Tales of the Visionaries
by Chip Caroon
Visions of Spiders
Peter awoke with a start. He felt his bed. It was real, still in one piece.

He looked around. He was still in his room. No one else was with him.

He felt his shirt. It was drenched with sweat. He was breathing hard. He tried to calm down.

He lay back down and closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would come, without bringing nightmares.

Meanwhile, across town, the young mutant telepath known as Psylocke screamed. She had been probing the mind of young Mr. Parker as he was having his nightmare. In fact, she was partially responsible for it.

"Betsy!" Clea shouted, leaning over and grabbing her friend before she fell to the ground.

"Sp-spiders. B-b-b-b-bad," Betsy whispered.

Rift, another member of this small, select group ran in. "What happened?" he asked. "I heard a scream."

Clea turned to Rift. "It's all right. Psylocke just had a bad encounter. That's all. You may go."

Rift turned and walked out of the room, back to his own room. He was in for a shock when he walked in. Laying on his bed was another member of this group: Aron, sometimes known as the Rogue Watcher.

"Aron!" Rift exclaimed. "Why are you here?"

"I was bored," the bald man answered. He was quite small for a Watcher, the race of beings permitted to chronicle history, but not to interfere. Aron had interfered several times, most of which were in good faith, and therefore had been kicked out of the Watchers. He made the best of his time on Earth, with this group of mystics and mutants known as the Visionaries. "I figured you were the only one that would be worth talking to. I mean, Sketch has been keeping to herself of late, and the other two chicks stay in that room, trying to mess with people's minds."

"You couldn't have talked to Ryder?"

"He's never here anymore. I wonder why?"

Rift sighed, also wondering where his friend, Matthew Ryder - also known as Hourman - was.

The next morning, Peter Parker walked into the Daily Planet's city room. He walked over to Lois's desk.

"Hey," he said, leaning on the cubicle wall. "What's up?"

Lois looked up from her computer screen. "Oh! Peter, hey. Nothing much, just the normal newsday."

"One that Jay Leno would be complaining about on the Tonight Show?"

Lois smiled. "Something like that. Maybe not as bad."

Peter looked around the office. "Is Jimmy here? We were gonna develop some pictures together."

"No, Peter, I haven't seen him."

Suddenly, J. Jonah Jameson came out of Perry White's office, his face ash-white. He quickly walked to the elevator and rode up to his office on the upper level.

Peter and Lois walked over to Perry's office. He was sitting in his chair, looking out the window behind him.

"So, chief, what happened?" Peter asked.

Perry turned around, and put his hands together, resting his elbows on his desk. He sighed.

"I can't really say much, but Jameson is worried about the future of the paper," he responded.

Lois frowned. "The paper or his wallet?" she asked in a bitter tone.

"For once, both," Perry said. "All I can say is, there are some very powerful people who are interested in partial, or even full ownership of the Planet."

"Why is Jameson worried, then?" Peter asked. "If he's the owner, he can just say no."

Perry leaned back in his chair. "I'm afraid it's not so simple, Peter. You see, some of these people have the means to force a sell. But, I've probably told you too much. You should go."

Peter and Lois left the office and walked back to Lois's desk. Lois sat back down and started typing.

"So, who do you think could be pressuring Jameson?" Peter asked.

"I have my suspicions," Lois replied. "I can think of two or three right offhand."

"Mind telling me who they are?"

Lois looked up. "I don't think you really want to get involved in this mess. You're still new."

Peter was taken back. "What does that mean?" he asked.

"Oh, I didn't mean to sound mean. It's just not good for you to get into too much controversy while you're still learning the ropes here. You understand?"

"Of course," Peter replied. "I understand completely."

He quickly dropped the subject as he saw Jimmy getting off of the elevator.

"Hey, Peter!" Jimmy shouted across the room.

The two boys walked toward each other, and gave each other a high five.

"Ready to develop some pictures?" Peter asked.

"Let's go!" Jimmy smiled.

That afternoon, in the home of the Visionaries, the sextet met in the center room. They sat down in a circle, all facing the orb in the middle of the room. All of the lights were out, and the shades were drawn. Clea's powers and Psylocke's psychic knife were the only two sources of light.

Clea sat at the twelve o'clock position. On her right was Rift. Aron sat to his right, and then Hourman, Sketch, and finally Psylocke, on Clea's left.

Clea set the orb in place, and then extinguished all light.

"Tempus temporis!" she exclaimed.*

*(Can anyone guess what this means? - Chip)

Slowly, the orb began to light up. At first, the light was at the bottom, and then is gradually spread up. As it neared the middle, Clea turned to Rift.

"Rift?" she asked.

Rift knew what to do. Using his powers, he touched the side of the orb, waiting for his hand to begin glowing. When it did, he ran it across the top of the spherical orb until he touched the light on the other side. He sat down.

Hourman put his hand out, and generated a time field over the orb. That way, he could project whatever went on inside. At first the image was blurry, but it soon cleared up.

The scenes went by very fast, too fast to comprehend. Then they began to slow down. More and more, they began concentrating on one individual.

Spider-Man.

In the dark room, Peter and Jimmy were standing, admiring the great shots that they had taken during the recent incident with the Sinister Six.*

*(last issue)

"Peter, these are great shots!" Jimmy said. "I was wondering where you were, but it looks as if you were all over the place. Weren't you scared?"

"A little," Peter replied. "But I kinda figured that Spidey or Batman would save me."

"At least now we know that Batman exists."

"But do we want to ruin that urban myth image he seems to have? He relies on that quite a bit."

"True," Jimmy said. "But this is a newspaper. People will probably forget the images in a matter of days."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Peter said with a laugh. "Come on, we have to dry the rest of these pictures."

The Visionaries sat in awe at the images of Spider-Man in front of them.

Clea began elevating. "Psylocke, what do you interpret these images as?"

Psylocke closed her eyes. She allowed her powerful mind to venture into the orb. "I see, great troubles for Spider-Man. He will have very trying times ahead for him."

Meanwhile, Sketch was drawing on her pad. She copied the images down for further use later. Sketch is a mutant. Her power is to draw. Those drawings can come to life. She has proven to be a valuable member.

Aron looked and watched. With his vast knowledge, which he collected as a Watcher, he could theorize what would happen.

Rift sat back, watching. His job for the moment was done. He was merely the one to open the orb.

Hourman watched. He did not know if this would come to pass or not, and it scared him. For he had the ability to slide through time. However, he was never seen nor heard, and therefore could not interfere. Yet, there was some giant barrier that he could not cross. And it was nearing soon.

Clea analyzed, using the powers she had obtained from Doctor Strange, before she parted from him.

And then, the image became clear to all of them.

Meanwhile, back at the Daily Planet's darkroom, Peter groaned, and grabbed his head.

"Peter, what is it?" Jimmy asked.

Peter's mind exploded with images. He saw Spider-Man, swinging through the city, seeing many things happening. He saw a figure, all in black, keeping to the shadows. Then, the image shifted. He saw a lot of green. And a laugh; a crazy, hysterical laugh.

The image shifted again, and he saw armor. He was fighting it.

Another shift, and he saw the globe from the top of the Daily Planet building. It fell, and began to shatter. But before it could crumble all the way, it was surrounded by money, and was lifted up, back in once piece.

But, the largest shock was when the image shifted for the final time. He saw himself. But, he was wearing a different costume. It was the one that he saw in his flashback when he left the warehouse the night his uncle died.* And he saw two. Two Spider-Men. They were fighting. And then, they were working together. . .

*(issue #2)

And, as quickly as they came, the images left.

"Peter, you okay?" Jimmy asked.

"Yes," Peter said. "I just . . . I just felt a little sick. That's all. I'll be fine."

Jimmy looked around. "It's probably the chemicals. You should step out for a little bit."

"Okay. I'll be back."

"Of course."

The orb was closed. The Visionaries sat back, stunned.

Clea turned to Hourman. "Hourman, are those images, true?"

Hourman hesitated. "I . . . I don't know. I see a great disturbance in the timestream soon. Plus . . . I think . . . I think my own powers are fading."

"Fading?" Rift asked. "How?"

"I don't know. I'm not really sure, though," Hourman replied. "It could just be because of the disturbance. I'm sorry." He turned to Clea. "May I go to my room?"

"Of course," she said. "In fact, everyone can go. This session is done."

Peter stood outside the dark room, trying to comprehend the images that invaded his head. 'Where did they come from? Why did they happen?' he thought.

Lois walked by with some papers in her hand. When she saw Peter, she walked over.

"What's wrong, Peter?" she asked.

Peter looked down. "I . . . I had a strange feeling in the dark room. Jimmy thinks it might be the chemicals going to my head."

"Ooh. Sounds bad."

"But . . . "

"But what?"

"I don't think that's what it was." Peter looked up. "I think someone was trying to tell me something."

"Tell you what?" Lois asked.

"I . . . I don't know." Both of them stood for a moment, in silence. "Look, I better get back to developing. Anything you want me to photograph soon?"

"Not that I can think of. But I do want to look over the photos that the two of you got from the Sinister Six battle."

Peter smiled as he grabbed the door handle. "Will do."

J. Jonah Jameson sat in his top floor office, worried for once. He was always in control of his paper. But now, someone was coming in and taking over the Daily Planet.

Suddenly, the phone rang. Jonah jumped. He let it ring for about thirty more seconds before he gathered enough courage to pick it up.

"Jameson here," he said.

"Hello, Jonah. You know who it is," the voice on the other end said. "I was wondering what it would take to get you to reconsider."

Jameson pulled his collar a bit. "Well, you know, some of these decisions do have to be made by the board of trustees."

"I know. I don't care. I want a share of the Daily Planet. If you won't give it to me, I'll find a way to take it."

"How?"

The voice on the other end was silent for a moment. "Let's just say that everything that you hold dear will suffer."

Jameson worried for a second and then recomposed himself. He was tough, he wasn't going to let some outside interest take his paper away without a fight. "I'm sorry. The Planet is NOT for sale."

"You don't really expect me to believe that crap, do you?"

Jameson grunted.

"I'll make a deal with you, Jameson. I'll give you until noon tomorrow to make your decision. If I don't hear from you . . . well, I guess you'll be looking for work."

Jameson said nothing as he gathered his thoughts. "I will fight you. All the way if I have to. Even if I take down your whole company. I won't care. I just won't let you take my paper."

The voice on the other end laughed. "You think you have a snowball's chance in hell to stop me, don't you?"

"That's better than no chance!"

"In the real world, it's less than a chance."

"Stop playing mind games with me!"

The other man paused. "Like I said, Jameson. Give it up by noon, tomorrow, or I take it by force."

Jameson sighed. "The hell with you," he said right before he slammed the phone down.

Somewhere else in New York City . . .

He sat in the room. It was half dark. The only sound was that of the dial tone of the speakerphone - the only evidence of the call which had recently concluded.

"Ahh, Jameson," he said. "What will I do with you? The direct corporate takeover? Or the more subtle piece by piece crumbling of the empire, which I can then come in and take over, no questions asked?"

He thought for a moment. "Of course, the latter is more fun. Plus, it's keeps my good image. Yes, let's shatter Jameson's good newspaper. Pretty soon, it won't be worth a thing, until I buy it and rebuild it.

"First, readership shall go down. Then, ad revenue. Oh, I just love pulling the strings!" He smiled.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in!"

A young woman stuck her head in. "There's someone to see you, Mr. Osborn."

"I'll be right there . . . "

Peter and Jimmy came out of the dark room with a large stack of pictures. Most of them wouldn't be used. So far, they were all black and white. After they got approval, then they would develop the colorized versions.

They walked into Perry's office.

"Hello, boys," Perry said. "Have a seat. Let me see those pictures."

Peter and Jimmy laid the stack on the editor's desk. He looked through them, stopping on several.

"These are excellent. A shame that we can only publish a couple," he said. He looked through the stack some more. Before he could get too far down, Jameson opened the door.

"White!" he said. "I've afraid we have a problem."

"Is it about . . . you know?"

"Yes. Come to my office when you're done."

"I'll be up in five minutes," Perry said. Jameson left, and Perry turned to the young photographers. "Boys. I'll pick out the two pictures, and you two can take off now. Take more pictures, have the day off, I don't care. I'll see you later."

Later that afternoon, Jimmy and Peter stood around Lois's desk, talking about the strange events of the day.

"So, it looks as if someone has finally spooked Jameson," Jimmy said.

"Is that difficult to do?" Peter asked.

"Well, he wasn't intimidated by Mysterio or Spider-Man," Lois answered. "But something's got him going. I almost don't wish to know."

Peter looked at his watch. "I have to get home! Aunt May should have dinner ready."

Jimmy looked up at the clock. "I have to go too. See you later, Lois."

"Bye, Lois."

"Bye, guys!"

Peter and Jimmy walked onto the nearly empty elevator.

"So, looks like the big summer adventure is nearly over, huh?" Jimmy asked. "Only a week until school!"

"Yeah. I can't wait to see what happens. I have a feeling this year is going to be exciting."

Repercussions
The Visionaires sat in a circle around the orb. Rift had already opened it. This was the first time that they had looked at the visions of the orb since the incident with Spider-Man.

"And, now, the orb will tell us a story," Clea announced. "A vision from another possible world."

"Move it! Move it, people! The whole blasted Nazi brigade is comin' this way!" Logan hollered across the battlefield. All alone on the mile wide piece of grassland, the Nazi Resistance was moving back slowly.

Hank McCoy started barking out orders to his section of the resistance. His brown hair was unruly and his Caucasian face was red from running. Not only did he command one of the small groups, but he controlled the whole company in battle. "Retreat!" he shouted into his mini-radio.

"Sir? Hank?" Sam Guthrie ran up to his commander, his voice thick with a country accent. The country boy's strong, muscular build showed through his ripped shirt and his blond hair was wind-tossed. "I jus' hear on de radio. Base jus' gave us a new miss'n. I ran over as fast as I could to tell ya."

"New mission? Can this wait for a few minutes? At least until we finish our retreat?"

"Sure, Hank."

The Nazi Resistance began to move back. The Nazis themselves gradually stopped their advance, then lifted their arms in the air, tossed their weapons aside and cheered. The Resistance scattered.

Hank, Sam, and Logan ducked behind a tree.

"What was the mission, Sam?" Hank asked.

"Somethin' 'bout how we s'pose to search the past fo' clues."

"Clues to what?"

"Dunno. Woonna saih. Top secret."

"A top secret mission? Then we better move!"

Hank's team stood up and stealthily moved back to Logan's mansion.

They walked onto the porch and Logan punched in a thirteen digit numerical code. Hank and Sam's eyes followed his fingers across the keypad: 13248466651998. After that had successfully been entered, the keypad swung out. Behind it was a infrared handprint scanner. Logan placed his hand on the scanner. His handprint was accepted. This caused a retina scanner to pop out of the door frame. Logan stepped up.

"Retina scan complete. Please give voice ID," the computer ordered in a dull, monotone voice.

"Logan, Agent 1439-5. Codename: Wolverine."

"ID accepted. You may enter."

"You could've just used a key," Hank muttered.

"Hasn't been installed yet," Logan answered.

"All this technology, and he doesn't have a simple lock and key," Sam blurted.

"We were talking about a DNA key," Hank said.

"Oh."

The trio walked through the foyer and into the study. It was dark and musty. There was very little light. three of the walls had bookcases built in. There were no windows at all in the room. In the middle of the walking area were three chairs, two tables, and a sofa.

Logan walked over to one of the bookshelves on the far wall. He pulled out a copy of "War and Peace". Behind it was a keypad. Hank and Sam watched as he typed in another number: 5934111141999. The bookcase slowly slid aside. Behind it was a passage that led to darkness.

"After you," Logan said to his partners. Sam went in first, followed by Hank, with Logan bringing up the rear. As the three walked down, the bookcase slid back over the passage. No one would be able to tell that they were there at all.

In another time and place, these three men would have been members of the mutant group X-Men. However, in the here-and-now, they are just normal people.

Logan was never an agent of the Canadian government, so he never received an Adamantium skeleton nor did he ever find out about the claws that pop out of his hands. He has a mysterious healing factor, which he doesn't understand.

Hank McCoy is usually agile, but never thought of it as being a mutation, so he never tried to cure himself of mutant powers, therefore never growing blue fur.

When he was born, Sam Guthrie underwent huge amounts of genetic testing, which robbed him of his x-factor.

Why do these men not know that they are mutants? It is because circumstances never allowed Charles Xavier to gather the X-Men.

This is not the Age of Wonders. This is the Age of Hitler.

Hank McCoy sat down in front of the big mainframe computer. He immediately took out his own computer off of his belt and hooked it up. He punched a few keys and soon was into the Nazi Resistance network. He clicked on the icon that said "Assignments." A list appeared. He quickly scrolled down until he saw his group. He clicked on it. A new screen came up. This was their mission briefing.

"Agent 1320-9. Codename: Beast. Identification: McCoy, Henry," the computer said. "Agent 1439-5. Codename: Wolverine. Identification: Logan, no known first name. Agent 2148-0. Codename: Cannonball. Identification: Guthrie, Samuel.

"Access granted. Stand by for your mission briefing."

A screen with the picture of the Resistance leader Steve Rogers (a.k.a. Captain America) came up. At the bottom, an icon saying 'Top secret recording' flashed. Steve started speaking.

"Hank, Logan, Sam. We need your help. Only you three can help us. It is theorized that there are other timelines out there, many of which don't have Nazi supremacy. It is your mission to somehow search history and find turning points. Times at which if someone could go back and change, it would eliminate the Nazis.

"Good luck. Cap out."

The image of Steve Rogers, who had long since abandoned his Captain America identity, flickered off, replaced by one with a message that read "Briefing complete."

"Sounds like the bigwigs wanna use that new technology that they just made," Logan whispered. He was referring to the announcement they had read on the network about the Resistance's new tool: a time machine.

"Do you know where to begin, Hank?" Sam asked.

"I imagine it would be sometime during the Civil War," Logan added.

Hank logged off of the NRN* and opened up his own history program. This allowed him and his partners to view past events as they happened. He pulled up July 1-3, 1863.

*(Nazi Resistance Network)

"It all started here," he began. "The Battle of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania was the bloodiest battle of the Civil War. The North might have won this battle, but the South took them in a moment of weakness. You see, they stood between the Northern Army and Washington. They could have taken Washington, but they waited."

"Lee commanded Pickett to charge with Longstreet to back him up," Logan said.

"Right," Hank continued. "The artillery had thought that the Union artillery was gone, but they weren't sure. Really, the guns were reloading. Pickett, who had tried to flank them twice before and failed, got his men ready. They charged, making the loudest noise on the continent up to that time. The Union army could have blown them all up with cannons, and they tried. However, Longstreet's army was backing them up. When one man fell, another took his place. Meanwhile, the Confederate artillery wiped out the Union's Lee then sent the rest of his men to Washington to get the Union to follow."

"And that's when the Union destroyed their own capital, Washington," Logan interjected.

"Exactly. Grant's forces had taken Vicksburg just shortly before, but they were called back to Washington. However, the Confederates were still more powerful than the Union. The Battle of Washington was so fierce that the Union gave up. They surrendered their capital to the Confederates, after they had destroyed it during the battle, as you said Logan. The war ended then, as Meade surrendered."

"Wha' happened ta Lincoln?" Sam asked.

"What do they teach you in them Yankee schools, boy? Lincoln escaped to Columbus, Ohio, where they set up a new capital," Logan answered.

"Because the South won the war, in what might have been one country has now become four," Hank said. "The territories joined together to make Dakota, and the Pacific States became their own country."

"Ah still don' see wha' this gotta do wit' Nazis," Sam said.

"Everythin', boy," Logan replied. "In the second World War, back in the forties, there wasn't no country strong enough to oppose that dictator, Adolf Hitler. The Japanese had taken over the Pacific States rather quickly, and were comin' closer. We were able to stop them, but not without casualities."

"The CSA and the USA then lost some of their world power. Germany became the world's super-power. We never stood a chance. That's why we lost," Hank added.

"But what about Captain America?" Sam asked. "He didn't help?"

"Not as much as you think," Logan replied.

"He never had much of a chance," Hank said. "Cap never had backup."

"What about Bucky?" Sam interjected.

"The kid got killed on one of his first missions," Logan answered. "Got too deep undercover while in the Pacific States. After that, Cap lost some of his morale. He didn't concentrate on as much on the rest of his missions."

"That nearly got himself killed on his last mission," Hank added. "He was captured by the Germans and placed in suspended animation. The Germans hoped to be able to turn Captain America into Captain Germany, but failed. Why they didn't kill him after that is still a mystery. He wasn't rescued until 1963, when a joint army of the USA, CSA, and Dakota invaded parts of Germany. Shortly after he was revived, he disappeared. Only members of the Nazi Resistance know where he went."

All Sam Guthrie could say was "Wow."

Meanwhile, up on Logan's porch, three Nazis stood there. They were trying to find a way in. It was dark, and they had little light, so as not to disturb anyone who might be in the house. The last one came up on the porch.

"Shoot!" he cried.

"Vhat?" the first one whispered.

"I stubbed my toe!"

"Stooped American."

"Ve con't get in," the second man said. "Ve need a 13 digit code. I might be able to dust to see vhich key are used, but zat von't tell us much."

He quickly dusted, but cursed when he saw that all of the keys had been touched.

"Ve must try to disable eet."

"Zand back," the first man said. He stepped back, pulled out his gun, and fired. He looked at the keypad, now sparking from the gaping hole he had made, and reached in to rip out the wires. Then the alarms sounded.

"Not good!"

Meanwhile, in the secret control room, alarms were sounding like crazy. Lights everywhere were flashing and blinking.

"Nazis must be here," Logan said.

"I'll log off now, so if they do succeed in getting in, they're going to have a hard time learning our secrets," Hank said. He typed in his logoff code and shut down the computer. He then bolted up out of his chair and to the wall farthest from him.

"Whare ya goin', Hank?" Sam asked, his thick accent becoming thicker.

"Behind this wall is a secret exit. We'll sneak up behind them. Let's go!" Hank said, grabbing a radio. "All teams," he said into the radio. "Get ready to attack on my cue."

The Nazis' backup was all around the perimeter of Logan's property. They all had futuristic guns in their hands. All targets were locked on the house. But the Resistance didn't come from the house.

Up in the trees above some of the soldiers, several members of the NR were hiding. They were listening to their radios for orders. The battle plan was foolproof. When Hank would give the word, they would drop down and attack. Meanwhile, Hank's team would attach from their secret underground hiding place.

"Alpha team," Hank's voice cracked through the radio, "this is team leader. Prepare to attack in 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . NOW!!!!!!"

All over the yard, NR members dropped out of trees, came out of corners, and ran out from any place possible. The Nazis were totally surprised, and were unable to overcome the powerful Resistance.

"Ve Zurrender!"

"Take these . . . these . . . " Hank couldn't think of a word horrible enough to describe the captured Nazis. "These people to the prison in Richmond," Hank finally said to his company. "Logan, Sam, we must return to our search."

They walked back to the house. Logan was able to kick down the door.

"Should be enough men to guard," he said. "In case we have another attack," he added with a smile.

Again the trio went through the same routine they had earlier that night. Logan again walked over and pulled back "War and Peace." They walked back down to the annex where Hank rebooted the computer.

"Now, let's go to May 2, 1992," he said, in a lecture-type voice. "I was a student at Virginia Tech, studying to become an engineer. I had a promising future. May second was the day that Tech was holding an anti-Nazi rally. It was one of the biggest ever held. I went to it, for sake of curiosity. I was just a normal 18-year-old, not posing a real threat to the Nazis. Well, they found out about the rally and blew the school up. I escaped with a few minor injuries, but most of my classmates weren't so fortunate. I was one of 120 student survivors. I joined the Nazi Resistance as soon as I learned of it on July 4, 1993."

"Wow, Hank," Logan exclaimed. "I didn't realize how tragic your life has been."

"But wha does this have t'd'wit' the clues?" Sam asked.

"Virginia Tech was one of the biggest anti-Nazi centers around. A lot of evidence against the Nazis was housed there. Plans for weapons to be used against them were there. If it hadn't been blown up, the Nazis may have been defeated a couple years ago," Hank answered.

"As soon as Hitler is gone, though," Logan added, "we have a chance of winning by taking advantage of the confusion. That SOB must be 110 years old by now."

"How does he stay alive?" Sam asked.

"Another mystery of the Third Reich," Hank replied. "We think he has a secret formula stolen from Captain America."

"Wha'd' ya mean by stol'n from Cap?"

"We think that Hitler's men created a special formula from the Super Soldier formula that Captain America took to give him his strength," Hank said. "And now for another crucial date. October 13, 1978 was when the Nazis attacked Richmond. They almost destroyed the CSA. But, the good ol' US came in and saved our butts."

Just then, the computer started talking.

"When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bonds which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind required that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certian unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness. . . . "

There was a moment of silence. Finally, Hank spoke up.

"The Declaration of Independence. This was supposed to happen, and we cannot change that. They were right. And the South's cause in the Civil War was justified right here."

"Yeah, I guess we still have, and always will have life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness," Logan responded.

"We have that now," Hank added. "We are alive. The Nazis will never take the US or CS, and this war is our struggle to pursue happiness."

After another moment of silence, Logan said, "Maybe it would have been a better world if the Yankees had won Gettysburg. Then we would only have one country here, and we would have been able to win the war."

"Just shows how one day can change the entire course of time," Hank replied.

"One victory," Logan said. "Just one victory, and now we are feeling the repercussions."

The orb dimmed, and then closed. The Visionaries sat. Clea turned to Hourman.

"Is this a possible timeline?"

"Nothing that we must worry about," Hourman replied. "This timeline stems from changes so far in the past, it was before the age of heroics began."

Clea bent her head down. "Sketch?"

"I have all of the pictures right here, Clea," the young mutant girl replied. "This is one vision that can return."

"But why would we want it to return?" Aron asked. "That world looks so depressing."

"If I want it to return, then it will - or at least we now have the option," Clea replied. "Is that understood?"

Aron looked down. "Yes, ma'am," he mumbled.

"Good. All of you may go. This session is over."

Originally published as Spider-Man #7 and DCM Showcase #2 at DC/Marvel: The Merging, and may not be reused or republished in any way without the permission of the author.
DC/Marvel: The Merging is a fanfiction site, and is not affiliated with nor endorsed by DC Comics or Marvel Comics, nor any company that owns these characters. All of the stories here are written for fun, and the authors are not making any profit from them, and do not intend any harm to the original creation. This site is for entertainment purposes only. DC/Marvel: The Merging concept created by Chip Caroon, developed by Chip Caroon and Ritchie Filippi, with other writers. The Visionaries concept created by Chip Caroon.