I am Iron Man

by Colin Cook

  With my concentration broken, the shining glow from the ring and the portals quickly began to fade away, but not before all three of them shimmered brightly and hurled

  their occupants out into the room.

  Three very different looking men grunted or gasped in pain as they all slammed against the side of the conference table from their rough flight, the portals swirling away

  into nothingness and the roaring wind dying down soon afterward.

  The man who had been thrown out of the middle portal quickly started picking himself up from the table, as if he hadn't experienced any pain or injury at all. In his hand

  was what appeared to be a StarFleet Type 2 Phaser Pistol, showing that he had been the one who'd fired that strange energy blast at us just a second ago. On his person

  he wore a near all black one-piece uniform, with a black belt weaved through a round silver buckle wrapping around his waist. The fabric of the uniform that went across

  the top quarter of his torso around his neck and pectoral area was a mixed purplish grey colour, with a small Starfleet communicator pin placed on the left side of his

  chest.

  Physically speaking, the man had jet-black combed back hair, paper white skin, and deep yellowish eyes. (Guess whooo!)

  As Alec and I stood up along with this man he quickly took notice of us and went on the defensive, snapping to attention and raising his weapon to me. In a flash Yoda and

  Alec came to my own defense, the Jedi igniting his lightsaber with a flick of his thumb and the Guardian whipping out his blaster.

  "Ah! Ah! I wouldn't if I were you…" Alec began viciously as he pointed his pistol at the Starfleet officer. But before he could finish his statement his arm slackened and his

  eyes widened slightly.

  "C-Commander Data?" he blurted out upon recognizing the legendary android's face and appearance.

  Data, of the Enterprise-E, frowned slightly at the mention of his name but didn't take the bead of his phaser off my chest.

  "Might I ascertain as to how you know my name sir?" he asked of Alec, his articulate voice an exact replica's of Brent Spiner's. Alec turned to look back at me, giving a

  faint shrug while only loosely keeping his gun on the android officer.

  "Well…we uhh," Alec began answering. But suddenly he was interrupted by a deeper voice giving out a low groan. Off to the side, the man who had been thrown closest to

  Yoda latched a hand onto the edge of the table, painfully pulling himself up to his knees while rubbing the side of his head.

  "Oy. Sure cracked my noggin' there," he muttered to himself with a wince, his voice thick with an Irish/Scottish sounding accent. This man was a heavy set individual, with

  a large dark mustache and a thick head of greying hair. On him he wore a bright red tunic uniform with black trousers and a large black belt fitted with a brass buckle in its

  center. From where I stood I could just make out an older style phaser pistol sitting in a holster attached to this belt, along with an odd set of tools in a large leather

  pouch just beside it.

  As this man continued to rub his head he looked up from the surface of the table to the saber holding Jedi standing right in front of him. After a moment of staring the

  man let go of his head and looked Yoda up and down with a severe frown.

  "Now just what exactly are you suppose to be?" the man asked of the Master. Before Yoda had the chance to answer, the Scotsman turned to the rest of us and

  immediately went into the same defensive mindset that Data had, who at the moment was still pointing his weapon at me.

  "An' what n' the bloomin' hell is all this!" he barked as he jumped up to his feet, his left hand reaching down and whipping out his phaser faster than I thought him capable

  of.

  Now even Data had taken his attention off me, turning his head to see whom this man was.

  "Captain Montgomery Scott," I stated with a widening grin, almost unable to believe that I had actually managed to bring in this Sci-Fi legend.

  "Aye laddie that's me, an' just who the blazes are you?" Scott answered me with a nod, he too now levelling his phaser straight at my chest.

  "That is an answer I would most appreciate hearing also," Data said firmly, turning back to face me with his weapon arm having not moved an inch.

  "You chose Scotty as the Engineer?!" Alec asked over to me with an even wider grin than mine, the giddiness in his voice making him sound like a Star Trek nerd you had

  just died and gone to heaven.

  But then, once again before any explanations could be given, the third man to have been thrown into the room stood up, rubbing his forehead with ball of his palm.

  "What happened?" he asked after a groan in his deep roughish voice while keeping his eyes closed.

  This one was the most exotic looking out of the three. The first thing anyone would notice about this guy was his physique. He was a tall man in his late 40's to mid 50's

  with a short pointy grey bread and long hair of the same colour tied up in an immaculate samurai style ponytail. His body structure was made up of large well-toned

  muscles, forged from years of fighting in countless battles. On his person he wore a torn and shabby brown garb that wrapped tightly around his limps and his torso.

  Overtop of this he wore shiny pieces of polished armour, one being a chest-plate, another two being curved shoulder guards, while the others covered his forearms, shins,

  and the backs of his hands overtop of the fingerless gray/brown gloves he wore.

  Hanging down his back from either shoulder in place of a cape was a long strip of cloth that reached almost to his ankles, also made from the same brown material that

  made up his clothing. Straps, belts, and buckles wrapped around his waist, one across this torso, and the others around his legs as well as the knee high brown leather

  boots he wore.

  Quickly realizing what was happening around him, the strange man snapped open his eyes and scanned his surroundings. His eyes quickly became his most defining

  feature. Both his pupils and their surrounding irises were a deep milky white.

  This man was blind.

  But even with this usually obvious handicap, the man still looked straight at me as if he could see perfectly!

  After a moment of looking between Alec and I and the many Replicators beside us, his gaze eventually turned to the two Mandalorians just off to his left.

  "You…" he uttered immediately upon 'seeing' Jango. In a flash the strange blind man reached behind his right shoulder to a small holster built into the belt strap that

  crossed over his chest-plate. Grasping a familiar looking cylinder wrapped in overlapping straps of fabric, the man drew the device and clicked a small button built into the

  side of it. Just as I had been fearing, a humming green lightsaber blade three times longer than Yoda's snapped-hissed into existence.

  "I would recognize your face anywhere, Jango Fett," the blind Jedi bit out, saying the bounty hunter's name with particular distain. Jango could only sneer as he grabbed

  Boba and pulled him out of the way, all while bringing his assassin's knife into a diagonal guard in front of him.

  "Don't make this harder on yourself Jedi," he said smoothly, tensing his legs in readiness to spring.

  "Oh shit," I said quietly as I watched the situation worsen.

  "Hold! Both of you!" an aged voice suddenly boomed. Both the Jedi and Mandalorian blinked before turning toward the one who had spoken. Yoda was pointing a

  commanding finger at them, his own lightsaber closing down in his other hand before he slipped it into his robes.

  "Master Yoda?" the blind Jedi asked in confusion, having not noticed the other Jedi a moment ago.

  "Away put your weapon Master Kota, you are amongst friends here, not enemies," the smaller Master ordered fiercely. General Rahm Kota, one of the main protagonists

  from t
he video game Star Wars the Force Unleashed, turned back to face Jango, his blind eyes regarding the bounty hunter with unhidden contempt.

  By his body language alone I could tell that the old man wasn't going to budge unless Jango put his weapon down first.

  "Jango, for the sake of continued peace aboard this ship," I said to him, almost imploringly as I nodded my head down to indicate his knife. Jango looked over at me

  briefly before staring back at Kota for a silent moment.

  "Sure, why not. I haven't been paid to spill any blood here today," he finally said sardonically with a light shrug before flipping his knife around and sliding it back into the

  holster under his sleeve. Kota didn't say anything, only regarding Jango for another moment before pressing his thumb against the button on his hilt, closing down his

  lightsaber before returning it to the holster on the back of his shoulder.

  I was about the give out a breath of relief when Haxon's voice abruptly cut through the air.

  "Axel, I am detecting an un-authorized activation within the Corsica's mainframe. It appears to be originating from a bizarre form of computer code the likes of which I

  have never seen before."

  I gave a small smirk before turning my gaze up toward the ceiling, knowing exactly what and who that computer code was.

  'Now its time for the forth and final candidate.'

  "Show yourself, we know you're there," I said out loud to the vacant air.

  Everyone turned toward me, some in confusion while the rest held looks of anticipation. After a short pause, a blue light shone down from a small hole in the ceiling.

  Before it could reach out and fully touch the surface of the tabletop, a massive glowing rendition of the Milky Way galaxy materialized over top of us, casting out a brilliant

  multi-coloured glow that illuminated all of the immediate area before us!

  Everyone lowered their arms and partially dropped their mouths at the sheer beauty of the hologram floating just over our heads.

  "Fascinating," Data whispered in awe, now deciding that he might as well lower his phaser since none of us had tried to attack him during this entire introduction.

  "Aye, now there's n' eye opener for you," Scotty said to himself while gazing up at the marvelous spectacle, although he decided to still keep his phaser loosely pointed at

  me.

  "So that's where they keep the Corsica's Galaxy Map, right above the conference table," I stated in realization, my eyes flicking from one end of the galaxy to the other,

  picking out and recognizing all the specific areas I remembered from the Normandy's map back in the game. I could see it all: The Artemis Tau Cluster, the Horse Head

  Nebula, I could even make out the long patch of stars where the Sol system would be located.

  However as we all continued to gaze upon the slowly spinning map, it suddenly began to flicker and distort before abruptly vanishing from sight. Before anyone could ask

  what had happened, a four-foot tall humanoid figure materialized hovering before us, using the Galaxy Map's holo-projector to broadcast his appearance visually.

  This hologram was depicted in the image of a young man adorned in slim but blocky plates of armour, with greaves, gauntlets, a torso piece, and a large helmet-like

  mantle that covered the top portion of his head. His entire form was bathed in blue light, including his skin, but I could easily tell that the dozens of circuit-wire designs that

  snaked their way up and around his body and along his armour cared a blue luminescence of their own.

  The holo-man took a brief look at the others before bringing his to me, looking down on me with an unmistakable caution.

  "Alright, I'm here. Now would you mind telling me just what in the Grid's name is going on?" the man demanded down to me, his strong jaw flaring wider as he seemingly

  tightened his virtual muscles in combat readiness.

  "You gotta by kidding!" Alec burst out with joy, lowering his blaster and dropping his guard completely. Turning to me the Guardian quickly pointed up to the floating holoman

  with pure child-like glee in his face.

  "TRON? TRON is the A.I.?!" he asked in that same manner, pointing even more enthusiastically up at the Video Game Warrior from the Grid, displayed before us in the

  spitting image of Bruce Boxleitner, the actor who had portrayed him in the cult classic of the same name.

  "Eh, lad! Why don't you stop flapping yur' gums for a minut' and answer the man's question. Who are you, an' where the hell are we?!" Scotty's gruff voice interrupted

  angrily, causing both of us to snap to attention.

  Turning back to look at me, Alec only shrugged while giving a sweep of his hand to all of the people surrounding us, both the new and the already acquainted.

  "Well, the League is set…" he began to me before looking directly back at the expectant faces of our new arrivals.

  "I think…"

  Stepping forward until I had pulled myself back in front of my chair, I sat myself down comfortably while giving an offering gesture toward the chairs that were closest to

  our newest guests.

  "Gentlemen, my name is Lieutenant Axel Sorenson. If you would all just calm down, put your weapons away, and take a seat, I would be glad to tell you a tale that you

  are NEVER going to believe," I said to each and every person looking at me.

  Our moment to tell them all the truth had finally come.

  As each person looked at each other, cautious but at the same time genuinely curious about what I was going to tell them, Alec plopped himself back down in the chair

  beside me, nonchalantly propping his jackboots back up on the table's surface and crossing them at the ankles once again.

  "Now this I cannot wait to hear," he stated openly, his massive trademark grin spread wide across his face as all of new additions to the crew slowly began to sit down

  around the table, each of them eyeing me cautiously but listening keenly to my words.

  A loud metallic clap rang throughout the dull grey interior of one of C-Sec Academy's many interrogation rooms. This was followed by another, and another, each

  resonating as an object was placed down in a line onto a shiny steel table set up in the middle of the room.

  Above it was a single large light set up in the middle of the ceiling, illuminating everything below it with a deep yellow/orange glow.

  The objects in question were: a standard issue C-Sec Kessler pistol, a more heavily modified pistol of an unknown make, a samurai katana encased in a partially blackened

  and scratched sheath, all soon to be followed by an immaculately reconstructed flintlock pistol with gleaming brass fittings and firing mechanisms placed around a

  thoroughly cleaned and restored dark wooden frame.

  As each weapon was placed on the table, Bruce and Steve Irwin both flinched noticeably and closed their eyes with annoyed frowns, the loud noise causing their throbbing

  headaches to flare again. The Turian storekeeper sat with several thick medical bandages wrapped around sections of his torso underneath what was left of his bloodied

  business suit, helping his body to heal the various injuries he'd taken to his chest during his fight against the Xenomorphs in the Battle for the Market Corridor, which

  ordinary medi-gel had unfortunately not been strong enough to fix entirely.

  On the Turian's left, Irwin sat with his elbows propped up on the edge of the table and his hands folded over each other in front of his face. His injuries had been less

  severe than Bruce's, allowing C-Sec medics to heal the cuts and gashes he'd taken to his forearms and other areas of his body with ease.

  However his usually well-dressed attire was in shambles. The rolled up sleeves of his white dress shirt were torn and peppered with black soot and grime, along with more

  than a few caked on bloodstains thanks to his before mentioned injuries. His black designer
vest was still in mostly good condition, but did hold a few noticeable tears

  from where explosive shards of shrapnel had gone shooting past his sides. There was also a pink tenser-bandage tightly woven around the wrist and palm of his left hand,

  holding together a sprain that he hadn't known he'd developed until a short while ago.

  Across from them, Lieutenant Bailey sat quietly with his back to the room's large two-way-mirror that spanned across the width of the far wall, closely examining the

  repaired flintlock in his hands, both of which were incased in white latex gloves to keep from contaminating the evidence. Behind him a Salarian and an Asari agent stood

  guard at his flanks, silently regarding the Australian and Turian with cold glares.

  "Alexandre Henri…" the older officer muttered curiously to himself, rubbing a thumb across the ancient name imprinted into the small brass plate fitted to the side of the

  pistol's frame. After another moment of silent examination, Bailey shrugged to himself before bringing his eyes away from the weapon and placing it down on the table,

  causing one last clap to sound out.

  Right on queue Irwin and Bruce both cringed with a groan of discomfort, followed by Irwin scrunching his one good eye even tighter and Bruce deeply rubbing his forehead

  plates to dispel the splitting migraine going through his skull.

  "Forgive me Mr. Bailey, but could you please stop doing that? My associate and I are still trying to recover from the blast of an Inferno grenade," Irwin asked Bailey

  humourlessly, his voice barely above a whisper to keep from hurting himself.

  "One of us more than the other…" Bruce muttered without looking at anyone, his hand still moving across his forehead.

  In the beginning, after Axel had made his escape and C-Sec had come to question them about their ordeal, they hadn't felt anything. But soon after once their adrenaline

  highs began to fade away, they had started to feel the toll that the blasts from Bruce's Inferno grenades had taken on them. Having started as an annoying ring in their

  ears, hours later the two were now trying to fight off a constant hammering against the insides of their craniums, one that was only made worse by any loud noises or