Avalon
The dark king sat upon his throne and surveyed the chaos he had wrought. Avalon lay broken at his feet. Her ancient pillars of ivory-colored marble reduced to rubble; her defenders, her priestesses staining the majestic trees with crimsoned ichor that had spilled forth from their blessed throats like blood-red wine over the rim of a jewel-encrusted goblet. The sacred lake stretched out before him, and he regarded the bloated corpses filling the water with an apathetic stare as they thumped listlessly against the abandoned wooden barges.
His red-rimmed eyes narrowed as a hunching figure advanced through the mists. A heavy, iron mace with jagged spikes lining its surface dug shallow grooves in the soil as the wretch advanced with fitful, ungainly steps. The dark king noted the unpleasant stench of death, the gore coating the figure from the crook of his arm to the final dulled point of his weapon.
The dark king rose smoothly from his polished, blackened throne and placed a single, gauntleted hand upon the hilt of his sword. The figure advancing through the mist did not pause. A brilliant light issued forth from the scabbard as the iridescent blade was drawn. The dark king took a single step forward and raised the sword before his eyes in the traditional sign of honor, his raven-colored tresses and bleached skin framing his weapon.
The shambling figure spit onto the ground at the feet of the king in response. His scarred suit of chain mail armor rattled as he hefted the mace above his head and brought it down in a shallow arc towards the skull of his enemy. The dark king parried the blow effortlessly with an ebon shield that seemed to appear from thin air, the vacuum of stilled air morphing to accommodate the enchanted object. The radiance of the arcane sword augmented as the impact from the serrated weapon reverberated through the shield. The dark king thrust with the sparkling blade and split the torso of his attacker, spilling a thick swath of blood onto the carpet of leaves falling in a constant stream from the withering trees.
The warrior fell to one knee, his gauntleted hands balling the cloak of the dark king in weakened fists. He gasped and a spray of blood peppered the face of the youthful lord before him.
“Y-you… are a demon… a devil.”
The dark king stretched his jaws like an untamed beast. His tongue slathered over his upper lip, consuming the droplets of blood adorning his face. His mouth split into an impossibly wide grin; his teeth stained crimson, his breath the scent of the warrior’s life-blood. He twisted the sword upwards. The face of the soldier lit briefly in agony, and then his features slackened, faded, and were no more.
“I know.”
THE CHAMPIONS # 6
"Swordplay"
Written by Mike Exner III
Los Angeles
“And here we are Champions,” Bill Foster said as he brought the Champscraft around, thrusters humming mildly as he settled the ship on the landing pad of the building they’d all been watching from the sky. “The Citadel. I know you’re impressed.”
“I know I am, Bill,” Dane said. “This is… amazing.”
The ground shuddered beneath the plane, and the landing pad began to descend. Bill pointed. “The hangar is on the top floor. A conveyor pulls the ship forward as we drop in, and the roof rises once the ship is clear. The entire process takes about two minutes.”
“Something else you designed?” Simon said, unbuckling his harness. He came forward, placing a forearm on Bill’s seat, leaning forward to get a clearer look out the cockpit. “I had no idea you had this kind of range, Billy.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Dane broke in. He kept his voice level, amiable, but his thoughts were churning again, suspicion creeping into his guts.
“Well, if you boys recall, I did build the original Champscraft for Angel, Natasha and even you, Hercules. My range as a scientist has improved over the years.”
“Aye, ‘tis a most estimable dwelling, Bill Foster,” Hercules intoned. “Mayhap e’en moreso than that provided by Angel when our untried band was first conceived.”
“Well, you can thank Eric for that. He’s the one who shelled out the dough, found the right backers,” Bill grinned. “All I had to do was develop some toys. And his support staff was more than a help.”
“Support staff? The techs I noticed on my initial walk through LL Incorporated? They didn’t seem--”
“Good people,” Bill interrupted. Dane eyed him carefully, but Bill kept his eyes forward. “And speaking of good people, I think most of you will recognize the man awaiting us.”
Standing off to one side of the approaching ship was an elderly looking fellow, his shoulders were slightly hunched, and he was wearing a pair of well pressed slacks with a crisp white shirt tucked into them. Simon stroked the back of his head. “Isn’t that--?”
“Horace Jasper!” Hercules boomed, slapping Simon good-naturedly on the back.
“Jesus, Herc. I’m gonna feel that for days,” Simon muttered sourly.
Hercules began plodding towards the rear cargo-bay door. “Forgive me, Simon Williams. My contentment knows no bounds.”
“Better pop the trunk on this heap, Bill,” Sam Wilson said with a grin, “before our resident demigod tears through it.”
Bill thumbed the control for the rear-bay door, and it descended, the ramp settling with a dim clanging sound on the metallic floor. Hercules strode out, and rounded the plane. Horace Jasper stepped forward to greet him.
“Mr. Hercules, it’s awful good to--”
“Horace Jasper, thou hast shorn thy mustache,” Hercules boomed, drowning out Horace’s voice. “It is a flattering, if un-godly, style.”
“Er… thank ya, Mr. Hercules,” Horace stammered. ”…I think.”
“Who is this fellow Hercules has such affection for?” Sundragon asked Simon as they made their own way down the ramp. Sundragon was hovering on the air. Simon had noticed Pamela floating a few inches off of the ground back in the hospital, and hadn’t mentioned it to the others. But after Simon had been checked out of the hospital and they’d clambered into the Champscraft for the flight back to Los Angeles, Sundragon had refused to be harnessed, and her strange custom had made itself apparent.
“I have no use for your restrictive seating,” she’d replied when Dane had offered her a seat. “In truth, only on rare occasions do I deign to touch the ground at all.”
“I’m not following you,” Dane said.
“She’s floating, Dane,” Simon piped up. “She’s been floating this whole time.”
“Well I’ll be damned,” Sam said from his own seat, he was leaning into the aisle to get a better look. “She is floating. I never even noticed.”
“I don’t think any of us did except for Simon,” Bonita said.
Simon shrugged. “Yeah, but I didn’t catch it at first either. She makes it look so natural.”
“It has become a quite natural phenomena for me,” Sundragon broke in. “I have been striving to improve my mental proficiency. My telepathy and telekinesis were granted to me very unexpectedly. I find that the only way to control the flow of forces within me is to exercise them constantly.”
“Sounds complicated,” Simon said.
Dane nodded. “I agree. But you seemed to handle the Griffin easily enough. It didn’t seem like much of a strain then.”
“His mind was that of an animal,” Sundragon replied calmly. “Manipulating such a primitive consciousness into silence was not a difficult task. It was a fortunate situation indeed, for his strength severely tested the telekinetic bonds I placed around him.”
“Aye,” Hercules intoned, “the strength of the beast was impressive indeed. Enough to quell nearly all who faced it, if not for our newfound ally.”
“Nevertheless,” Dane said, hooking a thumb at the seat, ”I’d still feel better if you strapped in for the ride. Anything could happen while we’re flying. We’re a fairly public group, and an attack isn’t all that unlikely.”
“And I assure you,” Sundragon stated, her legs folding underneath her in the lotus position, back straightening, arms and hands held snugly to her sides, “that I am as immovable in this state as any harness crafted upon this or any other world could make me.”
Dane grit his teeth, struggling to stifle his mounting frustration. “Look, Pamela…”
“Dane,” Simon muttered, nudging the team-leader with his elbow, “we should probably get going, shouldn’t we? Lot of miles between here and LAX.”
“Yeah,” Dane said with a defeated sigh. “You’re right, Simon. Let’s just get a move on. We can discuss this at a later date.”
“I look forward to it, Mr. Whitman,” Sundragon replied, and for the briefest of instants, Dane thought he saw something flash in her eyes, something disturbingly familiar. But before he could place his finger on the memory it stirred within him, the glimmer was gone, and Simon was firing up the engines of the Champscraft.
“Let’s get this puppy movin’!” Simon hollered, and they were underway. They’d flown without incident, and Sundragon hadn’t moved an inch from her meditative pose, despite Dane’s concerns to the contrary. And now they were back in Los Angeles, and Wonder Man gestured at Horace.
“Pamela Douglas, meet Horace Jasper. Horace, this is Sundragon.”
Horace dipped his head. “A pleasure, ma’am. Seems like there’s quite a bit more of you than the last time I was around, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“Well, we’ve been pretty active lately, Horace,” Dane said. “But I’m more interested in why you’re here. Did Williams refuse to compensate you for the damage done to your limousine?”
“No, no,” Horace replied, shaking his head, “nothing like that at all, Mr. Whitman. In fact, you might say it’s just the opposite. I’ve been recruited by Mr. Williams myself.”
“Um, I’m sorry?” Dane said.
Simon laughed out loud, and received a steely gaze from Dane in return. He ignored it. “Eric hired you, Horace?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“In what capacity, Mr. Jasper?” Dane muttered. His voice was flat, and Horace shifted uncomfortably on his toes.
“Well, y’see,” Horace started, paused, looked at the others, swallowed the lump in his throat, “Mr. Williams called me to his building for a special meeting… or something like that I suppose. And what he showed me was some footage. Uh, footage of me, I mean to say. During that ruckus you all had with that giant fella.”
“Nuklo,” Sam Wilson cut in.
“That’s right,” Horace confirmed. “So anyway, Mr. Williams showed me that, then he took me to his office, and he laid out a lot of papers on his desk. It was a big desk. And there were lots of papers. And he showed ‘em to me, and told me they were all about me.”
“About you?” Dane said, his tone sharp. “He’s been investigating you?”
“Well, yes and no. I couldn’t really read the papers, but what he said they were was some sort of complicated poll of public opinion. Something like that. He said it was like an investigation as to what people thought about me.”
“I’m not following this at all,” Sam mumbled.
“It’s a technique used to gauge ratings, Sam,” Simon said. “A lot of companies do it. They show a pilot to a group of people, as diverse a group as possible, and then project the popularity of what the people view by judging their reaction to it.”
“So what you’re saying is--”
“Horace,” Simon said, turning to the elderly fellow and gripping his shoulders. “They like you! They really like you!”
“Cut it out, Simon,” Dane replied curtly. “I can’t believe this. He’s added someone to our group based on public response?”
“Well, we are in a television program,” Bonita said. “So I suppose it makes sense in an odd sort of way.”
“No, no it doesn’t,” Dane growled. “What are we supposed to do? Take him on our missions with us? Is he Limo-Driver Man now? Am I going insane here, or does anyone else see a problem with this?”
“Mr. Whitman,” Horace said, and the tone of his voice was enough to stop Dane in his tracks. “I’m not exactly sure what the problem here is. I was hired on as the personal assistant to the team, which I’m pretty certain is just a fancy way of saying I handle the everyday business here at the compound. I’m your janitor, sir. That’s all. Nothing more and nothing less. I answer phones, maybe sift through the fan mail, and I pick up after the mess. Mr. Williams informed me that there’d be quite a bit to do, that my responsibilities will vary from day to day, and he’s looked over my resume. I’ve lived a lot of years, and worked a lot of jobs, so he felt I was more than qualified. However, if you feel like there’s some problem with me working here, I have no problem relinquishing my duties to the team. I thought you’d be pleased to see me, and I thought being accepted into this company would be an honor. I suppose I was wrong in that.”
“You weren’t wrong, Horace,” Dane said, his voice barely above a mumble. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so frustrated. It’s just been a long week.” He held out a hand. “Please, accept my apology. It would be an honor, having you join us. But the honor would be mine.”
Horace stood still, his hands in his pockets, the skin around his eyes bunched up, his face a mask of irritation. But then he nodded, removed his hand from his pocket, and clutched Dane’s in his own. His face cleared. “Thank you, sir. Apology accepted.”
New York
“Man, this is some crap. There’s no way we’re standing for this, right? I mean, there’s just no way. You know what we should do?”
Warren Worthington III rolled his eyes. “What should we do, Bobby?”
“Number one, we should go over there…” Bobby Drake said, holding up his index finger. “Call them out.” His middle finger lifted. “And then kick their asses!” His ring finger joined the pair. “A simple three-step plan.”
“I see someone still hasn’t grown out of their Spider-Man underoos,” Natasha Romanova, the Black Widow said.
Bobby shrugged. “Ah, I’m just kidding around. I don’t even mind that they’ve got our name, really. Herc’s on the squad, the big lug probably suggested it himself.”
“He didn’t, actually,” Warren replied. “And my concerns don’t stem from the group themselves. The reason I called all of you here is because of the man pulling the strings behind them.”
“Eric Williams,” Natasha said.
Warren nodded. “That’s right. He managed to purchase rights to the name out from under me, a minor legal blunder my staff overlooked. But the Champions name is still attached to my company and my name through the history I have with it, as it is to all of us. X-Corp doesn’t need bad publicity of any sort, so I think the best thing to do is handle this before it gets out of hand.”
“So you do want us to kick their asses,” Bobby said. “I knew it!”
“I certainly hope that is not the case,” came a voice from behind them. They all turned. Warren Worthington’s office was on the top floor of a daunting skyrise in the middle of the greater New York area, but the woman entering through the window had no trouble traversing the spire. Tendrils of darkforce energy fluttered out from around her body, and shut the window behind her.
Natasha lifted her chin. “Darkstar.”
“Natasha. It is good to see you, all of you. It has been long since we all gathered together.”
“I’ll say,” Bobby beamed. “You still look good though, Lania. Just like always.”
“Thank you, Bobby,” Darkstar replied, “but I am more than a little interested to know what it is that we’ve been summoned here for.”
“Not a brawl, I assure you,” Warren stated crisply, bringing the attention of the trio back to him. “We were all once members of the same band. The Champions. And the fact that a name we were all once connected with has been usurped by a man with the questionable scruples of an Eric Williams concerns me. I wish to speak with him about it, to find out exactly what his intentions are. And I would be grateful if the three of you would accompany me.”
“What for?” Bobby asked.
“A contingency plan, no doubt,” Natasha chipped in.
Bobby made a face at Natasha. “Well, duh… obviously. But against what?”
“Anything we happen to run into,” Warren said, folding his hands under his chin. “I feel confident that I can handle Eric Williams. But if the Champions have been compromised in some way, I doubt I’d be able to handle a half dozen super-powered operatives loyal to him.”
“So if things get rough, it’s the old guard against the new guard,” Bobby chimed in.
“I don’t think it’ll come to that,” Natasha said. “I’m as concerned as anyone with Dane’s decision to form a team under the wing of Eric Williams, but Dane and most of the others are Avengers. I’m certain they know what they’ve gotten themselves into.”
Warren nodded. “But all the same, I’d like to now that if push comes to shove--”
“I’ll be there to cover your backside, Warren,” Natasha smiled. “As always.”
Bobby jumped up. “Yeah, we got ya back, Warren G. You in, Lania?”
“I am,” Darkstar replied.
“Then it’s settled. My private jet is being fueled at JFK as we speak, so we’d better get going.” Warren lifted his glass. “Cheers.”
Natasha tipped her coffee to her lips, and a chunk of ice collided with her teeth. She gasped. “Bobby!”
Bobby grinned. “Shouldn’t have dissed my Spidey undies.”
Los Angeles – The Citadel
“Dane Whitman? Art thou well?” Hercules intoned, peering through the doorway into the spacious new quarters of his longtime friend and ally. Hercules had passed a number of rooms journeying down the hall, each with a different member of the team’s name stenciled on a tiny golden placard fused to the adjoining wall. Each of the doors had been pulled shut, but Dane Whitman had foregone closing his own upon entering. Hercules waited for a response, and when none came, cleared the threshold and stepped inside.
The room itself was decorated with a number of pieces of art and medieval weaponry. Large pieces of furniture clad in black leather were strewn about in convenient places. There was a desk with a sleek-looking monitor and computer. Hercules crossed the room and regarded a large broadsword mounted on the far wall. The weapon did not look as though it were crafted by modern techniques, or purchased from Ebay or the Home Shopping Network. It was an old blade. Tainted by history. Familiar with blood and battle.
“Williams goes all out,” a voice said from behind him. Hercules turned. Dane Whitman was standing in the doorway leading to the bathroom. His face looked haggard and worn. Water streamed from the light smattering of stubble that clung to his cheeks, his eyes were bloodshot. He pressed a towel to his face, and tossed it onto the arm of one of the leather chairs. Dane pointed a thumb at one of the paintings. “How do you suppose Eric Williams found out I had a thing for Bosch?”
Hercules ignored the question. “Thy departure was taken in much haste.”
“Yeah, well, I figured after I verbally abused an elderly man right in front of everyone, I should probably take a powder,” Dane said. He sat down heavily on the leather couch. “I think I’m losing it, Herc.”
Hercules frowned. “What dost thou mean?”
Dane shrugged. “You’re practically a god, so I’m sure this isn’t something you’re faced with very often, but… have you ever felt like no matter what you do, it’s just not enough? No matter how you think something through, no matter how well you prepare, no matter how hard you train, or how hard you try, it’s like you’re doomed to failure from the start?”
Dane looked up briefly. Hercules was looking at him steadily, but when the demigod didn’t reply, Dane let his chin fall back to his chest.
“I’ve almost been killed twice now, Herc. The Whizzer had me on my last legs. If I hadn’t lucked into that shard of glass getting stuck in my glove…
“And the Griffin,” Dane chuckled. “That monster would have torn me apart if it hadn’t been for Simon. I’d be dead right now. And the sickest thing about that is I gave the Griffin all I had. And I should have had him too. I slipped under his legs, climbed on his back and stuck the blade of my photonic sword right in his head. Right where his skull met his spine. It should have been over.
“But I was outclassed from the start. I just didn’t realize it. I never expected that monster to shrug off the blow. I thought I had the fight won, and now my ribs do a little waltz on my nervous system every time I move. Hell, it hurts just to breathe.
“But at least I’m breathing, right? Simon almost died. The Whizzer is dead. And it doesn’t even matter that dying was what he wanted all along. That killing himself once Nuklo went critical was his plan from the start. My blade still pierced his chest. Still made it that much easier for his heart to burst from the strain of him speeding it up.
“You were not to blame for the death of Robert Frank, Dane,” Hercules intoned. Dane looked up at him again.
“And in my head I know that, Herc. But in my heart…
“I swore I’d never take another life after I slew the Supreme Intelligence.* The way he screamed, it was like a piece of my soul was sucked away. I never wanted to feel that way again. I promised myself I never would.”
[*The attempt came in Marvel’s Avengers #347 – Mike]
Hercules spread his hands. “Thou hast liberated countless scores from the gates of Hades himself, Dane Whitman. Thou art a scourge to my evil-hearted brother. Surely thou dost see this?”
“But there’s no room for error, Herc. And it’s not like I’m making excuses, because I knew that when I first pulled on the armor of my uncle. He made me promise him on his deathbed that I’d restore the honor of my family, and I’ve tried my damnedest to do just that. But Simon almost died because I couldn’t cut it. And if my mind isn’t capable of crafting a weapon sturdy enough to battle the menaces we face on a regular basis, then maybe it’s time I went back to the old ways.”
Hercules straightened. “Thou dost not mean thy ebony blade? The curse placed ‘pon that enchanted weapon would damn thee, Dane Whitman. ‘Tis --”
“Relax, Herc,” Dane said, shaking his head. “I… I thought about it. And the ebony blade would have taken out the Griffin in short order. I’m sure of that. But I couldn’t use it. It corrupted me when I used it during the Crusades, when I fought for King Richard in the form of my ancestor,* and it’s grown so powerful now that anyone who shed blood with it would be transformed into a blood wraith. I couldn’t take that chance.”
[* BK decided to fight in the Crusades in Marvel’s Defenders #11 – Mike]
“Then what dost thou intend to do?”
“When I was running with the Defenders, the ebony blade was given back to me without explanation.* I never found out exactly why it happened, and I’ve been in this league long enough to know that most of these things happen for a reason, so I didn’t sweat it much at the time. And when Proctor put all of the blades from all of the realities he’d destroyed together to make the sword I have now, I knew there was no way I could let him hold onto it. And then the Champions happened, and it all came in such a rush that I completely forgot about the weaponry I had before the ebony blade reappeared.”
[*In M2K’s Defenders title… sheesh – Mike]
“The sword of light and shield of night,” Hercules said.
Dane nodded. “Gifts from the Lady of the Lake herself. I summoned them with a magical amulet, but when the ebony blade returned to my hands, the amulet disappeared.”
Dane ran his hands over the stubble on his face. “I’m a scientist, Herc. I always have been. But I’ve used magic for the better part of my career as a superhero. It’s like I’m two people, and neither one of them is really me. Or I’ve ridden the line between them for so long that neither one is even familiar to me anymore. And I’ve decided that I’ve got to do something about it.”
Dane got up off the couch. The helmet of the Black Knight sat on the small coffee table in front of him. He stooped down, picked it up and placed it on his head. “I’m going to Avalon.”
LL Incorporated
“You’re what!?”
“I’m going to Avalon, Williams. Right this second. I have some things I need to take care of.”
“That, Whitman,” Eric Williams growled, “is the most ridiculous notion I’ve ever heard. You are the leader of the Champions. You can’t just… just flit off whenever you please. On a whim!”
“It’s not a whim, Williams,” Dane said, a gravelly tone beginning to form in his own words now. “It’s been a long time coming. And if you expect me to continue leading this team, you’ll grant me this request immediately.”
“I think I’ve been more than accommodating to all of your requests up to this point, Whitman. I’ve accepted unauthorized members to the team, brushed aside your blatant disrespect for me. You’ve removed property from LL Incorporated without even a word--”
“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?”
“That is hardly the point. The point is that we are in a working relationship, Whitman. I am your employer, and you are my employee. Whether you like it or you don’t, that is the fact of the matter. I expect to be treated with… with respect, and decency and common damn courtesy.”
Dane nodded. “Do you like Bosch?”
“What?”
“Hieronymous Bosch. The painter. You a fan?”
“I… no. I am aware of him, but I’m not very familiar with his work.”
“But you knew I enjoyed his work, Williams. And you didn’t know because you asked me during idle conversation. You knew because you researched me. I’m sure you and your people studied me like a rat in a cage. I’m sure you did it to everyone you handpicked for this little project of yours. And you’re probably scrambling to find out every last little thing you can about every other person I recruited without your permission.”
Dane got to his feet. “That’s why you don’t have my respect, or my admiration, or whatever the hell else it is you desire from me, Williams. You can read a file, and buy a painting, and fill this complex with all kinds of fancy gadgets. But you can’t buy my favor. You have to earn it. Just like everybody else.”
Dane Whitman turned on his heel and walked to the door. He paused at the knob, and turned back to Eric Williams with a forced smile. “I’ll be gone a couple days at the most… boss.” I’m leaving Simon in charge, unless you got a problem with that.”
But before Eric Williams could open his mouth to reply, Dane was out the door.
“I hath decided to go with thee, Dane Whitman.”
“Jesus, Herc!” Dane exclaimed as he closed the door to Eric Williams’ office. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. You nearly gave me a stroke.”
“Thou hast inspired the son of Olympus,” Hercules said, throwing a bulky arm around Dane’s shoulder. “Whatever thou shouldst face beyond the sacred waters of the lake, thou shalt not face it alone.”
“I appreciate it, Herc. I let the others know before I went to see Williams, and asked Sam to warm up the Champscraft for me. What’d you do, stow away or--?”
Dane paused, and turned around.
“Son of a bitch.”
“Hello, Dane,” the voice of Eric Williams boomed from out of the silver orb hovering just behind the two heroes. “I was very moved by your words of wisdom earlier in my office. So moved, in fact, that I taped the whole thing for posterity; just as I taped your earlier conversation with Hercules back in your room. You really are a beautiful speaker. The camera just loves you. And that’s why I’m sure you’ll find no problem with this particular camera accompanying you on your little field trip.”
Dane squeezed his hands into fists. “That camera--”
“This camera is the property of LL Incorporated. As is the aircraft you’re making your journey in. You will not damage either in any way. You agreed to be filmed 24 hours a day and 7 days a week when you signed your contract, Whitman. And I don’t give a damn if you visit the devil himself, you’re going to have a camera on you when you do it. Oh, and I give you my permission to take Hercules along with you, so don’t you worry your little head about it one second more. And please, Dane, from the bottom of my heart… have a wonderful time.”
There was a crackle of static, and the audio connection on the Eye in the Sky was terminated. Dane sighed. He had to force himself to ignore the urge to put his photonic sword through the lens of the high-priced camera.
He turned to Hercules, and the expression on the demigod’s face gave him pause. Hercules’ eyes narrowed.
“Didst he say permission?”
Dane could only laugh.
Eric Williams reclined in his chair. The panel concealing his array of television monitors slid away, and he regarded Dane Whitman and Hercules as they made their way to the landing pad on the roof of the building. He pressed a button on his control panel, and the view on a number of the screens shifted, one revealing the training room of the Citadel. Falcon and Firebird were engaged in a combat simulation, and Sam Wilson was flying circles around his younger teammate. In another room, Wonder Man was trying to converse with the enigmatic Sundragon while she hovered in the lotus position, her eyes closed, obviously in deep meditation. Simon wasn’t getting the hint. Horace Jasper was heading down the hall for the shower, wrapped in a plush white towel. Eric quickly altered the view.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The noise came from behind him, but Eric ignored it. Wind gusts were common at this height, and it had taken him the better part of a month before he got used to ignoring the strange groans and creaks of the LL Incorporated building. He hit another button on his control panel, and a half dozen voices and sounds assaulted his senses all at once, he toyed with the controls until only Falcon and Firebird’s mock combat was audible. He would be going over all this footage later on in the week, determining what exactly to keep and what to cut for the two-hour premiere of Champions. A daunting prospect, considering the happenings of the last few days.
Tunk. Tunk. TUNK!
Eric jumped up from his seat, his hand reflexively darting underneath his desk to thumb the button that would summon his security personnel. He whirled around, and his jaw dropped. His first thought was that there was an angel outside his window. The man had ivory wings sprouting from his back, and they drafted the air neatly, the man himself held nearly motionless amidst the whirling gusts, his blond hair flowing behind his head, his lean, athletic physique framed by the blazing sun.
The angel knocked again. Eric pressed another button, and his window slid open.
“It’s about damn time, Williams,” the man said as he dropped to the ground, his wings folding compactly behind him. “I’m a fairly resilient fellow, but it’s still rather cold out today.”
“I… apologize. I wasn’t expecting any visitors to call on me through my fortieth-story window today, ah, Mr. Worthington, was it?”
“I’m certain you know exactly what my name is, Williams,” Warren Worthington said. “Your legal staff and mine have become quite familiar over these last few months.”
“Indeed. And you’ve made quite the spectacle of yourself with your little band of mutants, haven’t you?”
“X-Corp is doing just fine, Williams. Not that it’s any real concern of yours.”
“Please, Mr. Worthington, during office hours I prefer to be addressed as Mr.Williams. And I can assure you that I have no interest in your mutant employees whatsoever. Your kind has never much interested me. But then again, I’m not the one spying outside your window during business hours, so I suppose you can’t say the same.”
“Hardly spying, Mr. Williams,” Warren replied. “But you must admit, yours is a fascinating venture. And since you were so good as to pilfer the name of a group I had a number of ties to, it’s only a natural course of action for… my kind and I to make sure everything happening here is legitimate.
“I didn’t see your badge,” Eric growled, “or your warrant. My security personnel are on the way. If you don’t leave immediately, I will have you shot.”
“I doubt very much that your security could enforce such a threat, Mr. Williams,” Warren replied. “But it hardly matters. I’m paying your team a visit. I thought it simple courtesy to inform you beforehand. So now you know. I had hoped to do this civilly, but obviously that word does not apply to you. I don’t need permission. I fly where I please. And if I find anything amiss, rest assured I’ll be back here, and you’ll be answering to a higher authority than I.”
Eric scowled. “You’re not welcome at the Citadel, Worthington. So why don’t you take whatever mutie playmates you brought with you and go home.”
“It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?” Warren laughed, but before Eric could respond, he took wing, and a huge rush of air pushed Eric Williams back into his seat.
“Bastard,” Eric fumed. “I should have that slime killed on principle.”
The clomping of boots preceded the slamming of his oak doors as Eric’s security force burst into the room.
“You idiots are late. You’re all fired as soon as I find replacements, I’m too important to--” Eric paused. His eyes lit up with a wild gleam. “Get out, all of you. I need to be alone.”
His men fled hastily, closing the door behind them, but Eric Williams didn’t see them leave, or even notice their departure. All he saw was a single television screen, depicting images of four heroes: Archangel, the Black Widow, Iceman and Darkstar, all former Champions, all converging on the headquarters of his Champions. The gears began to turn, and Eric Williams smiled. A two-hour premiere might not be enough time for the show after all.
Next Issue: Battle Royal!
Champion Lovers
Been a little while since I released one of these issues, so I had to go back – WAY back! – back into time to find the letters that were sent after issue #5 came out. Now, I found most of them, but if you sent me a letter and I didn’t include it, feel free to write me a letter on #6, and I promise I’ll respond. Because I love you all. I really really do. Ha HA! Our first letter comes from Jason Eberly. Jason writes Black Widow here at M2K and it’s a great read. Jason is also another of the fantastic people who let me swipe a character, Black Widow herself, for this very issue. Jason wrote a review of Champs #1-4, but #5 came out so rapidly that I didn’t have a chance to respond to his letter in the issue. But did that stop Jason? No! He wrote ANOTHER letter about Champs #5. And here it is:
It took me a long time to be able to find words of praise for Mike Exner's Champions #5 that wouldn't sound like I was just repeating my review for Champs #'s 1-4.
See, told ya he reviewed ‘em.
In fact, I still can't find the words. Let's just say that I have nothing but praise for this book. My only words of non-praise aren't really words of non-praise, but more like words of things I would like to see, and possibly will see them in the future.
Agh! There goes my head swelling up again. Thanks, Jase.
I did want to make a specific comment on Dane's talk with Thor. This was handled so beautifully, in my opinion. People tend to forget that before Thor "officially" appeared in the Marvel U, that he was quite the ass. It was due to his behavior that Odin stuck him in the form of the crippled Don Blake in order to teach him humility. But really, would a lesson that only lasted a few years (Marvel time) really be able to undo millenia of ingrained behavior? I think Mike really nailed Thor's true attitude beneath the veneer of nobility Thor professes. Great job.
Thanks again, Jase. I never thought of Thor as the kind of guy – or god – to hold his tongue, like, ever. Thor is one of the more loyal and noble heroes in the Marvel Universe, so how else could he react to a member of his team going off to work for a supervillain?
The one thing that I would like to have seen in this issue, however, is more of a to-do between Hercules and the Griffin. This was a battle right up Herc's alley. After all, he made a name for himself defeating mythical-type creatures in ancient Greece. I feel he would have had more of a gleeful attitude approaching his confrontation with Griffin than he did. Granted, he's a couple millenia older now, but Herc's still a big kid at heart.
Well, the issue was by far the longest of my run, and I had a lot of ground to cover. A titanic clash between Herc and Griffin could have taken up the space of an entire issue all by itself, but sometimes in a team book you’ve got to make sacrifices, and this just happened to be one of those cases. Herc’s fierce attitude towards the Griffin was more a reflection of what the creature had done to his teammates rather than of his own personality. Have no fear, there’ll be plenty of opportunities for Herc to cut loose in the future.
Also, I must say that, as probably the only other person at this site who actually knows who Sundragon is (from the late, lamented Solo Avengers/Avengers Spotlight series), it's great to see her. Any chance of us seeing Isaac Christian, the former Gargoyle who was last seen in a crystal around Sunny's neck? I know the Gargoyle body was featured in M2K's Defenders, but I don't think Isaac was inhabiting it.
Ah, Sundragon. My pet project. Stay tuned, Jason. Things will be picking up with Pamela sooner rather than later, and I think – as one of Sundragon’s two or so fans – you’ll be more interested than anyone else to see the road she decides to travel. Our next letter comes from my very good friend, Steve Seinberg. Steve writes many fanfic titles all over the internet, but if I had to suggest one thing for you to read, it’d have to be his story “Mr. Grim” housed at Frontier Publishing (www.frontierpublishing.net). Steve’s always begging for feedback, so throw him a bone, dammit!
X3! Ya bastard! Here I am, about to unveil the appearance of bad Johnny Horton, the ghastly Griffin in my SVTU title over at AV2K...and you beat me to the punch! Ah, well, at least it's evidence to me that somebody else remembers the character -- and he's a damn cool character who deserves the airtime. I'm actually doing something a little different with him, too...plus, I suppose this'll pay me back for trumping Mr. Munn with respect to usage of Equinox, the Thermodynamic Man...
Hey, great minds think alike, especially when it comes to obscure characters. Oh, and for anyone confused by that Munn comment… keep an eye on HIS titles… it’s gonna be intense.
Anyway, I've been eagerly keeping pace with your CHAMPIONS series, and am really digging it. Since I had already been thinking of it as a great companion piece to Russ and Chris' AWC, it was also cool to read that you guys will be doing a crossover! Makes sense, since everybody is on the west coast. Looking forward to learning what you guys have planned. Major observations so far: I have to join the chorus of voices saying "how can you trust Eric Williams???" Still, having said that, I like the idea that Dane is trying to take the position that he, too, has nothing but suspicion for the ol' Grim Reaper, and is heading up the Champs as much to keep an eye on Eric as to do anything else. Pretty sweet set-up...and I'm also wondering if Dane will somehow get blind-sided here despite his best efforts at trying to maintain this "eyes wide open" kind of stance.
Dane’s trying his best, but the hits just keep coming for the fearless leader of the Champions. The relationship being established between Eric Williams and Dane Whitman is quite possibly the most important one of this series, and as is their nature, the two of them butted heads again in this issue. And they’re just getting started!
I'm liking the TV "super-reality" angle a lot, too -- lots of potential to both explore new hero storytelling avenues with it, and also to lampoon our society's fascination with reality TV (imho, it needs lampooning!!). Great cast choices, too, so far. I only know a few factoids about Sundragon from some research I'd been doing on her better-known cousin, but aside from her, I'm all over Firebird and the Falcon -- both great characters, and it's a genius move to "buy" their participation by donating tons of dough to their charitable organization. Still, this could definitely lead to conflict in the future, if, say, Eric Williams wants to start meddling in how the organization spends the cash. Or if the org. gets dependent on the cash, then Eric has the ability to threaten to cut off the flow if Sam and Bonita don't do what he wants...lotta potential in the set-up!
Can anyone else tell that this man is a writer? Great observations, Steve. The Champions show hasn’t quite “aired” yet, but once it does… look out! The joy of having Sundragon on the team is that she hasn’t had a lot of play in the Marvel Universe, so I can basically do whatever I’d like, and I absolutely love Firebird and Falcon. They’re great characters, and essential to my run on this title. As for the Helping Hands organization they both left to join the Champions… let’s just say that I have my ideas. And they’re not all rainbows and sunshine.
I am kinda wondering if you're going somewhere with the idea that the Champs are basically composed entirely of ex-Avengers. I can't tell if there's a point to be made that's coming up ahead, or if it's just coincidence because those are just the characters that you happen to like...? But it's not a *problem* with the book, or a bad thing...just something to think about.
It’s partly a result of the direction of the website where Champions is housed. M2K completely restructured the look of the core Avengers book after the death of the Vision – a death I took part in with Will Short – and I always wanted to come back to M2K and tie up some of the loose ends left behind. Champions was my way of doing that, and the concept has blossomed and grown from there. But keeping that in mind, after the upcoming crossover, I think you’ll find that Champions is a different animal from the Avengers and AWC. For good reason.
Anyway -- really enjoying the series so far -- you seem to be helping M2K enjoy a kind of resurgence of late! Hope you keep on having fun writing it, because it's the kind of stuff I really like to see in a team book.
Thanks again, Steve. I’m really having a blast writing the title, and hopefully the resurgence will continue now that Mr. Munn and Mr. Shirley are behind the whip. The next letter comes from Brad Horton, who writes one of my favorite X-titles… M2K’s X-Corp! Brad loaned me out another character for this issue, and you can find out just who that character is by going over to the X-Men Branch and reading his title… because I ain’t gonna tell ya!
Yep, it's that time again for my unofficial splurging of random reviews on a title that strikes my fancy...plus, it's sorta review-a-palooza here at M2K, just in time for Christmas, too. So, without further ado...it's Exner's turn to sit on the Silent Brad hotseat. Er...wait. (Bah, not THAT hotseat. Perverts...)
Whoa. That was a weird intro to a letter, wasn’t it? But what’s even worse was that this letter was written around Christmas time. Shame on me.
Anywho, let me just say I'm not a total huge fan of the Avengers/Heroes characters aside from a select few (and that's probably mainly due to my relative lack of knowledge outside the X-Men -- darn my close-mindedness). So, I was a little hesitant reviewing Mike's first arc. But the opposite happened. The characters all interacted with such richness and diversity and I felt like I could really connect with them. More on the cast later.
Hey, right on, Brad. That’s the kind of stuff I like to hear. I’ll tell you a little secret, I’m not a huge fan of the X-Men. I’m definitely more of a heroes guy, but the great thing about a community like M2K is that if you enjoy a writer’s work, you can read just about any character. And nowhere is that more evident than my respect for work such as yours on X-Corp, Cory Weigel’s on Iceman, David Wheatley’s on X-Force, etc. Now I better get on with this letter before I break out into a rendition of “We are the World.”
The premise of this new Champions is something that really made my mouth water. Okay, so Eric Williams (the former Grim Reaper and brother to Wonder Man and the late Vision) forms LL Incorporated and makes a non-villainous deal with Mephisto to resurrect Nuklo and his pappy, the Golden Age hero known as Whizzer (hehehe...the whizzer...ahem). The reason Williams did this appeared to be villainous at first, but it was really a way for his proposed team of Champions to get together and beat the threat of Nuklo, since he was going all critical mass in LA. A few squabbles between the "team" and dealing with a semi-rookie (Speedball -- compared to them, anyway), and Nuklo was destroyed and LA was saved. Yay.
Brilliant recap to my first story-arc. Brad is a talented fellow, isn’t he everybody? I knew it was only a matter of time before somebody made a comment on my use of the Whizzer, though… Bah!
Granted, the villain turned businessman Eric Williams appears to have reformed, but I just love the tension I get when I read him interacting with Black Knight and Wonder Man. Exner's Champions sort of picks up the pieces of what slipped through the cracks in Brent's Avengers and Chris/Russ's Avengers West Coast and ends up telling some pretty dramatic and kickass stories...as well as putting a new spin on this incarnation of heroes. Namely, these new Champs are sort of a new reality television show. Plus, along the likes of superhero teams being formed by a bunch of richfolk (Iron Man and AWC, Parvenue and Force Works, and even Archangel with X-Corp), Mike's Champions continues that trend, but keeps it fresh without getting ridiculously redundant. And that's just coo', foo'.
Redundancy is the enemy, but imitation is the most sincere form of flattery. So what am I trying to say? I don’t know! I guess what I mean to say is: It’s cool to try and put your own spin on an idea that’s come before. And that’s what I’m trying to do with Champions. I always try to remain as original as possible, so hopefully I’m doing a decent job.
Now, the cast is just really interesting. It's sort of made up of Avengers second stringers, but I don't think Mike believes this and writes them with confidence -- and it really shows in his work because the Champs are truly champions. You've got Black Knight, who's just really cool. Wonder Man, who's suddenly got a very serious side from all the events that have transpired here at M2K...and it doesn't bother me one bit. Hercules, who's kind of the Greek answer to Thor at times, but he's more unique in that he's lived among mortals longer...er...something. Speedball works, although he's tied up in Force Works at the moment...maybe he can pull double duty, I dunno. The other characters I'm not incredibly familiar with. I know some stuff about Falcon, but Firebird and Sundragon are coming up with big ugly question marks above my shaggy skullcap. That's not too much of a problem, because Mike references continuity in a similar way I kind of do in that it isn't that much of a burden to not know about these guys. And I look forward to learning more about them in the future.
Speedball is really the only character I’ve had to relinquish from my original plan for the roster, so I feel extremely confident working with this roster. One of the great things about working with characters that aren’t as well known as say a Spider-Man or the X-Men or the Big Three on the Avengers is that people don’t have preconceived notions about them. SO there’s no bias… I can just do whatever I want! Ah HA HA HA! Er… ahem. Moving on.
There isn't anything wrong with Champions as far as I can tell (hey, this is Exner we're talking about here). But if I had to complain: if I hear Hercules say 'Prince of Power' one more time...you and me are throwin' down, Exner. Hah, just kidding. But I will keep giving you kidney shots until you stop.
All in all, The Champions are back with a vengeance here at M2K, so check it out!
Hey! Thanks, Brad! That was a seriously sweet letter. I’m still peeing blood from all those kidney shots, but I think Herc may have only said Prince of Power once in this ish. Yeah! Okay, the final letter for this issue comes from Brent Lambert. Brent writes Avengers here at M2K, and he writes me a letter for darn near every issue I write for M2K. Brent, in a word, rules.
THE GOOD: The Black Knight’s visit to the Avengers Mansion is pretty cool since it features a lot of the guys I use and I liked how Mike picked up on the Ebony Blade plotline I had started up. I’m intrigued to see where he ends up going with the subplot. Sundragon and Falcon joining the team was also a plus. Both characters need to do great things at M2K. Champions is just the place for them to do such things. Griffin was also a villain I didn’t see coming, but I was pleased with the fight he had against the Champions.
It was only a matter of time before Dane returned to Avengers Mansion to claim the ebony blade and say goodbye to his teammates, but the ebony blade has a big part to play in the Champions in the future, and I think the Avengers and the Champions will be crossing paths again sooner rather than later.
THE BAD: Horace Jaspers little scene felt like it came out of nowhere really. It should have been at the end of the issue IMO.
Dude, that’s the bad? If that’s the only thing I did wrong all issue, I’ll take it every time.
OVERALL: A great series and destined to become one of M2K’s greats.
Well, I don’t know about that, Brent. But I can say without a doubt that you’re one of M2K’s greats, man. Thanks for the review. Again!
-Mike Exner III
February 9, 2004
The dark king sat upon his throne and surveyed the chaos he had wrought. Avalon lay broken at his feet. Her ancient pillars of ivory-colored marble reduced to rubble; her defenders, her priestesses staining the majestic trees with crimsoned ichor that had spilled forth from their blessed throats like blood-red wine over the rim of a jewel-encrusted goblet. The sacred lake stretched out before him, and he regarded the bloated corpses filling the water with an apathetic stare as they thumped listlessly against the abandoned wooden barges.
His red-rimmed eyes narrowed as a hunching figure advanced through the mists. A heavy, iron mace with jagged spikes lining its surface dug shallow grooves in the soil as the wretch advanced with fitful, ungainly steps. The dark king noted the unpleasant stench of death, the gore coating the figure from the crook of his arm to the final dulled point of his weapon.
The dark king rose smoothly from his polished, blackened throne and placed a single, gauntleted hand upon the hilt of his sword. The figure advancing through the mist did not pause. A brilliant light issued forth from the scabbard as the iridescent blade was drawn. The dark king took a single step forward and raised the sword before his eyes in the traditional sign of honor, his raven-colored tresses and bleached skin framing his weapon.
The shambling figure spit onto the ground at the feet of the king in response. His scarred suit of chain mail armor rattled as he hefted the mace above his head and brought it down in a shallow arc towards the skull of his enemy. The dark king parried the blow effortlessly with an ebon shield that seemed to appear from thin air, the vacuum of stilled air morphing to accommodate the enchanted object. The radiance of the arcane sword augmented as the impact from the serrated weapon reverberated through the shield. The dark king thrust with the sparkling blade and split the torso of his attacker, spilling a thick swath of blood onto the carpet of leaves falling in a constant stream from the withering trees.
The warrior fell to one knee, his gauntleted hands balling the cloak of the dark king in weakened fists. He gasped and a spray of blood peppered the face of the youthful lord before him.
“Y-you… are a demon… a devil.”
The dark king stretched his jaws like an untamed beast. His tongue slathered over his upper lip, consuming the droplets of blood adorning his face. His mouth split into an impossibly wide grin; his teeth stained crimson, his breath the scent of the warrior’s life-blood. He twisted the sword upwards. The face of the soldier lit briefly in agony, and then his features slackened, faded, and were no more.
“I know.”
THE CHAMPIONS # 6
"Swordplay"
Written by Mike Exner III
Los Angeles
“And here we are Champions,” Bill Foster said as he brought the Champscraft around, thrusters humming mildly as he settled the ship on the landing pad of the building they’d all been watching from the sky. “The Citadel. I know you’re impressed.”
“I know I am, Bill,” Dane said. “This is… amazing.”
The ground shuddered beneath the plane, and the landing pad began to descend. Bill pointed. “The hangar is on the top floor. A conveyor pulls the ship forward as we drop in, and the roof rises once the ship is clear. The entire process takes about two minutes.”
“Something else you designed?” Simon said, unbuckling his harness. He came forward, placing a forearm on Bill’s seat, leaning forward to get a clearer look out the cockpit. “I had no idea you had this kind of range, Billy.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Dane broke in. He kept his voice level, amiable, but his thoughts were churning again, suspicion creeping into his guts.
“Well, if you boys recall, I did build the original Champscraft for Angel, Natasha and even you, Hercules. My range as a scientist has improved over the years.”
“Aye, ‘tis a most estimable dwelling, Bill Foster,” Hercules intoned. “Mayhap e’en moreso than that provided by Angel when our untried band was first conceived.”
“Well, you can thank Eric for that. He’s the one who shelled out the dough, found the right backers,” Bill grinned. “All I had to do was develop some toys. And his support staff was more than a help.”
“Support staff? The techs I noticed on my initial walk through LL Incorporated? They didn’t seem--”
“Good people,” Bill interrupted. Dane eyed him carefully, but Bill kept his eyes forward. “And speaking of good people, I think most of you will recognize the man awaiting us.”
Standing off to one side of the approaching ship was an elderly looking fellow, his shoulders were slightly hunched, and he was wearing a pair of well pressed slacks with a crisp white shirt tucked into them. Simon stroked the back of his head. “Isn’t that--?”
“Horace Jasper!” Hercules boomed, slapping Simon good-naturedly on the back.
“Jesus, Herc. I’m gonna feel that for days,” Simon muttered sourly.
Hercules began plodding towards the rear cargo-bay door. “Forgive me, Simon Williams. My contentment knows no bounds.”
“Better pop the trunk on this heap, Bill,” Sam Wilson said with a grin, “before our resident demigod tears through it.”
Bill thumbed the control for the rear-bay door, and it descended, the ramp settling with a dim clanging sound on the metallic floor. Hercules strode out, and rounded the plane. Horace Jasper stepped forward to greet him.
“Mr. Hercules, it’s awful good to--”
“Horace Jasper, thou hast shorn thy mustache,” Hercules boomed, drowning out Horace’s voice. “It is a flattering, if un-godly, style.”
“Er… thank ya, Mr. Hercules,” Horace stammered. ”…I think.”
“Who is this fellow Hercules has such affection for?” Sundragon asked Simon as they made their own way down the ramp. Sundragon was hovering on the air. Simon had noticed Pamela floating a few inches off of the ground back in the hospital, and hadn’t mentioned it to the others. But after Simon had been checked out of the hospital and they’d clambered into the Champscraft for the flight back to Los Angeles, Sundragon had refused to be harnessed, and her strange custom had made itself apparent.
“I have no use for your restrictive seating,” she’d replied when Dane had offered her a seat. “In truth, only on rare occasions do I deign to touch the ground at all.”
“I’m not following you,” Dane said.
“She’s floating, Dane,” Simon piped up. “She’s been floating this whole time.”
“Well I’ll be damned,” Sam said from his own seat, he was leaning into the aisle to get a better look. “She is floating. I never even noticed.”
“I don’t think any of us did except for Simon,” Bonita said.
Simon shrugged. “Yeah, but I didn’t catch it at first either. She makes it look so natural.”
“It has become a quite natural phenomena for me,” Sundragon broke in. “I have been striving to improve my mental proficiency. My telepathy and telekinesis were granted to me very unexpectedly. I find that the only way to control the flow of forces within me is to exercise them constantly.”
“Sounds complicated,” Simon said.
Dane nodded. “I agree. But you seemed to handle the Griffin easily enough. It didn’t seem like much of a strain then.”
“His mind was that of an animal,” Sundragon replied calmly. “Manipulating such a primitive consciousness into silence was not a difficult task. It was a fortunate situation indeed, for his strength severely tested the telekinetic bonds I placed around him.”
“Aye,” Hercules intoned, “the strength of the beast was impressive indeed. Enough to quell nearly all who faced it, if not for our newfound ally.”
“Nevertheless,” Dane said, hooking a thumb at the seat, ”I’d still feel better if you strapped in for the ride. Anything could happen while we’re flying. We’re a fairly public group, and an attack isn’t all that unlikely.”
“And I assure you,” Sundragon stated, her legs folding underneath her in the lotus position, back straightening, arms and hands held snugly to her sides, “that I am as immovable in this state as any harness crafted upon this or any other world could make me.”
Dane grit his teeth, struggling to stifle his mounting frustration. “Look, Pamela…”
“Dane,” Simon muttered, nudging the team-leader with his elbow, “we should probably get going, shouldn’t we? Lot of miles between here and LAX.”
“Yeah,” Dane said with a defeated sigh. “You’re right, Simon. Let’s just get a move on. We can discuss this at a later date.”
“I look forward to it, Mr. Whitman,” Sundragon replied, and for the briefest of instants, Dane thought he saw something flash in her eyes, something disturbingly familiar. But before he could place his finger on the memory it stirred within him, the glimmer was gone, and Simon was firing up the engines of the Champscraft.
“Let’s get this puppy movin’!” Simon hollered, and they were underway. They’d flown without incident, and Sundragon hadn’t moved an inch from her meditative pose, despite Dane’s concerns to the contrary. And now they were back in Los Angeles, and Wonder Man gestured at Horace.
“Pamela Douglas, meet Horace Jasper. Horace, this is Sundragon.”
Horace dipped his head. “A pleasure, ma’am. Seems like there’s quite a bit more of you than the last time I was around, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“Well, we’ve been pretty active lately, Horace,” Dane said. “But I’m more interested in why you’re here. Did Williams refuse to compensate you for the damage done to your limousine?”
“No, no,” Horace replied, shaking his head, “nothing like that at all, Mr. Whitman. In fact, you might say it’s just the opposite. I’ve been recruited by Mr. Williams myself.”
“Um, I’m sorry?” Dane said.
Simon laughed out loud, and received a steely gaze from Dane in return. He ignored it. “Eric hired you, Horace?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“In what capacity, Mr. Jasper?” Dane muttered. His voice was flat, and Horace shifted uncomfortably on his toes.
“Well, y’see,” Horace started, paused, looked at the others, swallowed the lump in his throat, “Mr. Williams called me to his building for a special meeting… or something like that I suppose. And what he showed me was some footage. Uh, footage of me, I mean to say. During that ruckus you all had with that giant fella.”
“Nuklo,” Sam Wilson cut in.
“That’s right,” Horace confirmed. “So anyway, Mr. Williams showed me that, then he took me to his office, and he laid out a lot of papers on his desk. It was a big desk. And there were lots of papers. And he showed ‘em to me, and told me they were all about me.”
“About you?” Dane said, his tone sharp. “He’s been investigating you?”
“Well, yes and no. I couldn’t really read the papers, but what he said they were was some sort of complicated poll of public opinion. Something like that. He said it was like an investigation as to what people thought about me.”
“I’m not following this at all,” Sam mumbled.
“It’s a technique used to gauge ratings, Sam,” Simon said. “A lot of companies do it. They show a pilot to a group of people, as diverse a group as possible, and then project the popularity of what the people view by judging their reaction to it.”
“So what you’re saying is--”
“Horace,” Simon said, turning to the elderly fellow and gripping his shoulders. “They like you! They really like you!”
“Cut it out, Simon,” Dane replied curtly. “I can’t believe this. He’s added someone to our group based on public response?”
“Well, we are in a television program,” Bonita said. “So I suppose it makes sense in an odd sort of way.”
“No, no it doesn’t,” Dane growled. “What are we supposed to do? Take him on our missions with us? Is he Limo-Driver Man now? Am I going insane here, or does anyone else see a problem with this?”
“Mr. Whitman,” Horace said, and the tone of his voice was enough to stop Dane in his tracks. “I’m not exactly sure what the problem here is. I was hired on as the personal assistant to the team, which I’m pretty certain is just a fancy way of saying I handle the everyday business here at the compound. I’m your janitor, sir. That’s all. Nothing more and nothing less. I answer phones, maybe sift through the fan mail, and I pick up after the mess. Mr. Williams informed me that there’d be quite a bit to do, that my responsibilities will vary from day to day, and he’s looked over my resume. I’ve lived a lot of years, and worked a lot of jobs, so he felt I was more than qualified. However, if you feel like there’s some problem with me working here, I have no problem relinquishing my duties to the team. I thought you’d be pleased to see me, and I thought being accepted into this company would be an honor. I suppose I was wrong in that.”
“You weren’t wrong, Horace,” Dane said, his voice barely above a mumble. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so frustrated. It’s just been a long week.” He held out a hand. “Please, accept my apology. It would be an honor, having you join us. But the honor would be mine.”
Horace stood still, his hands in his pockets, the skin around his eyes bunched up, his face a mask of irritation. But then he nodded, removed his hand from his pocket, and clutched Dane’s in his own. His face cleared. “Thank you, sir. Apology accepted.”
New York
“Man, this is some crap. There’s no way we’re standing for this, right? I mean, there’s just no way. You know what we should do?”
Warren Worthington III rolled his eyes. “What should we do, Bobby?”
“Number one, we should go over there…” Bobby Drake said, holding up his index finger. “Call them out.” His middle finger lifted. “And then kick their asses!” His ring finger joined the pair. “A simple three-step plan.”
“I see someone still hasn’t grown out of their Spider-Man underoos,” Natasha Romanova, the Black Widow said.
Bobby shrugged. “Ah, I’m just kidding around. I don’t even mind that they’ve got our name, really. Herc’s on the squad, the big lug probably suggested it himself.”
“He didn’t, actually,” Warren replied. “And my concerns don’t stem from the group themselves. The reason I called all of you here is because of the man pulling the strings behind them.”
“Eric Williams,” Natasha said.
Warren nodded. “That’s right. He managed to purchase rights to the name out from under me, a minor legal blunder my staff overlooked. But the Champions name is still attached to my company and my name through the history I have with it, as it is to all of us. X-Corp doesn’t need bad publicity of any sort, so I think the best thing to do is handle this before it gets out of hand.”
“So you do want us to kick their asses,” Bobby said. “I knew it!”
“I certainly hope that is not the case,” came a voice from behind them. They all turned. Warren Worthington’s office was on the top floor of a daunting skyrise in the middle of the greater New York area, but the woman entering through the window had no trouble traversing the spire. Tendrils of darkforce energy fluttered out from around her body, and shut the window behind her.
Natasha lifted her chin. “Darkstar.”
“Natasha. It is good to see you, all of you. It has been long since we all gathered together.”
“I’ll say,” Bobby beamed. “You still look good though, Lania. Just like always.”
“Thank you, Bobby,” Darkstar replied, “but I am more than a little interested to know what it is that we’ve been summoned here for.”
“Not a brawl, I assure you,” Warren stated crisply, bringing the attention of the trio back to him. “We were all once members of the same band. The Champions. And the fact that a name we were all once connected with has been usurped by a man with the questionable scruples of an Eric Williams concerns me. I wish to speak with him about it, to find out exactly what his intentions are. And I would be grateful if the three of you would accompany me.”
“What for?” Bobby asked.
“A contingency plan, no doubt,” Natasha chipped in.
Bobby made a face at Natasha. “Well, duh… obviously. But against what?”
“Anything we happen to run into,” Warren said, folding his hands under his chin. “I feel confident that I can handle Eric Williams. But if the Champions have been compromised in some way, I doubt I’d be able to handle a half dozen super-powered operatives loyal to him.”
“So if things get rough, it’s the old guard against the new guard,” Bobby chimed in.
“I don’t think it’ll come to that,” Natasha said. “I’m as concerned as anyone with Dane’s decision to form a team under the wing of Eric Williams, but Dane and most of the others are Avengers. I’m certain they know what they’ve gotten themselves into.”
Warren nodded. “But all the same, I’d like to now that if push comes to shove--”
“I’ll be there to cover your backside, Warren,” Natasha smiled. “As always.”
Bobby jumped up. “Yeah, we got ya back, Warren G. You in, Lania?”
“I am,” Darkstar replied.
“Then it’s settled. My private jet is being fueled at JFK as we speak, so we’d better get going.” Warren lifted his glass. “Cheers.”
Natasha tipped her coffee to her lips, and a chunk of ice collided with her teeth. She gasped. “Bobby!”
Bobby grinned. “Shouldn’t have dissed my Spidey undies.”
Los Angeles – The Citadel
“Dane Whitman? Art thou well?” Hercules intoned, peering through the doorway into the spacious new quarters of his longtime friend and ally. Hercules had passed a number of rooms journeying down the hall, each with a different member of the team’s name stenciled on a tiny golden placard fused to the adjoining wall. Each of the doors had been pulled shut, but Dane Whitman had foregone closing his own upon entering. Hercules waited for a response, and when none came, cleared the threshold and stepped inside.
The room itself was decorated with a number of pieces of art and medieval weaponry. Large pieces of furniture clad in black leather were strewn about in convenient places. There was a desk with a sleek-looking monitor and computer. Hercules crossed the room and regarded a large broadsword mounted on the far wall. The weapon did not look as though it were crafted by modern techniques, or purchased from Ebay or the Home Shopping Network. It was an old blade. Tainted by history. Familiar with blood and battle.
“Williams goes all out,” a voice said from behind him. Hercules turned. Dane Whitman was standing in the doorway leading to the bathroom. His face looked haggard and worn. Water streamed from the light smattering of stubble that clung to his cheeks, his eyes were bloodshot. He pressed a towel to his face, and tossed it onto the arm of one of the leather chairs. Dane pointed a thumb at one of the paintings. “How do you suppose Eric Williams found out I had a thing for Bosch?”
Hercules ignored the question. “Thy departure was taken in much haste.”
“Yeah, well, I figured after I verbally abused an elderly man right in front of everyone, I should probably take a powder,” Dane said. He sat down heavily on the leather couch. “I think I’m losing it, Herc.”
Hercules frowned. “What dost thou mean?”
Dane shrugged. “You’re practically a god, so I’m sure this isn’t something you’re faced with very often, but… have you ever felt like no matter what you do, it’s just not enough? No matter how you think something through, no matter how well you prepare, no matter how hard you train, or how hard you try, it’s like you’re doomed to failure from the start?”
Dane looked up briefly. Hercules was looking at him steadily, but when the demigod didn’t reply, Dane let his chin fall back to his chest.
“I’ve almost been killed twice now, Herc. The Whizzer had me on my last legs. If I hadn’t lucked into that shard of glass getting stuck in my glove…
“And the Griffin,” Dane chuckled. “That monster would have torn me apart if it hadn’t been for Simon. I’d be dead right now. And the sickest thing about that is I gave the Griffin all I had. And I should have had him too. I slipped under his legs, climbed on his back and stuck the blade of my photonic sword right in his head. Right where his skull met his spine. It should have been over.
“But I was outclassed from the start. I just didn’t realize it. I never expected that monster to shrug off the blow. I thought I had the fight won, and now my ribs do a little waltz on my nervous system every time I move. Hell, it hurts just to breathe.
“But at least I’m breathing, right? Simon almost died. The Whizzer is dead. And it doesn’t even matter that dying was what he wanted all along. That killing himself once Nuklo went critical was his plan from the start. My blade still pierced his chest. Still made it that much easier for his heart to burst from the strain of him speeding it up.
“You were not to blame for the death of Robert Frank, Dane,” Hercules intoned. Dane looked up at him again.
“And in my head I know that, Herc. But in my heart…
“I swore I’d never take another life after I slew the Supreme Intelligence.* The way he screamed, it was like a piece of my soul was sucked away. I never wanted to feel that way again. I promised myself I never would.”
[*The attempt came in Marvel’s Avengers #347 – Mike]
Hercules spread his hands. “Thou hast liberated countless scores from the gates of Hades himself, Dane Whitman. Thou art a scourge to my evil-hearted brother. Surely thou dost see this?”
“But there’s no room for error, Herc. And it’s not like I’m making excuses, because I knew that when I first pulled on the armor of my uncle. He made me promise him on his deathbed that I’d restore the honor of my family, and I’ve tried my damnedest to do just that. But Simon almost died because I couldn’t cut it. And if my mind isn’t capable of crafting a weapon sturdy enough to battle the menaces we face on a regular basis, then maybe it’s time I went back to the old ways.”
Hercules straightened. “Thou dost not mean thy ebony blade? The curse placed ‘pon that enchanted weapon would damn thee, Dane Whitman. ‘Tis --”
“Relax, Herc,” Dane said, shaking his head. “I… I thought about it. And the ebony blade would have taken out the Griffin in short order. I’m sure of that. But I couldn’t use it. It corrupted me when I used it during the Crusades, when I fought for King Richard in the form of my ancestor,* and it’s grown so powerful now that anyone who shed blood with it would be transformed into a blood wraith. I couldn’t take that chance.”
[* BK decided to fight in the Crusades in Marvel’s Defenders #11 – Mike]
“Then what dost thou intend to do?”
“When I was running with the Defenders, the ebony blade was given back to me without explanation.* I never found out exactly why it happened, and I’ve been in this league long enough to know that most of these things happen for a reason, so I didn’t sweat it much at the time. And when Proctor put all of the blades from all of the realities he’d destroyed together to make the sword I have now, I knew there was no way I could let him hold onto it. And then the Champions happened, and it all came in such a rush that I completely forgot about the weaponry I had before the ebony blade reappeared.”
[*In M2K’s Defenders title… sheesh – Mike]
“The sword of light and shield of night,” Hercules said.
Dane nodded. “Gifts from the Lady of the Lake herself. I summoned them with a magical amulet, but when the ebony blade returned to my hands, the amulet disappeared.”
Dane ran his hands over the stubble on his face. “I’m a scientist, Herc. I always have been. But I’ve used magic for the better part of my career as a superhero. It’s like I’m two people, and neither one of them is really me. Or I’ve ridden the line between them for so long that neither one is even familiar to me anymore. And I’ve decided that I’ve got to do something about it.”
Dane got up off the couch. The helmet of the Black Knight sat on the small coffee table in front of him. He stooped down, picked it up and placed it on his head. “I’m going to Avalon.”
LL Incorporated
“You’re what!?”
“I’m going to Avalon, Williams. Right this second. I have some things I need to take care of.”
“That, Whitman,” Eric Williams growled, “is the most ridiculous notion I’ve ever heard. You are the leader of the Champions. You can’t just… just flit off whenever you please. On a whim!”
“It’s not a whim, Williams,” Dane said, a gravelly tone beginning to form in his own words now. “It’s been a long time coming. And if you expect me to continue leading this team, you’ll grant me this request immediately.”
“I think I’ve been more than accommodating to all of your requests up to this point, Whitman. I’ve accepted unauthorized members to the team, brushed aside your blatant disrespect for me. You’ve removed property from LL Incorporated without even a word--”
“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?”
“That is hardly the point. The point is that we are in a working relationship, Whitman. I am your employer, and you are my employee. Whether you like it or you don’t, that is the fact of the matter. I expect to be treated with… with respect, and decency and common damn courtesy.”
Dane nodded. “Do you like Bosch?”
“What?”
“Hieronymous Bosch. The painter. You a fan?”
“I… no. I am aware of him, but I’m not very familiar with his work.”
“But you knew I enjoyed his work, Williams. And you didn’t know because you asked me during idle conversation. You knew because you researched me. I’m sure you and your people studied me like a rat in a cage. I’m sure you did it to everyone you handpicked for this little project of yours. And you’re probably scrambling to find out every last little thing you can about every other person I recruited without your permission.”
Dane got to his feet. “That’s why you don’t have my respect, or my admiration, or whatever the hell else it is you desire from me, Williams. You can read a file, and buy a painting, and fill this complex with all kinds of fancy gadgets. But you can’t buy my favor. You have to earn it. Just like everybody else.”
Dane Whitman turned on his heel and walked to the door. He paused at the knob, and turned back to Eric Williams with a forced smile. “I’ll be gone a couple days at the most… boss.” I’m leaving Simon in charge, unless you got a problem with that.”
But before Eric Williams could open his mouth to reply, Dane was out the door.
“I hath decided to go with thee, Dane Whitman.”
“Jesus, Herc!” Dane exclaimed as he closed the door to Eric Williams’ office. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. You nearly gave me a stroke.”
“Thou hast inspired the son of Olympus,” Hercules said, throwing a bulky arm around Dane’s shoulder. “Whatever thou shouldst face beyond the sacred waters of the lake, thou shalt not face it alone.”
“I appreciate it, Herc. I let the others know before I went to see Williams, and asked Sam to warm up the Champscraft for me. What’d you do, stow away or--?”
Dane paused, and turned around.
“Son of a bitch.”
“Hello, Dane,” the voice of Eric Williams boomed from out of the silver orb hovering just behind the two heroes. “I was very moved by your words of wisdom earlier in my office. So moved, in fact, that I taped the whole thing for posterity; just as I taped your earlier conversation with Hercules back in your room. You really are a beautiful speaker. The camera just loves you. And that’s why I’m sure you’ll find no problem with this particular camera accompanying you on your little field trip.”
Dane squeezed his hands into fists. “That camera--”
“This camera is the property of LL Incorporated. As is the aircraft you’re making your journey in. You will not damage either in any way. You agreed to be filmed 24 hours a day and 7 days a week when you signed your contract, Whitman. And I don’t give a damn if you visit the devil himself, you’re going to have a camera on you when you do it. Oh, and I give you my permission to take Hercules along with you, so don’t you worry your little head about it one second more. And please, Dane, from the bottom of my heart… have a wonderful time.”
There was a crackle of static, and the audio connection on the Eye in the Sky was terminated. Dane sighed. He had to force himself to ignore the urge to put his photonic sword through the lens of the high-priced camera.
He turned to Hercules, and the expression on the demigod’s face gave him pause. Hercules’ eyes narrowed.
“Didst he say permission?”
Dane could only laugh.
Eric Williams reclined in his chair. The panel concealing his array of television monitors slid away, and he regarded Dane Whitman and Hercules as they made their way to the landing pad on the roof of the building. He pressed a button on his control panel, and the view on a number of the screens shifted, one revealing the training room of the Citadel. Falcon and Firebird were engaged in a combat simulation, and Sam Wilson was flying circles around his younger teammate. In another room, Wonder Man was trying to converse with the enigmatic Sundragon while she hovered in the lotus position, her eyes closed, obviously in deep meditation. Simon wasn’t getting the hint. Horace Jasper was heading down the hall for the shower, wrapped in a plush white towel. Eric quickly altered the view.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The noise came from behind him, but Eric ignored it. Wind gusts were common at this height, and it had taken him the better part of a month before he got used to ignoring the strange groans and creaks of the LL Incorporated building. He hit another button on his control panel, and a half dozen voices and sounds assaulted his senses all at once, he toyed with the controls until only Falcon and Firebird’s mock combat was audible. He would be going over all this footage later on in the week, determining what exactly to keep and what to cut for the two-hour premiere of Champions. A daunting prospect, considering the happenings of the last few days.
Tunk. Tunk. TUNK!
Eric jumped up from his seat, his hand reflexively darting underneath his desk to thumb the button that would summon his security personnel. He whirled around, and his jaw dropped. His first thought was that there was an angel outside his window. The man had ivory wings sprouting from his back, and they drafted the air neatly, the man himself held nearly motionless amidst the whirling gusts, his blond hair flowing behind his head, his lean, athletic physique framed by the blazing sun.
The angel knocked again. Eric pressed another button, and his window slid open.
“It’s about damn time, Williams,” the man said as he dropped to the ground, his wings folding compactly behind him. “I’m a fairly resilient fellow, but it’s still rather cold out today.”
“I… apologize. I wasn’t expecting any visitors to call on me through my fortieth-story window today, ah, Mr. Worthington, was it?”
“I’m certain you know exactly what my name is, Williams,” Warren Worthington said. “Your legal staff and mine have become quite familiar over these last few months.”
“Indeed. And you’ve made quite the spectacle of yourself with your little band of mutants, haven’t you?”
“X-Corp is doing just fine, Williams. Not that it’s any real concern of yours.”
“Please, Mr. Worthington, during office hours I prefer to be addressed as Mr.Williams. And I can assure you that I have no interest in your mutant employees whatsoever. Your kind has never much interested me. But then again, I’m not the one spying outside your window during business hours, so I suppose you can’t say the same.”
“Hardly spying, Mr. Williams,” Warren replied. “But you must admit, yours is a fascinating venture. And since you were so good as to pilfer the name of a group I had a number of ties to, it’s only a natural course of action for… my kind and I to make sure everything happening here is legitimate.
“I didn’t see your badge,” Eric growled, “or your warrant. My security personnel are on the way. If you don’t leave immediately, I will have you shot.”
“I doubt very much that your security could enforce such a threat, Mr. Williams,” Warren replied. “But it hardly matters. I’m paying your team a visit. I thought it simple courtesy to inform you beforehand. So now you know. I had hoped to do this civilly, but obviously that word does not apply to you. I don’t need permission. I fly where I please. And if I find anything amiss, rest assured I’ll be back here, and you’ll be answering to a higher authority than I.”
Eric scowled. “You’re not welcome at the Citadel, Worthington. So why don’t you take whatever mutie playmates you brought with you and go home.”
“It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?” Warren laughed, but before Eric could respond, he took wing, and a huge rush of air pushed Eric Williams back into his seat.
“Bastard,” Eric fumed. “I should have that slime killed on principle.”
The clomping of boots preceded the slamming of his oak doors as Eric’s security force burst into the room.
“You idiots are late. You’re all fired as soon as I find replacements, I’m too important to--” Eric paused. His eyes lit up with a wild gleam. “Get out, all of you. I need to be alone.”
His men fled hastily, closing the door behind them, but Eric Williams didn’t see them leave, or even notice their departure. All he saw was a single television screen, depicting images of four heroes: Archangel, the Black Widow, Iceman and Darkstar, all former Champions, all converging on the headquarters of his Champions. The gears began to turn, and Eric Williams smiled. A two-hour premiere might not be enough time for the show after all.
Next Issue: Battle Royal!
Champion Lovers
Been a little while since I released one of these issues, so I had to go back – WAY back! – back into time to find the letters that were sent after issue #5 came out. Now, I found most of them, but if you sent me a letter and I didn’t include it, feel free to write me a letter on #6, and I promise I’ll respond. Because I love you all. I really really do. Ha HA! Our first letter comes from Jason Eberly. Jason writes Black Widow here at M2K and it’s a great read. Jason is also another of the fantastic people who let me swipe a character, Black Widow herself, for this very issue. Jason wrote a review of Champs #1-4, but #5 came out so rapidly that I didn’t have a chance to respond to his letter in the issue. But did that stop Jason? No! He wrote ANOTHER letter about Champs #5. And here it is:
It took me a long time to be able to find words of praise for Mike Exner's Champions #5 that wouldn't sound like I was just repeating my review for Champs #'s 1-4.
See, told ya he reviewed ‘em.
In fact, I still can't find the words. Let's just say that I have nothing but praise for this book. My only words of non-praise aren't really words of non-praise, but more like words of things I would like to see, and possibly will see them in the future.
Agh! There goes my head swelling up again. Thanks, Jase.
I did want to make a specific comment on Dane's talk with Thor. This was handled so beautifully, in my opinion. People tend to forget that before Thor "officially" appeared in the Marvel U, that he was quite the ass. It was due to his behavior that Odin stuck him in the form of the crippled Don Blake in order to teach him humility. But really, would a lesson that only lasted a few years (Marvel time) really be able to undo millenia of ingrained behavior? I think Mike really nailed Thor's true attitude beneath the veneer of nobility Thor professes. Great job.
Thanks again, Jase. I never thought of Thor as the kind of guy – or god – to hold his tongue, like, ever. Thor is one of the more loyal and noble heroes in the Marvel Universe, so how else could he react to a member of his team going off to work for a supervillain?
The one thing that I would like to have seen in this issue, however, is more of a to-do between Hercules and the Griffin. This was a battle right up Herc's alley. After all, he made a name for himself defeating mythical-type creatures in ancient Greece. I feel he would have had more of a gleeful attitude approaching his confrontation with Griffin than he did. Granted, he's a couple millenia older now, but Herc's still a big kid at heart.
Well, the issue was by far the longest of my run, and I had a lot of ground to cover. A titanic clash between Herc and Griffin could have taken up the space of an entire issue all by itself, but sometimes in a team book you’ve got to make sacrifices, and this just happened to be one of those cases. Herc’s fierce attitude towards the Griffin was more a reflection of what the creature had done to his teammates rather than of his own personality. Have no fear, there’ll be plenty of opportunities for Herc to cut loose in the future.
Also, I must say that, as probably the only other person at this site who actually knows who Sundragon is (from the late, lamented Solo Avengers/Avengers Spotlight series), it's great to see her. Any chance of us seeing Isaac Christian, the former Gargoyle who was last seen in a crystal around Sunny's neck? I know the Gargoyle body was featured in M2K's Defenders, but I don't think Isaac was inhabiting it.
Ah, Sundragon. My pet project. Stay tuned, Jason. Things will be picking up with Pamela sooner rather than later, and I think – as one of Sundragon’s two or so fans – you’ll be more interested than anyone else to see the road she decides to travel. Our next letter comes from my very good friend, Steve Seinberg. Steve writes many fanfic titles all over the internet, but if I had to suggest one thing for you to read, it’d have to be his story “Mr. Grim” housed at Frontier Publishing (www.frontierpublishing.net). Steve’s always begging for feedback, so throw him a bone, dammit!
X3! Ya bastard! Here I am, about to unveil the appearance of bad Johnny Horton, the ghastly Griffin in my SVTU title over at AV2K...and you beat me to the punch! Ah, well, at least it's evidence to me that somebody else remembers the character -- and he's a damn cool character who deserves the airtime. I'm actually doing something a little different with him, too...plus, I suppose this'll pay me back for trumping Mr. Munn with respect to usage of Equinox, the Thermodynamic Man...
Hey, great minds think alike, especially when it comes to obscure characters. Oh, and for anyone confused by that Munn comment… keep an eye on HIS titles… it’s gonna be intense.
Anyway, I've been eagerly keeping pace with your CHAMPIONS series, and am really digging it. Since I had already been thinking of it as a great companion piece to Russ and Chris' AWC, it was also cool to read that you guys will be doing a crossover! Makes sense, since everybody is on the west coast. Looking forward to learning what you guys have planned. Major observations so far: I have to join the chorus of voices saying "how can you trust Eric Williams???" Still, having said that, I like the idea that Dane is trying to take the position that he, too, has nothing but suspicion for the ol' Grim Reaper, and is heading up the Champs as much to keep an eye on Eric as to do anything else. Pretty sweet set-up...and I'm also wondering if Dane will somehow get blind-sided here despite his best efforts at trying to maintain this "eyes wide open" kind of stance.
Dane’s trying his best, but the hits just keep coming for the fearless leader of the Champions. The relationship being established between Eric Williams and Dane Whitman is quite possibly the most important one of this series, and as is their nature, the two of them butted heads again in this issue. And they’re just getting started!
I'm liking the TV "super-reality" angle a lot, too -- lots of potential to both explore new hero storytelling avenues with it, and also to lampoon our society's fascination with reality TV (imho, it needs lampooning!!). Great cast choices, too, so far. I only know a few factoids about Sundragon from some research I'd been doing on her better-known cousin, but aside from her, I'm all over Firebird and the Falcon -- both great characters, and it's a genius move to "buy" their participation by donating tons of dough to their charitable organization. Still, this could definitely lead to conflict in the future, if, say, Eric Williams wants to start meddling in how the organization spends the cash. Or if the org. gets dependent on the cash, then Eric has the ability to threaten to cut off the flow if Sam and Bonita don't do what he wants...lotta potential in the set-up!
Can anyone else tell that this man is a writer? Great observations, Steve. The Champions show hasn’t quite “aired” yet, but once it does… look out! The joy of having Sundragon on the team is that she hasn’t had a lot of play in the Marvel Universe, so I can basically do whatever I’d like, and I absolutely love Firebird and Falcon. They’re great characters, and essential to my run on this title. As for the Helping Hands organization they both left to join the Champions… let’s just say that I have my ideas. And they’re not all rainbows and sunshine.
I am kinda wondering if you're going somewhere with the idea that the Champs are basically composed entirely of ex-Avengers. I can't tell if there's a point to be made that's coming up ahead, or if it's just coincidence because those are just the characters that you happen to like...? But it's not a *problem* with the book, or a bad thing...just something to think about.
It’s partly a result of the direction of the website where Champions is housed. M2K completely restructured the look of the core Avengers book after the death of the Vision – a death I took part in with Will Short – and I always wanted to come back to M2K and tie up some of the loose ends left behind. Champions was my way of doing that, and the concept has blossomed and grown from there. But keeping that in mind, after the upcoming crossover, I think you’ll find that Champions is a different animal from the Avengers and AWC. For good reason.
Anyway -- really enjoying the series so far -- you seem to be helping M2K enjoy a kind of resurgence of late! Hope you keep on having fun writing it, because it's the kind of stuff I really like to see in a team book.
Thanks again, Steve. I’m really having a blast writing the title, and hopefully the resurgence will continue now that Mr. Munn and Mr. Shirley are behind the whip. The next letter comes from Brad Horton, who writes one of my favorite X-titles… M2K’s X-Corp! Brad loaned me out another character for this issue, and you can find out just who that character is by going over to the X-Men Branch and reading his title… because I ain’t gonna tell ya!
Yep, it's that time again for my unofficial splurging of random reviews on a title that strikes my fancy...plus, it's sorta review-a-palooza here at M2K, just in time for Christmas, too. So, without further ado...it's Exner's turn to sit on the Silent Brad hotseat. Er...wait. (Bah, not THAT hotseat. Perverts...)
Whoa. That was a weird intro to a letter, wasn’t it? But what’s even worse was that this letter was written around Christmas time. Shame on me.
Anywho, let me just say I'm not a total huge fan of the Avengers/Heroes characters aside from a select few (and that's probably mainly due to my relative lack of knowledge outside the X-Men -- darn my close-mindedness). So, I was a little hesitant reviewing Mike's first arc. But the opposite happened. The characters all interacted with such richness and diversity and I felt like I could really connect with them. More on the cast later.
Hey, right on, Brad. That’s the kind of stuff I like to hear. I’ll tell you a little secret, I’m not a huge fan of the X-Men. I’m definitely more of a heroes guy, but the great thing about a community like M2K is that if you enjoy a writer’s work, you can read just about any character. And nowhere is that more evident than my respect for work such as yours on X-Corp, Cory Weigel’s on Iceman, David Wheatley’s on X-Force, etc. Now I better get on with this letter before I break out into a rendition of “We are the World.”
The premise of this new Champions is something that really made my mouth water. Okay, so Eric Williams (the former Grim Reaper and brother to Wonder Man and the late Vision) forms LL Incorporated and makes a non-villainous deal with Mephisto to resurrect Nuklo and his pappy, the Golden Age hero known as Whizzer (hehehe...the whizzer...ahem). The reason Williams did this appeared to be villainous at first, but it was really a way for his proposed team of Champions to get together and beat the threat of Nuklo, since he was going all critical mass in LA. A few squabbles between the "team" and dealing with a semi-rookie (Speedball -- compared to them, anyway), and Nuklo was destroyed and LA was saved. Yay.
Brilliant recap to my first story-arc. Brad is a talented fellow, isn’t he everybody? I knew it was only a matter of time before somebody made a comment on my use of the Whizzer, though… Bah!
Granted, the villain turned businessman Eric Williams appears to have reformed, but I just love the tension I get when I read him interacting with Black Knight and Wonder Man. Exner's Champions sort of picks up the pieces of what slipped through the cracks in Brent's Avengers and Chris/Russ's Avengers West Coast and ends up telling some pretty dramatic and kickass stories...as well as putting a new spin on this incarnation of heroes. Namely, these new Champs are sort of a new reality television show. Plus, along the likes of superhero teams being formed by a bunch of richfolk (Iron Man and AWC, Parvenue and Force Works, and even Archangel with X-Corp), Mike's Champions continues that trend, but keeps it fresh without getting ridiculously redundant. And that's just coo', foo'.
Redundancy is the enemy, but imitation is the most sincere form of flattery. So what am I trying to say? I don’t know! I guess what I mean to say is: It’s cool to try and put your own spin on an idea that’s come before. And that’s what I’m trying to do with Champions. I always try to remain as original as possible, so hopefully I’m doing a decent job.
Now, the cast is just really interesting. It's sort of made up of Avengers second stringers, but I don't think Mike believes this and writes them with confidence -- and it really shows in his work because the Champs are truly champions. You've got Black Knight, who's just really cool. Wonder Man, who's suddenly got a very serious side from all the events that have transpired here at M2K...and it doesn't bother me one bit. Hercules, who's kind of the Greek answer to Thor at times, but he's more unique in that he's lived among mortals longer...er...something. Speedball works, although he's tied up in Force Works at the moment...maybe he can pull double duty, I dunno. The other characters I'm not incredibly familiar with. I know some stuff about Falcon, but Firebird and Sundragon are coming up with big ugly question marks above my shaggy skullcap. That's not too much of a problem, because Mike references continuity in a similar way I kind of do in that it isn't that much of a burden to not know about these guys. And I look forward to learning more about them in the future.
Speedball is really the only character I’ve had to relinquish from my original plan for the roster, so I feel extremely confident working with this roster. One of the great things about working with characters that aren’t as well known as say a Spider-Man or the X-Men or the Big Three on the Avengers is that people don’t have preconceived notions about them. SO there’s no bias… I can just do whatever I want! Ah HA HA HA! Er… ahem. Moving on.
There isn't anything wrong with Champions as far as I can tell (hey, this is Exner we're talking about here). But if I had to complain: if I hear Hercules say 'Prince of Power' one more time...you and me are throwin' down, Exner. Hah, just kidding. But I will keep giving you kidney shots until you stop.
All in all, The Champions are back with a vengeance here at M2K, so check it out!
Hey! Thanks, Brad! That was a seriously sweet letter. I’m still peeing blood from all those kidney shots, but I think Herc may have only said Prince of Power once in this ish. Yeah! Okay, the final letter for this issue comes from Brent Lambert. Brent writes Avengers here at M2K, and he writes me a letter for darn near every issue I write for M2K. Brent, in a word, rules.
THE GOOD: The Black Knight’s visit to the Avengers Mansion is pretty cool since it features a lot of the guys I use and I liked how Mike picked up on the Ebony Blade plotline I had started up. I’m intrigued to see where he ends up going with the subplot. Sundragon and Falcon joining the team was also a plus. Both characters need to do great things at M2K. Champions is just the place for them to do such things. Griffin was also a villain I didn’t see coming, but I was pleased with the fight he had against the Champions.
It was only a matter of time before Dane returned to Avengers Mansion to claim the ebony blade and say goodbye to his teammates, but the ebony blade has a big part to play in the Champions in the future, and I think the Avengers and the Champions will be crossing paths again sooner rather than later.
THE BAD: Horace Jaspers little scene felt like it came out of nowhere really. It should have been at the end of the issue IMO.
Dude, that’s the bad? If that’s the only thing I did wrong all issue, I’ll take it every time.
OVERALL: A great series and destined to become one of M2K’s greats.
Well, I don’t know about that, Brent. But I can say without a doubt that you’re one of M2K’s greats, man. Thanks for the review. Again!
-Mike Exner III
February 9, 2004