16:31:39 EST
"Get that camera the hell out of here!" Dane Whitman yelled. Sweat was pouring down his face as he struggled to keep the man thrashing on the gurney immobile. Hercules had the arms of the man pinned, and Dane was placing all his muscle to the task of keeping his chest and midsection flat on the table. A wave of energy poured from the man, and Dane was thrown clear. Hercules grunted in genuine pain.
Dane looked at his friend, Simon Williams, and grimaced. Twin slash marks were evident on both shoulders of his ionic frame. And from the wounds, ionic energy was bleeding into the air, as his screams filled the cabin of the ambulance.
The paramedics were holding fistfuls of gauze, pressing them to the hero's wounds. One of them turned panicked eyes to Dane. "I can't staunch the bleeding. This… it isn't even blood! I don't know how to help him!"
"He's in shock!" Dane said. "He can't concentrate enough to revert back to his human form. I've never seen him wounded like this before. I don't--"
Dane paused. He wanted to say he didn't know what to do, but the hopelessness in the medic's eyes was something he didn't want mirrored in his own.
"Dane?" Hercules muttered through clenched teeth. "I beseech thee. I cannot stay Simon's suffering alone." Hercules looked over his shoulder. Saw Dane Whitman leaning against the side of the ambulance. Simon bucked again, and his legs slammed the sides of the ambulance, puncturing the metal and exposing the early evening air. The ambulance swerved, the driver barely maintaining control.
"Jesus," one of the paramedic's whispered. "One more like that, and we're through."
Dane stepped forward. Lurched forward on unsteady feet. But his face was set in a grim mask of determination. He pushed past Hercules, and clutched Simon's face in his hands.
"Simon! Listen to me, Avenger! You have to wake up! You have to snap out of this, or you're going to die! You're going to die, do you understand? There's nothing more we can do for you, Simon. Simon! Wake up!"
09:14:22 EST
"Wake up, Simon. We're here," Dane said as he shook Wonder Man's shoulder gently. The engines of the Champscraft hummed dimly as they powered down, and Simon shook off the remnants of the slumber he'd slipped into as they'd flown across the country. Simon peered out of the cockpit of the airship. The familiar sight of JFK International Airport greeted his eyes.
"New York City," Simon muttered as he ran a hand through his hair. "Didn't think I'd be seeing this place for a while yet."
"We won't be here that long," Dane said, as he activated the cargo bay door. The rear of the ship opened, and Simon stretched his fingers to the sky.
"It's okay. Maybe I'll feel worse once we get to the mansion, but--"
"I'm the only one who has to go to the mansion, Simon," Dane interrupted. "I want the three of you to meet up with our recruit. You're handling the pitch, actor-boy. I expect you to knock 'em dead."
"Whatever you say, boss," Simon grinned, but Dane could tell he was forcing it. "I guess I was just thinking about looking in on Wanda. Seeing how she was."
"Probably not the best idea. We're here on business. We should keep it to that," Dane replied, his own thoughts turning to Crystal. The four heroes stepped out of the Champscraft, flanked by a silvery orb, filming their every move.
"It's really quite odd, isn't it?" Firebird said, trying to ignore the camera. "Didn't Bill say the camera could film us clearly from hundreds of feet away?"
"Yeah, but that particular feature is utilized more for battle scenarios, Bonita," Dane replied.
"That's right. The action-packed adventures of the Champions!" Simon yelled, raising a fist to the sky. The camera immediately swung its lens to regard him.
Bonita rolled her eyes. "Be serious, Simon."
Simon shrugged. "Why? We're on TV. We're supposed to be entertaining the masses. That's the whole idea."
Bonita smiled. "I suppose so. But doesn't Eric Williams and his staff edit everything for content? I'm sure this conversation won't even be viewed."
"You never know," Simon said. "A slathering superhuman beast could come crashing onto the scene any minute, and--"
A dozen flashbulbs suddenly erupted over the features of the heroes. They blinked in unison, and a river of noise descended on them. "Mr. Williams! Mr. Whitman! Champions! Welcome back to New York! Is it true you left the Avengers without so much as a word, Mr. Whitman? Mr. Williams, how do you feel, working for the brother who once tried to murder you? Ms. Juarez… Firebird! Any hard feelings between you and Helpings Hands for leaving? Mr. Hercules, going out on the town tonight to celebrate the new team? Rumor has it you're looking for new blood. Who's the next recruit, Mr. Whitman?"
Simon shook his head, eyeing Bonita. "See what I mean? Here's a couple dozen of them now."
The flock of reporters surrounded the heroes, and Dane held up a hand to shield himself from the microphones. "Simon, grab Hercules, and then you and Firebird head on up to the rendezvous point. I'll meet up with you there after I take care of my own business."
"What business would that be, Mr. Whitman? Are you leaving Wonder Man as the de-facto leader of the Champions while you take a leave of absence? Were your injuries more severe than you let on at your press conference?"
Dane laughed as he pushed his way through the reporters, towards the car waiting for him near the Champscraft. "Seriously, guys. I don't know where you get your info. I'm just going to visit some old friends. If you'll excuse me."
"Are those friends the Avengers? Are you trying to smooth things over with your former team? Are you going to be raiding their membership to further the goals of your employer, Eric Williams? Are-?"
Dane slammed the car door shut, the incessant drone of the reporters quieted to a dull roar. He signaled for the driver to move out as he watched Simon, Bonita and Hercules take flight. Simon was smiling apologetically down at one of the reporters, who seemed rather perturbed that he was fleeing the scene. Dane smiled. It was going to be a long day.
Bringing out the Dead
Conclusionby Mike Exner III
12:35:01 PST
The old man shuffled down the massive hallways of the office building he'd been called to, peering down at the piece of paper he'd written his directions on from time to time, and then squinting as he struggled to make heads or tails of halls that all looked exactly the same. He would have asked a receptionist to help him, but it was the weekend, and the place seemed completely abandoned. He knew his charge was on the fortieth floor, but other than that, he was baffled. He'd been asked to perform the pick-up at 12:30 sharp. He'd been wandering the halls for a good five minutes.
"Anybody here?" Horace Jaspers called out. He was getting to the point of frustration that made him want to turn tail and head back to base. His employer would be angry as hell, the commission for this job had been promised at well over the desired rate, but if he couldn't even find the guy…
"Hell with this," Horace grumbled. He turned around, and wasn't surprised to find that the hallway was no more familiar to him now than it had been before. He'd made quite a few twists and turns since he'd left the elevator, and all of the rooms on this floor had identical doors, with no distinguishing marks. He looked at the paper again.
LL Incorporated. Fortieth floor. Room 350.
Horace sighed. "With my luck, there'll actually be 350 rooms to look through."
He padded onward, his thoughts turning to a television program he'd watched once that reminded him quite a bit of the situation he found himself in now. A man had been investigating some criminal-type, trying to discover the secrets behind his secret, shady, criminal-type organization. The man thought he'd discovered the crime boss' headquarters, and had a hell of a time breaking into the building. But once he got in there, he found that all the rooms in the building were deathtraps, and that the building was the way that criminal fella got rid of nosy folks who snooped where they weren't wanted. For all the trouble that fella went through to get in, he was trapped, and that crime boss watched him the whole time through little video cameras, egging him on, trying to surprise him into getting killed by one of the deathtraps. And the guy kept opening doors, because the criminal-type guaranteed that one of them doors led to the way out. Horace had, of course, fallen asleep before the show ended.
Horace looked up at the hallways. There was a security camera there, swishing back and forth silently. Horace moved towards it, a lump in his throat. He swallowed roughly, then waved his arms in the air in front of the lens.
"Anybody there? Kinda lost here," Horace hollered. "Could use some help."
"Mr. Jasper," a voice echoed behind him. It was a booming, powerful, authoritative voice. Horace started, then whirled around on his heels. He felt like a kid caught sneaking a tootsie roll out of the candy jar.
A man approached him. His face stern, set in a mask of obvious irritation. He stalked to where Horace stood and eyed him coolly. "Your service came highly recommended. I had hoped for a more timely arrival. I suppose punctuality isn't one of your strong suits."
"My fault entirely, sir," Horace replied. "Do you have any bags need carrying?"
"Not at all, Mr. Jasper," the man said, perfectly straight, gleaming-white teeth exposed themselves behind his thin lips as he smiled. "I also respect the fact that you're unwilling to lay the blame anywhere but yourself. I think you'll do just fine."
Horace's brow furrowed. "I'm not sure I follow you, sir. I'm here to drive you to an appointment?"
"Not precisely, Mr. Jasper," the man said, gripping Horace by the shoulder and ushering him through one of the nondescript doors of the hallway. The room exploded into life, sounds erupting from its confines. The man in the suit closed the door, and Horace was sure that the hallway would be as silent as a tomb again after he did.
The man smiled his shark smile again. "Soundproofed rooms. A luxury we can afford here at LL Incorporated." Horace nodded, and the man pointed a thumb at the far wall. "See anything you recognize?"
Horace looked, and found himself staring at his own face. Numerous video screens were alit with his image. He was talking on the screen he was looking at, talking to the young fella named Speedball while he tried to replace the tire on his limousine.
The hand on his shoulder tightened slightly, and Horace looked away from the video screens. The man in the suit was looking at him intently, searching his face, as if hunting for some sign of… what? Approval? Compliance? Horace felt like a rat in a trap. Like the man on the television program.
But then the face of the man cleared, and Horace let go of his breath, not realizing he'd been holding it in the first place.
"Allow me to introduce myself, Mr. Jasper. My name is Eric Williams. I'm the CEO of LL Incorporated. And I have a proposition for you…"
09:45:13 EST
"Traffic's a little rough, sir. Sorry 'bout dat. Some kinda convention comin' through town. Mayor's even set to make a stop dere. Starts today, a'course. At ten this mornin'. But I'll be damned if I know what it's all about. Saw a quick bit 'bout it on the news. Saw you and ya team too. Hell of a thing, that is. Say, think you could autograph this shirt for my kid?"
Dane stared out the window of the automobile, idly listening to the driver's chatter, his mind elsewhere. He'd signed three articles of clothing already, and took the shirt gladly, scribbling his signature and a little note to "Timmy". But if the driver kept it up much longer, he was going to put his photonic sword through the guy's tongue to shut him up.
He closed his eyes, swallowing a breath and letting it slip slowly out through his teeth. He was stressing out, Avengers mansion looming darkly over his thoughts like a shadow. He knew why he was going there, but he knew it wasn't going to be a pleasant situation once he got there. He tried to tell himself he was just going to retrieve his ebony blade, the grossly powerful sword he'd taken from the Avengers' foe Proctor, but he'd left things badly with Crystal when he left for Los Angeles for his interview.* He'd even packed a bag as if he were leaving for good. And now he was gone for good, and he doubted Thor would be all that pleased with his decision to leave the Avengers.
* (It happened in M2K's Avengers #28 - Mike)
"Abandon is more like it," Dane muttered under his breath.
"What's dat ya say?" the driver replied, peering at Dane through the rearview mirror. Dane shook his head in reply. "Well, okay den. We're here, Mistah Whitman."
Dane looked up, his eyes widening. He hadn't even realized they'd made the turn onto Fifth Avenue. The mansion was there all right, larger than life, almost stretching up to touch the clouds in the sky. Dane felt about two inches tall.
"Want I should turn up to da gate?"
Dane grabbed the door handle. "No, that's okay. I'll walk from here. Give my love to your family, Jim."
"Hey, thanks, Mistah Whitman! You're an all right fella!" the driver beamed, shaking the signed articles of clothing in Dane's direction.
Dane nodded, then shut the door softly behind him. He'd arranged for the car to drop him off, nothing more. He was hoping one of the Avengers could give him a ride to the rendezvous point. If not, he could at least hitch a ride with Jarvis. He missed the old goat.
He pressed his palm to an access panel attached to the wall near the gate. It served two purposes, and anyone without access would have had to use the intercom to gain admittance through Jarvis. Without proper authorization, anyone attempting to clear the gate would have their hands full with the mansion's security technology, designed and implemented by Tony Stark himself.
There was a chime, and a computer-recorded voice hummed: Good morning, Dane pleasantly - Whitman's own addition to the security box - and then the gate began to smoothly roll open.
Dane stepped over the perimeter separating the mansion from the rest of the city. Lush green lawns, finely trimmed hedges, a wide walkway inlaid with polished stones, Dane had always looked at Tony's contribution to the mighty Avengers as though it were a castle. A place where nobles, kings, knights, and the common man could gather, to discuss and plan the defeat of the evil that threatened their livelihood.
Dane stopped in front of the door, his hand raised to knock. He hesitated. He knew he was being ridiculous - he was an Avenger, after all - but he couldn't help himself. There was just something about the mansion. The tradition of it; the echoes of power, prestige and honor that flowed through the lavish townhouse dwarfed all who entered.
The door swung inward, and standing there was the reason all who did feel dwarfed by the tradition of the Avengers were soon made to feel as comfortable as if had been their home for years. Edwin Jarvis.
"Master Dane. It is so good to see you, sir. I had feared I wouldn't see you again for quite some time. The others will be thrilled that you're here," Jarvis said, all in a rush; but with every word composed, clearly stated. Dane smiled.
"It's good to see you too, Jarvis," Dane replied. He leaned forward, peering around the corners of the doorframe for any signs of the other Avengers. "But I'm afraid I won't be staying long. I've just come to pack up the remainder of my… belongings."
Jarvis nodded somberly. "Yes, master Jack of Hearts informed me of your new position as leader of that… team in Los Angeles. I was quite thrilled to hear the news."
Dane grinned. "You've got a way with words, Jarv. But it's okay. I know everybody is concerned with the Champions. We're not exactly a low key organization."
Jarvis stepped aside, allowing Dane to enter the main hallway. The den was visible now, but Dane didn't see anyone sitting on any of the plush furniture scattered about. Dane felt his shoulders loosen slightly, the tension had bunched his muscles into knots.
"I think the major concern regards the gentleman funding said organization, master Dane. If you don't mind my saying so."
Dane chuckled. "I don't think I've ever minded a word you had to say, Jarv. And I'm not about to start now. But I don't think you have anything to worry about. I've got the situation well in ha--"
"Dane."
Dane froze. And the words died on his lips. He looked to his left, up the staircase leading to the second and third floors of the mansion. Standing at the head of the stairs was the one person he'd not wanted to run into…
…and the one person he knew he wanted to speak with more than anyone.
"Crys," Dane said, as the Inhuman Avenger started down the stairs toward him. Her thick auburn hair bounced with every step. She was still one of the most beautiful women Dane had ever seen. Crystal passed Jarvis, and threw her arms around Dane. It was a warm embrace, but unmistakably friendly. At one point, Dane and Crys had been lovers. But that had been a long time ago.
"What are you doing here?" Crystal said, once they'd broken their hug. Jarvis had disappeared, a talent the old man had mastered over the years. "When I saw you on television being announced with Simon and the others, I thought you'd taken leave of your senses. Thor was pretty furious. Wanda was baffled. We all were. But I knew you had to have a reason for joining the Grim Reaper, some kind of plan. And now you're here. We should get the others, and--"
Whoa, whoa," Dane said, waving his hands like a referee signaling an incomplete pass. "Slow down a minute there, Crys. Who said anything about--" Dane ran his fingers through his hair. He exhaled audibly. "Okay. Taken leave of my senses? I know exactly what I'm doing, all right? And I didn't come here to ask the Avengers for help. I just came here for my sword."
Crystal had drawn back, as if Dane had suddenly grown an extra pair of eyes on his forehead. Her eyes narrowed faintly. "I see." Her voice was chilly enough to give Dane shivers.
"Hey, look. I… I didn't mean it like that, okay?" Dane said, his feet doing an uneasy waltz on the hardwood. "I've just been under a lot of pressure lately. The audition for team-leader nearly killed me, you know? I just, I don't really want to get into explaining myself to everyone when I know I haven't done anything wrong."
Crystal shook her head. "Nobody said you did anything wrong, Dane. We were just confused. Eric Williams is the Grim Reaper. You realize that, don't you? I mean, I know we've had problems in the past, and you said some pretty hurtful things--"
"Crys… I just--"
"No, let me finish. Those things don't matter, Dane. I was hurt. But I'm over it. You're a teammate, a friend, and I love you. I don't want anything to happen to you or Hercules, or any of my friends."
Dane felt the chasm of emptiness in his stomach slowly begin to fill. "Thanks, Crys. I needed to hear that."
"It's the truth," Crystal said. "I don't agree with your choice of profession, but if you feel like you've got a handle on things…"
"I think I do," Dane replied.
"Then that's good enough for me," Crystal smiled. "Now c'mon. Let's go find the others. I know Thor will want to see you."
Yeah, that should be fun," Dane said, rolling his eyes, and dragging his feet as Crystal tugged him by the arm down the hall.
11:38:47 EST
"Man, I really gotta get some medication for these crabs, you know? But I can't afford a damn thing right now. So hopefully these Helpy Hands people will hook it up, you know?"
"Oh, I know it. Don't I know it, pally?"
"Dat's what ya know."
"You damn right, I know, dammit."
Hercules stood with his arms crossed in front of his broad chest as the three men, standing in a row, each separated by a decade of age, discussed their most intimate bodily functions and personal habits. A scowl was carved on Hercules' countenance.
"Just a few more minutes, big guy," Simon said as amiably as he could manage. They'd been sitting in smallish plastic chairs - offered gladly by a few of the denizens of this place - for over an hour now, waiting patiently for the man they'd come to see.
"The Prince of Power," Hercules stated gruffly, "shouldst not be exposed to such things, Simon Williams."
"Oh, it's not that bad, is it Hercules? Not all of these people could be born to a god, you know." Bonita said with a gentle smile.
Hercules grimaced, shifted uncomfortably on his seat, the legs of the chair wobbling precariously as he did. "Thine point is sound, Bonita. Forgive me. A son of Zeus shouldst learn to weather such trials in a manner befitting a lord of Olympus."
"You're doing fine, Hercules. I'm simply giving you a hard time."
"Yeah, well, I can see how anyone's nerves would start to fray," Simon muttered, glancing at his watch, "homeless, needy, or otherwise. When you've been sitting in a line for an hour, how can you blame them?"
"I can only assume that crack is in reference to me, Williams," said a deep voice from their right. The heroes looked, and standing in the open doorway of his office stood Sam Wilson. His face was twisted into a frown. "And I can't say I appreciate it one bit."
Simon winced, leaning towards Bonita. "I don't think this was what Dane had in mind when he put me in charge."
12:22:18 EST
The creature had been alone for so long. In the dark. It could sense that it was being taken somewhere in its black prison, but nothing more. It had tried many times to escape, but there was something sucking away its strength. There had been a time when the creature had flown wild and free, soaring above the clouds, doing as it pleased. But a man, a horrible man, had taken its freedom away. A man who could fly, a man with wings on his feet, a man who was even stronger than the creature, and a man that left the creature with nothing but rage to comfort it.
But now something else was here. The creature could sense it. Its mind was almost purely brutal instinct now, but there had been a mind within it once. If something else had invaded the darkness, it was either friend or foe. The creature would bide its time, until the nature of the interloper was made clear.
There was a displacement of air in front of the nose of the creature. A hand, starkly white, appeared from nothing and the creature could see it. Finally, something to look upon. The pale hand became fuzzy, and gripped the strange shocking vines wrapped around the creature's scaly arm. There was a surge of energy, and it jolted down the spine of the creature roughly. The creature snarled, pulling away from the pain.
And it was then that the creature realized it could pull away. It pulled harder. Felt the snaring vines begin to stretch, to snap. A growl issued from deep down in its throat. The white hand that had freed it was all but forgotten. Soon. Soon it would be free.
12:31:41 EST
"I am feeling seriously uneasy here, Craig," the man in the Guardsman armor muttered. His helmet was sitting on the seat next to his partner's.
Craig blew smoke out of his mouth, a cigarette clutched between his lips, the steering wheel in his hands. "We're doing fine, Charlie."
"We're not doing fine, Craig. We're doing significantly less than fine."
Craig smirked. "We're doing fine."
"Yeah, well… I don't like it."
"What do you like?"
"Hey now. I like things."
"I mean besides your mother's roast beef," Craig grinned.
Charlie reached around and banged on the wall of the truck. "Oh, so I don't much like toting super-powered creatures that could kill me at any minute. I'm so sorry, Craig. Seriously. I apologize for hurting your feelings."
Craig shook his head. The light shifted in front of him. He braked the truck. "Red light."
"Real perceptive of you."
"Yeah, yeah," Craig muttered, then added, "and don't hit the merchandise, jag-off."
"I'm not hitting the merchandise, I'm hitting the door. There's a difference. We're not hauling fur coats for Macy's no more."
"Yeah, whatever, just don't--" Craig paused. "You feel that?"
"Don't mess with me, Craig. I'm not in the m--"
The truck shuddered on her axles. "There it is again!"
"Damn!" Charlie wailed.
"What?"
"I felt it that time too. Something's happening. We're gonna die. I got kids, man."
Craig shifted the truck into park, and thumbed the switch for the hazards. "Go check it out."
Charlie looked at him. "What!? No, man! You go back there and check it out."
Craig shrugged. "I'm the driver. I gotta stay with the truck."
"No. Hell no. In fact, I'd rather stick my head up my own a--"
There was the shrieking sound of rending metal, and the Vault security truck began to split right down the middle. Charlie and Craig glanced at each other, then opened their doors simultaneously and threw their bodies to the street. They turned, looking back at the vehicle in horror. The truck was being torn apart from within. A coarse, massive red-scaled hand tore through the metal of the truck like paper. A brilliant yellow eye, framed by a ferocious white face, peered out of the hole.
"Charlie?" Craig said.
"Yeah, Craig?" Charlie answered.
"Run."
13:45:17 EST
"And that's how it happened," Dane said as he took another gulp of his coffee. He and a few of the other Avengers were sitting in the mansion's kitchen. "We've been shuttling back and forth, first to New Mexico to pitch the idea to Firebird, and now the rest of the team is in New York talking to Sam."
"I hope you've got a few other ideas after that," Monica Rambeau replied. "Sam has been fully devoted to Helping Harlem since he got back to New York. It's where his mission started. He oversaw the opening of almost every Helping Hands location across the country. Including the one in New Mexico you whisked Firebird away from."
Quasar smiled. "Yeah, I'm sure Sam was real pleased about that."
"Well, in hindsight, we probably should have come to Sam first," Dane said, stroking his stubbly face, "but the amount of money Williams is throwing into Helping Hands is staggering. He's got to be pleased about that."
"I don't know, Dane," the Scarlet Witch said. "Sam has a lot of pride. He might not want Eric William's money. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around you taking the job. Or any of the other Avengers, for that matter."
"Champions," Dane corrected with a grin. "And I see your point, Wanda. But I can keep an eye on Williams better the closer I am to him. And it doesn't get much closer than this. Williams hasn't tried anything yet, and he's paid the full amount of our salary - sans living expenses - to the Helping Hands charities as well. I think--"
"It matters not what thou might think, Dane Whitman," a voice boomed from the doorway. All of the Avengers jumped. Striding through the doorway was the mighty Thor. He stalked directly to Dane, facing him nose to nose. "Thou hast much to answer for, Black Knight. Thor requests an audience with thee."
"Uh… sure thing, Thor," Dane stammered. Thor turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. Dane eyed his compatriots, but they had all decided the floor was of better interest. Crystal smiled hopefully at Dane and shrugged.
"Good luck, Dane," she said.
"Thanks, Crys. Think I'll need it."
Dane followed Thor out the rear door of the complex. The thunder god was standing in the garden, surrounded by the wide variety of trees and plant-life that had been placed there over the years. Thor turned, and Dane saw that his sword was lying on one of the benches behind him.
"Thy sword awaits thee, Dane Whitman," Thor intoned. "But the heart of the son of Odin doth not wish to bestow it freely."
Dane's eyes narrowed. Thunder god or no, all this explaining was getting a bit tiresome. "Thor. I realize your concerns. I realize everyone has concerns. They're valid. But they're also recognized. I am fully capable of handling things. I've led the Avengers before. I have people behind me that I trust. In my mind, Eric Williams is a threat. And I'm dealing with him in the best way I know how. And we're doing a lot of good in the meantime. So with all due respect, I'd appreciate it if you backed off."
Dane brushed past Thor, gathered his sword, and then turned back. He looked at the thunder god, and Thor's face was twisted into a mask of anger. Dane peered up at the sky. Stormclouds had started to form over the mansion.
"Thou hast spoken thy peace," Thor boomed. "Therefore allow the son of Odin to speak his. Thy actions of late make a mockery of thy words, Dane Whitman. If thou wish it, the Avengers shall part company with thee. Rescind thy active membership. But take note of the sky. If thou intend the Avengers to be at thy beck and call when thy tribulations reach a fevered pitch, remember that it lay dark and most unwelcome on this day."
"Understood," Dane replied curtly. He slung his sword around his shoulder, and then turned to walk away. "No bother seeing me to the door. I know my way out."
14:21:53 EST
The woman descended through the sky. The cityscape of New York was somewhat familiar to her, but not familiar enough for her to locate her destination with ease. Her brow furrowed slightly in confusion. She could drop among the denizens of the city, ask them for directions to the famed estate known as Avengers mansion. But she knew her appearance was not something the people of New York saw on a regular basis. She was liable to incite a panicked response. That would most assuredly bring authorities of some kind, perhaps even the Avengers themselves, but it was not a chance she was willing to take.
She had to find the universal protector, and she had been certain that the Avengers could aid her in her endeavor. But if she could not find the Avengers in an area as small as New York City, finding Captain Marvel, when he could be located at any place stretching across the entire globe, would be nigh impossible.
Suddenly, her senses registered the sound of screams, an explosion, an inhuman roaring. The woman smirked. If the disturbance was sufficient to summon superheroic aid, perhaps she wouldn't have to find the Avengers at all. They would come to her.
14:46:18 EST
Dane Whitman sat in the back of the yellow cab, his sword perched across his lap. The traffic was even more disjointed than it had been before. The cab was inching along, a few feet at a time, giving Dane plenty of time to stew in his own misery.
Thor was a jerk. But Dane probably could have handled the situation better than he had. The Champions were composed entirely of former Avengers. If something did go down that the Champions weren't capable of handling, there weren't any better allies you could have in a pinch. Dane would probably give Clint a call up in San Francisco when they got back to LA. The way things were now, it wasn't too likely Thor would order the Avengers to do any avenging for the Champions. Hopefully the Whackos would be a little more reasonable.
"Holy crap!" the driver yelled, slamming on the brakes. Dane looked up, and then closed his eyes. He opened them again, but nothing had changed. A creature was making its way towards them down the street, tossing cars out of the way as if they were toys. The thing was as big as the Hulk, starkly red, with massive golden wings folded behind it. It had a beastly face, as pale as freshly fallen snow, and as Dane watched, it roared, and Dane could see the razor-sharp teeth and claws as the monster raged at the sky.
"Stay here," Dane said. The driver nodded dumbly. Dane climbed out of the car, pulling the ebony blade along with him. People were screaming, scattering in all directions leading away from the beast. It looked to Dane like a griffin, a creature pulled from a storybook.
"And that's exactly what it is, Whitman," he muttered to himself, his mind flashing to an Avenger-file he'd reviewed detailing the transformation that had changed a small-time criminal named Horton into a near-mindless creature called the Griffin.
Dane looked down at the ebony blade. It was powerful. Maybe powerful enough to stop anything, but Dane set it on the ground underneath the cab anyway. The blood curse was a very real thing. Anyone who drew blood with the sword - whether it was fairytale blood or not - was enthralled by it. They would become a blood wraith, and desire nothing but to feed the sword with death. In the wrong hands, the sword would create a blood wraith no one would be able to stop. And Dane wasn't anxious to find out if having it in his hands would be any different.
He pulled his photonic sword from the scabbard clipped to his belt. He thumbed the power, and the blade shimmered to life. The creature was closer now, but Dane advanced toward it, waving his sword out in front of him like a torch.
The creature eyed him menacingly, and then in a flash of motion that Dane barely registered, flung a single clawed hand out to rip his head off. Dane avoided the full impact of the blow by instinct alone, his legs collapsing underneath him, the talons of the beast ripping through his jacket and grazing his back. Dane cried out as blood began to bead up from his wounds.
He had one chance. The monster was faster and stronger than he'd ever be, but Dane leapt forward anyway, slinking between the legs of the Griffin, and barely avoiding its barbed tail as it swiped at his unprotected head. Dane scrambled onto the back of the creature, clinging as tightly as he dared. The wings of the Griffin spread in an effort to beat him off, but Dane managed to hook an arm around the Griffin's neck with his free hand, and then thrust the blade of his photonic sword into the back of the creature's head.
The Griffin roared, every synapse in its brain fried from the inside out, and fell to its knees. Dane kept his sword buried to the hilt. And then the tail of the Griffin whipped up and slammed into the side of his body. Dane cried out in pain, and his body was dashed against one of the overturned cars. He fell roughly on his backside, and his vision barely cleared in time to see the Griffin stretch to its full height in front of him, wings outstretched, claws and teeth descending in an arc towards his exposed stomach.
And then the Griffin was gone. And all that was left behind was a shimmering trail of bluish particles that shimmered in the air like liquid lightning. Dane breathed a sigh of relief.
"Gotcha, beautiful," Simon said as the Griffin thrashed in his grip. His hands were interlocked around its midsection, pinning its arms. Simon angled his body downward, slamming the beast into the pavement below. He let his momentum carry him off of the Griffin's body, and then came to a hovering position over the crater that had formed in the street. Hercules, Firebird and Falcon were hot on his heels.
"No problem, guys!" Simon called out to them. "I took care of--"
The street exploded, and a snarling red blur caught Simon in the chest. He was thrown to the ground, and the Griffin was on him instantly, digging its jagged claws into his shoulders. Simon bucked his body, struggling to force the Griffin off of him, but the creature had all the leverage. The Griffin growled like a jungle cat, and then pierced his flesh with its talons. Simon felt its claws sink into his ionic form, gouging deep slashes in his body. Simon had never felt anything like it before. He hadn't even known it was possible. He screamed.
"Unhand him, foul brute!" Hercules roared, driving his shoulder between the wings of the Griffin. The monster was thrown clear, and Hercules advanced on it. Firebird and Falcon settled down to the ground next to Simon.
"Dear Lord," Bonita whispered. Ionic energy was bursting from Simon's wounds. His face was twisted in agony. A hand settled on her shoulder.
"There's nothing you can do for him, Bonita," Dane Whitman said. "I'll stay here. I need you two to help Hercules."
Sam Wilson regarded Dane evenly. "Are you all right, Whitman? You took one hell of a shot."
"Story of my life, Falcon," Dane replied sourly. "I'll be fine."
Falcon nodded, and then took wing. Firebird followed him into the air, glancing back towards Simon. She turned her attention to the creature as Hercules struggled with it, her aura of fire blazing hotly around her as she let her anger consume her.
Hercules had his hands gripped tightly around the wrists of the Griffin, their feet firmly set on the ground. Neither was giving an inch. The Griffin roared as it watched Firebird and Falcon approach. Its tail shot from around its body, colliding with Hercules' chin. His knees buckled slightly, and the Griffin took the advantage, picking Hercules off his feet and hurling him down the street.
The Griffin took flight, rocketing upward directly towards Falcon. Sam Wilson tried to alter his flight path to get out of the way, but the creature was too fast. Its hand closed around his ankle, and Falcon was yanked along with it. A squawking peal came from above his head, and Sam watched as his trained falcon, Redwing, swooped in and attacked, driving its talons into the Griffin's face.
The Griffin roared, releasing Sam's ankle. Sam dipped his head and shoulders, performing a somersault in the air that carried him down and away from the beast.
"Redwing! To me!" Sam called, and the bird barely avoided the swipe of the Griffin as it dove down to its master. The Griffin watched, and then snarled, its powerful wings beating at the air. It mimicked the dive of the bird, lancing down towards the pair circling in the air, and then a wall of fire engulfed the Griffin as Firebird ascended into its path.
The Griffin fell into a tailspin, its wings scorched by the flames, and crashed to the ground. Flames danced along its golden mane. The Griffin clawed at the fire, struggling to extinguish the blaze. It raised its eyes to the two figures descending down to face it. Firebird and Falcon settled on the ground, and Redwing slipped to its master, perching on his shoulder.
The Griffin took a step forward, and Firebird let the fire of her aura blaze brightly. The Griffin paused.
"Come no closer, cerdo," Firebird warned. "I will burn you again if I must."
The Griffin growled, and then leapt forward. A flash of flames erupted from Firebird's hands, but the Griffin shifted its angle, avoiding the fire and coming to a stop in a crouched position between the heroes. It spread its wings, and Sam and Bonita were flung into the air, crashing into the unrelenting sides of the buildings on the opposite sides of the street. The Griffin shot a hand into the air, snatching Redwing out of the sky. It regarded the bird thoughtfully for a moment, and then opened its jowls to pop it into its mouth.
"Nay, cruel monster! Find thy meal elsewhere!" Hercules roared, striking the Griffin in the jaw. The Griffin was driven backward, releasing Redwing, who immediately flew to his master's side. Hercules cracked his knuckles. The Falcon had fallen, and gentle Bonita along with him. Simon was gravely wounded, and Dane Whitman was powerless to aid him or the Prince of Power. The son of Zeus was all that stood between the Griffin and all the innocent life it would assuredly quench.
"Come, foul one. Shall we test thy mettle?" Hercules intoned, and the Griffin pounced forward, lunging for the demi-god's throat. Hercules braced himself, raising his arms to shield his neck, but the Griffin stopped in mid-spring, and hovered on the open air.
"What trickery--?" Hercules muttered in confusion.
"Your battle is unnecessary, Avenger," a voice said from above. And Hercules peered to the sky. A woman descended through the clouds, and then came to a stop before him. Her face was painted, and her garb was utterly foreign. She motioned with her hand, and the Griffin was brought around, thrashing mightily against its invisible bonds.
"I can take care of this overgrown tabby-cat," she said with a wink, and the Griffin fell asleep. "Good thing too. I'm not sure how long my telekinesis would have held him."
"Woman," Hercules declared, his mouth agape, "who in Zeus' name are ye?"
But before the woman could answer, the shriek of sirens split the air, and then Dane was calling for Hercules' help, as the paramedics rushed forward to load Wonder Man into the ambulance.
And it was all. All of it. Caught on tape.
19:39:39 EST
Simon felt the world come back to him from a long way away. His hearing came back first, and he could vaguely hear the voices of his friends, his teammates, ringing from somewhere above him. His sense of touch, of feeling returned next. He could hear his heartbeat pulsing in his ears. He opened his eyes, but it was all a blur, so he closed them, tried again.
"Simon?" Dane said. The Black Knight was looking down at him. Simon grinned. Dane mirrored it. "Thank God, Avenger. We were worried for a while there that you wouldn't make it."
"What?" Simon replied, his brow furrowing. "Where am I? Make it from where?"
"You don't remember? You fought a creature called the Griffin. It wounded you. You were bleeding to death--"
"And I was in an ambulance," Simon finished. "I couldn't control the energy. It was too much. But--"
"Thy friends helped thee, Simon," Hercules said, pushing his head into view behind Dane. "Dane Whitman quelled the uprising within thine body by appealing to thy resolve. 'Twas a most noble spectacle."
"Wish I remembered it," Simon said, nodding at Dane. "Thanks, knight. I owe you one."
"Herc's exaggerating. You're the one who did it. Focused enough so that the energy stopped spilling out of you, and then the wounds just closed themselves up. It took a lot out of you, so we checked you into the hospital as a precaution. You've been out ever since."
"How did you stop the Griffin?" Simon asked.
Dane rubbed the back of his neck. "We didn't."
"I did," came a new voice. Simon lifted his head, looking at the woman who had spoken. She had short white hair, streaked with black. Her face was painted in a similar manner, and her clothing was, in a word, wild. Purples and greens, with strange jewels adorning her body. Simon blinked. She didn't go anywhere.
"Simon…" Dane said with a grin. "This is Sundragon. The newest member of the Champions."
"Newest member?" Simon asked. "I really hope you passed that by Eric, Dane."
"We'll discuss it later," Dane said. "Trust me, if you had seen her in action, you'd be offering too."
Simon looked at Sundragon. "You're related to Moondragon?"
"She is… was my cousin," the woman replied. "My name is Pamela Douglas. I came seeking the Avengers, to find out any information they might have about Heather. They were not as helpful as I'd hoped. But I learned that the cosmic protector resides with a team on the West Coast, and I fully intend to question him."
"But what does that have to do with joining us?"
"I want the chance to experience that which my cousin experienced," Sundragon replied. "If I can accomplish that, perhaps that will bring me one step closer to understanding her sacrifice."
"She tried joining the Avengers first," Dane added. "They arrived just as the dance was finishing. Thor wasn't exactly in the right mood to recruit any new blood though."
Simon grinned. "That's a first."
"It is for the best," Pamela stated. "Your team is on the West Coast, and does more good than even the Avengers, according to the Black Knight. These things please me greatly."
"Oh. Well, welcome to the team then… I guess," Simon replied. "Thanks for saving our bacon." He looked at Dane again. "What about Sammy? He was pretty annoyed with me, but was more than willing to throw down with us when push came to shove."
"He's downstairs talking with Bonita," Dane said. "I honestly have no idea what he's going to do."
19:45:00 EST
"I don't know what to do with you, Bonita," Sam Wilson said. They were both sitting in the hospital cafeteria. Bonita had chosen a muffin from a rotating plate, and had a glass of milk to wash it down. Sam had poured a cup of coffee.
Bonita swallowed a bite. "What do you mean?"
"I mean this. All of this." Sam sipped his coffee. "I find out you've abandoned your support staff in New Mexico, and then the people you absconded with come here, to my hometown, and expect me to do the same thing."
Bonita frowned, and pushed her plate away. "I didn't abandon my people, Sam. If anything, I've given them a better chance than ever to lead a normal life. One without hardship and trial."
"No life is without hardship, Firebird. What happens if Eric isn't legitimate? What happens to the people he promised to help when he shows his true colors?"
"They'll face the same hardships as before," Bonita replied. "And that's a tragedy. And I would personally make Eric Williams suffer if that was the case. But at least this way they have a chance."
"We give them a chance."
Bonita smiled gently. "I know we do, Sam. But this gives them an even better chance than what Helpings Hands can provide. Can you honestly tell me that there are no people out there willing to help those in need? That if you left the office of Helping Harlem to join us, you would not find someone to take your place?"
Sam's mouth drew into a thin line. "No. No, I suppose I can't."
"Then what is there to lose? We are fighting for good, we are fighting for charity, and if Eric Williams does reveal himself to be as you think, we are in the den of the serpent itself. As Dane would say: the perfect strategic position."
"Damn," Sam muttered. "I can't believe it."
Bonita furrowed her smooth brow. "What?"
"You convinced me." Sam raised his mug. They touched glasses. "I know I'm going to regret this. But I guess I'm a Champion."
NEXT ISSUE: Swordplay!
Champion Lovers
Welcome to another exciting edition of the Champions letter column. I guess the minor bickering I did last issue worked, because we have quite a few letters this go round. Let us start with… David Ingram!
Feedback, ho!
Who you calling a ho? Oh, wait… that's like "Thundercats, ho!", isn't it? That's a good thing right? Yeah!
The Good - Man alive, what isn't? Wonder Man's monologue was incredible (and long overdue), Hercules is on spot, Dane is clever as ever, and Speedball is Speedball, what's not to love? The threat of Whizzer and son worked perfectly when everything came together, and I'm absolutely stunned regarding your ability to seamlessly integrate about a thousand different points regarding M2K continuity. FW, Scarlet Spider, bubble bombs, Vision's death, Mephisto's defeat at BK and the Defenders hands and probably about a thousand other things I missed. That alone is impressive, but integrating three different plot points in one (Mephisto cutting deals with Whizzer, Eric and whoever's behind door number 3) is equally impressive. Firebird is a welcome addition too.
I think in any team book it's important to give the characters their own distinct voices. It helps when the characters are as unique and colorful as the ones in the Marvel Universe. The same goes with the villains (even if I did have to resurrect two of them). The triple deal seemed extremely in character for Mephisto, and the ramifications of that will become very apparent very soon. And I'm glad Firebird is such a hit. I'm really excited about her addition.
The Bad - You used Speedball better than me! Boo! Hiss! (goes on record as petty bastard), other than that, I can't find anything. I hope we get greater reflection on Vision's death from Erik and Simon. As I'm sorta in the know, I can say with some confidence that the best is yet to come!
Well, that's not "bad" at all. Speedball did seem at home on the roster, but I enjoy him a lot in Force Works. The Vision will certainly not be forgotten. I don't think any of the "Big Three" in the Champions were unaffected by his death, and that'll be touched upon as my run continues. Thanks, Dave! Our next letter comes from Brent Lambert.
THE GOOD: Mike's characters all have their own individual voices and he makes them shine throughout this issue. Firebird is a nice addition to the cast and she will definitely bring balance to the team. Eric Williams is also becoming quite the interesting character. The underlying conflict between him and Dane has the touches of a classic rebel vs. authority theme.
Another endorsement for Firebird. Hopefully the rest of my choices for rounding out the Champions are greeted with as nice a welcome. Eric Williams had a minor, but integral part in this issue. Expect more from him in #6. The feud between employer and employee isn't going anywhere for a while, as evidenced by Dane's casual membership offer to Sunny.
THE BAD: While this was a down time issue the whole pacing just seemed a little too relaxed to me, though the mystery at the end did catch my eye. Of course this complaint is only a minor one. It doesn't make me despise the issue or anything.
Well, I certainly hope you didn't despise it, Brent. What do you guys think? Is he just being nice, or did he actually genuinely really despise it? Hmmmm. Expect some more insight to the mystery at the end of #4 in upcoming issues.
OVERALL: This is going to quickly become one of M2K's hottest titles. You gotta read this man!
Awwwww, thanks Brent. There are definitely hotter titles out there, but I appreciate the love. Everybody go read Brent's Avengers right this second! Our last letter comes from the king of cool, Cory Wiegel. Can you guess what title Cory writes at M2K by the "king of cool" designation? Here's a hint. It's on the X-Men branch… the main character's name is Bobby… he, uh… shoots beams of ice… You still don't have it? Man, my audience is retarded. In any case, this is probably one of the best letters I've ever gotten. Cory kicks ass!
WEEEEEEEEE AAAAAARE THEEEE
Champions!
-- okay, I'll stop it right there.
Awwwww. We had something going there.
X-Corp, Force Works, Scarlet Spider, Justin Hammer's Thunderbolts, and now... LL Incorporated's rebirth of The Champions! Yes, ladies and gents, it's the 100th monkey all over again as the idea of marketing super heroes has made it big in the M2K universe. To boot, the Captain steering this boat is none other then returning fanfic genius, the fab-o Mike Exner III! Quite honestly, I'm surprised to see another issue of this breakout series so quickly. Is X3 succeeding in a bi-weekly schedule where yours truly, Mr. Frostee, surely failed? Amazing.
Well, the fast release of the issues coincides with a couple of things. Number 1: David Ingram needed Speedball back with Force Works, and since he was such a prince about lending him out to me, I felt obliged to get the bouncing one back as soon as possible. The other reason is that I'm racing AWC (penned by Russ Anderson and Chris Munn) so that our titles are able to crossover later down the line (more on that as it develops). So I'm not trying to make ya look bad, Cory. Honest. I'm being forced to do it!
This issue was a great down time stint that better furthered us into the machines that is Eric Williams's LL Incorporated, and his pet project, the Champions. You've guessed it right. This former reaper of a super-villain has hung up his scythe (I forget if he ever really had one), and traded that baby in for a fresh pair of business loafers. Black Knight, Hercules, and Wonder Man are the first three former Avengers to be pulled onto his bandwagon of media mayhem, after wittily dispatching the revived Nuklo from his emanate threat to the Los Angeles area, with of course the assistance of a kind-hearted limo driver (Mr. Jaspers), and a bubbly borrowed friend from Force Works (Speedball). The only two questions left remaining are who else will be joining them, and more importantly, is the former Grim Reaper, Eric Williams (or is it Erik Williams? X3 can't seem to decide in his narrative), truly reformed as he claims to be?
Bah! I blame Word for Eric's lack of identity. Though it probably is all my fault. I think the question of just exactly how reformed Eric Williams actually is will be one of the driving forces behind this book for a long time to come.
The answer to at least one of those questions is shed some light in this issue (which uses the quaint, "now" and "then" narrative technique which has seemingly become popular by writers as of late). Firebird, a former Avenger herself, and a (*gasp*) woman is the first on (Champions leader) Dane Whitman's recruiting list. Great choice in my book, as her inclusion in this title makes the cast shine as more colorful. Speaking of which, the dialogue from said cast is all unique and individuated, as well as original, which makes them even more enjoyable.
Thanks, Cory. I've mentioned before my efforts to give everyone their own voice, but it's always nice to hear that I'm accomplishing my goal. The roster was a little male-heavy, so it was only natural to include a woman or two. I split the sex-ratio 50/50 this issue, and hopefully Sam and Sunny appeal to you as much as Bonita.
On top of that, I'm really diggin' the setting so far. West Coast, baby, yeah! Plus, the media aspects, and one of the more funner characters, Eric Williams as head of LL Incorporated and the Champions, plays out on all of that nicely. Firebird's position with the Helping Hands in New Mexico was a great touch, as well, which adds a good deal of back history and individuality to her character. She also parallels Eric Williams himself, in a way. While he's up playing it clean with the big boys to make a difference, she's getting her hands dirty with the small time, though heart filled charity organizations.
Well, this issue took place almost entirely on the East Coast, but the team will be back in La La land soon enough. The idea behind the Champions is for them to appeal to a wide variety of people, so diversity is key, along with a change of locale from time to time. New Mexico and Firebird, Los Angeles and Eric Williams seem to be working for you, and hopefully Sam's NY roots along with Sunny's spacefaring background appeal as well.
And now that I've inflated big ol' X3's ego enough, it's time to let some air with what I thought posed as the downsides of this issue. They're few, and minor, really. More of personal preferences in my book that I like to see in a read. The pace in this ish was pretty solid and mellow. I'd of liked to see it pick up at some points, where the action usually would be. I understand it's more of a reflective, calmer ish set 'em up so Mike can knock 'em down, sorta thing, but that doesn't mean we can't get tangled up in a bit of excitement and furthering intrigue somewhere, am I right? The ending, however, was pretty clever, and it shows us that Dane's no where near in control of the wheels Eric has turning. It was a clear exception to how I felt about the otherwise, standard, pace of this ish.
Totally understandable, and a concern I had as the issue unfolded. I was hoping the shift from New Mexico to Los Angeles would be enough to keep the readers interested, along with the mystery at the end of the book involving the infant child, but I understand that these characters are "super" heroes, and people expect a little action. Hopefully I made up for it in this issue with the Griffin. Keep and eye on Dane and Eric too. The pot isn't coming down from a boil to a simmer for a while.
Second complaint? No Speedball! Unfortunately, the guy's deadlocked over in Force Works, which is a shame. Hercules, Speedball, and Horace Jasper, along with Eric Williams, was really got me drawn into Mike's Champions in the first place. That, and y'know... Mike Exner III's penning the series. Don't get me wrong. Dane Whitman's cool, and all, and Wonder Man's got potential for me to like him, too (especially after his opening monologue in the first ish), but it's the elements we see in the aforementioned four that really round out this cast, and Mike's writing style. Maybe Bobby Drake should drop by to say "hi" sometime.
I'm glad you're enjoying some of the less well-known characters in the cast, Cory. Horace Jasper wasn't showcased at all in #4, but he's returned with a vengeance, so hopefully he'll replace the loss of Speedball a little bit. I'll definitely be striving to keep everyone interesting and unique, but everybody has their favorites. That's part of the fun of writing a team-book. Now, if only I could somehow contact the mysterious writer of this "Bobby Drake" and get him to allow me that cameo…
My final "pitch?" Champions is a pretty hot read so far, and I'm hoping against all hope that his run on the series lasts longer then some of his other titles here at M2K (Thunderbolts and New Warriors come to mind).
Thanks again, Cory. The fact that you'd like the run to continue tells me more than any rating ever could. As long as I can keep my motivation and interest up (and it doesn't seem to be going anywhere yet), I think Champions will be contributing to the site for a long time to come.
-Mike Exner III
12/13/2003
"Get that camera the hell out of here!" Dane Whitman yelled. Sweat was pouring down his face as he struggled to keep the man thrashing on the gurney immobile. Hercules had the arms of the man pinned, and Dane was placing all his muscle to the task of keeping his chest and midsection flat on the table. A wave of energy poured from the man, and Dane was thrown clear. Hercules grunted in genuine pain.
Dane looked at his friend, Simon Williams, and grimaced. Twin slash marks were evident on both shoulders of his ionic frame. And from the wounds, ionic energy was bleeding into the air, as his screams filled the cabin of the ambulance.
The paramedics were holding fistfuls of gauze, pressing them to the hero's wounds. One of them turned panicked eyes to Dane. "I can't staunch the bleeding. This… it isn't even blood! I don't know how to help him!"
"He's in shock!" Dane said. "He can't concentrate enough to revert back to his human form. I've never seen him wounded like this before. I don't--"
Dane paused. He wanted to say he didn't know what to do, but the hopelessness in the medic's eyes was something he didn't want mirrored in his own.
"Dane?" Hercules muttered through clenched teeth. "I beseech thee. I cannot stay Simon's suffering alone." Hercules looked over his shoulder. Saw Dane Whitman leaning against the side of the ambulance. Simon bucked again, and his legs slammed the sides of the ambulance, puncturing the metal and exposing the early evening air. The ambulance swerved, the driver barely maintaining control.
"Jesus," one of the paramedic's whispered. "One more like that, and we're through."
Dane stepped forward. Lurched forward on unsteady feet. But his face was set in a grim mask of determination. He pushed past Hercules, and clutched Simon's face in his hands.
"Simon! Listen to me, Avenger! You have to wake up! You have to snap out of this, or you're going to die! You're going to die, do you understand? There's nothing more we can do for you, Simon. Simon! Wake up!"
09:14:22 EST
"Wake up, Simon. We're here," Dane said as he shook Wonder Man's shoulder gently. The engines of the Champscraft hummed dimly as they powered down, and Simon shook off the remnants of the slumber he'd slipped into as they'd flown across the country. Simon peered out of the cockpit of the airship. The familiar sight of JFK International Airport greeted his eyes.
"New York City," Simon muttered as he ran a hand through his hair. "Didn't think I'd be seeing this place for a while yet."
"We won't be here that long," Dane said, as he activated the cargo bay door. The rear of the ship opened, and Simon stretched his fingers to the sky.
"It's okay. Maybe I'll feel worse once we get to the mansion, but--"
"I'm the only one who has to go to the mansion, Simon," Dane interrupted. "I want the three of you to meet up with our recruit. You're handling the pitch, actor-boy. I expect you to knock 'em dead."
"Whatever you say, boss," Simon grinned, but Dane could tell he was forcing it. "I guess I was just thinking about looking in on Wanda. Seeing how she was."
"Probably not the best idea. We're here on business. We should keep it to that," Dane replied, his own thoughts turning to Crystal. The four heroes stepped out of the Champscraft, flanked by a silvery orb, filming their every move.
"It's really quite odd, isn't it?" Firebird said, trying to ignore the camera. "Didn't Bill say the camera could film us clearly from hundreds of feet away?"
"Yeah, but that particular feature is utilized more for battle scenarios, Bonita," Dane replied.
"That's right. The action-packed adventures of the Champions!" Simon yelled, raising a fist to the sky. The camera immediately swung its lens to regard him.
Bonita rolled her eyes. "Be serious, Simon."
Simon shrugged. "Why? We're on TV. We're supposed to be entertaining the masses. That's the whole idea."
Bonita smiled. "I suppose so. But doesn't Eric Williams and his staff edit everything for content? I'm sure this conversation won't even be viewed."
"You never know," Simon said. "A slathering superhuman beast could come crashing onto the scene any minute, and--"
A dozen flashbulbs suddenly erupted over the features of the heroes. They blinked in unison, and a river of noise descended on them. "Mr. Williams! Mr. Whitman! Champions! Welcome back to New York! Is it true you left the Avengers without so much as a word, Mr. Whitman? Mr. Williams, how do you feel, working for the brother who once tried to murder you? Ms. Juarez… Firebird! Any hard feelings between you and Helpings Hands for leaving? Mr. Hercules, going out on the town tonight to celebrate the new team? Rumor has it you're looking for new blood. Who's the next recruit, Mr. Whitman?"
Simon shook his head, eyeing Bonita. "See what I mean? Here's a couple dozen of them now."
The flock of reporters surrounded the heroes, and Dane held up a hand to shield himself from the microphones. "Simon, grab Hercules, and then you and Firebird head on up to the rendezvous point. I'll meet up with you there after I take care of my own business."
"What business would that be, Mr. Whitman? Are you leaving Wonder Man as the de-facto leader of the Champions while you take a leave of absence? Were your injuries more severe than you let on at your press conference?"
Dane laughed as he pushed his way through the reporters, towards the car waiting for him near the Champscraft. "Seriously, guys. I don't know where you get your info. I'm just going to visit some old friends. If you'll excuse me."
"Are those friends the Avengers? Are you trying to smooth things over with your former team? Are you going to be raiding their membership to further the goals of your employer, Eric Williams? Are-?"
Dane slammed the car door shut, the incessant drone of the reporters quieted to a dull roar. He signaled for the driver to move out as he watched Simon, Bonita and Hercules take flight. Simon was smiling apologetically down at one of the reporters, who seemed rather perturbed that he was fleeing the scene. Dane smiled. It was going to be a long day.
Bringing out the Dead
Conclusionby Mike Exner III
12:35:01 PST
The old man shuffled down the massive hallways of the office building he'd been called to, peering down at the piece of paper he'd written his directions on from time to time, and then squinting as he struggled to make heads or tails of halls that all looked exactly the same. He would have asked a receptionist to help him, but it was the weekend, and the place seemed completely abandoned. He knew his charge was on the fortieth floor, but other than that, he was baffled. He'd been asked to perform the pick-up at 12:30 sharp. He'd been wandering the halls for a good five minutes.
"Anybody here?" Horace Jaspers called out. He was getting to the point of frustration that made him want to turn tail and head back to base. His employer would be angry as hell, the commission for this job had been promised at well over the desired rate, but if he couldn't even find the guy…
"Hell with this," Horace grumbled. He turned around, and wasn't surprised to find that the hallway was no more familiar to him now than it had been before. He'd made quite a few twists and turns since he'd left the elevator, and all of the rooms on this floor had identical doors, with no distinguishing marks. He looked at the paper again.
LL Incorporated. Fortieth floor. Room 350.
Horace sighed. "With my luck, there'll actually be 350 rooms to look through."
He padded onward, his thoughts turning to a television program he'd watched once that reminded him quite a bit of the situation he found himself in now. A man had been investigating some criminal-type, trying to discover the secrets behind his secret, shady, criminal-type organization. The man thought he'd discovered the crime boss' headquarters, and had a hell of a time breaking into the building. But once he got in there, he found that all the rooms in the building were deathtraps, and that the building was the way that criminal fella got rid of nosy folks who snooped where they weren't wanted. For all the trouble that fella went through to get in, he was trapped, and that crime boss watched him the whole time through little video cameras, egging him on, trying to surprise him into getting killed by one of the deathtraps. And the guy kept opening doors, because the criminal-type guaranteed that one of them doors led to the way out. Horace had, of course, fallen asleep before the show ended.
Horace looked up at the hallways. There was a security camera there, swishing back and forth silently. Horace moved towards it, a lump in his throat. He swallowed roughly, then waved his arms in the air in front of the lens.
"Anybody there? Kinda lost here," Horace hollered. "Could use some help."
"Mr. Jasper," a voice echoed behind him. It was a booming, powerful, authoritative voice. Horace started, then whirled around on his heels. He felt like a kid caught sneaking a tootsie roll out of the candy jar.
A man approached him. His face stern, set in a mask of obvious irritation. He stalked to where Horace stood and eyed him coolly. "Your service came highly recommended. I had hoped for a more timely arrival. I suppose punctuality isn't one of your strong suits."
"My fault entirely, sir," Horace replied. "Do you have any bags need carrying?"
"Not at all, Mr. Jasper," the man said, perfectly straight, gleaming-white teeth exposed themselves behind his thin lips as he smiled. "I also respect the fact that you're unwilling to lay the blame anywhere but yourself. I think you'll do just fine."
Horace's brow furrowed. "I'm not sure I follow you, sir. I'm here to drive you to an appointment?"
"Not precisely, Mr. Jasper," the man said, gripping Horace by the shoulder and ushering him through one of the nondescript doors of the hallway. The room exploded into life, sounds erupting from its confines. The man in the suit closed the door, and Horace was sure that the hallway would be as silent as a tomb again after he did.
The man smiled his shark smile again. "Soundproofed rooms. A luxury we can afford here at LL Incorporated." Horace nodded, and the man pointed a thumb at the far wall. "See anything you recognize?"
Horace looked, and found himself staring at his own face. Numerous video screens were alit with his image. He was talking on the screen he was looking at, talking to the young fella named Speedball while he tried to replace the tire on his limousine.
The hand on his shoulder tightened slightly, and Horace looked away from the video screens. The man in the suit was looking at him intently, searching his face, as if hunting for some sign of… what? Approval? Compliance? Horace felt like a rat in a trap. Like the man on the television program.
But then the face of the man cleared, and Horace let go of his breath, not realizing he'd been holding it in the first place.
"Allow me to introduce myself, Mr. Jasper. My name is Eric Williams. I'm the CEO of LL Incorporated. And I have a proposition for you…"
09:45:13 EST
"Traffic's a little rough, sir. Sorry 'bout dat. Some kinda convention comin' through town. Mayor's even set to make a stop dere. Starts today, a'course. At ten this mornin'. But I'll be damned if I know what it's all about. Saw a quick bit 'bout it on the news. Saw you and ya team too. Hell of a thing, that is. Say, think you could autograph this shirt for my kid?"
Dane stared out the window of the automobile, idly listening to the driver's chatter, his mind elsewhere. He'd signed three articles of clothing already, and took the shirt gladly, scribbling his signature and a little note to "Timmy". But if the driver kept it up much longer, he was going to put his photonic sword through the guy's tongue to shut him up.
He closed his eyes, swallowing a breath and letting it slip slowly out through his teeth. He was stressing out, Avengers mansion looming darkly over his thoughts like a shadow. He knew why he was going there, but he knew it wasn't going to be a pleasant situation once he got there. He tried to tell himself he was just going to retrieve his ebony blade, the grossly powerful sword he'd taken from the Avengers' foe Proctor, but he'd left things badly with Crystal when he left for Los Angeles for his interview.* He'd even packed a bag as if he were leaving for good. And now he was gone for good, and he doubted Thor would be all that pleased with his decision to leave the Avengers.
* (It happened in M2K's Avengers #28 - Mike)
"Abandon is more like it," Dane muttered under his breath.
"What's dat ya say?" the driver replied, peering at Dane through the rearview mirror. Dane shook his head in reply. "Well, okay den. We're here, Mistah Whitman."
Dane looked up, his eyes widening. He hadn't even realized they'd made the turn onto Fifth Avenue. The mansion was there all right, larger than life, almost stretching up to touch the clouds in the sky. Dane felt about two inches tall.
"Want I should turn up to da gate?"
Dane grabbed the door handle. "No, that's okay. I'll walk from here. Give my love to your family, Jim."
"Hey, thanks, Mistah Whitman! You're an all right fella!" the driver beamed, shaking the signed articles of clothing in Dane's direction.
Dane nodded, then shut the door softly behind him. He'd arranged for the car to drop him off, nothing more. He was hoping one of the Avengers could give him a ride to the rendezvous point. If not, he could at least hitch a ride with Jarvis. He missed the old goat.
He pressed his palm to an access panel attached to the wall near the gate. It served two purposes, and anyone without access would have had to use the intercom to gain admittance through Jarvis. Without proper authorization, anyone attempting to clear the gate would have their hands full with the mansion's security technology, designed and implemented by Tony Stark himself.
There was a chime, and a computer-recorded voice hummed: Good morning, Dane pleasantly - Whitman's own addition to the security box - and then the gate began to smoothly roll open.
Dane stepped over the perimeter separating the mansion from the rest of the city. Lush green lawns, finely trimmed hedges, a wide walkway inlaid with polished stones, Dane had always looked at Tony's contribution to the mighty Avengers as though it were a castle. A place where nobles, kings, knights, and the common man could gather, to discuss and plan the defeat of the evil that threatened their livelihood.
Dane stopped in front of the door, his hand raised to knock. He hesitated. He knew he was being ridiculous - he was an Avenger, after all - but he couldn't help himself. There was just something about the mansion. The tradition of it; the echoes of power, prestige and honor that flowed through the lavish townhouse dwarfed all who entered.
The door swung inward, and standing there was the reason all who did feel dwarfed by the tradition of the Avengers were soon made to feel as comfortable as if had been their home for years. Edwin Jarvis.
"Master Dane. It is so good to see you, sir. I had feared I wouldn't see you again for quite some time. The others will be thrilled that you're here," Jarvis said, all in a rush; but with every word composed, clearly stated. Dane smiled.
"It's good to see you too, Jarvis," Dane replied. He leaned forward, peering around the corners of the doorframe for any signs of the other Avengers. "But I'm afraid I won't be staying long. I've just come to pack up the remainder of my… belongings."
Jarvis nodded somberly. "Yes, master Jack of Hearts informed me of your new position as leader of that… team in Los Angeles. I was quite thrilled to hear the news."
Dane grinned. "You've got a way with words, Jarv. But it's okay. I know everybody is concerned with the Champions. We're not exactly a low key organization."
Jarvis stepped aside, allowing Dane to enter the main hallway. The den was visible now, but Dane didn't see anyone sitting on any of the plush furniture scattered about. Dane felt his shoulders loosen slightly, the tension had bunched his muscles into knots.
"I think the major concern regards the gentleman funding said organization, master Dane. If you don't mind my saying so."
Dane chuckled. "I don't think I've ever minded a word you had to say, Jarv. And I'm not about to start now. But I don't think you have anything to worry about. I've got the situation well in ha--"
"Dane."
Dane froze. And the words died on his lips. He looked to his left, up the staircase leading to the second and third floors of the mansion. Standing at the head of the stairs was the one person he'd not wanted to run into…
…and the one person he knew he wanted to speak with more than anyone.
"Crys," Dane said, as the Inhuman Avenger started down the stairs toward him. Her thick auburn hair bounced with every step. She was still one of the most beautiful women Dane had ever seen. Crystal passed Jarvis, and threw her arms around Dane. It was a warm embrace, but unmistakably friendly. At one point, Dane and Crys had been lovers. But that had been a long time ago.
"What are you doing here?" Crystal said, once they'd broken their hug. Jarvis had disappeared, a talent the old man had mastered over the years. "When I saw you on television being announced with Simon and the others, I thought you'd taken leave of your senses. Thor was pretty furious. Wanda was baffled. We all were. But I knew you had to have a reason for joining the Grim Reaper, some kind of plan. And now you're here. We should get the others, and--"
Whoa, whoa," Dane said, waving his hands like a referee signaling an incomplete pass. "Slow down a minute there, Crys. Who said anything about--" Dane ran his fingers through his hair. He exhaled audibly. "Okay. Taken leave of my senses? I know exactly what I'm doing, all right? And I didn't come here to ask the Avengers for help. I just came here for my sword."
Crystal had drawn back, as if Dane had suddenly grown an extra pair of eyes on his forehead. Her eyes narrowed faintly. "I see." Her voice was chilly enough to give Dane shivers.
"Hey, look. I… I didn't mean it like that, okay?" Dane said, his feet doing an uneasy waltz on the hardwood. "I've just been under a lot of pressure lately. The audition for team-leader nearly killed me, you know? I just, I don't really want to get into explaining myself to everyone when I know I haven't done anything wrong."
Crystal shook her head. "Nobody said you did anything wrong, Dane. We were just confused. Eric Williams is the Grim Reaper. You realize that, don't you? I mean, I know we've had problems in the past, and you said some pretty hurtful things--"
"Crys… I just--"
"No, let me finish. Those things don't matter, Dane. I was hurt. But I'm over it. You're a teammate, a friend, and I love you. I don't want anything to happen to you or Hercules, or any of my friends."
Dane felt the chasm of emptiness in his stomach slowly begin to fill. "Thanks, Crys. I needed to hear that."
"It's the truth," Crystal said. "I don't agree with your choice of profession, but if you feel like you've got a handle on things…"
"I think I do," Dane replied.
"Then that's good enough for me," Crystal smiled. "Now c'mon. Let's go find the others. I know Thor will want to see you."
Yeah, that should be fun," Dane said, rolling his eyes, and dragging his feet as Crystal tugged him by the arm down the hall.
11:38:47 EST
"Man, I really gotta get some medication for these crabs, you know? But I can't afford a damn thing right now. So hopefully these Helpy Hands people will hook it up, you know?"
"Oh, I know it. Don't I know it, pally?"
"Dat's what ya know."
"You damn right, I know, dammit."
Hercules stood with his arms crossed in front of his broad chest as the three men, standing in a row, each separated by a decade of age, discussed their most intimate bodily functions and personal habits. A scowl was carved on Hercules' countenance.
"Just a few more minutes, big guy," Simon said as amiably as he could manage. They'd been sitting in smallish plastic chairs - offered gladly by a few of the denizens of this place - for over an hour now, waiting patiently for the man they'd come to see.
"The Prince of Power," Hercules stated gruffly, "shouldst not be exposed to such things, Simon Williams."
"Oh, it's not that bad, is it Hercules? Not all of these people could be born to a god, you know." Bonita said with a gentle smile.
Hercules grimaced, shifted uncomfortably on his seat, the legs of the chair wobbling precariously as he did. "Thine point is sound, Bonita. Forgive me. A son of Zeus shouldst learn to weather such trials in a manner befitting a lord of Olympus."
"You're doing fine, Hercules. I'm simply giving you a hard time."
"Yeah, well, I can see how anyone's nerves would start to fray," Simon muttered, glancing at his watch, "homeless, needy, or otherwise. When you've been sitting in a line for an hour, how can you blame them?"
"I can only assume that crack is in reference to me, Williams," said a deep voice from their right. The heroes looked, and standing in the open doorway of his office stood Sam Wilson. His face was twisted into a frown. "And I can't say I appreciate it one bit."
Simon winced, leaning towards Bonita. "I don't think this was what Dane had in mind when he put me in charge."
12:22:18 EST
The creature had been alone for so long. In the dark. It could sense that it was being taken somewhere in its black prison, but nothing more. It had tried many times to escape, but there was something sucking away its strength. There had been a time when the creature had flown wild and free, soaring above the clouds, doing as it pleased. But a man, a horrible man, had taken its freedom away. A man who could fly, a man with wings on his feet, a man who was even stronger than the creature, and a man that left the creature with nothing but rage to comfort it.
But now something else was here. The creature could sense it. Its mind was almost purely brutal instinct now, but there had been a mind within it once. If something else had invaded the darkness, it was either friend or foe. The creature would bide its time, until the nature of the interloper was made clear.
There was a displacement of air in front of the nose of the creature. A hand, starkly white, appeared from nothing and the creature could see it. Finally, something to look upon. The pale hand became fuzzy, and gripped the strange shocking vines wrapped around the creature's scaly arm. There was a surge of energy, and it jolted down the spine of the creature roughly. The creature snarled, pulling away from the pain.
And it was then that the creature realized it could pull away. It pulled harder. Felt the snaring vines begin to stretch, to snap. A growl issued from deep down in its throat. The white hand that had freed it was all but forgotten. Soon. Soon it would be free.
12:31:41 EST
"I am feeling seriously uneasy here, Craig," the man in the Guardsman armor muttered. His helmet was sitting on the seat next to his partner's.
Craig blew smoke out of his mouth, a cigarette clutched between his lips, the steering wheel in his hands. "We're doing fine, Charlie."
"We're not doing fine, Craig. We're doing significantly less than fine."
Craig smirked. "We're doing fine."
"Yeah, well… I don't like it."
"What do you like?"
"Hey now. I like things."
"I mean besides your mother's roast beef," Craig grinned.
Charlie reached around and banged on the wall of the truck. "Oh, so I don't much like toting super-powered creatures that could kill me at any minute. I'm so sorry, Craig. Seriously. I apologize for hurting your feelings."
Craig shook his head. The light shifted in front of him. He braked the truck. "Red light."
"Real perceptive of you."
"Yeah, yeah," Craig muttered, then added, "and don't hit the merchandise, jag-off."
"I'm not hitting the merchandise, I'm hitting the door. There's a difference. We're not hauling fur coats for Macy's no more."
"Yeah, whatever, just don't--" Craig paused. "You feel that?"
"Don't mess with me, Craig. I'm not in the m--"
The truck shuddered on her axles. "There it is again!"
"Damn!" Charlie wailed.
"What?"
"I felt it that time too. Something's happening. We're gonna die. I got kids, man."
Craig shifted the truck into park, and thumbed the switch for the hazards. "Go check it out."
Charlie looked at him. "What!? No, man! You go back there and check it out."
Craig shrugged. "I'm the driver. I gotta stay with the truck."
"No. Hell no. In fact, I'd rather stick my head up my own a--"
There was the shrieking sound of rending metal, and the Vault security truck began to split right down the middle. Charlie and Craig glanced at each other, then opened their doors simultaneously and threw their bodies to the street. They turned, looking back at the vehicle in horror. The truck was being torn apart from within. A coarse, massive red-scaled hand tore through the metal of the truck like paper. A brilliant yellow eye, framed by a ferocious white face, peered out of the hole.
"Charlie?" Craig said.
"Yeah, Craig?" Charlie answered.
"Run."
13:45:17 EST
"And that's how it happened," Dane said as he took another gulp of his coffee. He and a few of the other Avengers were sitting in the mansion's kitchen. "We've been shuttling back and forth, first to New Mexico to pitch the idea to Firebird, and now the rest of the team is in New York talking to Sam."
"I hope you've got a few other ideas after that," Monica Rambeau replied. "Sam has been fully devoted to Helping Harlem since he got back to New York. It's where his mission started. He oversaw the opening of almost every Helping Hands location across the country. Including the one in New Mexico you whisked Firebird away from."
Quasar smiled. "Yeah, I'm sure Sam was real pleased about that."
"Well, in hindsight, we probably should have come to Sam first," Dane said, stroking his stubbly face, "but the amount of money Williams is throwing into Helping Hands is staggering. He's got to be pleased about that."
"I don't know, Dane," the Scarlet Witch said. "Sam has a lot of pride. He might not want Eric William's money. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around you taking the job. Or any of the other Avengers, for that matter."
"Champions," Dane corrected with a grin. "And I see your point, Wanda. But I can keep an eye on Williams better the closer I am to him. And it doesn't get much closer than this. Williams hasn't tried anything yet, and he's paid the full amount of our salary - sans living expenses - to the Helping Hands charities as well. I think--"
"It matters not what thou might think, Dane Whitman," a voice boomed from the doorway. All of the Avengers jumped. Striding through the doorway was the mighty Thor. He stalked directly to Dane, facing him nose to nose. "Thou hast much to answer for, Black Knight. Thor requests an audience with thee."
"Uh… sure thing, Thor," Dane stammered. Thor turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. Dane eyed his compatriots, but they had all decided the floor was of better interest. Crystal smiled hopefully at Dane and shrugged.
"Good luck, Dane," she said.
"Thanks, Crys. Think I'll need it."
Dane followed Thor out the rear door of the complex. The thunder god was standing in the garden, surrounded by the wide variety of trees and plant-life that had been placed there over the years. Thor turned, and Dane saw that his sword was lying on one of the benches behind him.
"Thy sword awaits thee, Dane Whitman," Thor intoned. "But the heart of the son of Odin doth not wish to bestow it freely."
Dane's eyes narrowed. Thunder god or no, all this explaining was getting a bit tiresome. "Thor. I realize your concerns. I realize everyone has concerns. They're valid. But they're also recognized. I am fully capable of handling things. I've led the Avengers before. I have people behind me that I trust. In my mind, Eric Williams is a threat. And I'm dealing with him in the best way I know how. And we're doing a lot of good in the meantime. So with all due respect, I'd appreciate it if you backed off."
Dane brushed past Thor, gathered his sword, and then turned back. He looked at the thunder god, and Thor's face was twisted into a mask of anger. Dane peered up at the sky. Stormclouds had started to form over the mansion.
"Thou hast spoken thy peace," Thor boomed. "Therefore allow the son of Odin to speak his. Thy actions of late make a mockery of thy words, Dane Whitman. If thou wish it, the Avengers shall part company with thee. Rescind thy active membership. But take note of the sky. If thou intend the Avengers to be at thy beck and call when thy tribulations reach a fevered pitch, remember that it lay dark and most unwelcome on this day."
"Understood," Dane replied curtly. He slung his sword around his shoulder, and then turned to walk away. "No bother seeing me to the door. I know my way out."
14:21:53 EST
The woman descended through the sky. The cityscape of New York was somewhat familiar to her, but not familiar enough for her to locate her destination with ease. Her brow furrowed slightly in confusion. She could drop among the denizens of the city, ask them for directions to the famed estate known as Avengers mansion. But she knew her appearance was not something the people of New York saw on a regular basis. She was liable to incite a panicked response. That would most assuredly bring authorities of some kind, perhaps even the Avengers themselves, but it was not a chance she was willing to take.
She had to find the universal protector, and she had been certain that the Avengers could aid her in her endeavor. But if she could not find the Avengers in an area as small as New York City, finding Captain Marvel, when he could be located at any place stretching across the entire globe, would be nigh impossible.
Suddenly, her senses registered the sound of screams, an explosion, an inhuman roaring. The woman smirked. If the disturbance was sufficient to summon superheroic aid, perhaps she wouldn't have to find the Avengers at all. They would come to her.
14:46:18 EST
Dane Whitman sat in the back of the yellow cab, his sword perched across his lap. The traffic was even more disjointed than it had been before. The cab was inching along, a few feet at a time, giving Dane plenty of time to stew in his own misery.
Thor was a jerk. But Dane probably could have handled the situation better than he had. The Champions were composed entirely of former Avengers. If something did go down that the Champions weren't capable of handling, there weren't any better allies you could have in a pinch. Dane would probably give Clint a call up in San Francisco when they got back to LA. The way things were now, it wasn't too likely Thor would order the Avengers to do any avenging for the Champions. Hopefully the Whackos would be a little more reasonable.
"Holy crap!" the driver yelled, slamming on the brakes. Dane looked up, and then closed his eyes. He opened them again, but nothing had changed. A creature was making its way towards them down the street, tossing cars out of the way as if they were toys. The thing was as big as the Hulk, starkly red, with massive golden wings folded behind it. It had a beastly face, as pale as freshly fallen snow, and as Dane watched, it roared, and Dane could see the razor-sharp teeth and claws as the monster raged at the sky.
"Stay here," Dane said. The driver nodded dumbly. Dane climbed out of the car, pulling the ebony blade along with him. People were screaming, scattering in all directions leading away from the beast. It looked to Dane like a griffin, a creature pulled from a storybook.
"And that's exactly what it is, Whitman," he muttered to himself, his mind flashing to an Avenger-file he'd reviewed detailing the transformation that had changed a small-time criminal named Horton into a near-mindless creature called the Griffin.
Dane looked down at the ebony blade. It was powerful. Maybe powerful enough to stop anything, but Dane set it on the ground underneath the cab anyway. The blood curse was a very real thing. Anyone who drew blood with the sword - whether it was fairytale blood or not - was enthralled by it. They would become a blood wraith, and desire nothing but to feed the sword with death. In the wrong hands, the sword would create a blood wraith no one would be able to stop. And Dane wasn't anxious to find out if having it in his hands would be any different.
He pulled his photonic sword from the scabbard clipped to his belt. He thumbed the power, and the blade shimmered to life. The creature was closer now, but Dane advanced toward it, waving his sword out in front of him like a torch.
The creature eyed him menacingly, and then in a flash of motion that Dane barely registered, flung a single clawed hand out to rip his head off. Dane avoided the full impact of the blow by instinct alone, his legs collapsing underneath him, the talons of the beast ripping through his jacket and grazing his back. Dane cried out as blood began to bead up from his wounds.
He had one chance. The monster was faster and stronger than he'd ever be, but Dane leapt forward anyway, slinking between the legs of the Griffin, and barely avoiding its barbed tail as it swiped at his unprotected head. Dane scrambled onto the back of the creature, clinging as tightly as he dared. The wings of the Griffin spread in an effort to beat him off, but Dane managed to hook an arm around the Griffin's neck with his free hand, and then thrust the blade of his photonic sword into the back of the creature's head.
The Griffin roared, every synapse in its brain fried from the inside out, and fell to its knees. Dane kept his sword buried to the hilt. And then the tail of the Griffin whipped up and slammed into the side of his body. Dane cried out in pain, and his body was dashed against one of the overturned cars. He fell roughly on his backside, and his vision barely cleared in time to see the Griffin stretch to its full height in front of him, wings outstretched, claws and teeth descending in an arc towards his exposed stomach.
And then the Griffin was gone. And all that was left behind was a shimmering trail of bluish particles that shimmered in the air like liquid lightning. Dane breathed a sigh of relief.
"Gotcha, beautiful," Simon said as the Griffin thrashed in his grip. His hands were interlocked around its midsection, pinning its arms. Simon angled his body downward, slamming the beast into the pavement below. He let his momentum carry him off of the Griffin's body, and then came to a hovering position over the crater that had formed in the street. Hercules, Firebird and Falcon were hot on his heels.
"No problem, guys!" Simon called out to them. "I took care of--"
The street exploded, and a snarling red blur caught Simon in the chest. He was thrown to the ground, and the Griffin was on him instantly, digging its jagged claws into his shoulders. Simon bucked his body, struggling to force the Griffin off of him, but the creature had all the leverage. The Griffin growled like a jungle cat, and then pierced his flesh with its talons. Simon felt its claws sink into his ionic form, gouging deep slashes in his body. Simon had never felt anything like it before. He hadn't even known it was possible. He screamed.
"Unhand him, foul brute!" Hercules roared, driving his shoulder between the wings of the Griffin. The monster was thrown clear, and Hercules advanced on it. Firebird and Falcon settled down to the ground next to Simon.
"Dear Lord," Bonita whispered. Ionic energy was bursting from Simon's wounds. His face was twisted in agony. A hand settled on her shoulder.
"There's nothing you can do for him, Bonita," Dane Whitman said. "I'll stay here. I need you two to help Hercules."
Sam Wilson regarded Dane evenly. "Are you all right, Whitman? You took one hell of a shot."
"Story of my life, Falcon," Dane replied sourly. "I'll be fine."
Falcon nodded, and then took wing. Firebird followed him into the air, glancing back towards Simon. She turned her attention to the creature as Hercules struggled with it, her aura of fire blazing hotly around her as she let her anger consume her.
Hercules had his hands gripped tightly around the wrists of the Griffin, their feet firmly set on the ground. Neither was giving an inch. The Griffin roared as it watched Firebird and Falcon approach. Its tail shot from around its body, colliding with Hercules' chin. His knees buckled slightly, and the Griffin took the advantage, picking Hercules off his feet and hurling him down the street.
The Griffin took flight, rocketing upward directly towards Falcon. Sam Wilson tried to alter his flight path to get out of the way, but the creature was too fast. Its hand closed around his ankle, and Falcon was yanked along with it. A squawking peal came from above his head, and Sam watched as his trained falcon, Redwing, swooped in and attacked, driving its talons into the Griffin's face.
The Griffin roared, releasing Sam's ankle. Sam dipped his head and shoulders, performing a somersault in the air that carried him down and away from the beast.
"Redwing! To me!" Sam called, and the bird barely avoided the swipe of the Griffin as it dove down to its master. The Griffin watched, and then snarled, its powerful wings beating at the air. It mimicked the dive of the bird, lancing down towards the pair circling in the air, and then a wall of fire engulfed the Griffin as Firebird ascended into its path.
The Griffin fell into a tailspin, its wings scorched by the flames, and crashed to the ground. Flames danced along its golden mane. The Griffin clawed at the fire, struggling to extinguish the blaze. It raised its eyes to the two figures descending down to face it. Firebird and Falcon settled on the ground, and Redwing slipped to its master, perching on his shoulder.
The Griffin took a step forward, and Firebird let the fire of her aura blaze brightly. The Griffin paused.
"Come no closer, cerdo," Firebird warned. "I will burn you again if I must."
The Griffin growled, and then leapt forward. A flash of flames erupted from Firebird's hands, but the Griffin shifted its angle, avoiding the fire and coming to a stop in a crouched position between the heroes. It spread its wings, and Sam and Bonita were flung into the air, crashing into the unrelenting sides of the buildings on the opposite sides of the street. The Griffin shot a hand into the air, snatching Redwing out of the sky. It regarded the bird thoughtfully for a moment, and then opened its jowls to pop it into its mouth.
"Nay, cruel monster! Find thy meal elsewhere!" Hercules roared, striking the Griffin in the jaw. The Griffin was driven backward, releasing Redwing, who immediately flew to his master's side. Hercules cracked his knuckles. The Falcon had fallen, and gentle Bonita along with him. Simon was gravely wounded, and Dane Whitman was powerless to aid him or the Prince of Power. The son of Zeus was all that stood between the Griffin and all the innocent life it would assuredly quench.
"Come, foul one. Shall we test thy mettle?" Hercules intoned, and the Griffin pounced forward, lunging for the demi-god's throat. Hercules braced himself, raising his arms to shield his neck, but the Griffin stopped in mid-spring, and hovered on the open air.
"What trickery--?" Hercules muttered in confusion.
"Your battle is unnecessary, Avenger," a voice said from above. And Hercules peered to the sky. A woman descended through the clouds, and then came to a stop before him. Her face was painted, and her garb was utterly foreign. She motioned with her hand, and the Griffin was brought around, thrashing mightily against its invisible bonds.
"I can take care of this overgrown tabby-cat," she said with a wink, and the Griffin fell asleep. "Good thing too. I'm not sure how long my telekinesis would have held him."
"Woman," Hercules declared, his mouth agape, "who in Zeus' name are ye?"
But before the woman could answer, the shriek of sirens split the air, and then Dane was calling for Hercules' help, as the paramedics rushed forward to load Wonder Man into the ambulance.
And it was all. All of it. Caught on tape.
19:39:39 EST
Simon felt the world come back to him from a long way away. His hearing came back first, and he could vaguely hear the voices of his friends, his teammates, ringing from somewhere above him. His sense of touch, of feeling returned next. He could hear his heartbeat pulsing in his ears. He opened his eyes, but it was all a blur, so he closed them, tried again.
"Simon?" Dane said. The Black Knight was looking down at him. Simon grinned. Dane mirrored it. "Thank God, Avenger. We were worried for a while there that you wouldn't make it."
"What?" Simon replied, his brow furrowing. "Where am I? Make it from where?"
"You don't remember? You fought a creature called the Griffin. It wounded you. You were bleeding to death--"
"And I was in an ambulance," Simon finished. "I couldn't control the energy. It was too much. But--"
"Thy friends helped thee, Simon," Hercules said, pushing his head into view behind Dane. "Dane Whitman quelled the uprising within thine body by appealing to thy resolve. 'Twas a most noble spectacle."
"Wish I remembered it," Simon said, nodding at Dane. "Thanks, knight. I owe you one."
"Herc's exaggerating. You're the one who did it. Focused enough so that the energy stopped spilling out of you, and then the wounds just closed themselves up. It took a lot out of you, so we checked you into the hospital as a precaution. You've been out ever since."
"How did you stop the Griffin?" Simon asked.
Dane rubbed the back of his neck. "We didn't."
"I did," came a new voice. Simon lifted his head, looking at the woman who had spoken. She had short white hair, streaked with black. Her face was painted in a similar manner, and her clothing was, in a word, wild. Purples and greens, with strange jewels adorning her body. Simon blinked. She didn't go anywhere.
"Simon…" Dane said with a grin. "This is Sundragon. The newest member of the Champions."
"Newest member?" Simon asked. "I really hope you passed that by Eric, Dane."
"We'll discuss it later," Dane said. "Trust me, if you had seen her in action, you'd be offering too."
Simon looked at Sundragon. "You're related to Moondragon?"
"She is… was my cousin," the woman replied. "My name is Pamela Douglas. I came seeking the Avengers, to find out any information they might have about Heather. They were not as helpful as I'd hoped. But I learned that the cosmic protector resides with a team on the West Coast, and I fully intend to question him."
"But what does that have to do with joining us?"
"I want the chance to experience that which my cousin experienced," Sundragon replied. "If I can accomplish that, perhaps that will bring me one step closer to understanding her sacrifice."
"She tried joining the Avengers first," Dane added. "They arrived just as the dance was finishing. Thor wasn't exactly in the right mood to recruit any new blood though."
Simon grinned. "That's a first."
"It is for the best," Pamela stated. "Your team is on the West Coast, and does more good than even the Avengers, according to the Black Knight. These things please me greatly."
"Oh. Well, welcome to the team then… I guess," Simon replied. "Thanks for saving our bacon." He looked at Dane again. "What about Sammy? He was pretty annoyed with me, but was more than willing to throw down with us when push came to shove."
"He's downstairs talking with Bonita," Dane said. "I honestly have no idea what he's going to do."
19:45:00 EST
"I don't know what to do with you, Bonita," Sam Wilson said. They were both sitting in the hospital cafeteria. Bonita had chosen a muffin from a rotating plate, and had a glass of milk to wash it down. Sam had poured a cup of coffee.
Bonita swallowed a bite. "What do you mean?"
"I mean this. All of this." Sam sipped his coffee. "I find out you've abandoned your support staff in New Mexico, and then the people you absconded with come here, to my hometown, and expect me to do the same thing."
Bonita frowned, and pushed her plate away. "I didn't abandon my people, Sam. If anything, I've given them a better chance than ever to lead a normal life. One without hardship and trial."
"No life is without hardship, Firebird. What happens if Eric isn't legitimate? What happens to the people he promised to help when he shows his true colors?"
"They'll face the same hardships as before," Bonita replied. "And that's a tragedy. And I would personally make Eric Williams suffer if that was the case. But at least this way they have a chance."
"We give them a chance."
Bonita smiled gently. "I know we do, Sam. But this gives them an even better chance than what Helpings Hands can provide. Can you honestly tell me that there are no people out there willing to help those in need? That if you left the office of Helping Harlem to join us, you would not find someone to take your place?"
Sam's mouth drew into a thin line. "No. No, I suppose I can't."
"Then what is there to lose? We are fighting for good, we are fighting for charity, and if Eric Williams does reveal himself to be as you think, we are in the den of the serpent itself. As Dane would say: the perfect strategic position."
"Damn," Sam muttered. "I can't believe it."
Bonita furrowed her smooth brow. "What?"
"You convinced me." Sam raised his mug. They touched glasses. "I know I'm going to regret this. But I guess I'm a Champion."
NEXT ISSUE: Swordplay!
Champion Lovers
Welcome to another exciting edition of the Champions letter column. I guess the minor bickering I did last issue worked, because we have quite a few letters this go round. Let us start with… David Ingram!
Feedback, ho!
Who you calling a ho? Oh, wait… that's like "Thundercats, ho!", isn't it? That's a good thing right? Yeah!
The Good - Man alive, what isn't? Wonder Man's monologue was incredible (and long overdue), Hercules is on spot, Dane is clever as ever, and Speedball is Speedball, what's not to love? The threat of Whizzer and son worked perfectly when everything came together, and I'm absolutely stunned regarding your ability to seamlessly integrate about a thousand different points regarding M2K continuity. FW, Scarlet Spider, bubble bombs, Vision's death, Mephisto's defeat at BK and the Defenders hands and probably about a thousand other things I missed. That alone is impressive, but integrating three different plot points in one (Mephisto cutting deals with Whizzer, Eric and whoever's behind door number 3) is equally impressive. Firebird is a welcome addition too.
I think in any team book it's important to give the characters their own distinct voices. It helps when the characters are as unique and colorful as the ones in the Marvel Universe. The same goes with the villains (even if I did have to resurrect two of them). The triple deal seemed extremely in character for Mephisto, and the ramifications of that will become very apparent very soon. And I'm glad Firebird is such a hit. I'm really excited about her addition.
The Bad - You used Speedball better than me! Boo! Hiss! (goes on record as petty bastard), other than that, I can't find anything. I hope we get greater reflection on Vision's death from Erik and Simon. As I'm sorta in the know, I can say with some confidence that the best is yet to come!
Well, that's not "bad" at all. Speedball did seem at home on the roster, but I enjoy him a lot in Force Works. The Vision will certainly not be forgotten. I don't think any of the "Big Three" in the Champions were unaffected by his death, and that'll be touched upon as my run continues. Thanks, Dave! Our next letter comes from Brent Lambert.
THE GOOD: Mike's characters all have their own individual voices and he makes them shine throughout this issue. Firebird is a nice addition to the cast and she will definitely bring balance to the team. Eric Williams is also becoming quite the interesting character. The underlying conflict between him and Dane has the touches of a classic rebel vs. authority theme.
Another endorsement for Firebird. Hopefully the rest of my choices for rounding out the Champions are greeted with as nice a welcome. Eric Williams had a minor, but integral part in this issue. Expect more from him in #6. The feud between employer and employee isn't going anywhere for a while, as evidenced by Dane's casual membership offer to Sunny.
THE BAD: While this was a down time issue the whole pacing just seemed a little too relaxed to me, though the mystery at the end did catch my eye. Of course this complaint is only a minor one. It doesn't make me despise the issue or anything.
Well, I certainly hope you didn't despise it, Brent. What do you guys think? Is he just being nice, or did he actually genuinely really despise it? Hmmmm. Expect some more insight to the mystery at the end of #4 in upcoming issues.
OVERALL: This is going to quickly become one of M2K's hottest titles. You gotta read this man!
Awwwww, thanks Brent. There are definitely hotter titles out there, but I appreciate the love. Everybody go read Brent's Avengers right this second! Our last letter comes from the king of cool, Cory Wiegel. Can you guess what title Cory writes at M2K by the "king of cool" designation? Here's a hint. It's on the X-Men branch… the main character's name is Bobby… he, uh… shoots beams of ice… You still don't have it? Man, my audience is retarded. In any case, this is probably one of the best letters I've ever gotten. Cory kicks ass!
WEEEEEEEEE AAAAAARE THEEEE
Champions!
-- okay, I'll stop it right there.
Awwwww. We had something going there.
X-Corp, Force Works, Scarlet Spider, Justin Hammer's Thunderbolts, and now... LL Incorporated's rebirth of The Champions! Yes, ladies and gents, it's the 100th monkey all over again as the idea of marketing super heroes has made it big in the M2K universe. To boot, the Captain steering this boat is none other then returning fanfic genius, the fab-o Mike Exner III! Quite honestly, I'm surprised to see another issue of this breakout series so quickly. Is X3 succeeding in a bi-weekly schedule where yours truly, Mr. Frostee, surely failed? Amazing.
Well, the fast release of the issues coincides with a couple of things. Number 1: David Ingram needed Speedball back with Force Works, and since he was such a prince about lending him out to me, I felt obliged to get the bouncing one back as soon as possible. The other reason is that I'm racing AWC (penned by Russ Anderson and Chris Munn) so that our titles are able to crossover later down the line (more on that as it develops). So I'm not trying to make ya look bad, Cory. Honest. I'm being forced to do it!
This issue was a great down time stint that better furthered us into the machines that is Eric Williams's LL Incorporated, and his pet project, the Champions. You've guessed it right. This former reaper of a super-villain has hung up his scythe (I forget if he ever really had one), and traded that baby in for a fresh pair of business loafers. Black Knight, Hercules, and Wonder Man are the first three former Avengers to be pulled onto his bandwagon of media mayhem, after wittily dispatching the revived Nuklo from his emanate threat to the Los Angeles area, with of course the assistance of a kind-hearted limo driver (Mr. Jaspers), and a bubbly borrowed friend from Force Works (Speedball). The only two questions left remaining are who else will be joining them, and more importantly, is the former Grim Reaper, Eric Williams (or is it Erik Williams? X3 can't seem to decide in his narrative), truly reformed as he claims to be?
Bah! I blame Word for Eric's lack of identity. Though it probably is all my fault. I think the question of just exactly how reformed Eric Williams actually is will be one of the driving forces behind this book for a long time to come.
The answer to at least one of those questions is shed some light in this issue (which uses the quaint, "now" and "then" narrative technique which has seemingly become popular by writers as of late). Firebird, a former Avenger herself, and a (*gasp*) woman is the first on (Champions leader) Dane Whitman's recruiting list. Great choice in my book, as her inclusion in this title makes the cast shine as more colorful. Speaking of which, the dialogue from said cast is all unique and individuated, as well as original, which makes them even more enjoyable.
Thanks, Cory. I've mentioned before my efforts to give everyone their own voice, but it's always nice to hear that I'm accomplishing my goal. The roster was a little male-heavy, so it was only natural to include a woman or two. I split the sex-ratio 50/50 this issue, and hopefully Sam and Sunny appeal to you as much as Bonita.
On top of that, I'm really diggin' the setting so far. West Coast, baby, yeah! Plus, the media aspects, and one of the more funner characters, Eric Williams as head of LL Incorporated and the Champions, plays out on all of that nicely. Firebird's position with the Helping Hands in New Mexico was a great touch, as well, which adds a good deal of back history and individuality to her character. She also parallels Eric Williams himself, in a way. While he's up playing it clean with the big boys to make a difference, she's getting her hands dirty with the small time, though heart filled charity organizations.
Well, this issue took place almost entirely on the East Coast, but the team will be back in La La land soon enough. The idea behind the Champions is for them to appeal to a wide variety of people, so diversity is key, along with a change of locale from time to time. New Mexico and Firebird, Los Angeles and Eric Williams seem to be working for you, and hopefully Sam's NY roots along with Sunny's spacefaring background appeal as well.
And now that I've inflated big ol' X3's ego enough, it's time to let some air with what I thought posed as the downsides of this issue. They're few, and minor, really. More of personal preferences in my book that I like to see in a read. The pace in this ish was pretty solid and mellow. I'd of liked to see it pick up at some points, where the action usually would be. I understand it's more of a reflective, calmer ish set 'em up so Mike can knock 'em down, sorta thing, but that doesn't mean we can't get tangled up in a bit of excitement and furthering intrigue somewhere, am I right? The ending, however, was pretty clever, and it shows us that Dane's no where near in control of the wheels Eric has turning. It was a clear exception to how I felt about the otherwise, standard, pace of this ish.
Totally understandable, and a concern I had as the issue unfolded. I was hoping the shift from New Mexico to Los Angeles would be enough to keep the readers interested, along with the mystery at the end of the book involving the infant child, but I understand that these characters are "super" heroes, and people expect a little action. Hopefully I made up for it in this issue with the Griffin. Keep and eye on Dane and Eric too. The pot isn't coming down from a boil to a simmer for a while.
Second complaint? No Speedball! Unfortunately, the guy's deadlocked over in Force Works, which is a shame. Hercules, Speedball, and Horace Jasper, along with Eric Williams, was really got me drawn into Mike's Champions in the first place. That, and y'know... Mike Exner III's penning the series. Don't get me wrong. Dane Whitman's cool, and all, and Wonder Man's got potential for me to like him, too (especially after his opening monologue in the first ish), but it's the elements we see in the aforementioned four that really round out this cast, and Mike's writing style. Maybe Bobby Drake should drop by to say "hi" sometime.
I'm glad you're enjoying some of the less well-known characters in the cast, Cory. Horace Jasper wasn't showcased at all in #4, but he's returned with a vengeance, so hopefully he'll replace the loss of Speedball a little bit. I'll definitely be striving to keep everyone interesting and unique, but everybody has their favorites. That's part of the fun of writing a team-book. Now, if only I could somehow contact the mysterious writer of this "Bobby Drake" and get him to allow me that cameo…
My final "pitch?" Champions is a pretty hot read so far, and I'm hoping against all hope that his run on the series lasts longer then some of his other titles here at M2K (Thunderbolts and New Warriors come to mind).
Thanks again, Cory. The fact that you'd like the run to continue tells me more than any rating ever could. As long as I can keep my motivation and interest up (and it doesn't seem to be going anywhere yet), I think Champions will be contributing to the site for a long time to come.
-Mike Exner III
12/13/2003