Made Men: Bola de la Beastia
Classified Location
Ramon Dantes knew he was too old. Too old to be working at Walmart and definitely too old to be wearing his old costume that made him look like an extra from a Western movie. The man sitting across the desk looked younger than him, and he was meant to be the dean or instructor of the college he was applying for.
"So, you want to join my school huh." The non-descript man stated as he looked at the fifty something year old with long greying hair covered by a wide brimmed sexton. "Let's see how you handle this?" He asked as his face began to boil and bubble to reveal a grey skull underneath.
"Honestly Senor Taskmaster I was expecting you to look like that." Ramon stated calmly. "I think most people would be."
"You'd be surprised." Taskmaster replied as he flipped a pen up in the air and caught it between the knuckles of his ring and index finger. "Any super powers?"
"No." Ramon sighed.
"That's okay, don't need powers in this business if you're good at what you do." Taskmaster reassured him as he placed a cross on the paper. "Any experience with high tech weapons and power armour?"
"No, quite the opposite, I use the bolas and occasionally knives." Ramon answered as he saw another 'x' placed on his form.
"Got to respect a guy who still uses stone age weapons in the era of the machine gun, repulsor ray and stun bolt." Taskmaster stated as he saw Ramon's slightly worried expression. "You can throw over things, right?"
"I can throw a football or a frisbee, even a boomerang if I must." Ramon answered, somewhat confused at this line of questioning.
"No boomerangs here, we only need one obnoxious jerk throwing them around." Taskmaster replied with a slight snort of laughter. "Any prior experience fighting superhumans."
"I fought the Beast once." Ramon answered proudly as he saw Taskmaster transcribe his account. "My boss El Tigre was stealing a gem from the museum when the X-Men turned up. I tied the Beast up and we escaped."
"Uh huh, which Beast was this?" Taskmaster asked as Ramon looked confused again. "Was this before he grew blue fur and looked like a cat?"
"Yes before." Ramon answered enthusiastically.
"I see." Taskmaster replied. "Well I'll make my decision by the end of the week, I wouldn't worry Ramon, you are far more qualified than most of the losers who come through here." He added as both men got up from their seats, shook hands and parted ways.
Ramon knew that he'd see the Taskmaster again.
At least until it reached Sunday and the end of his week's vaccination, the threat of returning to his mundane job looming larger and larger. He hadn't got the place, he never would have gotten the place, he simply wasn't super mercenary material, barely worthy of being a henchman. Lowering his head in defeat Ramon went to sleep in his chair, resigned to his fate.
Walmart, Springdale, Connecticut
"Ramon hurry up and get those bottles of water onto the shelves!" The inpatient manager snapped as Ramon struggled with a stack of five litre bottles of water. As he headed down the aisle to stack the product a loud CRACK could be heard, followed by screams.
"Ello mates, the all new and improved Spanker ere." A figure standing in the doorway announced as he walked into the store. "Tougher, faster and more and stronger than before." He added as he slapped a greeter who'd foolishly tried to charge him. His victim froze, red lines of energy coursing through his body before he fell to the floor. "Me instructor the Taskmaster wants some brand spankin' new equipment so hand over all ye swag."
Anger surged through Ramon, Taskmaster had taken on this fool who spoke like a cockney and dressed like a clown. While he didn't have his bolas, he knew he could make one. Draining some water from the bottles and using the strings of his apron, Ramon tied three weights to the cable. It wasn't great, but in a pinch, it would do.
"Cor what a slap up deal wide screen TVs are 100% off!" The Spanker exclaimed as Ramon walked towards him.
"Not for you." Ramon replied as he swung the makeshift bolas ready for the release. Seeing the danger, the Spanker ran towards him, reaching halfway to his attacker before Ramon released his weapon, the cord wrapping round the Spanker's feet and one of the weights knocked him to the floor, his paddle falling from his hand.
"I guess I'll be smacked up in the jail." The Spanker groaned as Ramon towered over him.
"I want you to tell Taskmaster that he will see me, Ramon Dantes, again." Ramon told the restrained super villain. "But it won't be as a trainee, it will be as an equal, my pride is intact and will never be broken, not by him, can he say the same after today?" He asked as he walked away from the stricken villain, his pride restored and his path once more firmly set.
Made Men: Daughter of the Waves
Chateau de Meutries, Outside Dijon, France
The two prison guards walked down the line of cells before stopping at one cubicle half way down the corridor. The prisoner, a woman in her mid-sixties, looked up from the textbook on marine biology she was reading, her ocean blue eyes still looking young and unfaded by age, as they approached her cell.
"They told you to show you the special cases, well this is Dr Jacqueline Trufaut, she killed a lot of people in her skirmish with Namor the Submariner." The more senior guard announced as she removed a bottle of water from her holster. "Hey Doc how long have you got on your sentence again?"
"You know how much Marion." Jacqueline replied as she looked the younger guard in the eyes, taking in her red hair, Cupid bow lips and green eyes. "A word of advice young lady, make sure you watch your back in here, it's not just the prisoners with predatory tastes in here."
"Don't listen rookie." Marion stated as she unlocked the cell door. "Dr Trufaut turned herself into a mermaid to fight Namor." She added as she sprayed the prisoner with water from the bottle. Before the guard’s eyes Jacqueline's body transformed, her body becoming younger as he legs twisted, merging into each other.
"You'll regret th...agh!" Jacqueline stated before screaming in pain as a searing wave of heat shot through her body, the transformation reversing as Marion locked the cell door.
"Let that be a lesson, never forget who has the power here." Marion announced as she sneered at Jaqueline. "Hint it's us and never them."
Unknown Location
A deep hiss sounded from the darkness of the prison, followed by the sound of shooting and fleeing guards’ feet. Awaking from her slumber, Jaqueline saw a guard fall to the floor in front of her, a harpoon jammed in her back. Stepping forward a dark-skinned figure that was part human part dragonfish stalked into the room, his flanks glowing in the low light helping to illuminate the spear gun he carried.
"This is her." The fish man stated as another figure moved from the shadows dragging two guards that appeared to be mummified in a white liquid. This one was female and appeared to be part cowrie snail, her hair formed of a pair of tentacles.
"It is Malacostes." The woman stated as Jaqueline walked up to the bars of her cell, enthralled by the humanoid marine creatures. "Dr Trufaut, the master humbly asks for your presence."
"Your master has a name I assume?" Jaqueline asked as Malacostes broke the cell door open.
"Dr Lumel Dorcas, he is a fan of your early work." The woman stated as Jaqueline stepped out of her cell. "He asks for a partnership to overthrow the cursed submariner."
"I bet he is." Jaqueline stated in a snarky tone. "Lead the way I suspect he has much to say and I have much to listen too."
Dr Lumel Dorcas had seen better days, the starfish DNA in his system made him hideous, but it had saved his life multiple times. His guest seemed fascinated by him, rather than repulsed like many of those who visited his submarine lair.
"Your plans for my restoration are exemplary doctor." Jaqueline stated as she finished reading Dorcas's brief. "I understand that the following work would be a partnership not indentured slavery."
"Your mind is your deadliest weapon doctor, I would not see it tempered." Dorcas replied as the woman, a figure who Jaqueline referred to as Nacre walked in dragging the bound guards. Jaqueline recognised Marion and the rookie guard she'd been taunted by just hours before her release. "I was hoping that you could recommend a species profile for these two when they go through recombination."
"The younger one should remain beautiful, I like her and it's only through misfortune that brought her here." Jaqueline stated as she walked over to Marion and smiled a sinister smile. "As for Marion, I imagine something disgusting will do."
"Doctor please don't do this." Marion begged as Jaqueline bent down and caressed her cheek.
"Let this be a lesson for you," Jaqueline purred as Nacre dragged the guards away, “never forget who has the power here. Hint," She stopped as she stood back up and watched as the guards wriggled like fish on a line in a last-ditch effort to escape, "it's not you...anymore."
Made Men: Butterfly Effect
Seadro-Wooley, Washington State
Vanessa Scott sat in the interview room dressed in a pair of shorts and a 'Yellow Cat' T-Shirt, her shoulder length ebony hair framing her pale face. She was nervous, she'd been here before but the two officers who'd arrested her looked serious.
"Miss Scott, you were at the scene of a homicide one week ago." Officer Rodd Aglais, a man in his early forties with a porn-stache and thick brown locks stated. "A John Doe was found in a motel room looking as if something had burst out of him and turned his remains inside out. Tell us what happened, who he was and we can put his killer away."
"I didn't get his name." Vanessa announced as a shiver ran through her body. "He was unimportant, just like I'll soon be unimportant."
"All life is important Miss Scott." Officer Pierre Maniola corrected her.
"Did you see who killed the John Doe Miss Scott?" Rodd asked.
"I did, but there's a story that goes before that." Vanessa gulped as she began to sweat slightly. "Can I have some water please?"
"Sure." Pierre sighed as he got up before tapping Rodd on the arm. "At this rate you'll be out on time to meet Tyria and the kids." Rodd whooshed him away and turned his focus back to Vanessa.
"It starts in the 1940s with a man called Dr Imago Vitroli but he became more well known as the Butterfly, one of the first domestic costumed super villains." Vanessa explained. "He robbed a museum and ended up fighting Bucky and Captain America, back when those things were accolades."
"Are you telling me an octogenarian killed that John Doe?" Rodd asked, as he tried to make sense of the Butterfly's relevance to his case.
"Yes and No." Vanessa answered. "Captain America killed the Butterfly during one of his heists. After his death that should have been the end of it, but one of Captain America's other enemies, Arnim Zola the Bio Fanatic, had other ideas. He flash-cloned the memories of Dr Vitroli and placed them in a new body."
"Arnim Zola was behind this?" Rodd asked as Vanessa groaned and doubled over. "Miss Scott are you okay?"
"I don't matter anymore, all that matters are the story and you. Zola’s Butterfly was different, something had gone wrong...he was more animal...more savage." Vanessa panted as she collapsed sideways onto the floor and began convulsing.
"Jeez I need help in here!!" Rodd yelled as he bent over Vanessa and went to put her in the recovery position, only to recoil at the stickiness of her skin. "Anyone I need a medic in here!"
"This is how the story ends." Vanessa wheezed as her stomach split, her skin peeling backwards as something dull brown coloured forced its way out of her. Scrabbling back on his hands and knees away from the creature Rodd went to open the door only to find it was jammed. Turning back, he saw the monster rise, humanoid in shape but with wings that fluttered, colour blushing into them, thick green liquid running down the needle like proboscis on its face.
"Stay back I warn you!" Rodd yelled as the creature stretched until it was its full five foot six inches in height before lunging forwards. Reaching for his gun, Rodd unholstered it and then dropped it as the proboscis jabbed into his chest.
"Get off him!" Pierre's voice yelled behind him as he stormed through the door and fired three shots into the creature, its body exploding into a shower of dust and scales leaving behind a bloody wound were the proboscis had been stabbed into him.
"I think we just found our John Doe's killer, and we can add Miss Scott to his body count." Rodd wheezed as he got to his feet, his hand clamped to his wound, the stickiness of his skin feeling alien beneath his fingers.
"You need to see the doctor." Pierre stated as he looked at Vanessa's shucked skin and then at his partner.
"I want to see my wife, my kids!" Rodd snapped as he stumbled out the door into the corridor. Trying to grab him Pierre was backhanded to the floor by Rodd as he stumbled around the corner to see a blonde woman, wearing a sundress and holding the hands of a three-year-old girl and a five-year-old boy.
"Rodd, we arrived early." Tyria stated as she looked at the officer. "Io and Icarus's bag is in the car packed for the weekend."
"I see." Rodd stated as he passed his tongue across the inside of his lips, the sudden sharpness surprising him.
"Be safe okay." Tyria stated as the kids ran towards their father.
"Oh, don't worry, they are the only ones who matter." Rodd replied as he looked down lovingly at his children. "Do I have a story for them."
Made Men: 'My Own Hero'
Timbuktu, Mali
Manfred Haller worked on the beaten-up Opal Astra and let his mind wander. The small car was not that complicated and he was a mechanical genius. He stopped himself, he had been a mechanical genius. At one point his company Haller Hydraulics had been the leading edge of exoskeleton design. So how had he gone from being a billionaire genius philanthropist to a simple car mechanic in a city in Africa. Well that could be summed up in one word.
Stark.
Tony Stark was a contemporary of Haller, one who'd moved into exoskeleton design after his capture and subsequent escape. In essence Stark and Haller were opposite sides of the same coin. Haller was a failed Stark or perhaps Stark was a successful Haller.
On the bad days this bothered Haller, especially since Stark had bought his company and stripped its rightful owner of everything that was his. Most days Haller was happy, his mountain of parts allowed him to supply equipment to the other mechanics cheaply, allowing them to charge less for repairs without losing too much money. Who said you needed to be a billionaire to be a philanthropist.
A bell sounded and Haller marched to the front of his garage. He had multiple clients, all wanting their vehicles fixed, likely it was one of them. The click of safeties coming off the AK47s held by the gunmen in his reception told him different.
"You Haller?" One of the gunmen, the only one wearing a beret with his combat fatigues asked.
"Yes." Haller replied as he held his nerve despite the firearm pointed in his face.
"We heard that you protect these people, that you make sure that they aren't hurt." The beret wearing gunman stated. "Well now you and your robot suit are going to protect us."
"I'd do that why?" Haller asked. Despite trying to pose as members of the Malinese Army they were too ragged looking, and each word spoken had an undertone of zealotry to it.
"Because if you don't this city, it's people will burn!" The militiaman leader snapped. "Our brothers need weapons and you will provide them!"
"I don't build weapons." Haller answered calmly as he saw the men fidget slightly, as if they were afraid of him.
"We don’t want your weapons we want the Imperial despot Tony Stark's weapons! You have one hour to be at the factory outside the city or we detonate the bombs, kill hundreds all because of you." As they turned to leave, the leader of the militiamen spat on Haller before stating something in French. Even if he didn't speak the language Haller would have got the gist, it was vile and racist to say the least.
Heading back to his garage Haller looked at his only intact exoskeleton, now relegated to a fork lift and reminded himself of the two truths, two faults that had led him here. The first was a belief handed down from his father, one that stated a man was always the hero in his own story, but that didn't make him a hero. It was only if he could help the people but not patronise them, not mislead them and rise up to defend them if he could, that he'd truly be a hero.
The second was the reason why Haller Hydraulics had gone out of business. The truth was that Haller could have competed with Stark if he'd been more ruthless, if he'd been willing to let his inventions be stained by blood.
Walking to a work bench Haller removed a tiny black box and cradled it in his hands;
Doing nothing would be a failure to defend the people.
Attacking Stark would be a betrayal of trust.
Trying to explain why he'd done what he had done would be patronising.
In short there was one thing he could do. As long as he believed he was a hero in one story Haller knew he'd be okay.
An hour later he arrived at the massive Stark Industries foundry, his arrival greeted by nearly a hundred militiamen all armed to the teeth. Some of them threw rocks at him, others spat and a large number threw insults at him.
"Where's your robot suit!?" The beret wearing leader yelled as Haller removed the box opened it and held the red gem close to him.
"Right here." Haller answered softly as his body swelled and shifted as the power of the desert found by chance coursed through him until Haller was gone, replaced by the inhuman bulk of a humanoid elephant, a Behemoth plucked straight from legend. "You have a choice, leave or suffer the consequences."
His only answer was an RPG launched at his face, the projectile detonating on his forehead, the Behemoth not even flinching.
"You think you can take us hero?!" The leader spat. Haller smiled as he charged into his enemies ranks, this was his story and he was the hero, of that he was sure.
Made Men: Ride the Whirlwind
Thirty Miles outside Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
The woman dressed in a 'Wasp' onesie sat in the chair, a memory book in her lap, eyes skimming across the photographs of the young woman held within.
"People always ask what made me. I tell them I was a storm chaser who fell in love with the wrong person. Being David Cannon's ex-girlfriend is a lot less harmful than the truth. The fact is I was once a hero."
The woman in the chair looked at the first photo, that of a woman with a pixie cut dressed in a paramedic’s uniform standing in front of an ambulance smiling.
"Not a hero who wore a cape, I was a real hero, helping people on the street. It was my job that led me to the thing that would change my life. I was called out to an accidental overdose; the victim had been using MGH and had knocked himself out."
The woman in the chair went to close the book, the sound of the cover echoing around the room. As she did a buzzing hiss could be heard and for a second she screamed, before the flying saw blade sliced through her forehead and pinned her to the chair, brain matter seeping out of the wound on her forehead.
"Too bad his powers weren't knocked out. He'd stopped breathing so we jump started his heart activating his powers. The entire alleyway twisted, debris was flying everywhere. I got unluck, his used syringe stabbed into my neck. There wasn't enough MGH left to give me powers, just enough to make me feel like my body, my genes were wrong, give me a taste of everything I ever wanted."
A green hand reached out of the shadows and retrieved the book before placing it on a nearby kitchen counter. Opening it the unseen figure looked at an image of the woman from earlier, in a hospital gown sitting in a wheelchair.
"Because of the ‘down’ associated with MGH withdrawal I was suspended with pay for the mandatory period. If I'd been working maybe I wouldn’t have been looking for what I needed...at least at the time."
The unseen figure turned the page in the book and stroked the picture of the woman in jeans and a crop top with a gauntleted finger.
"I found MGH, got a regular supplier, got my fix for my chemical dependence and a hit of adrenaline to boot. Things were fine until the money began to run out, as such I turned to selling my things, then selling myself and then finally just taking what I wanted from people unlucky enough to cross me. Eventually I became the villain...I became Pirouette."
The unseen figure smiled behind her mask as she looked at the clippings showing the costumed criminal dressed in a black leotard and tutu with razor tipped edges, a domino mask over her face and a pair of machetes strapped to her forearms. Turning the page, the smile became a frown as a clipping featuring the mug shots for a number of criminals appeared.
"Things didn't go well, especially when the source was killed in prison. A vigilante called Scourge decided to kill the man who'd supplied the MGH I'd been using to get my powers. Not only was Pirouette finished, she'd ruined my life, a short jail sentence and fine had seen to it that I had no job and an income based on crime. I cursed ever hearing the names Whirlwind, Scourge and Pirouette. I cursed myself..."
The figure closed the book and stepped into the light, revealing themselves to be a woman dressed in green armour with sawblades attached to her forearms, coming through the window, "...until I realised that now I could be the Whirlwind! Someone had the same thought, made the change permeant." The new Whirlwind remembered as she looked out the window at the armoured military convoy heading down the road.
Throwing the book up in the air she diced it with her saw blades and began to spin, a tornado 'tail' forming round her legs. "One day the memories of who I was, of Gale Day, will be enough to make me stop." The Whirlwind mused as she smashed through the wall of the apartment towards the convoy.
"Until then I ride the Whirlwind where ever it takes me!"
Classified Location
Ramon Dantes knew he was too old. Too old to be working at Walmart and definitely too old to be wearing his old costume that made him look like an extra from a Western movie. The man sitting across the desk looked younger than him, and he was meant to be the dean or instructor of the college he was applying for.
"So, you want to join my school huh." The non-descript man stated as he looked at the fifty something year old with long greying hair covered by a wide brimmed sexton. "Let's see how you handle this?" He asked as his face began to boil and bubble to reveal a grey skull underneath.
"Honestly Senor Taskmaster I was expecting you to look like that." Ramon stated calmly. "I think most people would be."
"You'd be surprised." Taskmaster replied as he flipped a pen up in the air and caught it between the knuckles of his ring and index finger. "Any super powers?"
"No." Ramon sighed.
"That's okay, don't need powers in this business if you're good at what you do." Taskmaster reassured him as he placed a cross on the paper. "Any experience with high tech weapons and power armour?"
"No, quite the opposite, I use the bolas and occasionally knives." Ramon answered as he saw another 'x' placed on his form.
"Got to respect a guy who still uses stone age weapons in the era of the machine gun, repulsor ray and stun bolt." Taskmaster stated as he saw Ramon's slightly worried expression. "You can throw over things, right?"
"I can throw a football or a frisbee, even a boomerang if I must." Ramon answered, somewhat confused at this line of questioning.
"No boomerangs here, we only need one obnoxious jerk throwing them around." Taskmaster replied with a slight snort of laughter. "Any prior experience fighting superhumans."
"I fought the Beast once." Ramon answered proudly as he saw Taskmaster transcribe his account. "My boss El Tigre was stealing a gem from the museum when the X-Men turned up. I tied the Beast up and we escaped."
"Uh huh, which Beast was this?" Taskmaster asked as Ramon looked confused again. "Was this before he grew blue fur and looked like a cat?"
"Yes before." Ramon answered enthusiastically.
"I see." Taskmaster replied. "Well I'll make my decision by the end of the week, I wouldn't worry Ramon, you are far more qualified than most of the losers who come through here." He added as both men got up from their seats, shook hands and parted ways.
Ramon knew that he'd see the Taskmaster again.
At least until it reached Sunday and the end of his week's vaccination, the threat of returning to his mundane job looming larger and larger. He hadn't got the place, he never would have gotten the place, he simply wasn't super mercenary material, barely worthy of being a henchman. Lowering his head in defeat Ramon went to sleep in his chair, resigned to his fate.
Walmart, Springdale, Connecticut
"Ramon hurry up and get those bottles of water onto the shelves!" The inpatient manager snapped as Ramon struggled with a stack of five litre bottles of water. As he headed down the aisle to stack the product a loud CRACK could be heard, followed by screams.
"Ello mates, the all new and improved Spanker ere." A figure standing in the doorway announced as he walked into the store. "Tougher, faster and more and stronger than before." He added as he slapped a greeter who'd foolishly tried to charge him. His victim froze, red lines of energy coursing through his body before he fell to the floor. "Me instructor the Taskmaster wants some brand spankin' new equipment so hand over all ye swag."
Anger surged through Ramon, Taskmaster had taken on this fool who spoke like a cockney and dressed like a clown. While he didn't have his bolas, he knew he could make one. Draining some water from the bottles and using the strings of his apron, Ramon tied three weights to the cable. It wasn't great, but in a pinch, it would do.
"Cor what a slap up deal wide screen TVs are 100% off!" The Spanker exclaimed as Ramon walked towards him.
"Not for you." Ramon replied as he swung the makeshift bolas ready for the release. Seeing the danger, the Spanker ran towards him, reaching halfway to his attacker before Ramon released his weapon, the cord wrapping round the Spanker's feet and one of the weights knocked him to the floor, his paddle falling from his hand.
"I guess I'll be smacked up in the jail." The Spanker groaned as Ramon towered over him.
"I want you to tell Taskmaster that he will see me, Ramon Dantes, again." Ramon told the restrained super villain. "But it won't be as a trainee, it will be as an equal, my pride is intact and will never be broken, not by him, can he say the same after today?" He asked as he walked away from the stricken villain, his pride restored and his path once more firmly set.
Made Men: Daughter of the Waves
Chateau de Meutries, Outside Dijon, France
The two prison guards walked down the line of cells before stopping at one cubicle half way down the corridor. The prisoner, a woman in her mid-sixties, looked up from the textbook on marine biology she was reading, her ocean blue eyes still looking young and unfaded by age, as they approached her cell.
"They told you to show you the special cases, well this is Dr Jacqueline Trufaut, she killed a lot of people in her skirmish with Namor the Submariner." The more senior guard announced as she removed a bottle of water from her holster. "Hey Doc how long have you got on your sentence again?"
"You know how much Marion." Jacqueline replied as she looked the younger guard in the eyes, taking in her red hair, Cupid bow lips and green eyes. "A word of advice young lady, make sure you watch your back in here, it's not just the prisoners with predatory tastes in here."
"Don't listen rookie." Marion stated as she unlocked the cell door. "Dr Trufaut turned herself into a mermaid to fight Namor." She added as she sprayed the prisoner with water from the bottle. Before the guard’s eyes Jacqueline's body transformed, her body becoming younger as he legs twisted, merging into each other.
"You'll regret th...agh!" Jacqueline stated before screaming in pain as a searing wave of heat shot through her body, the transformation reversing as Marion locked the cell door.
"Let that be a lesson, never forget who has the power here." Marion announced as she sneered at Jaqueline. "Hint it's us and never them."
Unknown Location
A deep hiss sounded from the darkness of the prison, followed by the sound of shooting and fleeing guards’ feet. Awaking from her slumber, Jaqueline saw a guard fall to the floor in front of her, a harpoon jammed in her back. Stepping forward a dark-skinned figure that was part human part dragonfish stalked into the room, his flanks glowing in the low light helping to illuminate the spear gun he carried.
"This is her." The fish man stated as another figure moved from the shadows dragging two guards that appeared to be mummified in a white liquid. This one was female and appeared to be part cowrie snail, her hair formed of a pair of tentacles.
"It is Malacostes." The woman stated as Jaqueline walked up to the bars of her cell, enthralled by the humanoid marine creatures. "Dr Trufaut, the master humbly asks for your presence."
"Your master has a name I assume?" Jaqueline asked as Malacostes broke the cell door open.
"Dr Lumel Dorcas, he is a fan of your early work." The woman stated as Jaqueline stepped out of her cell. "He asks for a partnership to overthrow the cursed submariner."
"I bet he is." Jaqueline stated in a snarky tone. "Lead the way I suspect he has much to say and I have much to listen too."
Dr Lumel Dorcas had seen better days, the starfish DNA in his system made him hideous, but it had saved his life multiple times. His guest seemed fascinated by him, rather than repulsed like many of those who visited his submarine lair.
"Your plans for my restoration are exemplary doctor." Jaqueline stated as she finished reading Dorcas's brief. "I understand that the following work would be a partnership not indentured slavery."
"Your mind is your deadliest weapon doctor, I would not see it tempered." Dorcas replied as the woman, a figure who Jaqueline referred to as Nacre walked in dragging the bound guards. Jaqueline recognised Marion and the rookie guard she'd been taunted by just hours before her release. "I was hoping that you could recommend a species profile for these two when they go through recombination."
"The younger one should remain beautiful, I like her and it's only through misfortune that brought her here." Jaqueline stated as she walked over to Marion and smiled a sinister smile. "As for Marion, I imagine something disgusting will do."
"Doctor please don't do this." Marion begged as Jaqueline bent down and caressed her cheek.
"Let this be a lesson for you," Jaqueline purred as Nacre dragged the guards away, “never forget who has the power here. Hint," She stopped as she stood back up and watched as the guards wriggled like fish on a line in a last-ditch effort to escape, "it's not you...anymore."
Made Men: Butterfly Effect
Seadro-Wooley, Washington State
Vanessa Scott sat in the interview room dressed in a pair of shorts and a 'Yellow Cat' T-Shirt, her shoulder length ebony hair framing her pale face. She was nervous, she'd been here before but the two officers who'd arrested her looked serious.
"Miss Scott, you were at the scene of a homicide one week ago." Officer Rodd Aglais, a man in his early forties with a porn-stache and thick brown locks stated. "A John Doe was found in a motel room looking as if something had burst out of him and turned his remains inside out. Tell us what happened, who he was and we can put his killer away."
"I didn't get his name." Vanessa announced as a shiver ran through her body. "He was unimportant, just like I'll soon be unimportant."
"All life is important Miss Scott." Officer Pierre Maniola corrected her.
"Did you see who killed the John Doe Miss Scott?" Rodd asked.
"I did, but there's a story that goes before that." Vanessa gulped as she began to sweat slightly. "Can I have some water please?"
"Sure." Pierre sighed as he got up before tapping Rodd on the arm. "At this rate you'll be out on time to meet Tyria and the kids." Rodd whooshed him away and turned his focus back to Vanessa.
"It starts in the 1940s with a man called Dr Imago Vitroli but he became more well known as the Butterfly, one of the first domestic costumed super villains." Vanessa explained. "He robbed a museum and ended up fighting Bucky and Captain America, back when those things were accolades."
"Are you telling me an octogenarian killed that John Doe?" Rodd asked, as he tried to make sense of the Butterfly's relevance to his case.
"Yes and No." Vanessa answered. "Captain America killed the Butterfly during one of his heists. After his death that should have been the end of it, but one of Captain America's other enemies, Arnim Zola the Bio Fanatic, had other ideas. He flash-cloned the memories of Dr Vitroli and placed them in a new body."
"Arnim Zola was behind this?" Rodd asked as Vanessa groaned and doubled over. "Miss Scott are you okay?"
"I don't matter anymore, all that matters are the story and you. Zola’s Butterfly was different, something had gone wrong...he was more animal...more savage." Vanessa panted as she collapsed sideways onto the floor and began convulsing.
"Jeez I need help in here!!" Rodd yelled as he bent over Vanessa and went to put her in the recovery position, only to recoil at the stickiness of her skin. "Anyone I need a medic in here!"
"This is how the story ends." Vanessa wheezed as her stomach split, her skin peeling backwards as something dull brown coloured forced its way out of her. Scrabbling back on his hands and knees away from the creature Rodd went to open the door only to find it was jammed. Turning back, he saw the monster rise, humanoid in shape but with wings that fluttered, colour blushing into them, thick green liquid running down the needle like proboscis on its face.
"Stay back I warn you!" Rodd yelled as the creature stretched until it was its full five foot six inches in height before lunging forwards. Reaching for his gun, Rodd unholstered it and then dropped it as the proboscis jabbed into his chest.
"Get off him!" Pierre's voice yelled behind him as he stormed through the door and fired three shots into the creature, its body exploding into a shower of dust and scales leaving behind a bloody wound were the proboscis had been stabbed into him.
"I think we just found our John Doe's killer, and we can add Miss Scott to his body count." Rodd wheezed as he got to his feet, his hand clamped to his wound, the stickiness of his skin feeling alien beneath his fingers.
"You need to see the doctor." Pierre stated as he looked at Vanessa's shucked skin and then at his partner.
"I want to see my wife, my kids!" Rodd snapped as he stumbled out the door into the corridor. Trying to grab him Pierre was backhanded to the floor by Rodd as he stumbled around the corner to see a blonde woman, wearing a sundress and holding the hands of a three-year-old girl and a five-year-old boy.
"Rodd, we arrived early." Tyria stated as she looked at the officer. "Io and Icarus's bag is in the car packed for the weekend."
"I see." Rodd stated as he passed his tongue across the inside of his lips, the sudden sharpness surprising him.
"Be safe okay." Tyria stated as the kids ran towards their father.
"Oh, don't worry, they are the only ones who matter." Rodd replied as he looked down lovingly at his children. "Do I have a story for them."
Made Men: 'My Own Hero'
Timbuktu, Mali
Manfred Haller worked on the beaten-up Opal Astra and let his mind wander. The small car was not that complicated and he was a mechanical genius. He stopped himself, he had been a mechanical genius. At one point his company Haller Hydraulics had been the leading edge of exoskeleton design. So how had he gone from being a billionaire genius philanthropist to a simple car mechanic in a city in Africa. Well that could be summed up in one word.
Stark.
Tony Stark was a contemporary of Haller, one who'd moved into exoskeleton design after his capture and subsequent escape. In essence Stark and Haller were opposite sides of the same coin. Haller was a failed Stark or perhaps Stark was a successful Haller.
On the bad days this bothered Haller, especially since Stark had bought his company and stripped its rightful owner of everything that was his. Most days Haller was happy, his mountain of parts allowed him to supply equipment to the other mechanics cheaply, allowing them to charge less for repairs without losing too much money. Who said you needed to be a billionaire to be a philanthropist.
A bell sounded and Haller marched to the front of his garage. He had multiple clients, all wanting their vehicles fixed, likely it was one of them. The click of safeties coming off the AK47s held by the gunmen in his reception told him different.
"You Haller?" One of the gunmen, the only one wearing a beret with his combat fatigues asked.
"Yes." Haller replied as he held his nerve despite the firearm pointed in his face.
"We heard that you protect these people, that you make sure that they aren't hurt." The beret wearing gunman stated. "Well now you and your robot suit are going to protect us."
"I'd do that why?" Haller asked. Despite trying to pose as members of the Malinese Army they were too ragged looking, and each word spoken had an undertone of zealotry to it.
"Because if you don't this city, it's people will burn!" The militiaman leader snapped. "Our brothers need weapons and you will provide them!"
"I don't build weapons." Haller answered calmly as he saw the men fidget slightly, as if they were afraid of him.
"We don’t want your weapons we want the Imperial despot Tony Stark's weapons! You have one hour to be at the factory outside the city or we detonate the bombs, kill hundreds all because of you." As they turned to leave, the leader of the militiamen spat on Haller before stating something in French. Even if he didn't speak the language Haller would have got the gist, it was vile and racist to say the least.
Heading back to his garage Haller looked at his only intact exoskeleton, now relegated to a fork lift and reminded himself of the two truths, two faults that had led him here. The first was a belief handed down from his father, one that stated a man was always the hero in his own story, but that didn't make him a hero. It was only if he could help the people but not patronise them, not mislead them and rise up to defend them if he could, that he'd truly be a hero.
The second was the reason why Haller Hydraulics had gone out of business. The truth was that Haller could have competed with Stark if he'd been more ruthless, if he'd been willing to let his inventions be stained by blood.
Walking to a work bench Haller removed a tiny black box and cradled it in his hands;
Doing nothing would be a failure to defend the people.
Attacking Stark would be a betrayal of trust.
Trying to explain why he'd done what he had done would be patronising.
In short there was one thing he could do. As long as he believed he was a hero in one story Haller knew he'd be okay.
An hour later he arrived at the massive Stark Industries foundry, his arrival greeted by nearly a hundred militiamen all armed to the teeth. Some of them threw rocks at him, others spat and a large number threw insults at him.
"Where's your robot suit!?" The beret wearing leader yelled as Haller removed the box opened it and held the red gem close to him.
"Right here." Haller answered softly as his body swelled and shifted as the power of the desert found by chance coursed through him until Haller was gone, replaced by the inhuman bulk of a humanoid elephant, a Behemoth plucked straight from legend. "You have a choice, leave or suffer the consequences."
His only answer was an RPG launched at his face, the projectile detonating on his forehead, the Behemoth not even flinching.
"You think you can take us hero?!" The leader spat. Haller smiled as he charged into his enemies ranks, this was his story and he was the hero, of that he was sure.
Made Men: Ride the Whirlwind
Thirty Miles outside Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
The woman dressed in a 'Wasp' onesie sat in the chair, a memory book in her lap, eyes skimming across the photographs of the young woman held within.
"People always ask what made me. I tell them I was a storm chaser who fell in love with the wrong person. Being David Cannon's ex-girlfriend is a lot less harmful than the truth. The fact is I was once a hero."
The woman in the chair looked at the first photo, that of a woman with a pixie cut dressed in a paramedic’s uniform standing in front of an ambulance smiling.
"Not a hero who wore a cape, I was a real hero, helping people on the street. It was my job that led me to the thing that would change my life. I was called out to an accidental overdose; the victim had been using MGH and had knocked himself out."
The woman in the chair went to close the book, the sound of the cover echoing around the room. As she did a buzzing hiss could be heard and for a second she screamed, before the flying saw blade sliced through her forehead and pinned her to the chair, brain matter seeping out of the wound on her forehead.
"Too bad his powers weren't knocked out. He'd stopped breathing so we jump started his heart activating his powers. The entire alleyway twisted, debris was flying everywhere. I got unluck, his used syringe stabbed into my neck. There wasn't enough MGH left to give me powers, just enough to make me feel like my body, my genes were wrong, give me a taste of everything I ever wanted."
A green hand reached out of the shadows and retrieved the book before placing it on a nearby kitchen counter. Opening it the unseen figure looked at an image of the woman from earlier, in a hospital gown sitting in a wheelchair.
"Because of the ‘down’ associated with MGH withdrawal I was suspended with pay for the mandatory period. If I'd been working maybe I wouldn’t have been looking for what I needed...at least at the time."
The unseen figure turned the page in the book and stroked the picture of the woman in jeans and a crop top with a gauntleted finger.
"I found MGH, got a regular supplier, got my fix for my chemical dependence and a hit of adrenaline to boot. Things were fine until the money began to run out, as such I turned to selling my things, then selling myself and then finally just taking what I wanted from people unlucky enough to cross me. Eventually I became the villain...I became Pirouette."
The unseen figure smiled behind her mask as she looked at the clippings showing the costumed criminal dressed in a black leotard and tutu with razor tipped edges, a domino mask over her face and a pair of machetes strapped to her forearms. Turning the page, the smile became a frown as a clipping featuring the mug shots for a number of criminals appeared.
"Things didn't go well, especially when the source was killed in prison. A vigilante called Scourge decided to kill the man who'd supplied the MGH I'd been using to get my powers. Not only was Pirouette finished, she'd ruined my life, a short jail sentence and fine had seen to it that I had no job and an income based on crime. I cursed ever hearing the names Whirlwind, Scourge and Pirouette. I cursed myself..."
The figure closed the book and stepped into the light, revealing themselves to be a woman dressed in green armour with sawblades attached to her forearms, coming through the window, "...until I realised that now I could be the Whirlwind! Someone had the same thought, made the change permeant." The new Whirlwind remembered as she looked out the window at the armoured military convoy heading down the road.
Throwing the book up in the air she diced it with her saw blades and began to spin, a tornado 'tail' forming round her legs. "One day the memories of who I was, of Gale Day, will be enough to make me stop." The Whirlwind mused as she smashed through the wall of the apartment towards the convoy.
"Until then I ride the Whirlwind where ever it takes me!"