thor grinned with excitement while listening to his words.

"About three hours out of LA depending on the traffic there's a Resoc Camp. We're going to liberate it."

He pressed a button; the hologram displayed government records. "Problem one is simple; if I'm funding this revolution I can't be known. My equipment conceals my identity but Clint and Steve are public knowledge. NL think Steve's my slave. We need a cover story."

The hologram changed again to footage of Stark Industries. "JARVIS will falsify footage and security records of a breakin at Stark Industries. This will explain how you guys got all that awesome sexy Starktech equipment; Steve didn't wanna be my bitch so he joined a terrorist group and raided his Master's business using security codes he obtained when he was in my service."

The projector cycled to another image.

"About ten minutes after the break in apparently takes place, we get to the Resoc Camp."

Tony then looked directly at Steve. "You've got more relevant experience than any of us Cap, so you're field leader. But this camp isn't just any garden-variety Auschwitz; this is the most cutting-edge death camp around."

"In the tri-state area at least," the inventor quickly added. "But seriously, Treblinka's got nothing on this place."

Steve held back a shudder as he listened to Tony. He didn't understand half the technobabble, but that usually wasn't directed to his part in the plan. Across the room, Clint and Thor and Logan seemed enthralled, although he noticed Thor's nods seemed too frequent. He's probably as much in the dark as I am about the technical aspects of this.

"And then everything goes boom, prisoners saved and we get tons of free publicity at the start of our revolution. Any questions?"

"I still don't know how you'll fight alongside us, Tony," Steve replied. "How are you going to be blasting holes in walls without being attacked first?"

"JARVIS, show off the suit."

A segment of wall turned around. Steve's mouth fell open. The gold and red panels of the armor within the glass cabinet gleamed under the harsh fluorescent light of the garage. "Wow."

Note to self: make sure Steve has that exact same facial expression after I fuck him, Tony thought through a smug grin. "One week to prepare. Let's make it count, guys."

End of Act 2
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Novus Lupus