Hugo Fowl

And regarding Jean Grey herself, that's the thing! She is capable of such, but she will NOT go that far! Much like how a good man is capable of murder, but will NOT associate himself(or herself) with the act. And as for penetrating those powers at any rate, Kratos power is magical based and his stamina is amazing. After a while, he'll wear her down and when he does....Well, I'm not sure they'll find enough pieces of her after the battle.

First, for those of you who are unfamiliar with Artemis Fowl II, here's an entry from wiki. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Artemis_Fowl_II And here also is the prologue from the first book to give you a taste of what he's like. And this was when he was TWELVE. Enjoy. How does one describe Artemis Fowl? Various psychiatrists have tried and failed. The main problem is Artemis's own intelligence. He bamboozles every test thrown at him. He has puzzled the greatest medical minds. And sent many of them gibbering to their own hospitals. There is no doubt that Artemis is a child prodigy. But why does someone of such brilliance dedicate himself to criminal activities? This is a question that can be answered by only one person. And he delights in not talking. Perhaps the best way to create an accurate picture of Artemis is to tell the by-now famous account of his first villainous adventure. I have put together this report from firsthand interviews with the victims, and as the tale unfolds, you will realize that this was not easy. The story began several years ago at the dawn of the twenty-first century. Artemis Fowl had devised a plan to restore his family's fortune. A plan that could topple civilizations and plunge the planet into a cross-species war. He was twelve years old at the time. ---------------------------------------------------------- Ho Chi Minh City in the summer. Sweltering by anyone's standards. Needless to say, Artemis Fowl would not have been willing to put up with such discomfort if something extremely important had not been at stake. Important to the plan. Sun did not suit Artemis. He did not look well in it. Long hours indoors in front of a computer screen had bleached the glow from his skin. He was white as a vampire and almost as testy in the light of day. "I hope this isn't another wild-goose chase, Butler," he said, his voice soft and clipped. "Especially after Cairo." It was a gentle rebuke. They had traveled to Egypt on the word of Butler's informant. "No, sir. I'm certain this time. Nguyen is a good man." "Hmm," droned Artemis, unconvinced. Passersby would have been amazed to hear the large Eurasian man refer to the boy as sir. This was, after all, the third millennium. But this was no ordinary relationship, and these were no ordinary tourists. They were sitting outside a curbside cafe on Dong Khai Street, watching the local teenagers circle the square on mopeds. Nguyen was late, and the pathetic patch of shade provided by the umbrella was doing little to improve Artemis's mood. But this was just his daily pessimism. Beneath the sulk was a spark of hope. Could this trip actually yield results? Would they find the Book? It was too much to hope for. A waiter scurried to their table. "More tea, sirs?" he asked, head bobbing furiously. Artemis sighed. "Spare me the theatrics, and sit down." The waiter turned instinctively to Butler, who was after all, the adult. "But, sir, I am the waiter." Artemis tapped the table for attention. "You are wearing handmade loafers, a silk shirt, and three gold signet rings. Your English has a tinge of Oxford about it, and your nails have the soft sheen of the recently manicured. You are not a waiter. You are our contact Nguyen Xuan, and you have adopted this pathetic disguise to discreetly check for weaponry." Nguyen's shoulders sagged. "It is true. Amazing." "Hardly. A ragged apron does not a waiter make." Nguyen sat, pouring some mint tea into a tiny china cup. "Let me fill you in on the weapons status," continued Artemis. "I am unarmed. But Butler here, my . . . ah . . . butler, has a Sig Sauer in his shoulder holster, two shrike- throwing knives in his boots, a derringer two-shot up his sleeve, garrotte wire in his watch, and three stun grenades concealed in various pockets. Anything else, Butler?" "The cosh, sir." "Oh, yes. A good old ball bearing cosh stuffed down his shirt." Nguyen brought the cup trembling to his lips. "Don't be alarmed, Mister Xuan." Artemis smiled. "The weapons will not be used on you." Nguyen didn't seem reassured. "No," continued Artemis. "Butler could kill you a hundred different ways without the use of his weapons. Though I'm sure one would be quite sufficient." Nguyen was by now thoroughly spooked. Artemis generally had that effect on people. A pale adolescent speaking with the authority and vocabulary of a powerful adult. Nguyen had heard the name Fowl before - who hadn't in the international underworld? - but he'd assumed he'd be dealing with Artemis senior, not this boy. Though the word "boy" hardly seemed to do this gaunt individual justice. And the giant, Butler. It was obvious that he could snap a man's backbone like a twig with those mammoth hands. Nguyen was starting to think that no amount of money was worth another minute in this strange company. "And now to business," said Artemis, placing a micro recorder on the table. "You answered our Web advertisement." Nguyen nodded, suddenly praying that his information was accurate. "Yes, Mister . . . Master Fowl. What you're looking for . . . I know where it is." "Really? And am I supposed to take your word for this? You could be walking me straight into an ambush. My family is not without enemies." Butler snatched a mosquito out of the air beside his employer's ear. "No, no," said Nguyen, reaching for his wallet. "Here, look." Artemis studied the Polaroid. He willed his heart to maintain a calm beat. It seemed promising, but anything could be faked these days with a PC and flatbed scanner. The picture showed a hand reaching from layered shadows. A mottled green hand. "Hmm," he murmured. "Explain." "This woman. She is a healer, near Tu Do Street. She works in exchange for rice wine. All the time, drunk." Artemis nodded. It made sense. The drinking. One of the few consistent facts his research had unearthed. He stood, pulling the creases from his white polo shirt. "Very well. Lead on, Mister Xuan." Nguyen wiped the sweat from his stringy mustache. "Information only. That was the agreement. I don't want any curses on my head." Butler expertly gripped the informant behind the neck. "I'm sorry, Mister Xuan, but the time when you had a choice in matters is long past." Butler steered the protesting Vietnamese man to the rented four-wheel drive, that was hardly necessary on the flat streets of Ho Chi Minh City, or Saigon as the locals still called it, but Artemis preferred to be as insulated from civilians as possible. The Jeep inched forward at a painfully slow rate, made all the more excruciating by the anticipation building in Artemis's chest. He could suppress it no longer. Could they at last be at the end of their quest? After six false alarms across three continents, could this wine-sodden healer be the gold at the end of the rainbow? Artemis almost chuckled. Gold at the end of the rainbow. He'd made a joke. Now there's something that didn't happen every day. The mopeds parted like fish in a giant shoal. There seemed to be no end to the crowds. Even the alleyways were full to bursting with vendors and hagglers. Cooks dropped fish heads into woks of hissing oil, and urchins threaded their way underfoot searching for unguarded valuables. Others sat in the shade, wearing out their thumbs on Game Boys. Nguyen was sweating right through his khaki top. It wasn't the humidity, he was used to that. It was this whole cursed situation. He should've known better than to mix magic and crime. He made a silent promise that if he got out of this, he would change his ways. No more answering shady Internet requests, and certainly no more consorting with the sons of European crime lords. The Jeep could go only so far. Eventually the side streets grew too narrow for the four-wheel drive. Artemis turned to Nguyen. "It seems we must proceed on foot, Mister Xuan. Run if you like, but expect a sharp and fatal pain between your shoulder blades." Nguyen glanced into Butler's eyes. They were a deep blue, almost black. There was no mercy in those eyes. "Don't worry," he said. "I won't run." They climbed down from the vehicle. A thousand suspicious eyes followed their progress along the steaming alley. An unfortunate pickpocket attempted to steal Butler's wallet. The manservant broke the man's fingers without looking down. They were given a wide berth after that. The alley narrowed to a rutted lane. Sewage and drainpipes fed directly on to the muddy surface. Cripples and beggars huddled on rice-mat islands. Most of the residents of this lane had nothing to spare, with the exception of three. "Well?" demanded Artemis. "Where is she?" Nguyen jabbed a finger toward a black triangle beneath a rusted fire escape. "There. Under there. She never comes out. Even to buy rice spirits she sends a runner. Now, can I go?" Artemis didn't bother answering. Instead he picked his way across the puddled lane to the lee of the fire escape. He could discern furtive movements in the shadows. "Butler, could you hand me the goggles?" Butler plucked a set of night-vision glasses from his belt and placed them in Artemis's outstretched hand. The focus motor buzzed to suit the light. Artemis fixed the glasses to his face. Everything became radioactive green. Taking a deep breath he turned his gaze to the squirming shadows. Something squatted on a raffia mat, shifting uneasily in the almost nonexistent light. Artemis fine-tuned the focus. The figure was small, abnormally so, and wrapped in a filthy shawl. Empty spirit jugs were half-buried in the mud around her. One forearm poked from the material. It seemed green. But then, so did everything else. "Madam," he said. "I have a proposition for you." The figure's head wobbled sleepily. "Wine," she rasped, her voice like nails on a school board. "Wine, English." Artemis smiled. The gift of tongues, check. Aversion to light, check. "Irish, actually. Now, about my proposition?" The healer shook a bony finger craftily. "Wine first. Then talk." "Butler?" The bodyguard reached into a pocket, and drew out a half pint of the finest Irish whiskey. Artemis took the bottle and held it teasingly beyond the shadows. He barely had time to remove his goggles when the claw-like hand darted from the gloom to snatch the whiskey. A mottled green hand. There was no doubt. Artemis swallowed a triumphant grin. "Pay our friend, Butler. In full. Remember, Mister Xuan, this is between us. You don't want Butler to come back, do you?" "No, no, Master Fowl. My lips are sealed." "They had better be. Or Butler will seal them permanently." Nguyen skipped off down the alley, so relieved to be alive that he didn't even bother counting the sheaf of U.S. currency. Most unlike him. In any event, it was all there. All twenty thousand dollars. Not bad for half an hour's work. Artemis turned back to the healer. "Now, madam, you have something that I want." The healer's tongue caught a drop of alcohol at the corner of her mouth. "Yes, Irish. Sore head. Bad tooth. I heal." Artemis replaced the night-vision goggles and squatted to her level. "I am perfectly healthy, madam, apart from a slight dust-mite allergy, and I don't think even you can do anything about that. No. What I want from you is your Book." The hag froze. Bright eyes glinted from beneath the shawl. "Book?" she said cautiously. "I don't know about no book. I am healer. You want book, go to library." Artemis sighed with exaggerated patience. "You are no healer. You are a sprite, p'shóg, fairy, ka-dalun. Whichever language you prefer to use. And I want your Book." For a long moment, the creature said nothing, then she threw back the shawl from her forehead. In the green glow of the night-vision goggles, her features leaped at Artemis like a Halloween mask. The fairy's nose was long and hooked under two slitted golden eyes. Her ears were pointed, and the alcohol addiction had melted her skin like putty. "If you know about the Book, human," she said slowly, fighting the numbing effects of the whiskey, "then you know about the magic I have in my fist. I can kill you with a snap of my fingers!" Artemis shrugged. "I think not. Look at you. You are near dead. The rice wine has dulled your senses. Reduced to healing warts. Pathetic. I am here to save you, in return for the Book." "What could a human want with our Book?" "That is no concern of yours. All you need to know are your options." The sprite's pointed ears quivered. "Options?" "One, you refuse to give us the Book and we go home, leaving you to rot in this sewer." "Yes," said the fairy. "I choose this option." "Ah no. Don't be so eager. If we leave without the Book, you will be dead in a day." "A day! A day!" the healer laughed. "I will outlive you by a century. Even fairies tethered to the human realm can survive the ages." "Not with half a pint of holy water inside them," said Artemis, tapping the now empty whiskey bottle. The fairy blanched, then screamed, a high keening horrible sound. "Holy water! You have murdered me, human." "True," admitted Artemis. "It should start to burn any minute now." The fairy poked her stomach tentatively. "The second option?" "Listening now, are we? Very well then. Option two. You give me the Book for thirty minutes only. Then I return your magic to you." The sprite's jaw dropped. "Return my magic? Not possible." "Oh, but it is. I have in my possession two ampoules. One, a vial of spring water from the fairy well sixty meters below the ring of Tara - possibly the most magical place on Earth. This will counteract the holy water." "And the other?" "The other is a little shot of man-made magic. A virus that feeds on alcohol, mixed with a growth agent. It will flush every drop of rice wine from your body, remove the dependence, and even bolster your failing liver. It'll be messy, but after a day you'll be zipping around as though you were a thousand years old again." The sprite licked her lips. To be able to rejoin the People? Tempting. "How do I know to trust you, human? You have tricked me once already." "Good point. Here's the deal. I give you the water on faith. Then, after I've had a look at the Book, you get the booster. Take it or leave it." The fairy considered. The pain was already curling around her abdomen. She thrust out her wrist. "I'll take it." "I thought you might. Butler?" The giant manservant unwrapped a soft Velcroed case containing a syringe gun and two vials. He loaded the clear one, shooting it into the sprite's clammy arm. The fairy stiffened momentarily, and then relaxed. "Strong magic," she breathed. "Yes. But not as strong as your own will be when I give you the second injection. Now, the Book." The sprite reached into the folds of her filthy robe, rummaging for an age. Artemis held his breath. This was it. Soon the Fowls would be great again. A new empire would rise, with Artemis Fowl the Second at its head. The fairy woman withdrew a closed fist. "No use to you anyway. Written in the old tongue." Artemis nodded, not trusting himself to speak. She opened her knobbly fingers. Lying in her palm was a tiny golden volume the size of a matchbox. "Here, human. Thirty of your minutes. No more." Butler took the tiny tome reverentially. The body-guard activated a compact digital camera and began photographing each wafer-thin page of the Book. The process took several minutes. When he was finished, the entire volume was stored on the camera's chip. Artemis preferred not to take chances with information. Airport security equipment had been known to wipe many a vital disk. So he instructed his aide to transfer the file to his portable phone, and from there e-mail it to Fowl Manor in Dublin. Before the thirty minutes were up, the file containing every symbol in the Fairy Book was sitting safely in the Fowl server. Artemis returned the tiny volume to its owner. "Nice doing business with you." The sprite lurched to her knees. "The other potion, human?" Artemis smiled. "Oh yes, the restoring booster. I suppose I did promise." "Yes. Human promised." "Very well. But before we administer it, I must warn you that purging is not pleasant. You're not going to enjoy this one bit." The fairy gestured around her at the squalid filth. "You think I enjoy this? I want to fly again." Butler loaded the second vial, shooting this one straight into the carotid artery. The sprite immediately collapsed on the mat, her entire frame quivering violently. "Time to leave," commented Artemis. "A hundred years of alcohol leaving a body by any means possible is not a pretty sight." The Butlers had been serving the Fowls for centuries. It had always been that way. Indeed, there were several eminent linguists of the opinion that this was how the common noun had originated. The first record of this unusual arrangement was when Virgil Butler had been contracted as servant, bodyguard, and cook to Lord Hugo de F"”le for one of the first great Norman crusades. At the age of ten, Butler children were sent to a private training center in Israel, where they were taught the specialized skills necessary to guard the latest in the Fowl line. These skills included Cordon Bleu cooking, marksmanship, a customized blend of martial arts, emergency medicine, and information technology. If, at the end of their training, there was not a Fowl to guard, then the Butlers were eagerly snapped up as bodyguards for various royal personages, generally in Monaco or Saudi Arabia. Once a Fowl and a Butler were put together, they were paired for life. It was a demanding job, and lonely, but the rewards were handsome if you survived to enjoy them. If not, then your family received a six-figure settlement plus a monthly pension. The current Butler had been guarding young Master Artemis for twelve years, since the moment of his birth. And, though they adhered to the age-old formalities, they were much more than master and servant. Artemis was the closest thing Butler had to a friend, and Butler was the closest Artemis had to a father, albeit one who obeyed orders. Butler held his tongue until they were aboard the Heathrow connection from Bangkok, then he had to ask. "Artemis?" Artemis looked up from the screen of his PowerBook. He was getting a head start on the translation. "Yes?" "The sprite. Why didn't we simply keep the Book and leave her to die?" "A corpse is evidence, Butler. My way, the People will have no reason to be suspicious." "But the sprite?" "I hardly think she will confess to showing humans the Book. In any case, I mixed a slight amnesiac into her second injection. When she finally wakes up, the last week will be a blur." Butler nodded appreciatively. Always two steps ahead, that was Master Artemis. People said he was a chip off the old block. They were wrong. Master Artemis was a brand- new block, the likes of which had never been seen before. Doubts assuaged, Butler returned to his copy of Guns and Ammo, leaving his employer to unravel the secrets of the universe. ------------------------------------------------------------ And for those who want to know how he'll compare against Tony Stark, here's a sample of the tech he has. This excerpt is from the third book. ------------------------------------------------------------ He flipped open the case's lid, revealing a blue cube the size of a mini-disk player nestled in blue foam. Spiro cleaned his spectacles with the tail end of his tie. "What am I seeing here, kid?" Artemis placed the shining box on the table. "The future, Mr. Spiro. Ahead of schedule." Jon Spiro leaned in, taking a good look. "Looks like a paperweight to me." Arno Blunt snickered, his eyes taunting Butler. "A demonstration, then," said Artemis, picking up the metal box. He pressed a button and the gadget purred into life. Sections slid back to reveal speakers and a screen. "Cute," muttered Spiro. "I flew three thousand miles for a micro TV?" Artemis nodded. "A micro TV. But also a verbally controlled computer, a mobile phone, a diagnostic aid. This little box can read any information on absolutely any platform, electronic or organic. It can play videos, laser disks, DVDs, go online, retrieve e-mail, hack any computer. It can even scan your chest to see how fast your heart's beating. Its battery is good for two years, and of course it's completely wireless." Artemis paused, to let it sink in. Spiro's eyes grew huge behind his spectacles. "You mean, this box . . ." "Will render all other technology obsolete. Your computer plants will be worthless." The American took several deep breaths. "But how . . . how?" Artemis flipped the box over. An infrared sensor pulsed gently on the back. "This is the secret. An omni-sensor. It can read anything you ask it to. And if the source is programmed in, it can piggyback on any satellite you choose." Spiro wagged a finger. "But that's illegal, isn't it?" "No, no." Artemis smiled. "There are no laws against something like this. And there won't be for at least two years after it comes out. Look how long it took to shut down Napster." The American rested his face in his hands. It was too much. "I don't understand. This is years, no decades, ahead of anything we have now. You're nothing but a thirteen-year-old-kid. How did you do it?" Artemis thought for a second. What was he going to say? That sixteen months ago Butler had taken on a Lower Elements Police Retrieval Squad and confiscated their fairy technology? Then he had taken the components and built this wonderful box? Hardly. "Let's just say I'm a very smart boy, Mr. Spiro." Spiro's eyes narrowed. "Maybe not as smart as you'd like us to think. I want a demonstration." "Fair enough." Artemis nodded. "Do you have a mobile phone?" "Naturally." Spiro placed his cell phone on the table. It was the latest Fission Chips model. "Secure, I take it?" Spiro nodded arrogantly. "Five-hundred-bit encryption. Best in its class. You're not getting into the Fission 400 without a code." "We shall see." Artemis pointed the sensor at the handset. The screen instantly displayed an image of the cell phone's workings. "Download?" inquired a metallic voice from the speaker. "Confirm." In less than a second, the job was done. "Download complete," said the box, with a hint of smugness. Spiro was aghast. "I don't believe it. That system cost twenty million dollars." "Worthless," said Artemis, showing him the screen. "Would you like to call home? Or maybe move some funds around? You really shouldn't keep your bank account numbers on a SIM card." The American thought for several moments. "It's a trick," he pronounced finally. "You must've known about my phone. Somehow, don't ask me how, you got access to it earlier." "That is logical," admitted Artemis. "It's what I would suspect. Name your test." Spiro cast his eyes around the restaurant, fingers drumming the tabletop. "Over there," he said finally, pointing to a video shelf above the bar. "Play one of those tapes." "That's it?" "It'll do, for a start." Arno Blunt made a huge show of flicking through the tapes, eventually selecting one without a label. He slapped it down on the table, bouncing the engraved silver cutlery half an inch into the air. Artemis resisted the urge to roll his eyes, placing the blue box directly onto the tape's surface. An image of the cassette's innards appeared on the tiny plasma screen. "Download?" asked the box. Artemis nodded. "Download, compensate, and play." Again the operation was completed in under a second. An old episode of an English soap crackled into life. "DVD quality," commented Artemis. "Regardless of the input. The C Cube will compensate." "The what?" "C Cube," repeated Artemis. "The name I have given my little box. A tad obvious, I admit. But appropriate. The cube that sees everything."

A team battle eh? Hmmmmnnnn......... First off, Artemis Fowl II wouldn't even be NEAR the battle field. He's a hacker/mastermind genius type and would most likely be directing the battle from a far location. I wouldn't put it past him to have some kind of device that could hack into the Iron Man armour. Especially with the kind of technology he has at his disposal. The distraction would at least take out a few of the weaker members of the opposite team. While Zartanna is dueling Gandalf, a repulsor blast comes out of nowhere and takes her out. As for Jean Grey, she COULD use her power like that, but with her "heroic" mindset she wouldn't. Kratos on the other hand will have no such scruples. Also Gladiator vs Spawn? I have a better idea, mid-fight under the direction of Fowl, he switches with the Hulk and uses magic(an item that his technology can't block) and takes out Stark for the fight. Then he goes after Firestorm and takes him out. It doesn't matter if he tries to turn him to lead or whatever, he automatically morphs and teleport's to suit himself. So Firestorms out. As for this Preacher vs Master Chief, all MC has to do is order Cortana to filter out his voice from his helmet. And if thats not enough, Fowl brings another resource to the field. His personal hitman, Butler. While MC is distracting the Preacher, he can just snipe him from a safe distance...and out of hearing range. I have no clue who JoJo is or what he can do, but even if he's powerful he'll still fall under the combined efforts of the rest. Like they say, it's all a team battle.

Thank you Treach. Good fight Seeker.

Oh, we can choose ANYONE? I thought we were limited to spy/military types.

Thats why we're on CBUB where anyone from anywhere from anywhen can fight for our enjoyment. And I say Red Sun also, he's way more ruthless and will have no qualms about killing.

Touche.

Excuse me for a moment, but isn't the Juggernaughts helmet impervious to psychic attacks? Even Xavier himself can't breach them.

So what your saying is that when we come down to it, its a tossup between Doomsdays speed and Dr Dooms magic? If he kept up with Superman, then I'll admit to something in your argument. But against Dooms magic.....In magic prowess, I believe hes second to Dr Strange. And Dr Strange can twist REALITY so I'm just saying its not so clean cut as we might think. Btw, I'm basing that view on those issues when he and Strange are in a Vishanti contest for the title of Sorcerer Supreme. I forgot what its called....When I find it, I'll post it up.

Touche. But whats to stop him from using his magic on Doomsday? Or perhaps switching Doomsdays mind into that of an innocent bystander and then killing him outright? http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doctor_Doom#P...s_and_abilities Knowing Doom, I'm sure he has a way to reverse the process. This is a man who can summon the freaking Cosmic Cube at will. In the issue after the Dark Avengers leave the rubble of Castle Doom, he rebuilds it by summoning the Cube. As soon as I find it, I'll post it. Doomsday goes down here.

Assuming that Doom would be stupid enough to spend his battle through brute force alone. He'll probably send out a Doombot first to determine his powers and abilities then use the one thing that Doomsday so far as I know has not encountered yet. Magic. Its off to the dimension of eternal tentacle-*insensitivity* for Doomsday!

So basically, Howard is just some kind of cartoon type right? No real powers, just ineffable humor and slapstick comedy? And now he's armed with a GREEN LANTERN RING?! That can create ANYTHING within the limits of his imagination? I forsee many cartoon hammers, dynamite and other toon weapons from the depths of Howards mind. Poor Sinestro, its like fighting Bugs Bunny. No matter what, some unforseenable-yet-oddly-humorous-prop will emerge and frustrate him to no end. Until Howard takes pity and conjures up a giant boot to put him out of his misery.

Thank you. Its nice to debate without one or the other becoming a troll.

Oh yeah? How about THIS team. Snake Eyes(GI Joe) Solid Snake(Metal Gear Solid) Sam Fisher(Splinter Cell) Sonya Blade(Mortal Kombat)

Its a good match. Red Sonja and Cavewoman take this fight though. One is the second greatest warrior of her time(the first is CONAN THE BARBARIAN!) and the other correct me if I'm wrong, fights dinosaurs on a daily basis. No-brainer here.

Yeah. This'll do just fine. But we need ONE more person! C'mon people, the waters great! Though anyone who wants to join later is welcome to do so.

Hey welcome back. If it we're a matter of powers included I'd say the Prince. But as its just swordplay I'm gonna have to go with Link. He has a greater defense with the shield and he's still fast enough to dodge attacks. However, should he lose his concentration and make an error, well.....I'm not sure they'll find enough pieces of Link after the fight. Good match btw.

Are you kidding? Dr Doom had SOME prep time at least since he arrived after the Dark Avengers were defeated. Also, the Justice League are over-rated. They were beaten by that Prometheus guy weren't they? And as for Superman vs Doomsday, that fight was all brawn and no brain. Of course Doomsday won that fight. But now we got someone with the mental equivalent of an five-year old vs the mind of DR DOOM. Nuff said there. Dr Doom ftw!

Ah high ground, shmigh ground. As the chosen one, couldn't he have just demolished the area beneath Obi-wan and THEN slice him? Instead, he jumps at him and gets chopped into sashimi. All brawns, no brains. My point is, power isn't necessarily the answer to everything despite it being more fun. Some situations require only the slightest touch. Look at Doom. One of the reasons he's so badass is because he makes it a habit to think 100 steps ahead of the masses. Anyway, I doubt there's a guy on the other team who can out-think Gandalf and Artemis Fowl II. If it were one-on-one as I assumed it was then yes, the other team would win. But seeing now as its a TEAM battle, I'm sticking by mine through thick and thin.

When I said "no profit" I was merely referring to the fact that unlike the Bounty Hunter league, no one hired him to take out the team he's in. So why ruin a good thing?

I read those series about Boba Fett. The only reason usually that he broke the bounty hunters guild was because that was his objective. In this team, there would be no profit and thus no reason to rock the boat.

Power matters not. Obi-wan defeated Ol' Ani and he was supposed to be the CHOSEN ONE. So power does not necessarily determine victory. Also, these are supposed to be TEAM battles. Not one on one type battles, despite the setup.

First for diplomacy, I have Thrawn for that. He can be pretty charming when he wants and can tell the character of a being by the artwork it collects. Diplomacy shouldn't be too far off for him. Also, I choose the T-X terminator because she has the ability to morph her features. She's more stealth based oriented in my crew. And should she ever find herself over-powered, then my wild card jumps in the fray.

Captain: Grand Admiral Thrawn. Star Wars series Pilot: Captain Malcolm. Firefly series. Mechanic: Marvin the paranoid android. Hitchhikers guide to the galaxy series. Gunner: Boba Fett. Star wars series.(I'm seeing a pattern here.) Fighter: The T-X terminator. Terminator series. Medic: Dr Beverly Crusher. Star Trek series. Ship Computer: Cortana. Halo series. Wild Card: "Starkiller." The Force Unleashed game. Reason: My crew is designed for one thing. To kick the crap out of whoever try's to take them on. We have the Grand Admiral for our strategies(The man is a walking supercomputer!) anyone trying to out-think HIM is going down. We then have captain Malcolm, a good pilot in his own right and handy in a fight. He's not so bad in the devious side himself. Our mechanic, Marvin is incredibly smart and can basically turn his hand to anything. And should he sink into his depression, Thrawn can simply devise some sort of puzzle for him to ponder or perhaps get him interested in art. Art is not logical, and therefore will require more effort from Marvin then is needed. Our gunner, the bounty hunter Boba Fett, nuff said there. The T-X terminator, able to infiltrate any world with her shape-shifting abilities and is the equivalent of a small arsenal. Dr Crusher, a very good doctor and perhaps dare I say it, the voice of reason and light within the group. Cortana, a very knowledgeable AI. Taking care of the ship shouldn't be too hard for her and finally, my Wild Card. Starkiller, perhaps the strongest force-user since Yoda. So who wants to try their luck? C'mon, you know you want it. Lol, so what do you think?

Before Superman. In this version, he passed through a portal in space and landed in the Marvel universe. Cliche I know, but possible enough.