Lightning flashed, thunder crashed, and an iron ball the size of a Toyota descended through the sky. Hercules set his feet, lifted his arms, and waited for it to come. It landed, and Hercules, who had once hefted the mighty bulk of the known world to ease the burden from the shoulders of Atlas, caught it with ease. He yanked, and the chain held between the fingers of Thunderball was ripped from his grip.
“Crap,” Thunderball said, muttering under his breath. “Piledriver— hit him!”
Piledriver rushed forward, and Hercules stood his ground. Fists capable of shattering concrete slammed into the chest of the demigod, but he did not move an inch. Piledriver struck again, his fist crashing against the face of Hercules. He laced his fingers together, and dropped a hammer-like blow onto the head of Hercules. Finally the son of Zeus dropped to a knee.
“Yeah! Yeah, sucker. On your knees!” Piledriver said, his shouts splitting the night air. The roaring wind howled in protest, and Hercules lifted his head. He was smiling through the blood running from his mouth.
Piledriver took a hesitant step backwards. “What—?”
Hercules wrapped the chain of Thunderball’s enchanted wrecking ball around his forearm and took hold of the link nearest the globe of iron. “’Tis my turn then?” Hercules said, his voice no more than a growl, and swung his fist. The wrecking ball slammed into the body of Piledriver, lifting the man off of his feet and hurling him through the driving rain. Piledriver collided with the front end of a large four-door automobile, and the metal collapsed around his body trapping him in a glass and steel coffin. Then the car exploded.
“Phil!” Thunderball said, but his wailing cry was swiftly drowned by the sound of the explosion. He turned back toward Hercules, who was steadily stalking forward. “Stay back. I’ve got your teammate. One more move and I’ll kill her!”
Hercules stopped moving forward, and Thunderball smiled savagely. “That’s right. Now drop the ball, you sick oaf. And if you try anything, I’ll pop her head like a zit.”
Hercules relaxed his hand, and the chain of the wrecking ball unraveled from his thick forearm. The wrecking ball clunked heavily to the pavement, but Hercules kept his hand laced around the final link in the chain.
“Drop it, or I’ll kill her,” Thunderball said. “Didn’t you hear m—?“
Hercules hefted, whipping the wrecking ball in a quick, sharp arc around his head. He released his grip, and the wrecking ball went hurtling through the air directly at Thunderball’s astounded face. Thunderball dove for the ground, and felt the passage of the wrecking ball as it buffeted his rain-soaked hair.
The Lion of Olympus stalked forward to finish the job. The demigod didn’t make it three feet before a human fireball slammed into him like a guided missile.
“You think this hurts, freak? I can take anything you got!” Piledriver roared as he tackled Hercules around the waist. The magically charged villain struck Hercules with such force and surprise that Piledriver was actually able to lift the hero off his feet. The two combatants crashed into a nearby neighborhood grocery store
The building was far from abandoned, but thankfully for Hercules it was at least unoccupied. The people of Los Angeles had common sense enough to give battling demigods, former Avengers, and thugs powered by Asgardian magic a wide berth for their battles.
Thunderball listened to the sounds of his teammate’s fury in awe. The store shook from the foundations to the roof. The blows the two traded deep within the bowels of the building were deafening, indistinguishable from the thunder of the raging storm around them.
It was little surprise to Thunderball when the building Piledriver had driven the Prince of Power into collapsed. There were few buildings in the world powerful enough to contain the strength of the two clashing titans, and the store was not one of them.
It collapsed inward like a house of cards, chunks of cement and concrete falling in a final attempt at revenge against the duo that had slain the old building. It perished with a mighty roar, a cloud of dust washing over Thunderball.
For a moment, all was silent save the almost rhythmic beat of the heavy rain. Then the rubble began shifting, and once again the sound of mighty fists pounding their way to freedom echoed outward. Two eternally long minutes passed before a human figure emerged from the rubble.
Thunderball released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding when he saw that it was Piledriver, and not Hercules, who had dug his way to freedom. Dust still hung heavily in the air, like a morning mist, but Thunderball could see the red and white of his teammate’s costume clear as day.
“Nice work, Piledriver,” Thunderball said, shouting to be heard above the storm. He was honest enough with himself to admit that he had doubted Piledriver’s ability to take down the bear of an Avenger. Hercules had all but dismissed Bulldozer several minutes ago out of sheer luck, but the Wrecking Crew was a resilient group.
“Buried and beat that hairy ape. I didn’t think you had it in you,” Elliot Franklin said, congratulating his teammate as he strode forward over the wreckage. As a general rule, the other members of the Wrecking Crew didn’t like Thunderball too much. Even without Wrecker goading them on, Piledriver and Bulldozer still felt Dr. Elliot Franklin was patronizing them more than encouraging them whenever he spoke. But felling an opponent as fierce as Hercules was an accomplishment worthy of the compliment, and the danger inherent in delivering it.
It wasn’t until Thunderball was four feet from his friend that he realized Piledriver hadn’t said a word. In fact, his muscled form was slumped over, looking almost dead on his feet.
“You all right, Phil? We need to get Loki to fix you up?”
“Aye.”
There was a flash of lightning that illuminated the rubble, and Thunderball felt his heart jump into his throat.
Hercules was standing squarely behind Piledriver, holding the man’s unconscious body by the scruff of his neck. A small trickle of blood, mixed with soot and dust ran down the demigod’s forehead while his face possessed an impossibly savage look of hatred.
“Thou may wish to call upon the trickster god’s services for thy own aid. When and if thou ever speaks again.”
Hercules tossed the defeated Piledriver aside like a piece of litter, and was upon Thunderball within seconds.
A right hook sent blood and teeth flying several feet through the air. A blow to the sternum brought Thunderball to his knees, choking for air. Hercules brought both his mighty fists crashing down upon the upper spine of the kneeling villain. Thunderball was embedded into the ground almost as quickly as he was knocked unconscious.
With his foes defeated, Hercules’ thoughts instantly turned towards his teammates. Hercules began moving toward Firebird, wiping his brow to clear the sweat, blood and dirt from his face. He had barely taken a step before he felt a powerful against his back that sent him skittering along the street like a mangy dog.
“Who dares strike the Lion of Olympus?” Hercules said as he turned, his voice a roar.
“Hey there, beardo,” Captain Ultra said, smiling as he hovered several feet away, his teeth impossibly white. “You get it? Weirdo… beardo?”
“Your words are intended as jest, yet your actions are those of a coward,” Hercules replied with a deep, guttural growl as he stood up to face this new menace. Hercules pulled back his fist, ready to launch his assault when he felt his head snap back and forth suddenly. The pain came a moment later, as did the realization for Hercules that he hadn’t even seen his foe move.
“Some people,” Captain Ultra said, sighing as he rushed forward, faster than a speeding bullet, “have no sense of humor.”
"GODLY DEVICES"
Part Three of Three
Written by David Ingram and Mike Exner III
“Dear God!” Horace Jaspers said, gasping as he watched Piledriver tackle his good friend Hercules into an empty grocery store.
“You wish to say a prayer to me?” Loki said, his reply like the slithery hiss of a snake.
“I ain’t talking ‘bout you,” Jaspers said, his courage maintaining itself so long as he didn’t gaze at the trickster god, or glance at the huge egg-shaped incubator behind him.
“I do apologize, my good man. I hope you can forgive my confusion,” Loki said, making no effort to conceal his sarcastic tone. “But when you get to be my age, the mind… it wanders.”
Loki chuckled softly, and they watched the action in total silence for several minutes. Jaspers watched in awe as Hercules dug himself out of the stone and cement tomb that had fallen atop the hero, and felt hope swell in his chest as Thunderball was dispatched.
But that small flicker of hope was extinguished when Jaspers saw Captain Ultra blindside Hercules like a thunderbolt from God.
“Oh dear, now that wasn’t very sportsmanlike conduct, was it?”
Horace could only grit his teeth as the multi-colored, clownish powerhouse began pummeling his friend. Jaspers couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene, even as the trickster god bent in close and began whispering in his ear.
“You know, you should assist your friend. Hercules would lay down his life for your withered old husk. Yet here you stand,” Loki chided in a surprising and uncharacteristically serious tone of voice, “powerless to stop it. I find your lack of action… puzzling. If they survive, I’m certain your comrades would be riveted by this conversation we’re having. Perhaps we should share it with them.”
“Maybe we should,” Horace said, “because I ain’t got the foggiest notion what you’re talkin’ about, sir.”
“Have it your way, old man,” the Trickster God said with a scowl, and turned his attention back to the ongoing battle. “Have it your way.”
The first sound that Dane Whitman heard when he awoke from unconsciousness was a choking, gurgling sound. That alone was enough to cut through the fog of pain that gripped his mind.
Looking up, he saw Sundragon standing in front of Amora the Enchantress, a single telekinetic tentacle roped around the goddess’ slender throat, slowly choking the life from her.
“Sundragon? What are you—?” Black Knight said, though his voice was barely above a whisper. Strength was slowly returning to his limbs, but barely enough to rise to a standing position before the breath was stolen from his body.
Sundragon spared him the slightest of glances, and continued choking the goddess who had seduced her mind.
“Pamela, stop!” Black Knight said, finally catching his breath. “You’ll kill her!”
“That, Dane Whitman,” Sundragon said, increasing the pressure around the villainess’ throat. Amora clutched and clawed at it desperately to no effect. “That is exactly the point.”
Dane felt the building shake, and spared a glance behind him. Hercules and Captain Ultra were trading haymakers like baseball cards. Unfortunately, Captain Ultra looked fresh, and though Whitman could see Hercules’s blows were having some effect, the Prince of Power was taking the worst of it. Dane had learned long ago, even gods had their limit, and Hercules was fast approaching his. They simply had no time for this.
“Fine, go ahead and kill her,” the Black Knight said with a snarl, surprising both Sundragon and the Enchantress. “Kill her, and I promise you we’ll throw you in a cell just like we would with her. Simon, Bonita, Sam, they all need help, Pamela. So before you kill her, you better make damn sure she’s worth it. Because if you do this, and one of my teammates pays the price, I’ll move Heaven and Earth to take you down.”
Sundragon looked at Dane Whitman, and she made no effort to conceal the anger in her eyes. She returned her gaze to the Enchantress, and the telekinetic tentacle loosened, and finally dissipated. Amora gasped loudly as Sundragon glared daggers at her leader. Black Knight didn’t give two shakes about her wounded ego, but he did feel no small amount of shame over his choice of tactics. Captain America, Thor, or hell, even Hawkeye would have reined a teammate in by emphasizing the sanctity of human life, not threatening them like they would any other criminal. What kind of leader did that?
But serious recrimination would have to wait, Dane reminded himself. Hercules needed help, and there was still Loki and whatever he was planning to deal with. All things in due time.
“You… should have let her kill me, Whitman,” Amora said, her voice no more than a hiss as she rubbed her sore throat. “Now I’m afraid I’ll have to sic my pet on you.”
“Your multi-colored pawn’s kind of busy right now, Enchantress,” Dane said, “and I’ve half a mind to run you through with my blade again. Defy stereotypes, don’t do something stupid and stay down.”
Amora only smirked in response. Even over the pounding rain and thunder, Sundragon and the Black Knight heard the unmistakable sound of leathery wings, even over the pouring rain and cracks of thunder.
“Dane…?”
It suddenly occurred to the former Crusader that he’d never heard fear in Sundragon’s voice in the short time he’d known her, at least not like he did now. She was almost always composed and collected, if not more than a little aloof. Now she pointed behind him, and terror was etched in her eyes.
Black Knight turned into a wind so strong that the falling rain was blasted across his body horizontally. When Dane saw what was causing that wind, he understood Sundragon’s fear intimately.
Hovering at the edge of the building was a creature of unmistakable power. Eight feet tall, with a sixteen foot wing span, a beak-like mouth, large oval head, purple scaly skin, and a build that would impress the Hulk all added up to one man, or rather, one creature.
Dragon Man.
The two Champions had barely taken this information in before the artificial creature opened its maw and exhaled atomic fire.
Firebird awoke to a world that was spinning madly. War drums pounded in her head. One moment’s worth of thought was all she needed to realize that it was probably just a concussion, and not world destruction. Then she took a real look around at the carnage, and she wasn’t so sure.
Pain blurred her vision for hours, minutes or seconds, Bonita couldn’t be sure which, but when she heard her teammate roar in pain, that was all Firebird needed to snap back to a semblance of clarity.
She looked up, and saw Captain Ultra hovering in the air, smirking as his eyes projected deadly beams of energy toward the Lion of Olympus. Hercules was blocking the powerful blasts with his massive forearms, but even from a distance she could smell the flesh burning and see the skin of the demigod blistering under the withering assault.
Flames engulfed her body within seconds, turning the rain around her to steam.
“Stop!” she said, her scream echoing out as she lashed out with her fiercest flame, engulfing the head and upper body of Captain Ultra.
Normally, such an act wouldn’t have harmed a person of Captain Ultra’s ability. The man could physically withstand temperatures far greater than Bonita could ever hope to generate. But Captain Ultra feared fire instinctively, like a mouse feared a cat, and when Firebird’s flames washed over him, Captain Ultra screamed aloud in pain and terror, his voice not unlike that of a small schoolgirl. He scrambled away from his opponent, pitifully attempting to beat the flames out with his bare hands.
Hercules watched his foe flail about comically as he took a moment to catch his breath. The punishment he’d just endured was wearing hard on him, but the Prince of Power hadn’t won as many battles as he had over the course of history by surrendering, or being foolish in battle. When an opportunity such as this one presented itself, it was prudent to take advantage. Hercules was confident that, if he could just hold out long enough, he could defeat this youngling. The man had power to be sure, but no stamina, and no endurance. He was accustomed to battling foes far weaker than himself.
Not Hercules. The once immortal Avenger and current Champion had battled countless monsters, from the mighty and feared Titans to the Incredible Hulk himself. Even with all the strength his muscles possessed and his birthright granted him, Hercules was no stranger to a difficult conflict. He’d been underestimated before, and he reveled in the feeling of battling another worthy opponent.
Hercules stepped forward to engage his foe once more when he heard someone call out his name. He spun around to see Simon Williams, Wonder Man, staggering towards him.
“Hey Herc… you… you need some help?” Simon asked weakly. In all the commotion he’d been forgotten; perhaps the best thing that could have happened to him considering the circumstances. Not twenty minutes earlier, the Wrecking Crew and Captain Ultra had been tearing his energy form apart, siphoning his power on the orders of Loki.
“Simon, my friend. Rest. Thou were gravely wounded,” Hercules said. He took his friend about the shoulders to keep him from falling over. Wonder Man flickered from his energy form to his human form, unable to maintain either. “Do not fret, nor strain thyself. Trust us to seize victory.”
“Herc, you can’t beat this guy,” Simon said through gritted teeth. “Not without fighting dirty. He’s too fresh, and you’re too tired.”
“Hast thou a strategy?”
Wonder Man offered his plan with a single sentence.
“Art thou inebriated? ‘Tis madness!”
For the first time since the battle started, Simon smiled. “Well, I haven’t gotten a good shot in yet. Now’s as good as time as any.”
Though irrational, overwhelming fear was a powerful weapon, desperation could be just as influential. Captain Ultra slapped his palms together, the shock wave snuffing out the raging flames like candles on a child’s birthday cake. The shockwave knocked Bontia back onto her backside, and a spike of pain leapt up from her spine and stabbed its way through her concussed head.
Firebird saw Captain Ultra’s eyes glowing, and knew she was only seconds away from being sliced in twain by his energy beams. Then the unexpected happened.
Captain Ultra lifted his chin slightly at the piercing sound of whistling splitting the air. He turned around to see Wonder Man flying at him like a cruise missile, fists out and slicing through the air faster than humanly possible.
“My turn, you Power Pack reject!” Wonder Man said, and collided with Captain Ultra, his fists slamming into the head and body of the entranced hero. Wonder Man bounced off, landing nearly a block away.
For the first time since the battle had begun, Captain Ultra was staggered.
Hercules smiled. His aim had been true, and although Simon Williams had sacrificed his safety, victory was now within their grasp. Wounded, the powerful jester staggered in the street blindly, heedless of the fact that he was stumbling directly into Hercules’ path.
It was a judgment in error Hercules was happy to exploit. The Champion stalked forward, drawing his right fist back as he did. He swung it into his foe’s stomach with such power that Ultra was lifted off the ground.
In retaliation, Captain Ultra did the only thing he could manage; he doubled over and vomited on Hercules’ sandals.
Sundragon shot upwards, narrowly avoiding a column of flame with her name on it. Dragon Man was standing on the roof below her, the massive chest of the android heaving, ready to let fly with another plume of fire.
“I’m afraid I must bow to your seniority in this instance, Dane Whitman. Suggestions?”
Black Knight stared at Dragon Man’s back, dismissed as a threat by the creature if only for the moment. The leader of the Champions wracked his brain for several long instants before seizing on a plan of action.
“Sundragon! Dragon Man doesn’t fly. It glides on air currents. Use that.”
To her credit, it took Sundragon only a split second to realize Dane’s plan.
“Come and face me, creature.” Sundragon said, as she lashed out with telekinetic whips, striking the android with tremendous force.
The lashes of energy fell across the thick hide of Dragon Man, and its primitive brain reached the conclusion that fiery breath would do it no good against an enemy if it remained on the roof. Dragon Man flapped its powerful wings with such force that the Black Knight was forced back on his heels as the android darted into the air.
Sundragon ended her assault, and rose into the air, luring the android higher. As the dark clouds of the storm grew closer, and the android closed in, Sundragon reached out with her powers and seized control of Dragon Man’s left wing.
The effect was immediate and almost comical. Without both wings working together to provide lift, the beast fell from the sky head over heels back towards the ground, its impressive strength useless without leverage.
Dragon Man slammed into the roof Dane Whitman was standing on with a thunderous crash, breaking through to the floor below. Almost immediately, the Black Knight heard terrified screams from below.
The scientist hero ran to the edge of the hole Dragon Man had created in the roof. He kneeled at the precipice and peered down, and from the look of the office and the certificates therein, saw what he guessed was an accountant and his secretary huddled together as Dragon Man sniffed at them curiously, like a dog making a new friend.
“Hey, ugly. That’s not food,” Black Knight said, moving swiftly to grab the attention of the android. The lumbering brute turned away from the fear drenched creatures he was examining and saw the Black Knight looking down at him. Dragon Man growled with such force that the glass in the windowpanes trembled.
Dragon Man inhaled, and Dane Whitman made his move. He launched down toward the android with his neural sword set on its highest possible setting. The Black Knight, sword drawn, was finally going to slay a dragon.
Sundragon descended down the hole in the roof several moments later, and saw her leader standing atop Dragon Man’s prone form.
“Where were you?” Dane said. “When I told you how to take this lug down, I didn’t mean for you to drop him for me to handle on my own. If his circuitry hadn’t been exposed by the fall, my blow wouldn’t have amounted to much.”
Sundragon shrugged. “You handled the situation adequately enough. I was coming to assist you, but I feared we might be blindsided by the Enchantress while we handled her pet monster. I looked to deal with her, however—“
“Let me guess,” Dane said, as he stepped off the android. “She’s long gone.”
“I have ta tell you, Mr. Low-key,” Jasper said with a smile. “I think you bet on the wrong horse, sir.”
Loki and Horace were watching the embarrassing spectacle of Hercules trying to pound Captain Ultra into a human pancake. Captain Ultra squealed with every punch, half his face puffy and discolored from the abuse.
Loki’s face twisted into a deep, hateful scowl. “Perhaps. But rest assured, old man,your deception will not last. If ever the words of a trickster god could be trusted, trust in those.”
“Loki,” Amora the Enchantress said, appearing behind the Prince of Lies in a flash of pink-tinged smoke. “Our… your pawns have all but fallen. What do you plan to do about this? We had an agreement!”
“Still your tongue, harpy, lest I cut it out,” Loki said, sweeping his hand towards what Jaspers morbidly called the ‘magma egg of doom’. “Our agreement, as you call it, was a mutual arrangement, Amora. I see no point in coming through on my end of the bargain when you have failed to uphold yours.”
The two scheming gods glared daggers at one another, and for a moment Horace thought he might be caught between the two in a clash of omnipotent power. Finally, after a moment that lasted an eternity, one decided to break the stalemate.
“Captain Ultra! Come to me!” Enchantress said, never removing her eyes from Loki.
At the words of his mistress, Captain Ultra found enough inner strength to knock Hercules aside, and flew to the side of his beloved.
“Such devotion would be poetic, were it not so pathetic,” Loki said, with a roll of his eyes.
“Sweetums? You called for me?” Captain Ultra said, his words passing through a mouth missing the majority of his teeth. The man looked like he’d just gone nine rounds as an Ultimate Fighting Championship punching bag. Blood dribbled down his chin like drool off a dog, and if his face ever resembled normal again, it would be nothing short of a miracle.
“Loki has need of your power,” Amora snapped. “Give it to him!”
“But, honey pot…he’s… he’s evil,” Captain Ultra whined.
Amora looked back towards where the Champions were gathering down the street. Hercules, Firebird, Black Knight and Sundragon were finally reunited, gathered tightly around the slumped over form of Wonder Man. And from appearances, what they lacked in strength they made up for in righteous anger.
“I don’t care, you simpering buffoon. Do it, and do it quickly!”
“Fine, fine,” Captain Ultra said, sighing with resignation as if he’d agreed to take out the trash or some other menial task, “this won’t hurt, will it?”
“Oh, not at all,” Loki assured the battered hero. “In fact, I won’t feel a thing.”
Loki moved his hands in a quick, mystic gesture, and Captain Ultra seized as if someone had reached into his chest and grabbed his beating heart. Horace Jaspers, assistant to the Champions, watched in amazement as a stream of rainbow energy shot out of Captain Ultra’s chest and towards Loki’s giant egg.
The exchange of power lasted only seconds before Captain Ultra fell face forward like a puppet with its strings cut. Jaspers stared intently at the man for a moment, unable to tell if the poor fool was dead or not. If he wasn’t, he was doing a damn good impersonation.
Somewhat satisfied, Loki and Amora levitated themselves into the air, away from the approaching Champions.
“Your friends have won this day, Horace Jaspers,” Loki said with a sneer. “But remember this. I am immortal, and I will not forget this defeat. You and your Champions will pay before long, and your secrets will not last forever.”
With a blinding flash, the trickster god and goddess of desire disappeared, along with the strange egg containing the monster Loki had hoped to fuel with the lifeblood of the Champions. The heroes surrounded Horace Jaspers, but Horace was looking past them.
“My lord,” Horace said, and the Champions followed his gaze. The rain had already started to lessen, but that only made it easier to witness the destruction. When they observed the devastated block sprinkled with villains, ravaged buildings and burning cars, it was easy for them to find a prayer of their own.
Several Days LaterIt wasn’t Dane’s preference to have the debriefing so long after a battle had finished, but in this particular case he didn’t have much choice. Firebird and Falcon’s injuries were fairly severe, and they were only allowed to leave the hospital after three days of recovery. Bonita was ordered to take it easy while her arm rested in a sling. Sam Wilson still bore a cast around his broken wrist, and Dane could see that his ribs were still taped from the beating he’d endured. And though they didn’t voice the opinion aloud, Dane was certain the team was concerned for his health as well. He’d undergone a tremendous amount of punishment over the weeks the Champions had been active, and his thoughts often turned to the situation in Avalon. The Black Knight was anxious to get back to his investigation of what had happened in the mystical realm, but the team took priority. Ironically enough, Simon Williams was relatively fine considering all the abuse he suffered. The ionic power that coursed through his veins gave him a speedy recovery just inside of a single day.
The debriefing was just winding down, the final touches and points added before Dane officially ended the recording and added it to the fledgling archives of the Champions.
“What happened to Captain Ultra?” Bonita asked, genuinely concerned.
“I was at the hospital visiting some of the victims of the battle, and doctors told me he’s in a coma,” Falcon said. “Given his powers, they can’t say when or if he’ll ever wake up again. His body healed when Loki drained him of his energy, but his mind retreated into a shell.”
“Forgive me if I don’t shed a tear,” a voice said. The Champions turned to regard the man standing in the doorway. Eric Williams was holding a manila folder in his hand with his arms crossed in front of his chest.
Dane frowned. “We’re in the middle of a meeting, Williams. You can scold us after we’re through.”
“The meeting is over, Whitman. You and your merry band are finished. The Champions are dead, ladies and gentlemen. We’ve been put out to pasture.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Dane said.
Eric threw the folder he’d been carrying down on the table. “I’m talking about the series testing poorly, Whitman. I’m talking about our sponsors pulling up stakes and moving on. I’m even talking about the threats I’ve received from both the state and federal government about all the damage you people caused in your last, and I do mean last, battle. I’ve been pressured to disband you, and I don’t have the funds or the firepower to maintain this fiasco one instant longer. This ridiculous project is finished. It’s over. Your severance pay is in the folder. I wish you all the best of luck in your future endeavors, and now you can all go to hell.”
Eric Williams stormed out before anyone could answer, and for one long minute, the now former members of the Champions sat in dumbfounded silence.
“I’ll… I guess I’ll be heading back to New York,” Falcon said. “Helping Hands will be needing aid now more than ever, especially if the funding they were expecting to get from this show is falling through. Bonita, you’re more than welcome to join me if you want.”
“Thank you, Sam,” Bonita said. “I’m grateful for the offer, but I think I’ll be staying here on the west coast for a while. My time with Helping Hands was truly special, but things have changed so much for me since I’ve been here. I need to take the time to find myself, and I think I can do that here.”
Sam smiled. “Hey, I understand that better than you’d think, kid. When I was running around with Cap I felt the same way. Like I had to get out on my own. But the offer’s always there on the table for you if you change your mind.”
“I think I will accompany you to New York,” Sundragon said, causing Sam Wilson to widen his eyes. “Not to join your organization, of course, but it is my understanding that my cousin has rejoined the east coast team of Avengers. I would very much like to see her.”
The Black Knight rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers, and a sigh escaped his lips. “I need to find out what happened to Avalon. All those meaningless deaths, and I feel like if I had just been more aware of my responsibilities they could have been avoided. But I had a responsibility to the team, and I didn’t want to leave you all in the lurch. But this is my fight, and I have to go it alone from here on out.”
Hercules pounded the desk with a heavy fist. “Nay, Dane Whitman. Our assemblage would have bore the burden with you, were it possible. That is no longer our choice, but thou shalt not tread this path alone. We shall divine the truth of what occurred together, my friend. Thou hast my word ‘pon that. The Lion of Olympus is with you.”
“All I know is that this hurts,” Simon said. The other Champions, as one, turned to look at him. “I really felt like we were doing something special here, and before we really even got the chance to get started it’s all over. This job, it was like a dream to me. I was doing the two things I loved more than anything else in the world, and I was finally sharing something with my brother. I know the rest of you only stayed with the team because you were worried that Eric was up to something, and I don’t blame any of you for feeling that way. But I witnessed him making the effort to change his life, and I could see the progress in him each and every day. And I’m just… I’m not going to let it end like this. I can’t just fold up and quit because the road is a little rockier than we thought it was going to be. I did that once before with my company, and all the hardship and pain I’ve been through and I’ve put my brother through might have been avoided if I’d just made the decision to fight.”
“So I’m going to fight,” Wonder Man said, rising to his feet. “I need to go see my brother.”
Eric’s office was poorly lit, and Simon could see where some of the furniture had already been repossessed. Simon saw his brother sitting at his desk, the fingers of his hands folded into a steeple in front of his eyes. Eric’s eyes were vacant, and he didn’t even look up when Simon entered the room.
“Eric. This doesn’t have to be the end. I still know some guys in the business. We can fight this.”
“You think I haven’t thought of that, Simon? We’re poison, haven’t you heard? No one wants to work with the Grim Reaper and the superhero who can’t stay dead.” Eric said, venom dripping form every word. “I’m ruined, all because I trusted you and your friends. I tried to redeem myself, and it all blew up in my face.”
“Eric, don’t do this. I’m right here. I’m with you, man. I want to help, and I want us to be brothers again, can’t you understand that? This really doesn’t have to be over. We’ve been fighting against one another nearly all our lives. Just for once don’t you want the chance to make amends? Just once don’t you want to fight together? Don’t turn your back now that—”
“Just. Go.” Eric said, and when he finally looked up, the look in his eyes caused Simon’s breath to falter in his lungs. Simon had seen that look before. In the eyes of a darkly clad madman wielding a razor-sharp scythe. In the eyes of the Grim Reaper. The tone of Eric’s voice was cold, and harsh. It was a tone that brooked no argument, made no apologies, and made its intentions as clear as the morning sun.
“I’m sorry, Eric,” Wonder Man said, and then did the only thing he could. He turned and walked away.
CHAMPION LOVERSWelcome to the final issue of Champions. I know it has been a long time in coming, and I hope anybody that was expecting this issue can forgive me for the length of time that has passed between issues. This is a story I was very passionate about at one time, and the only excuse I can give for why it hasn’t updated to this point is my own failings as a writer.
But thanks to the scripting abilities of David Ingram (who I can’t thank enough for taking the time to write out my crazy ideas) the issue is here now, and I hope like hell you enjoyed it. It was truly a labor of love working on Champions for the past ten issues. I wish it could have gone on longer, but I just couldn’t find the motivation inside me to continue the series.
I think we gave the Champions a fitting send off, and I hope you agree. If you’re not satisfied with this ending, rest assured that I’m not through writing about these characters. I’m taking over the scripting duties on Avengers West Coast here at Marvel 2000 and you can be certain that some of the Champions will be dropping by to pay the Whackos a visit. So stay tuned, keep reading, and I’ll try not to let any of you down again. If I do, we can always just blame it on Eric Williams though. That guy is a bad seed, man. Just ask Dane Whitman.
-Mike Exner III
03/16/06
“Crap,” Thunderball said, muttering under his breath. “Piledriver— hit him!”
Piledriver rushed forward, and Hercules stood his ground. Fists capable of shattering concrete slammed into the chest of the demigod, but he did not move an inch. Piledriver struck again, his fist crashing against the face of Hercules. He laced his fingers together, and dropped a hammer-like blow onto the head of Hercules. Finally the son of Zeus dropped to a knee.
“Yeah! Yeah, sucker. On your knees!” Piledriver said, his shouts splitting the night air. The roaring wind howled in protest, and Hercules lifted his head. He was smiling through the blood running from his mouth.
Piledriver took a hesitant step backwards. “What—?”
Hercules wrapped the chain of Thunderball’s enchanted wrecking ball around his forearm and took hold of the link nearest the globe of iron. “’Tis my turn then?” Hercules said, his voice no more than a growl, and swung his fist. The wrecking ball slammed into the body of Piledriver, lifting the man off of his feet and hurling him through the driving rain. Piledriver collided with the front end of a large four-door automobile, and the metal collapsed around his body trapping him in a glass and steel coffin. Then the car exploded.
“Phil!” Thunderball said, but his wailing cry was swiftly drowned by the sound of the explosion. He turned back toward Hercules, who was steadily stalking forward. “Stay back. I’ve got your teammate. One more move and I’ll kill her!”
Hercules stopped moving forward, and Thunderball smiled savagely. “That’s right. Now drop the ball, you sick oaf. And if you try anything, I’ll pop her head like a zit.”
Hercules relaxed his hand, and the chain of the wrecking ball unraveled from his thick forearm. The wrecking ball clunked heavily to the pavement, but Hercules kept his hand laced around the final link in the chain.
“Drop it, or I’ll kill her,” Thunderball said. “Didn’t you hear m—?“
Hercules hefted, whipping the wrecking ball in a quick, sharp arc around his head. He released his grip, and the wrecking ball went hurtling through the air directly at Thunderball’s astounded face. Thunderball dove for the ground, and felt the passage of the wrecking ball as it buffeted his rain-soaked hair.
The Lion of Olympus stalked forward to finish the job. The demigod didn’t make it three feet before a human fireball slammed into him like a guided missile.
“You think this hurts, freak? I can take anything you got!” Piledriver roared as he tackled Hercules around the waist. The magically charged villain struck Hercules with such force and surprise that Piledriver was actually able to lift the hero off his feet. The two combatants crashed into a nearby neighborhood grocery store
The building was far from abandoned, but thankfully for Hercules it was at least unoccupied. The people of Los Angeles had common sense enough to give battling demigods, former Avengers, and thugs powered by Asgardian magic a wide berth for their battles.
Thunderball listened to the sounds of his teammate’s fury in awe. The store shook from the foundations to the roof. The blows the two traded deep within the bowels of the building were deafening, indistinguishable from the thunder of the raging storm around them.
It was little surprise to Thunderball when the building Piledriver had driven the Prince of Power into collapsed. There were few buildings in the world powerful enough to contain the strength of the two clashing titans, and the store was not one of them.
It collapsed inward like a house of cards, chunks of cement and concrete falling in a final attempt at revenge against the duo that had slain the old building. It perished with a mighty roar, a cloud of dust washing over Thunderball.
For a moment, all was silent save the almost rhythmic beat of the heavy rain. Then the rubble began shifting, and once again the sound of mighty fists pounding their way to freedom echoed outward. Two eternally long minutes passed before a human figure emerged from the rubble.
Thunderball released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding when he saw that it was Piledriver, and not Hercules, who had dug his way to freedom. Dust still hung heavily in the air, like a morning mist, but Thunderball could see the red and white of his teammate’s costume clear as day.
“Nice work, Piledriver,” Thunderball said, shouting to be heard above the storm. He was honest enough with himself to admit that he had doubted Piledriver’s ability to take down the bear of an Avenger. Hercules had all but dismissed Bulldozer several minutes ago out of sheer luck, but the Wrecking Crew was a resilient group.
“Buried and beat that hairy ape. I didn’t think you had it in you,” Elliot Franklin said, congratulating his teammate as he strode forward over the wreckage. As a general rule, the other members of the Wrecking Crew didn’t like Thunderball too much. Even without Wrecker goading them on, Piledriver and Bulldozer still felt Dr. Elliot Franklin was patronizing them more than encouraging them whenever he spoke. But felling an opponent as fierce as Hercules was an accomplishment worthy of the compliment, and the danger inherent in delivering it.
It wasn’t until Thunderball was four feet from his friend that he realized Piledriver hadn’t said a word. In fact, his muscled form was slumped over, looking almost dead on his feet.
“You all right, Phil? We need to get Loki to fix you up?”
“Aye.”
There was a flash of lightning that illuminated the rubble, and Thunderball felt his heart jump into his throat.
Hercules was standing squarely behind Piledriver, holding the man’s unconscious body by the scruff of his neck. A small trickle of blood, mixed with soot and dust ran down the demigod’s forehead while his face possessed an impossibly savage look of hatred.
“Thou may wish to call upon the trickster god’s services for thy own aid. When and if thou ever speaks again.”
Hercules tossed the defeated Piledriver aside like a piece of litter, and was upon Thunderball within seconds.
A right hook sent blood and teeth flying several feet through the air. A blow to the sternum brought Thunderball to his knees, choking for air. Hercules brought both his mighty fists crashing down upon the upper spine of the kneeling villain. Thunderball was embedded into the ground almost as quickly as he was knocked unconscious.
With his foes defeated, Hercules’ thoughts instantly turned towards his teammates. Hercules began moving toward Firebird, wiping his brow to clear the sweat, blood and dirt from his face. He had barely taken a step before he felt a powerful against his back that sent him skittering along the street like a mangy dog.
“Who dares strike the Lion of Olympus?” Hercules said as he turned, his voice a roar.
“Hey there, beardo,” Captain Ultra said, smiling as he hovered several feet away, his teeth impossibly white. “You get it? Weirdo… beardo?”
“Your words are intended as jest, yet your actions are those of a coward,” Hercules replied with a deep, guttural growl as he stood up to face this new menace. Hercules pulled back his fist, ready to launch his assault when he felt his head snap back and forth suddenly. The pain came a moment later, as did the realization for Hercules that he hadn’t even seen his foe move.
“Some people,” Captain Ultra said, sighing as he rushed forward, faster than a speeding bullet, “have no sense of humor.”
"GODLY DEVICES"
Part Three of Three
Written by David Ingram and Mike Exner III
“Dear God!” Horace Jaspers said, gasping as he watched Piledriver tackle his good friend Hercules into an empty grocery store.
“You wish to say a prayer to me?” Loki said, his reply like the slithery hiss of a snake.
“I ain’t talking ‘bout you,” Jaspers said, his courage maintaining itself so long as he didn’t gaze at the trickster god, or glance at the huge egg-shaped incubator behind him.
“I do apologize, my good man. I hope you can forgive my confusion,” Loki said, making no effort to conceal his sarcastic tone. “But when you get to be my age, the mind… it wanders.”
Loki chuckled softly, and they watched the action in total silence for several minutes. Jaspers watched in awe as Hercules dug himself out of the stone and cement tomb that had fallen atop the hero, and felt hope swell in his chest as Thunderball was dispatched.
But that small flicker of hope was extinguished when Jaspers saw Captain Ultra blindside Hercules like a thunderbolt from God.
“Oh dear, now that wasn’t very sportsmanlike conduct, was it?”
Horace could only grit his teeth as the multi-colored, clownish powerhouse began pummeling his friend. Jaspers couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene, even as the trickster god bent in close and began whispering in his ear.
“You know, you should assist your friend. Hercules would lay down his life for your withered old husk. Yet here you stand,” Loki chided in a surprising and uncharacteristically serious tone of voice, “powerless to stop it. I find your lack of action… puzzling. If they survive, I’m certain your comrades would be riveted by this conversation we’re having. Perhaps we should share it with them.”
“Maybe we should,” Horace said, “because I ain’t got the foggiest notion what you’re talkin’ about, sir.”
“Have it your way, old man,” the Trickster God said with a scowl, and turned his attention back to the ongoing battle. “Have it your way.”
The first sound that Dane Whitman heard when he awoke from unconsciousness was a choking, gurgling sound. That alone was enough to cut through the fog of pain that gripped his mind.
Looking up, he saw Sundragon standing in front of Amora the Enchantress, a single telekinetic tentacle roped around the goddess’ slender throat, slowly choking the life from her.
“Sundragon? What are you—?” Black Knight said, though his voice was barely above a whisper. Strength was slowly returning to his limbs, but barely enough to rise to a standing position before the breath was stolen from his body.
Sundragon spared him the slightest of glances, and continued choking the goddess who had seduced her mind.
“Pamela, stop!” Black Knight said, finally catching his breath. “You’ll kill her!”
“That, Dane Whitman,” Sundragon said, increasing the pressure around the villainess’ throat. Amora clutched and clawed at it desperately to no effect. “That is exactly the point.”
Dane felt the building shake, and spared a glance behind him. Hercules and Captain Ultra were trading haymakers like baseball cards. Unfortunately, Captain Ultra looked fresh, and though Whitman could see Hercules’s blows were having some effect, the Prince of Power was taking the worst of it. Dane had learned long ago, even gods had their limit, and Hercules was fast approaching his. They simply had no time for this.
“Fine, go ahead and kill her,” the Black Knight said with a snarl, surprising both Sundragon and the Enchantress. “Kill her, and I promise you we’ll throw you in a cell just like we would with her. Simon, Bonita, Sam, they all need help, Pamela. So before you kill her, you better make damn sure she’s worth it. Because if you do this, and one of my teammates pays the price, I’ll move Heaven and Earth to take you down.”
Sundragon looked at Dane Whitman, and she made no effort to conceal the anger in her eyes. She returned her gaze to the Enchantress, and the telekinetic tentacle loosened, and finally dissipated. Amora gasped loudly as Sundragon glared daggers at her leader. Black Knight didn’t give two shakes about her wounded ego, but he did feel no small amount of shame over his choice of tactics. Captain America, Thor, or hell, even Hawkeye would have reined a teammate in by emphasizing the sanctity of human life, not threatening them like they would any other criminal. What kind of leader did that?
But serious recrimination would have to wait, Dane reminded himself. Hercules needed help, and there was still Loki and whatever he was planning to deal with. All things in due time.
“You… should have let her kill me, Whitman,” Amora said, her voice no more than a hiss as she rubbed her sore throat. “Now I’m afraid I’ll have to sic my pet on you.”
“Your multi-colored pawn’s kind of busy right now, Enchantress,” Dane said, “and I’ve half a mind to run you through with my blade again. Defy stereotypes, don’t do something stupid and stay down.”
Amora only smirked in response. Even over the pounding rain and thunder, Sundragon and the Black Knight heard the unmistakable sound of leathery wings, even over the pouring rain and cracks of thunder.
“Dane…?”
It suddenly occurred to the former Crusader that he’d never heard fear in Sundragon’s voice in the short time he’d known her, at least not like he did now. She was almost always composed and collected, if not more than a little aloof. Now she pointed behind him, and terror was etched in her eyes.
Black Knight turned into a wind so strong that the falling rain was blasted across his body horizontally. When Dane saw what was causing that wind, he understood Sundragon’s fear intimately.
Hovering at the edge of the building was a creature of unmistakable power. Eight feet tall, with a sixteen foot wing span, a beak-like mouth, large oval head, purple scaly skin, and a build that would impress the Hulk all added up to one man, or rather, one creature.
Dragon Man.
The two Champions had barely taken this information in before the artificial creature opened its maw and exhaled atomic fire.
Firebird awoke to a world that was spinning madly. War drums pounded in her head. One moment’s worth of thought was all she needed to realize that it was probably just a concussion, and not world destruction. Then she took a real look around at the carnage, and she wasn’t so sure.
Pain blurred her vision for hours, minutes or seconds, Bonita couldn’t be sure which, but when she heard her teammate roar in pain, that was all Firebird needed to snap back to a semblance of clarity.
She looked up, and saw Captain Ultra hovering in the air, smirking as his eyes projected deadly beams of energy toward the Lion of Olympus. Hercules was blocking the powerful blasts with his massive forearms, but even from a distance she could smell the flesh burning and see the skin of the demigod blistering under the withering assault.
Flames engulfed her body within seconds, turning the rain around her to steam.
“Stop!” she said, her scream echoing out as she lashed out with her fiercest flame, engulfing the head and upper body of Captain Ultra.
Normally, such an act wouldn’t have harmed a person of Captain Ultra’s ability. The man could physically withstand temperatures far greater than Bonita could ever hope to generate. But Captain Ultra feared fire instinctively, like a mouse feared a cat, and when Firebird’s flames washed over him, Captain Ultra screamed aloud in pain and terror, his voice not unlike that of a small schoolgirl. He scrambled away from his opponent, pitifully attempting to beat the flames out with his bare hands.
Hercules watched his foe flail about comically as he took a moment to catch his breath. The punishment he’d just endured was wearing hard on him, but the Prince of Power hadn’t won as many battles as he had over the course of history by surrendering, or being foolish in battle. When an opportunity such as this one presented itself, it was prudent to take advantage. Hercules was confident that, if he could just hold out long enough, he could defeat this youngling. The man had power to be sure, but no stamina, and no endurance. He was accustomed to battling foes far weaker than himself.
Not Hercules. The once immortal Avenger and current Champion had battled countless monsters, from the mighty and feared Titans to the Incredible Hulk himself. Even with all the strength his muscles possessed and his birthright granted him, Hercules was no stranger to a difficult conflict. He’d been underestimated before, and he reveled in the feeling of battling another worthy opponent.
Hercules stepped forward to engage his foe once more when he heard someone call out his name. He spun around to see Simon Williams, Wonder Man, staggering towards him.
“Hey Herc… you… you need some help?” Simon asked weakly. In all the commotion he’d been forgotten; perhaps the best thing that could have happened to him considering the circumstances. Not twenty minutes earlier, the Wrecking Crew and Captain Ultra had been tearing his energy form apart, siphoning his power on the orders of Loki.
“Simon, my friend. Rest. Thou were gravely wounded,” Hercules said. He took his friend about the shoulders to keep him from falling over. Wonder Man flickered from his energy form to his human form, unable to maintain either. “Do not fret, nor strain thyself. Trust us to seize victory.”
“Herc, you can’t beat this guy,” Simon said through gritted teeth. “Not without fighting dirty. He’s too fresh, and you’re too tired.”
“Hast thou a strategy?”
Wonder Man offered his plan with a single sentence.
“Art thou inebriated? ‘Tis madness!”
For the first time since the battle started, Simon smiled. “Well, I haven’t gotten a good shot in yet. Now’s as good as time as any.”
Though irrational, overwhelming fear was a powerful weapon, desperation could be just as influential. Captain Ultra slapped his palms together, the shock wave snuffing out the raging flames like candles on a child’s birthday cake. The shockwave knocked Bontia back onto her backside, and a spike of pain leapt up from her spine and stabbed its way through her concussed head.
Firebird saw Captain Ultra’s eyes glowing, and knew she was only seconds away from being sliced in twain by his energy beams. Then the unexpected happened.
Captain Ultra lifted his chin slightly at the piercing sound of whistling splitting the air. He turned around to see Wonder Man flying at him like a cruise missile, fists out and slicing through the air faster than humanly possible.
“My turn, you Power Pack reject!” Wonder Man said, and collided with Captain Ultra, his fists slamming into the head and body of the entranced hero. Wonder Man bounced off, landing nearly a block away.
For the first time since the battle had begun, Captain Ultra was staggered.
Hercules smiled. His aim had been true, and although Simon Williams had sacrificed his safety, victory was now within their grasp. Wounded, the powerful jester staggered in the street blindly, heedless of the fact that he was stumbling directly into Hercules’ path.
It was a judgment in error Hercules was happy to exploit. The Champion stalked forward, drawing his right fist back as he did. He swung it into his foe’s stomach with such power that Ultra was lifted off the ground.
In retaliation, Captain Ultra did the only thing he could manage; he doubled over and vomited on Hercules’ sandals.
Sundragon shot upwards, narrowly avoiding a column of flame with her name on it. Dragon Man was standing on the roof below her, the massive chest of the android heaving, ready to let fly with another plume of fire.
“I’m afraid I must bow to your seniority in this instance, Dane Whitman. Suggestions?”
Black Knight stared at Dragon Man’s back, dismissed as a threat by the creature if only for the moment. The leader of the Champions wracked his brain for several long instants before seizing on a plan of action.
“Sundragon! Dragon Man doesn’t fly. It glides on air currents. Use that.”
To her credit, it took Sundragon only a split second to realize Dane’s plan.
“Come and face me, creature.” Sundragon said, as she lashed out with telekinetic whips, striking the android with tremendous force.
The lashes of energy fell across the thick hide of Dragon Man, and its primitive brain reached the conclusion that fiery breath would do it no good against an enemy if it remained on the roof. Dragon Man flapped its powerful wings with such force that the Black Knight was forced back on his heels as the android darted into the air.
Sundragon ended her assault, and rose into the air, luring the android higher. As the dark clouds of the storm grew closer, and the android closed in, Sundragon reached out with her powers and seized control of Dragon Man’s left wing.
The effect was immediate and almost comical. Without both wings working together to provide lift, the beast fell from the sky head over heels back towards the ground, its impressive strength useless without leverage.
Dragon Man slammed into the roof Dane Whitman was standing on with a thunderous crash, breaking through to the floor below. Almost immediately, the Black Knight heard terrified screams from below.
The scientist hero ran to the edge of the hole Dragon Man had created in the roof. He kneeled at the precipice and peered down, and from the look of the office and the certificates therein, saw what he guessed was an accountant and his secretary huddled together as Dragon Man sniffed at them curiously, like a dog making a new friend.
“Hey, ugly. That’s not food,” Black Knight said, moving swiftly to grab the attention of the android. The lumbering brute turned away from the fear drenched creatures he was examining and saw the Black Knight looking down at him. Dragon Man growled with such force that the glass in the windowpanes trembled.
Dragon Man inhaled, and Dane Whitman made his move. He launched down toward the android with his neural sword set on its highest possible setting. The Black Knight, sword drawn, was finally going to slay a dragon.
Sundragon descended down the hole in the roof several moments later, and saw her leader standing atop Dragon Man’s prone form.
“Where were you?” Dane said. “When I told you how to take this lug down, I didn’t mean for you to drop him for me to handle on my own. If his circuitry hadn’t been exposed by the fall, my blow wouldn’t have amounted to much.”
Sundragon shrugged. “You handled the situation adequately enough. I was coming to assist you, but I feared we might be blindsided by the Enchantress while we handled her pet monster. I looked to deal with her, however—“
“Let me guess,” Dane said, as he stepped off the android. “She’s long gone.”
“I have ta tell you, Mr. Low-key,” Jasper said with a smile. “I think you bet on the wrong horse, sir.”
Loki and Horace were watching the embarrassing spectacle of Hercules trying to pound Captain Ultra into a human pancake. Captain Ultra squealed with every punch, half his face puffy and discolored from the abuse.
Loki’s face twisted into a deep, hateful scowl. “Perhaps. But rest assured, old man,your deception will not last. If ever the words of a trickster god could be trusted, trust in those.”
“Loki,” Amora the Enchantress said, appearing behind the Prince of Lies in a flash of pink-tinged smoke. “Our… your pawns have all but fallen. What do you plan to do about this? We had an agreement!”
“Still your tongue, harpy, lest I cut it out,” Loki said, sweeping his hand towards what Jaspers morbidly called the ‘magma egg of doom’. “Our agreement, as you call it, was a mutual arrangement, Amora. I see no point in coming through on my end of the bargain when you have failed to uphold yours.”
The two scheming gods glared daggers at one another, and for a moment Horace thought he might be caught between the two in a clash of omnipotent power. Finally, after a moment that lasted an eternity, one decided to break the stalemate.
“Captain Ultra! Come to me!” Enchantress said, never removing her eyes from Loki.
At the words of his mistress, Captain Ultra found enough inner strength to knock Hercules aside, and flew to the side of his beloved.
“Such devotion would be poetic, were it not so pathetic,” Loki said, with a roll of his eyes.
“Sweetums? You called for me?” Captain Ultra said, his words passing through a mouth missing the majority of his teeth. The man looked like he’d just gone nine rounds as an Ultimate Fighting Championship punching bag. Blood dribbled down his chin like drool off a dog, and if his face ever resembled normal again, it would be nothing short of a miracle.
“Loki has need of your power,” Amora snapped. “Give it to him!”
“But, honey pot…he’s… he’s evil,” Captain Ultra whined.
Amora looked back towards where the Champions were gathering down the street. Hercules, Firebird, Black Knight and Sundragon were finally reunited, gathered tightly around the slumped over form of Wonder Man. And from appearances, what they lacked in strength they made up for in righteous anger.
“I don’t care, you simpering buffoon. Do it, and do it quickly!”
“Fine, fine,” Captain Ultra said, sighing with resignation as if he’d agreed to take out the trash or some other menial task, “this won’t hurt, will it?”
“Oh, not at all,” Loki assured the battered hero. “In fact, I won’t feel a thing.”
Loki moved his hands in a quick, mystic gesture, and Captain Ultra seized as if someone had reached into his chest and grabbed his beating heart. Horace Jaspers, assistant to the Champions, watched in amazement as a stream of rainbow energy shot out of Captain Ultra’s chest and towards Loki’s giant egg.
The exchange of power lasted only seconds before Captain Ultra fell face forward like a puppet with its strings cut. Jaspers stared intently at the man for a moment, unable to tell if the poor fool was dead or not. If he wasn’t, he was doing a damn good impersonation.
Somewhat satisfied, Loki and Amora levitated themselves into the air, away from the approaching Champions.
“Your friends have won this day, Horace Jaspers,” Loki said with a sneer. “But remember this. I am immortal, and I will not forget this defeat. You and your Champions will pay before long, and your secrets will not last forever.”
With a blinding flash, the trickster god and goddess of desire disappeared, along with the strange egg containing the monster Loki had hoped to fuel with the lifeblood of the Champions. The heroes surrounded Horace Jaspers, but Horace was looking past them.
“My lord,” Horace said, and the Champions followed his gaze. The rain had already started to lessen, but that only made it easier to witness the destruction. When they observed the devastated block sprinkled with villains, ravaged buildings and burning cars, it was easy for them to find a prayer of their own.
Several Days LaterIt wasn’t Dane’s preference to have the debriefing so long after a battle had finished, but in this particular case he didn’t have much choice. Firebird and Falcon’s injuries were fairly severe, and they were only allowed to leave the hospital after three days of recovery. Bonita was ordered to take it easy while her arm rested in a sling. Sam Wilson still bore a cast around his broken wrist, and Dane could see that his ribs were still taped from the beating he’d endured. And though they didn’t voice the opinion aloud, Dane was certain the team was concerned for his health as well. He’d undergone a tremendous amount of punishment over the weeks the Champions had been active, and his thoughts often turned to the situation in Avalon. The Black Knight was anxious to get back to his investigation of what had happened in the mystical realm, but the team took priority. Ironically enough, Simon Williams was relatively fine considering all the abuse he suffered. The ionic power that coursed through his veins gave him a speedy recovery just inside of a single day.
The debriefing was just winding down, the final touches and points added before Dane officially ended the recording and added it to the fledgling archives of the Champions.
“What happened to Captain Ultra?” Bonita asked, genuinely concerned.
“I was at the hospital visiting some of the victims of the battle, and doctors told me he’s in a coma,” Falcon said. “Given his powers, they can’t say when or if he’ll ever wake up again. His body healed when Loki drained him of his energy, but his mind retreated into a shell.”
“Forgive me if I don’t shed a tear,” a voice said. The Champions turned to regard the man standing in the doorway. Eric Williams was holding a manila folder in his hand with his arms crossed in front of his chest.
Dane frowned. “We’re in the middle of a meeting, Williams. You can scold us after we’re through.”
“The meeting is over, Whitman. You and your merry band are finished. The Champions are dead, ladies and gentlemen. We’ve been put out to pasture.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Dane said.
Eric threw the folder he’d been carrying down on the table. “I’m talking about the series testing poorly, Whitman. I’m talking about our sponsors pulling up stakes and moving on. I’m even talking about the threats I’ve received from both the state and federal government about all the damage you people caused in your last, and I do mean last, battle. I’ve been pressured to disband you, and I don’t have the funds or the firepower to maintain this fiasco one instant longer. This ridiculous project is finished. It’s over. Your severance pay is in the folder. I wish you all the best of luck in your future endeavors, and now you can all go to hell.”
Eric Williams stormed out before anyone could answer, and for one long minute, the now former members of the Champions sat in dumbfounded silence.
“I’ll… I guess I’ll be heading back to New York,” Falcon said. “Helping Hands will be needing aid now more than ever, especially if the funding they were expecting to get from this show is falling through. Bonita, you’re more than welcome to join me if you want.”
“Thank you, Sam,” Bonita said. “I’m grateful for the offer, but I think I’ll be staying here on the west coast for a while. My time with Helping Hands was truly special, but things have changed so much for me since I’ve been here. I need to take the time to find myself, and I think I can do that here.”
Sam smiled. “Hey, I understand that better than you’d think, kid. When I was running around with Cap I felt the same way. Like I had to get out on my own. But the offer’s always there on the table for you if you change your mind.”
“I think I will accompany you to New York,” Sundragon said, causing Sam Wilson to widen his eyes. “Not to join your organization, of course, but it is my understanding that my cousin has rejoined the east coast team of Avengers. I would very much like to see her.”
The Black Knight rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers, and a sigh escaped his lips. “I need to find out what happened to Avalon. All those meaningless deaths, and I feel like if I had just been more aware of my responsibilities they could have been avoided. But I had a responsibility to the team, and I didn’t want to leave you all in the lurch. But this is my fight, and I have to go it alone from here on out.”
Hercules pounded the desk with a heavy fist. “Nay, Dane Whitman. Our assemblage would have bore the burden with you, were it possible. That is no longer our choice, but thou shalt not tread this path alone. We shall divine the truth of what occurred together, my friend. Thou hast my word ‘pon that. The Lion of Olympus is with you.”
“All I know is that this hurts,” Simon said. The other Champions, as one, turned to look at him. “I really felt like we were doing something special here, and before we really even got the chance to get started it’s all over. This job, it was like a dream to me. I was doing the two things I loved more than anything else in the world, and I was finally sharing something with my brother. I know the rest of you only stayed with the team because you were worried that Eric was up to something, and I don’t blame any of you for feeling that way. But I witnessed him making the effort to change his life, and I could see the progress in him each and every day. And I’m just… I’m not going to let it end like this. I can’t just fold up and quit because the road is a little rockier than we thought it was going to be. I did that once before with my company, and all the hardship and pain I’ve been through and I’ve put my brother through might have been avoided if I’d just made the decision to fight.”
“So I’m going to fight,” Wonder Man said, rising to his feet. “I need to go see my brother.”
Eric’s office was poorly lit, and Simon could see where some of the furniture had already been repossessed. Simon saw his brother sitting at his desk, the fingers of his hands folded into a steeple in front of his eyes. Eric’s eyes were vacant, and he didn’t even look up when Simon entered the room.
“Eric. This doesn’t have to be the end. I still know some guys in the business. We can fight this.”
“You think I haven’t thought of that, Simon? We’re poison, haven’t you heard? No one wants to work with the Grim Reaper and the superhero who can’t stay dead.” Eric said, venom dripping form every word. “I’m ruined, all because I trusted you and your friends. I tried to redeem myself, and it all blew up in my face.”
“Eric, don’t do this. I’m right here. I’m with you, man. I want to help, and I want us to be brothers again, can’t you understand that? This really doesn’t have to be over. We’ve been fighting against one another nearly all our lives. Just for once don’t you want the chance to make amends? Just once don’t you want to fight together? Don’t turn your back now that—”
“Just. Go.” Eric said, and when he finally looked up, the look in his eyes caused Simon’s breath to falter in his lungs. Simon had seen that look before. In the eyes of a darkly clad madman wielding a razor-sharp scythe. In the eyes of the Grim Reaper. The tone of Eric’s voice was cold, and harsh. It was a tone that brooked no argument, made no apologies, and made its intentions as clear as the morning sun.
“I’m sorry, Eric,” Wonder Man said, and then did the only thing he could. He turned and walked away.
CHAMPION LOVERSWelcome to the final issue of Champions. I know it has been a long time in coming, and I hope anybody that was expecting this issue can forgive me for the length of time that has passed between issues. This is a story I was very passionate about at one time, and the only excuse I can give for why it hasn’t updated to this point is my own failings as a writer.
But thanks to the scripting abilities of David Ingram (who I can’t thank enough for taking the time to write out my crazy ideas) the issue is here now, and I hope like hell you enjoyed it. It was truly a labor of love working on Champions for the past ten issues. I wish it could have gone on longer, but I just couldn’t find the motivation inside me to continue the series.
I think we gave the Champions a fitting send off, and I hope you agree. If you’re not satisfied with this ending, rest assured that I’m not through writing about these characters. I’m taking over the scripting duties on Avengers West Coast here at Marvel 2000 and you can be certain that some of the Champions will be dropping by to pay the Whackos a visit. So stay tuned, keep reading, and I’ll try not to let any of you down again. If I do, we can always just blame it on Eric Williams though. That guy is a bad seed, man. Just ask Dane Whitman.
-Mike Exner III
03/16/06