DC X Marvel: The Lost Primarch of the Amazon (Redux) (Crackish)

[HEY If anyone wants to see the picture of the things that are described in this story go to the Scribble Hub version of this fanfic and search for this story. There should be picture or concept art that is embedded into the story. And if you are already here then Thank you and please enjoy this chapter.]

This work is purely fanfiction and doesn't have any relation to the property of Marvel Comics.

I don't own Marvel Comics, DC, or any mentioned media in this Fic.

All rights are reserved to those Companies.

Rated M, 18 and Above for Violent and Sexual Content.

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DC X Marvel: The Lost Primarch of the Amazon.

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Chapter 1, part 1: A Primarch in the Land of Women.

(??? BCE, The City State of Amazonia, Ancient Greece, Delta Omega Earth, or simply Planet Earth.)

"NO! WAIT! PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! WE COULD WORK THIS OUT! WE COULD MAKE A DE-"

-*BANG!*-

"Fucking Animal…" The Primarch growled, his eyes never leaving the disfigured ruin that had once been the slaver's head, his crimson aura gradually fading as his fury began to ebb. The odor of blood and charred flesh suffused the atmosphere, the anguished moans of the injured echoing in his heightened auditory perception. His previously gleaming armor now showcased a grim tapestry of crimson stains, the result of the battle's brutal toll etched into the very metal itself.

Around him, the Amazon warriors moved with a blend of precision and compassion, their focus shifting from the slain slavers to the terrified children who had been their captives. The children, shackled and traumatized, huddled together, their eyes wide with fear and disbelief. The sight stirred deep, painful memories within Yeong—memories of his own past battles and the horrors that he was forced to witness and endure.

Bora, his twin sister, knelt beside a trembling child, her touch gentle and her voice soothing. Despite the ferocity she had displayed in battle, her core remained one of unyielding compassion and fierce protectiveness. Yeong watched her, a mix of pride and sorrow in his gaze as his siblings tended to the child's wound with an expert hand and a whispered reassurance before he shook his head.

Phillipus, an attractive yet fierce Amazon warrior, stepped up beside Yeong, her dark skin glistening with sweat and the remnants of the fight. Her eyes, still burning with the fire of battle, were fixed on the lifeless body of the slaver who had used the young girl as a meat shield. "These... manlings deserved no mercy for what they did," she growled, her voice laced with disgust. "By Hera's will, their souls shall never find peace."

"I wouldn't call these guys… men, my dear friend." Yeong closed his eyes. "Because they are not, Phillipus. From the moment they began to buy and sell lives like cattle, they ceased to be worthy of that title. They are animals that prey on the innocent. Mercy was never an option for any of them." His voice was cold as he turned to face the Amazons Captain, his expression one of steely determination. "I once heard a saying: What makes a true man? It is not in his blood or his birth, but in his actions alone. A man provides. A man protects. A man sacrifices."

By now, most of the Amazon warriors had stopped what they were doing and were listening to the Primarch as he spoke. "That is what a true man is. If a creature does none of those things, then it is no better than a beast. These... these are monster that have forgotten the very essence of their humanity, and thus they shall be treated as such. These creatures have proven their true nature today."

His gaze swept over the assembled warriors, his expression hard as stone. "Phillipus, you and your warriors must leave. Take every one of these younglings and get them out of Amazonia. The battle outside will rage on for hours, maybe longer. We cannot allow them to be caught in the crossfire."

The Amazon Captain watched the towering figure of Yeong Maxwell in silence, her gaze sharpened by both respect and skepticism. "And what of you, Maxwell?" she asked, her tone tinged with challenge. "What do you plan to do while we secure the children's escape?"

"Your general will undoubtedly require assistance, Phillipus," Yeong communicated in a steadfast and calculated manner. "While Antiope's combat prowess is indisputable, confronting that despicable barbarians presents a unique challenge. And considering Herakles is equipped with the Golden Girdle, it won't be long before he gains the upper hand over her." Yeong's single functioning eye narrowed determinedly. "It's time for me to intervene and instruct that overbearing, treacherous scoundrel in the art of humility."

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(A year earlier before the Fall of Amazonia and 2 weeks after Yeong's arrival on Earth.)

It was the break of day in the city-state of Amazonia, where majestic Greek edifices ascended to the skies. The marble buildings reflected the tender, warm light of the emerging sun, creating elongated shadows that pirouetted on the impeccably laid cobblestone lanes. This city-state exemplified the valorous spirit of female warriors, with towering sculptures of Greek deities standing guard at every intersection, their unyielding expressions overseeing the serene surroundings. The grandeur of the Pantheon formed the backdrop for everyday activities, serving as a testament to the city's grandeur. The atmosphere was suffused with the fragrance of olive blossoms from the trees adorning the boulevards, their branches reaching out as if to greet the inhabitants starting their daily routines.

The citizens of this city, known as the Amazonians, were an all-female society primarily composed of warriors. Their visage was a fascinating interplay of beauty and strength, with muscular yet alluring forms enveloped in exquisite armor that sparkled under the nascent light. These formidable females surpassed the typical male in strength, yet their poise remained unmatched. The ambiance was punctuated by the clanging of swords and the rhythmic impact of unshod feet on the training grounds, as they meticulously refined their combat expertise. Their movements were an elegant interplay of precision and might, a silent ballet of steel and leather, each step a manifestation of their steadfast discipline.

The Royal Palace, a bastion of power and elegance, stood at the city's core. Its gleaming marble exterior reflected the morning sun, a testament to the authority it held. Within these hallowed halls, Queen Hippolyta, the sage and formidable ruler of Amazonia, and her sister, General Antiope, the military's leader, deliberated over matters of state and strategy. This sanctum was the nerve center of the city-state, orchestrating the training of new recruits and guiding administrative decisions that fostered peace and prosperity among the Amazonians. It was the beating heart of Amazonia, from which orders and wisdom flowed to maintain the city's harmony and vitality.

Elsewhere within the city's bounds, the market square bustled with the energy of exchange as the Amazonians engaged in trade, their interactions a melodious intertwining of amusement and commerce. Here, skilled craftswomen fashioned the most superior weaponry and protective gear, interspersed among traders offering exotic produce from their bountiful lands. The air resonated with the rhythmic clanging of blacksmiths at work and the gentle hum of spinning wheels, all contributing to the symphony of productivity that suffused the area. The city guards patrolled vigilantly, their eyes scanning the throng for any signs of discord while maintaining the peace with unwavering dedication.

On the outskirts of the city lay most of the residential areas, where the warrior's homes were situated. The houses, built with the same meticulous attention to detail as the rest of the city, were a blend of comfort and practicality, reflecting the lives of those who dwelled within. The clatter of weapons training and the sound of laughter as children played games of strategy filled the air, their mother and sisters watching over them with proud eyes. Among these households was the residence of an Amazon by the name of Bora. Her abode, though not grandiose, exuded a sense of welcoming warmth that was a stark contrast to the stoic grandeur of the Royal Palace.

It was in this very sanctum that Yeong Maxwell, the 11th Primarch, emerged from his slumber. The sun's rays, penetrating the chamber's opening, were immediately ensnared by his one solitary gaze, a gaze that seemed to harness their very essence. A soft, warm luminescence suffused the room, revealing the space as he swiftly acclimated to his surroundings. His awe-inspiring form, an exquisite amalgam of power and robustness, had already embarked upon the task of dispelling any residual weariness from the rigorous work of the day before.

For a brief moment, Yeong remained motionless, his eyes fixed on the chamber's ceiling, though his gaze was lost to the mists of time. His thoughts were a tumultuous maelstrom, a collage of battles fought and brethren lost. The air was alive with the ghostly din of combat—the hissing of bolt weapons, the cries of the fallen, and the deafening thunder of warship engines. The clang of metal and the destruction of worlds played out vividly in his mind's eye, each a poignant reminder of the toll exacted by the Emperor's relentless quest for dominion. The haunting specter of the void loomed, a silent witness to the innumerable sacrifices made in the name of humanity's unyielding sovereign. Yet, even as he lay there, ostensibly at peace, the gravity of his obligation bore down upon him, a burden he had knowingly yet unwillingly accepted when he left the tranquil embrace of Moana IV.

Moana IV, the wondrous planet that has been his home in that terrible universe, crosses Yeong's mind. He contemplates its fate and that of his connections there. The inhabitants, his comrades, and his esteemed mentor, their well-being is a mystery to him. The Primarch's thoughts swirl with questions about his legion, the Astra Phantom, and the warriors who followed him. With a determined effort, he compels his brain to resist the flood of emotions and concentrate on the present. All of it didn't matter now, He was here in the present, and despite everything, he was still alive, somehow.

By the time a knock echoed through the chamber, Yeong had already dressed in a simple white tunic and sandals, immersed in a familiar exercise routine that seamlessly blended the martial arts of his old world with the advanced techniques imparted by Navgrayn. As the door opened, his sister Bora stepped in, her eyes widening slightly as she caught sight of Yeong executing a perfect handstand push-up, his large, transhuman frame moving up and down with an ease that belied the intensity of the exercise, barely a bead of sweat visible on his brow.

"Morning, sis," Yeong greeted, his voice steady and strong despite the exertion of his handstand push-ups. He cast a brief glance at his twin sister, Bora, still grappling with the reality of their reunion even a week later. It felt surreal to have her here with him, in a place that so closely resembled Earth, yet belonged to a time long past. His mind drifted back to the moment they had reunited, the memories playing vividly in his thoughts.

~("FlashBack.")~

Yeong Maxwell POV.

1 week ago.

My eyes slowly blinked open, adapting to the faint illumination of the room. It was a sanctuary of peace, with the gentle luminescence of a fire pit weaving intricate patterns of shadow across the surfaces. Reclining on an unfamiliar yet comfortable bed, I felt the softness of the linens caressing my body, yet a quick survey of the surroundings indicated that this was not the familiar setting of my personal cabin aboard the Spirits of Fire.

Struggling to get up, my body protested with a subtle pulse of unease. My gaze wandered around the unfamiliar surroundings, taking in the foreign ambiance. The architecture bore a distant resemblance to the grandeur and robustness of the Emperor of Mankind's domain from my studies during the Great Crusade in the Warhammer 40,000 setting or 30,000 in my case. The opulence of the chamber, with its intricate wall carvings and the soft glow of the central fireplace, reminisced of Terra's imperial palace. Yet, there was a distinct serenity here, a stark contrast to the tumultuous battlefields that had been the backdrop of my past as a Primarch.

As I stood from the bed, an unusual lightheadedness embraced me. I steadied myself, clutching the bedside with firmness. My body, typically robust, felt surprisingly fragile as if I had fallen from the heavens at a pace that would crush a mere mortal. Yet, this frailty was fleeting, and my strength rapidly returned. My gaze shifted to the chamber's window, where a breathtaking, unexpected panorama unfolded: a Feudal city cradled by twilight's tender embrace. The buildings intertwined with nature, boasting detailed carvings and nestling among lush foliage. This tranquil tableau was a stark departure from the war-ravaged lands I typically encountered.

"Where in the Wrap Hell am I?" I muttered, my voice a hoarse whisper. The question echoed in the silence of the room, a testament to my confusion and disorientation.

My eyes were then drawn to a reflective plane adjacent to the sleeping quarters, a mirror that presented an unanticipated revelation. A bandage veiled one of my eyes, which had gone unnoticed until that moment. Upon closer scrutiny, the absence of my left visual organ became apparent. The discovery elicited a sharp, piercing sensation that surged through my cranium, a stark reminder of the trauma I had suffered. However, this pain was soon overridden by the remarkable resilience of my transhuman biology, fading away almost as quickly as it had arrived.

"I would counsel against contact with it, Yeong," a voice spoke from the room's obscurity, piercing the silence and sending a tremor of recognition through me. A form materialized from the shadows—a female figure of youthful yet robust appearance, her complexion reminiscent of rich mocha, and her eyes shimmering with a green hue that bore an almost supernatural wisdom and resolve.

For the first time in an eternity as a Primarch, I was utterly taken aback by a wholly unexpected spectacle. The woman who stepped into the light was Bora, my sister, my twin. She looked... resplendent, as though she had been sculpted from the very essence of grace and power. Her eyes, mirrors to our shared heritage, held emotions that seemed to resonate through me, a bond that transcended the boundaries of time and space. A wave of familiarity swept over me, a connection that seemed to bridge the chasm of our fractured history. Her radiant presence stirred something within me, a concoction of emotions long buried, yet strangely comforting. Our reunion was as if the cosmos itself had conspired to weave our frayed threads back together, mending the tapestry of our shared existence.

"Bora," I whispered, my voice barely audible. The sight of her brought forth a torrent of memories, a deluge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. I had so many questions, so many things I wanted to say, but all I could do was stare at her, my heart pounding in my chest. "Is that really you?"

She moved closer, her steps soft and measured. As she neared, I could see the concern etched on her half-Korean face, her eyes filled with a mix of relief and worry. She reached out, her slender hand gently brushing against my cheek, a gesture so familiar yet so foreign. "I'm here, your sister is here…" she finished, her voice barely above a whisper. Her hand was warm against my cheek, a comforting presence that grounded me in the reality of the moment. "This is not some sort of dream or trickery, I assure you, brother."

"How are you…— Oh!" I began to murmur, but I was suddenly taken off guard when Bora suddenly embraced me in a hug, her arms wrapping around me in a gesture of warmth and familiarity. The sudden contact startled me, but I found myself returning the embrace, my arms instinctively wrapping around her slender form. The sensation was comforting and warm to the storm of emotions raging within me.

"And now you are here…" Bora murmured against my chest, the typical composure visage of me beginning to crack.

"Bora," I murmured, my voice calm yet… filled with a sense of disbelief. "I can't believe it's really you," I managed to say, my voice slightly choking with emotion. "After all these years…"

Bora pulled back slightly, her verdant eyes meeting mine. "It's me, Yeong," she said softly, her hand reaching up to gently brush a stray lock of hair from my forehead. "I'm here."

SMACK!*

The sharpness of the slap echoed through the room, disrupting the tension-filled silence of the dramatic scene. "Ow!" The cry of pain escaped my lips reflexively, as the sting from the surprising impact spread over my cheek. Swiveling towards Bora, my eyes reflected astonishment at both the surprising force behind the slap and the abrupt shift in her behavior. "Bora!" I exclaimed, struggling to comprehend her actions. "What on earth compelled you to hit me?"

Without hesitation, Bora planted her feet firmly, crossing her arms over her chest as her piercing green eyes locked onto mine with unyielding resolve. "Alright," she began, her tone steady but tinged with contrition. "Perhaps that was reckless of me to do, especially considering your…injuries. And I admit that I may have acted too hastily." Her voice grew sharper, conviction replacing the fleeting hint of guilt as she jabbed a finger in my direction. "But let me make this clear," she continued, her tone rising. "That"—her finger pointed accusingly at me—"was for the torment you put me through after the Denali Incident. Do you have any idea what that did to us? We mourned you, Yeong. We were certain you were dead. We even held funerals…" Her words trailed off, heavy with pain, but her unwavering gaze said everything she didn't.

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks, a mix of confusion and clarity setting in. "Bora," I began tentatively, "I never meant to cause this kind of pain. I had no alternative; as a Deputy Sheriff, my obligation was to safeguard those climbers at any cost." I took a moment, searching her eyes for a glimmer of understanding. "But I am back now, and I deeply regret the distress my death has brought."

The harshness in Bora's eyes slowly dissolved into a blend of sadness and comfort. "I know, Yeong," she said, her voice gentle now. "Your sense of duty is unwavering." She reached out, placing a forgiving hand on my shoulder. "Yet understanding doesn't take away the grief. We thought we'd lost you forever, and it dragged me into a dark place..."

Her admission was a stark reminder of the pain my absence had wrought. Her hand remained on my shoulder, a silent gesture of absolution. "Yeong," she continued, her voice filled with a blend of sorrow and comfort, "we mourned for you, and that belief in your death brought me back to a time I thought I had left behind."

"Oh… I didn't know…" I whispered back, the remorse evident in my tone. "I would like to apologize then..."

Bora exhaled, her features relaxing as she regarded me with a tender gaze. "Then make me a promise, Yeong," she implored, her voice a mere breath. "Promise me there will be no more farewells."

Silence hung between us, heavy with the gravity of her request.

Finally, I took her hand, holding it firmly, a silent vow in my grasp. "I promise you, Bora," I affirmed with conviction. "There will be no more goodbyes."

"Good…" she murmured a soft affirmation hanging in the air. "Anyway… I have many questions…"

"Well… I was about to ask you the same thing…"

~("End of Flashback.")~

To be frank, Yeong remained puzzled following that particular day, initially suspecting that the entire happening could have been a cunning ploy of Warp-based trickery, likely engineered by one of the Chaos deities, Tzeentch, in particular, who is renowned for his love of complex schemes and illusions. However, as the days stretched into a week and Bora remained steadfastly corporeal, Yeong conceded that this was no mere hallucination. Her presence grew more substantial with each passing moment, her laughter a piece of sweet music to his ears and her touch a reassurance that she was indeed real.

"You're lucky to be alive, you know?" Bora began, her tone pointed as she sipped her wine. Her sharp gaze lingered on her brother, who was casually tearing into a piece of roasted boar. They were seated in Bora's modest kitchen, sharing a simple breakfast after a week spent catching up. "It's nothing short of divine intervention that injury of yours hasn't already claimed your life."

"Well, what can I say, Bora?" Yeong replied with a nonchalant air, fiddling with the eyepatch that concealed his injury. "We Primarchs are a resilient bunch, aren't we? Sure, there's a bit of luck involved, but it's mostly design—the handiwork of the Emperor himself. Take Vulkan, for example. I've seen him take a nuclear blast head-on and walk away like it was a mild inconvenience. Compared to that, losing an eye doesn't even register as a setback." He shrugged, trying to downplay the situation.

"Yeong." Bora's voice was low but firm, her glare cutting through his feigned indifference. "Let me spell it out for you. Althea and I spent the entire night extracting that metal shard buried in your skull. With the help of Aceso's blessing and a touch of magic, we managed to coax your hippocampus into healing itself. And let's not forget the ridiculous amount of blood you lost. Honestly, it's nothing short of a miracle you're sitting here instead of lying on a slab in the mortuary."

Yeong winced, unable to argue with her. He knew his regenerative abilities were remarkable, but even he had to admit this ordeal had pushed them to their limits. Despite sharing the title of Primarch, he was painfully aware that he wasn't like Vulkan—a Perpetual, kind of a being for whom death was barely an inconvenience. The Emperor had designed his sons differently, and Yeong understood there was purpose in that, even if it wasn't clear to him now. He glanced at Bora and offered a small, genuine smile. "I guess I owe you one, sis."

"More than one," Bora retorted, though her tone softened. She took another sip of wine, letting the comfortable silence linger before continuing. "I suspect your memory might be a little scrambled from the injury. You mentioned you don't remember how you got here—do you recall anything before waking up in my sanitarium?"

Yeong leaned back, his gaze distant as he sifted through the fragmented pieces of his memory. "I might be getting this wrong, but the last thing I recall is boarding a Thunderhawk. We were about to disembark to the Spirits of Fire, and then… there was a flash of color? And…" He trailed off, his brow furrowing as vivid fragments resurfaced—explosions that rattled the air, the agonized screams of his son-in-arms, and the choking stench of burning metal. His jaw tightened as he struggled to make sense of it. "And then… nothing. It's all a blur like looking at one of those distorted images stroke victims describe. I can't even remember what was happening before I ended up here."

Bora's expression grew somber as she carefully set her wine glass down. "I see," she said quietly. "As I mentioned before, Captain Phillipus and her warriors found you crash-landed in the wilderness near our city. You were unconscious, barely clinging to life. There were bodies… and your ship, this Thunderhawk, was completely destroyed. Your power armor was a mangled wreck." She paused, her tone heavy. "Despite the odds, she and her team managed to bring you back to me, though it was a close call. Extracting you from what remained of your armor was a delicate process, but the real challenge was keeping you alive. That shard embedded in your skull was so deep, that I had to draw on every ounce of my medical expertise and magical training just to stabilize you. Even then, it was touch and go."

Yeong nodded, keeping his focus on his sister as she spoke. After a moment, he interjected, "Alright, let's move on for now. But since it was mentioned—what happened to my power armor, and where is it? No matter its condition, it's still an advanced piece of technology. The last thing I want is someone mishandling it and causing an accident."

"Well, regarding your armor," Bora began, her voice laced with hesitation. "The last time I saw it, it was at the infirmary. We left it there after successfully removing it from you. We can definitely go back to retrieve it, but there's a possibility it might not be there anymore. One of the junior healers under my supervision may have moved it, most likely to the local forge for safekeeping. That forge is under the management of a young Amazon named Korra, who, despite being new to the blacksmithing trade, is quite adept. If memory serves me right, Korra is quite eager to enhance her skills. We can approach her, and she might be open to helping us, considering the experience it would offer her. Perhaps she could assist with the armor's repair, as it would be an excellent opportunity for her to hone her craft."

(End of Part One)

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AN: Need to do a few finishing touches on part 2 then maybe I post it tomorrow.