S.I.C.K.L.E. MOTHERCARRIER
ABOVE ST. PETERSBURG, RUSSIA
It had once seemed like she’d been able to enter a bright new world. The darkness that hung forever over the populace of Soviet Russia, and the satellite states it had once encompassed, had left a bitter and disillusioned nation in its wake. Laynia Petrovna, the heroine better known as Darkstar to the world media, could understand that sentiment better than most. There had been a time in her life when there had been nothing she desired more than to escape the clutches of the Soviet Federation but, as with all things, her past had eventually caught up with her and drawn her back in. She couldn’t fault the logic of her agreement, after all it had allowed her to save her brother’s life, but Laynia knew the blame for their current circumstances rested squarely on her capable shoulders. Conscription into the Winter Guard had been a small price to pay so that she could see him smile again, or listen to his tirade on any number of subjects. It brought her a semblance of peace but the bitterness persisted within her weary mind.
“Laynia.”
Her reactions were slow, as if she had been pulled from a dream, as she turned to consider the equally disenchanted features of Mikhail Uriokovitch Ursus, the former Major of the Armed Forces and self-proclaimed Ursa Major. He was a burly man and she had known him since the traumatic events they had suffered together in childhood at the hands of Professor Phobos. It had bonded them for what seemed like an eternity but, as much as she had always appreciated his presence, Laynia saw him as another of her many recent bad decisions. He was returned to servitude out of a misplaced sense of honour and it was once she now wished she had never encouraged. Her brother’s welfare was her concern and hers alone, the former soldier hadn’t need to restrict his freedom to sweeten the agreement she’d made with the government. Still, he had and, when they had found themselves moving into the secular control of S.I.C.K.L.E., Mikhail had followed her and Nikolai as he had always done.
The russet haired mutant took a seat beside her as he contemplated his next words carefully. No-one knew as well as he that Laynia had become increasingly volatile since her return to Russia, perhaps except for Nikolai who remained her staunch confidante. “You seem so unhappy, little star. It’s painful to watch as your joy is extinguished with every second that you spend in Russia.”
She sighed. “It’s not Russia, Mikhail. It’s the situation we’re in. Bound once again to one international body or another but still, we can escape the servitude that’s required of us to fulfil Russia’s own self-interest.” Laynia paused, reconsidering her words. “No. Not Russia. The self-interest of men and women that continue to mismanage this country.”
“It reminds me of the simpler times of my childhood. Back in Blagoveshchensk,” he replied nostalgically, bringing a toothy smile to his face. “As a mutant, I was abandoned in the wilderness as you know. They hoped I’d die out there so they could be spared the shame of having ever had a son such as myself. A mutation such as mine doesn’t not allow something as simple as exposure to the elements to defeat it. I was raised in that wilderness by creatures far more caring and compassionate than anything I’ve ever seen in the human world.” His words were almost wistful. “So often people seem to serve only themselves, moving pieces as if they’re playing a game that’s theirs to win, but the childhood I knew before Phobos gave me more insight into the world, and what it can be, than I could ever even hope to describe.”
Laynia gave a soft laugh. “I sometimes forget when I’m talking to you that you’re Russia’s very own Tarzan. You’ve acclimatised so well despite everything.”
Phobos, the link that bound them, was also a topic of their greatest shame. It had been the beginning of the spiral that had led them into the service of the Soviet Federation, and the path of the horrors they would then find themselves committing. She reached out, placing her hand on his knee and, unexpectedly, he recoiled at her touch. It was unusual but, worse than that in her eyes, it was unkind and all of the ways Laynia had ever found herself describing Mikhail, she’d never used the term ‘unkind’. It was an odd sensation, he both clung to the fondness of their familiarity and seemed repelled by it.
“I apologise if I am interrupting.”
Before Laynia could concern herself anymore with the peculiarity of her friend’s actions, both mutants found themselves spinning to face the chromatic features of Vostok. He’d once served alongside them, in another life as a hero, yet in recent months he seemed to have become little more than a glorified butler to the Russian government and then to S.I.C.K.L.E. Laynia couldn’t help but wonder how the synthezoid had fallen so profoundly from grace and power. Yet, despite not being entirely human, she had found a remarkable kindness in him as he had assisted in nursing her brother to health. It was almost hard for her to imagine that he had once so cruelly served alongside the Supreme Soviets and almost killed her, as well as Mikhail and Nikolai, for their attempted defection to the United States.
Those memories seemed to be almost lost amongst the shadows of time.
“You aren’t,” replied Mikhail, rising from the seat and towering above his compatriots as Laynia also rose. “What is it you needed to tell us?”
Vostok nodded. “General Zaslon has requested that you join her in the War Room. There is an incident to be addressed. Follow me.”
Mikhail and Laynia did as they were told and marched through the metallic hallways of the Mothercarrier behind him. Neither spoke of the discomfort they had just felt from their interaction, it was an unspoken truth that simply hung in the air, and Vostok, focused and diligent, seemed oblivious to it. The Mothercarrier was a labyrinth of clinical design and every member of the Winter Guard, except for Vostok with his mechanical mind, had found themselves wandering aimlessly through it, lost. In the quickest journey they’d made to date, Mikhail and Laynia soon found themselves entering the circular room as Vostok took his seat. Her brother, Nikolai Krylenko, stood and held out his arms but Mikhail bounded forward and pulled him into a hug before she could reach.
“Kolya! It’s so great to finally find you here,” Mikhail smiled broadly, tightening his grasp. “I was beginning to think you would never get cleared for duty.”
Nikolai laughed. “It’s okay, Misha. I’m here now and that’s the main thing. It’s been too long since I’ve been allowed to see the world and I’m readier now than I’ve ever been.” Spinning from Mikhail’s clutches, he enveloped Laynia in his arms and drew her close. “Sister, I’m so happy to once again be able to stand beside you and face the enemy that will no doubt threaten us both.”
Laynia offered a soft reply. “I’m not sure if I should find that comforting, brother.”
As the threesome took their seats, Laynia took the opportunity to gaze around the room at the last of her cohorts. The red-dressed Anton Shostakov, the so-called Red Guardian and one-time symbol of Soviet Russia, wasn’t wearing his mask as usual. Admittedly, Laynia could see the attraction many women on the Mothercarrier seemed to feel as they looked at him. He was broad-shouldered with piercing blue eyes that were juxtaposed against his chestnut hair. He reclined casually. To his left was the dreamy-faced sorceress Liliya Tolstaya, better known as Fantasma, marked by her extravagant purple all-in-one and raven hair. She had personally beaten Laynia as a member of the Supreme Soviets and she remained distant from the Belarusian mutant.
At the front of the circling chairs stood General Toma Zaslon, her expression impatient and bewildered. Zaslon saw most of them as commodities to be used and deployed at her whims. It perplexed her how she could call them and yet they failed to appear at that exact moment. Her crow-black hair was drawn haphazardly into a bun, adding an extra severity to her stark features.
“Where is Belinskaya?” barked the General to no-one in specific, instead casting her voice into the claustrophobia of the room.
Vostok, his monotonic voice echoing, replied. “Doctor Belinskaya is attending her weekly check-up in the laboratories. It did not seem correct to disrupt something that could prove critical in the future.” His face remained expressionless, reminding them that he lacked true humanity.
“Hm,” she harrumphed. “Well, we’ll continue for now and Belinskaya can be briefed on the journey.” With a flick of her wrist against the panel, the holographic images burst to life in various shades of green. “This is an outline of Kazakhstan and if you focus on the highlighted area you’ll find the Khan Tengri mountains. They house another of our supposedly decommissioned science cities from the days of yore. We’re not quite sure how decommissioned the base is if the incident in Moldova is any reminder.”
There was an almost collective groan from Anton, Liliya, Laynia and Mikhail as they had been the four responders sent to Moldova’s ‘decommissioned science city’ only to discover that Grigori Andreivitch, the man better known as Firefox, had claimed the building as a base to further his latest attempt to collapse a government and build a criminal empire. Anton was especially vexed at the incident as Firefox had kicked his nose out of joint, the bandages had only recently been removed. Nikolai continued to shiver with the fervour of his excitement.
Zaslon continued, irritated by the audible disruption to her debriefing. “Kazakhstan was immediately vacated by the KGB scientists in 1991 and has been a black-light ever since. There’s no particular reason why we need to attend this base other than it’s out of the way and should be a quick closure. It specialised in bioengineering technologies and so, you will all be attending the scene. Belinskaya included if someone would care to grab her.”
Anton spoke gruffly. “Doesn’t it seem a little ridiculous to send all seven of us to close a base when there’s been no activity recorded since 1991? Even if someone or something has been locked in there, it would only take three or four of us to tackle any threat.”
“Are you second-guessing my command, soldier?” snapped the General. “Last I checked, I gave the orders and you followed them like the junior rank that you are. If I’ve decided that all seven members of the Guard must attend the scene then all seven of them will.”
He was silenced.
“Good,” she continued snappily. “You’re dismissed. Report to the hangar in fifteen minutes.”
Another flick of her wrist closed the holograms and the room darkened.
ABOVE ST. PETERSBURG, RUSSIA
It had once seemed like she’d been able to enter a bright new world. The darkness that hung forever over the populace of Soviet Russia, and the satellite states it had once encompassed, had left a bitter and disillusioned nation in its wake. Laynia Petrovna, the heroine better known as Darkstar to the world media, could understand that sentiment better than most. There had been a time in her life when there had been nothing she desired more than to escape the clutches of the Soviet Federation but, as with all things, her past had eventually caught up with her and drawn her back in. She couldn’t fault the logic of her agreement, after all it had allowed her to save her brother’s life, but Laynia knew the blame for their current circumstances rested squarely on her capable shoulders. Conscription into the Winter Guard had been a small price to pay so that she could see him smile again, or listen to his tirade on any number of subjects. It brought her a semblance of peace but the bitterness persisted within her weary mind.
“Laynia.”
Her reactions were slow, as if she had been pulled from a dream, as she turned to consider the equally disenchanted features of Mikhail Uriokovitch Ursus, the former Major of the Armed Forces and self-proclaimed Ursa Major. He was a burly man and she had known him since the traumatic events they had suffered together in childhood at the hands of Professor Phobos. It had bonded them for what seemed like an eternity but, as much as she had always appreciated his presence, Laynia saw him as another of her many recent bad decisions. He was returned to servitude out of a misplaced sense of honour and it was once she now wished she had never encouraged. Her brother’s welfare was her concern and hers alone, the former soldier hadn’t need to restrict his freedom to sweeten the agreement she’d made with the government. Still, he had and, when they had found themselves moving into the secular control of S.I.C.K.L.E., Mikhail had followed her and Nikolai as he had always done.
The russet haired mutant took a seat beside her as he contemplated his next words carefully. No-one knew as well as he that Laynia had become increasingly volatile since her return to Russia, perhaps except for Nikolai who remained her staunch confidante. “You seem so unhappy, little star. It’s painful to watch as your joy is extinguished with every second that you spend in Russia.”
She sighed. “It’s not Russia, Mikhail. It’s the situation we’re in. Bound once again to one international body or another but still, we can escape the servitude that’s required of us to fulfil Russia’s own self-interest.” Laynia paused, reconsidering her words. “No. Not Russia. The self-interest of men and women that continue to mismanage this country.”
“It reminds me of the simpler times of my childhood. Back in Blagoveshchensk,” he replied nostalgically, bringing a toothy smile to his face. “As a mutant, I was abandoned in the wilderness as you know. They hoped I’d die out there so they could be spared the shame of having ever had a son such as myself. A mutation such as mine doesn’t not allow something as simple as exposure to the elements to defeat it. I was raised in that wilderness by creatures far more caring and compassionate than anything I’ve ever seen in the human world.” His words were almost wistful. “So often people seem to serve only themselves, moving pieces as if they’re playing a game that’s theirs to win, but the childhood I knew before Phobos gave me more insight into the world, and what it can be, than I could ever even hope to describe.”
Laynia gave a soft laugh. “I sometimes forget when I’m talking to you that you’re Russia’s very own Tarzan. You’ve acclimatised so well despite everything.”
Phobos, the link that bound them, was also a topic of their greatest shame. It had been the beginning of the spiral that had led them into the service of the Soviet Federation, and the path of the horrors they would then find themselves committing. She reached out, placing her hand on his knee and, unexpectedly, he recoiled at her touch. It was unusual but, worse than that in her eyes, it was unkind and all of the ways Laynia had ever found herself describing Mikhail, she’d never used the term ‘unkind’. It was an odd sensation, he both clung to the fondness of their familiarity and seemed repelled by it.
“I apologise if I am interrupting.”
Before Laynia could concern herself anymore with the peculiarity of her friend’s actions, both mutants found themselves spinning to face the chromatic features of Vostok. He’d once served alongside them, in another life as a hero, yet in recent months he seemed to have become little more than a glorified butler to the Russian government and then to S.I.C.K.L.E. Laynia couldn’t help but wonder how the synthezoid had fallen so profoundly from grace and power. Yet, despite not being entirely human, she had found a remarkable kindness in him as he had assisted in nursing her brother to health. It was almost hard for her to imagine that he had once so cruelly served alongside the Supreme Soviets and almost killed her, as well as Mikhail and Nikolai, for their attempted defection to the United States.
Those memories seemed to be almost lost amongst the shadows of time.
“You aren’t,” replied Mikhail, rising from the seat and towering above his compatriots as Laynia also rose. “What is it you needed to tell us?”
Vostok nodded. “General Zaslon has requested that you join her in the War Room. There is an incident to be addressed. Follow me.”
Mikhail and Laynia did as they were told and marched through the metallic hallways of the Mothercarrier behind him. Neither spoke of the discomfort they had just felt from their interaction, it was an unspoken truth that simply hung in the air, and Vostok, focused and diligent, seemed oblivious to it. The Mothercarrier was a labyrinth of clinical design and every member of the Winter Guard, except for Vostok with his mechanical mind, had found themselves wandering aimlessly through it, lost. In the quickest journey they’d made to date, Mikhail and Laynia soon found themselves entering the circular room as Vostok took his seat. Her brother, Nikolai Krylenko, stood and held out his arms but Mikhail bounded forward and pulled him into a hug before she could reach.
“Kolya! It’s so great to finally find you here,” Mikhail smiled broadly, tightening his grasp. “I was beginning to think you would never get cleared for duty.”
Nikolai laughed. “It’s okay, Misha. I’m here now and that’s the main thing. It’s been too long since I’ve been allowed to see the world and I’m readier now than I’ve ever been.” Spinning from Mikhail’s clutches, he enveloped Laynia in his arms and drew her close. “Sister, I’m so happy to once again be able to stand beside you and face the enemy that will no doubt threaten us both.”
Laynia offered a soft reply. “I’m not sure if I should find that comforting, brother.”
As the threesome took their seats, Laynia took the opportunity to gaze around the room at the last of her cohorts. The red-dressed Anton Shostakov, the so-called Red Guardian and one-time symbol of Soviet Russia, wasn’t wearing his mask as usual. Admittedly, Laynia could see the attraction many women on the Mothercarrier seemed to feel as they looked at him. He was broad-shouldered with piercing blue eyes that were juxtaposed against his chestnut hair. He reclined casually. To his left was the dreamy-faced sorceress Liliya Tolstaya, better known as Fantasma, marked by her extravagant purple all-in-one and raven hair. She had personally beaten Laynia as a member of the Supreme Soviets and she remained distant from the Belarusian mutant.
At the front of the circling chairs stood General Toma Zaslon, her expression impatient and bewildered. Zaslon saw most of them as commodities to be used and deployed at her whims. It perplexed her how she could call them and yet they failed to appear at that exact moment. Her crow-black hair was drawn haphazardly into a bun, adding an extra severity to her stark features.
“Where is Belinskaya?” barked the General to no-one in specific, instead casting her voice into the claustrophobia of the room.
Vostok, his monotonic voice echoing, replied. “Doctor Belinskaya is attending her weekly check-up in the laboratories. It did not seem correct to disrupt something that could prove critical in the future.” His face remained expressionless, reminding them that he lacked true humanity.
“Hm,” she harrumphed. “Well, we’ll continue for now and Belinskaya can be briefed on the journey.” With a flick of her wrist against the panel, the holographic images burst to life in various shades of green. “This is an outline of Kazakhstan and if you focus on the highlighted area you’ll find the Khan Tengri mountains. They house another of our supposedly decommissioned science cities from the days of yore. We’re not quite sure how decommissioned the base is if the incident in Moldova is any reminder.”
There was an almost collective groan from Anton, Liliya, Laynia and Mikhail as they had been the four responders sent to Moldova’s ‘decommissioned science city’ only to discover that Grigori Andreivitch, the man better known as Firefox, had claimed the building as a base to further his latest attempt to collapse a government and build a criminal empire. Anton was especially vexed at the incident as Firefox had kicked his nose out of joint, the bandages had only recently been removed. Nikolai continued to shiver with the fervour of his excitement.
Zaslon continued, irritated by the audible disruption to her debriefing. “Kazakhstan was immediately vacated by the KGB scientists in 1991 and has been a black-light ever since. There’s no particular reason why we need to attend this base other than it’s out of the way and should be a quick closure. It specialised in bioengineering technologies and so, you will all be attending the scene. Belinskaya included if someone would care to grab her.”
Anton spoke gruffly. “Doesn’t it seem a little ridiculous to send all seven of us to close a base when there’s been no activity recorded since 1991? Even if someone or something has been locked in there, it would only take three or four of us to tackle any threat.”
“Are you second-guessing my command, soldier?” snapped the General. “Last I checked, I gave the orders and you followed them like the junior rank that you are. If I’ve decided that all seven members of the Guard must attend the scene then all seven of them will.”
He was silenced.
“Good,” she continued snappily. “You’re dismissed. Report to the hangar in fifteen minutes.”
Another flick of her wrist closed the holograms and the room darkened.
Issue #94 (October 2018)
Written by Gavin McMahon Featuring The Winter Guard Darkstar
Fantasma
Red Guardian
Starlight
Ursa Major
Vanguard
Vostok
General Zaslon
Gremlin
Titanium Man
Omega Black
Omega Red
Omega White
|
"Protection of the People"THE LABS – S.I.C.K.L.E. MOTHERCARRIER
ABOVE ST. PETERSBURG, RUSSIA “How much longer must we continue with these incessant tests?” asked the former neurosurgeon, Doctor Tania Belinskaya, as she sat atop of the metallic slab like a cadaver waiting to be poked and prodded by the constantly bickering scientists before her. “It’s been several weeks since I destabilised and we haven’t had another situation like it. I don’t feel like before. I don’t feel entirely human, not anymore, but I don’t feel the fear or heat that overcame me then either.” Tania had begun to feel much like a caged bird, no matter how gilded it may be. She had once held a promising life as a neurosurgeon, almost unheard of for a woman in Soviet society, but when her dissident father had ventured to Siberia, Tania had found a new calling by claiming the mantle of Red Guardian to save him and herself. It had led to her capture, her transformation into something beyond her imagination. As much as she wished that she could place all the blame on Sergei Krylenko, the doctor knew that plenty of it rested on her as well. She toyed with the leads that hung from her lithe body, watching intently as the scientists, Kondrati Topolov and Boris Bullski, manoeuvred around her. Boris grunted in his usual manner, cold and distant. Much like some of the other members of the Winter Guard, the so-called Titanium Man had been conscripted into service. Unlike them, his had been for the criminality that Russia and the world had endured during his years of anger. He’d thus far managed to remain a scientific consultant under the management of S.I.C.K.L.E. but even he was unsure how long he would be afforded such freedom should the time come that he was required for more. “This is beyond any of our control, doctor. Believe me, I’d much rather be pursuing any other venture than this.” Kondrati interrupted. “What’s stopping you? Leave.” The impish man brushed past the much sturdier man to read the results on the scanner she was attached to. “I, for one, am very interested in understanding how the radiation in your body has transformed you rather than killed you. And the effects of it may, in turn, effect all of us gathered on this god-forsaken tin boat.” “There’s no understanding what’s become of her,” snapped Bullski. “What’s done is done and we’ll do little but waste time that could be better spent on more fruitful endeavours. I’ve still to repair the Airstrike armour we brought from Svelensk.” He tutted. “Not that you provide any worth further than this, I suppose.” “Just because I’m fit for more than simply tinkering with abandoned armours,” drawled Kondrati. “Although, desiring the armours of better men has always been your way, has it not, Bullski?” “Stop,” groaned Tania as she leant backwards in exasperation, her swathes of black hair cascading down her spine. “You both talk about workloads and how much there is to be done but that would be much more achievable if you spent less time fighting with each other and more time working.” She looked at Kondrati sternly. “Now, what do the readings say?” Kondrati sighed, re-examining them. “You are emitting low levels of radiation that, whilst not harmful to your internal equilibrium, may cause harm in others if there’s persistent exposure. Although, we’d need to take readings of the radiation levels within the bodies of those you’re frequently in contact with.” He exhaled. “I do fear that you may not be suited for long exposures around other humans.” Tania’s face became disheartened but the door swung open before she could have time to react. Vostok appeared in the doorway. “Doctor Belinskaya, your presence is required in the hangar. We are to depart for Kazakhstan. I will explain on the way.” Tania bound from the table, pulling leads from her body, and stormed towards the doorway. “Another time, gentlemen.” She exited quickly with Vostok hot on her heels. KHAN TENGRI KAZAKHSTAN “For once it would be nice to go somewhere where the temperature wasn’t drifting around sub-zero. I doubt American heroes have to put up with these chills on every mission.” Vanguard rested his hand on Laynia’s shoulder, grinning. “Come now, sister. It’s almost as if you’ve forgotten the country of our birth. Winters are harshest but summers are equally as harsh.” He laughed heartily, the excitement of returning to active duty allowing him to face any discomfort, even the threat of chilblains. “We’ll get out there, stretch our legs, and be in the heat before anyone even gets a cold.” He turned his attention to Ursa Major. “Come on, comrade. Say you aren’t excited to march in to battle side to side?” Ursa Major nodded. “It’s a moment to be remembered, Kolya.” “That’s all well and good, Nikolai,” replied his sister. “It doesn’t change the fact that we’re constantly freezing our asses off.” “Perhaps there’s something Fantasma can do,” said Ursa Major, attempting to be helpful as he hailed the witch’s attention. When he caught it, he continued. “Isn’t there something you could do about the temperature?” Fantasma crossed her arms and tilted her head, a cascade of raven hair snaking from her shoulders. “Oh, I forgot that magic should be used for temperature control. I’ll be sure to get right on that.” She returned to her conversation with Vostok as Red Guardian sniggered. Turning back to Vanguard and Darkstar, he shrugged. “I guess that’s a no.” Darkstar smiled fondly. “Don’t worry about it, Masha.” She reached out towards him but, once again, Mikhail recoiled from her touch and broke eye-contact. She returned her hands to her knees and gave an uncertain smile to her brother. “Just remember, don’t strain yourself. I don’t want you to get hurt again.” “You worry too much,” Nikolai waved her off, still too excited to be concerned. They continued with their conversation, mumbling so as not to disturb or involve the others on the cargo plane. Anton began to communicate with Liliya as Vostok turned to consider the solemn face of the former neurosurgeon, Doctor Belinskaya. He’d not attended the mission in Svelensk or known much about the woman prior to her return with the Winter Guard, but he did understand that her life had been tumultuous from the moment she’d donned the mask. His role as a glorified clerk meant he understood her better than most of the others, he was privy to the experimentations of Bullski and Topolov. “You’ve been awfully quiet since we left the laboratories, Doctor Belinskaya. Is everything alright?” His words roused her as Tania offered the synthezoid an insincere smile. “Perfectly. I’ve just been a little lost in my own thoughts for most of the trip. I’m sure it’ll work out just as it is intended to.” “You do not sound certain, doctor.” Tania offered a half-smile but her eyes told him that she found his line of questioning to be intrusive, distracting her from the life she would rather focus on. “No-one can be certain in these times but we can only do our best. If we believe enough then maybe faith can lead to certainty.” There was a jolt as the plane struck the mountainside and slowed for a stop. Several minutes later, the Winter Guard were disembarking onto the snow-capped mountains of Khan Tengri in the nation of Kazakhstan. The fair-haired twins of the Presence were the first to move through the snow, their eyes searching for the semi-exposed entrance to the science city they’d been on the hunt forward. Red Guardian, Fantasma, Starlight, Vostok and Ursa Major followed them, but Ursa Major was trailing behind rather than at the forefront with the mutant heroes he normally associated with. Red Guardian, the designated captain of the mission, pushed through the gathered heroes and brushed snow and ice from the control panel. A wave of Fantasma’s hands allowed him to thaw it but he was surprised to see that it seemed freshly frozen. The base had supposedly been vacated some twenty-seven-years beforehand. Entering the codes, the doors swung opened and they marched forward but none amongst them had been prepared for what lay ahead of them. Three individuals stood ahead of them, operating the labs as though they owned it. The most striking of the trio was a man in a monochromic grey armour, his face a swelling mass of white and blue plasma-like energy. The man in red, his shoulder-length blond hair, was reminiscent of the former Soviet assassin Arkady Gregorivich Rossovich, the original Omega Red who had seemingly been replaced by this new one. The last was a svelte woman in armour like the plasma-faced man. Her dark hair was severely cropped and clung closely to her head. The raven-haired woman and red-clothed man bore the symbols of W on their foreheads. Red Guardian seemed unsteady on his feet as his eyes narrowed, looking the woman up and down with a grimace. “Sylvia?” She paced forward sensually, her hands trailing across her legs until they rested on her hips. “It’s Omega Black now, lover.” “Lover?” gasped Vanguard, his eyes resting on the weary expression borne by his teammate. Red Guardian grunted. Sylvia Engel as she’d been known to him, or Omega Black as she seemed to prefer, had at one-time seemed like the love of his life. Even when the Red Room has been seemingly disassembled, the Red Guardian programme had continued under the government that succeeded it. Both Anton and Sylvia had met upon enlisting, determined to be more than a soldier to defend Mother Russia, and as they progressed through the rounds of selection their connection had grown. In the final rounds, when Anton had become victorious, the bitter Sylvia had turned her back on him and disappeared into the aether. That was, until now. Purring, Omega Black stepped back and allowed the new Omega Red to move to the forefront. “We knew they would descend upon us sooner or later,” scoffed Omega Red. “Thankfully our patrons have gained all they needed from this facility. You may have it.” Bearing his teeth, he smirked. “If you can take it.” A man of violent, Omega Red burst forward with his tentacles flailing around his alabaster body. Ursa Major, leaping forward, tore through his costume as his skin rippled and transformed into the ursine creature for which he was better known. Gnashing his teeth, the Major caught one of the tentacles but they electrified as he was forced backwards, Darkstar and Starlight jumped to his aid, forcing Omega Red backwards with a combination of their energy projection powers, the mixture of the darkforce and radiation. Omega Black made to strike her former lover, Red Guardian, and forced him backwards into Vanguard as tendrils burst from her chest. The super-soldier deflected her attacks by drawing his shield between them but it was the effort of Vanguard, with his bioelectrically charged hammer and sickle, that blasted her into the roof. As she regained her composure, Red Guardian launched his shield and forced her durable body through the wall, casting her across the snow as he followed, with Vanguard in pursuit. Omega White charged towards her but Fantasma was much quicker on her feet than he’d credited her for. Catching his extended arm, the sorceress slid beneath it and forced it behind his back before driving her foot into the back of his knee, pushing him to the ground. It was a smug expression that etched her beautiful face as she gave him a second nudge and leaned forward, her eyes filled with the violet hues that had become her trademark. “Don’t mistake my use of magic for a weakness, creature,” hissed Fantasma. “I was borne of the Red Room just as you were and I can destroy any of its monstrosities if I so wish.” Her fingers delicately traced the side of his mask as wisps of violet danced between them but she bounded upright as she realised her mysticism wasn’t penetrating his mind, as it had so easily done to so many others. Omega White laughed, muffled beneath the cybernetic implant that masked his face, turning his head only slightly. With a flash, the man released a blast of energy and the witch was thrown into the wall with a grunt. He paced towards her imperiously. “The Red Room learns from its mistakes, witch.” Vostok, from where he’d been punched to the ground by Omega Red, attempted to scramble to his feet. The soft sound of metallic clashing against the tiled flooring. “Liliya!” He seemed to catch Omega White’s attention as the man moved toward him. The plasma constantly shifting beneath his mask, almost entrancing. “I don’t know how they made you this but we can help you.” “You couldn’t help me the first time.” His words struck the synthezoid, or better the cosmonaut portion of his artificial mind, as odd. He sensed familiarity in his words but other than Arkady Gregorivich Rossovich, the original Omega Red, Vostok had never met one of these creatures. He barrelled forward, allowing the adaptive memory of his metallic body to anticipate the ducking and weaving beneath his enemy’s strikes. Landing a punch, Vostok was surprised to find that Omega White’s body had become intangible like the techno-organic ghost he seemed to be based upon. Driving his foot into the synthezoid’s stomach, he landed atop of him and the plasma beneath his mask swelled and contracted as tendrils snapped forward. “I’ll end you now,” Omega White snarled. “Not that there’ll be much essence to feed on, robot.” THE MIND OF OMEGA WHITE Amidst the whirring and buzzing sounds of circuitry, Vostok found himself shifting through the haze until he found a man, completely human and physically exposed, hunched on his knees in silent prayer. It was only then that Vostok registered how he recollected the man: Krassno Granitsky, the former Red Guardian and later, Steel Guardian. He was far from the imposing man he remembered. Krassno had never been as physically foreboding as men such as Nikolai Krylenko or Mikhail Ursus but the way he had always carried himself, with an air of superiority and haughtiness that even Vostok had found unbecoming of a teammate. It had left him isolated from those he worked with and so, when he’d finally turned his back on them and been replaced by Anton, no-one had missed him or given him much of a second thought. “Krassno.” The former Red Guardian’s hands split from prayer as they reached to either side of his head and he began to sway back and forth. Vostok would have been curious had his mind not been programmed so logically. He walked forward without hesitation or fear. He had been drawn into the minds of mechanical beings before and, regardless of Krassno’s wishes, the synthezoid knew that he could communicate with the predominant presence of the entity he had entered. He cleared his throat and repeated himself as he finally gained the attention of the naked soldier. “What are you doing here, Sputnik?” barked the man but it wasn’t fear that Vostok recognised in his voice, it was fear and confusion. “Get out of my head!” “I have not been called Sputnik since we last met, Krassno Granitsky,” he stated. “A better question is how you came to be here and in a guise that would attack the nation you had once sworn to protect.” Krassno spat. “You think this is the nation I swore to protect? Then you are no more intelligent than the other fools and traitors we once fought beside. This is a shadow of the great country we protected but too many have forgotten our ideals in the pursuit of nice things and the Western Dream that has been offered.” “You allowed yourself to be transformed into Omega White so that you could protect the Soviet dream?” Krassno laughed. “You think this was a choice? You really are a fool. The Red Room doesn’t consult us anymore than it consulted the cosmonaut in your head. It simply creates the weapon and points the trigger. I failed as one weapon, so they transformed me into another. For Mother Russia, we live and we die. Nothing else matters.” Vostok couldn’t help but pity him. He may have been out of touch with his humanity but to find a once great warrior on bended need as a pathetic shell of the man he’d once been was a harrowing sight. His nihilistic worldview was dangerous but the division of ideologies had been more difficult for some than others. Many, such as Krassno, longed for the simplicity of being watched and led by the Soviet Union. There were three such individuals to every freedom fighter that dreamed of a different life, for Vostok wasn’t informed enough to know whether such a life would be better or worse, just different. “Life matters,” said the synthezoid. “You may not care for Russia’s governmental trajectory but the common man will be damaged in the world you all seem so intent on bringing to these lands. Men, women and children will die and it will be for nothing more than a last attempt to reinstate a world that has already wrought such damage.” Krassno growled. “You speak as if there’s a choice.” Violet energy exploded around them, tearing across the platform of Omega White’s mind as the techno-organic connection between their minds was violently shattered, KHAN TENGRI KAZAKHSTAN Vostok reeled as he looked up to find the smouldering form of Omega White struggling in the distance. Glancing to his right, he saw as Fantasma created as a second ball of mystical energy between her swaying hands. He wasn’t sure how to describe her, every way seemed inappropriate or short of the true depth of what he witnessed, other than majestic. Her hair ruffled in the winds as she stepped forward, bearing her teeth and forcing the violet energy forward as it shot across the freshly fallen snow and, once again, struck Omega White. He was thrown further from the building that had contained them and onto the corner of the woods as Fantasma approached her fallen teammate with haste. “That should keep him away, for now.” Vostok offered a semblance of a smile, utilising muscles his mind remembered even if his body didn’t, “Thank you. The moment I connected to him, I felt as if I was trapped there. I was watching his eternal torment, a man we once knew transformed into a monster by the Red Room. This is not his fault, not entirely.” Liliya seemed to offer little to no sympathy, her focus exclusively on sewing intricate sutures across the wounds Vostok had sustained in the attack. “None of that matters now. We can’t fix the past, Vostok, but we can alter the future. The Omega Clan must be put down. We don’t have a choice in that.” His hand clasped at hers as he considered her deep hazel eyes, imploring her to reconsider her words. “We always have a choice, Liliya, and so, we must make the right one.” It struck her as peculiar that a robot should display more humanity than her, and Liliya saw herself through his eyes. She finally saw what the Red Room had done to her during her creation. Her humanity had been torn from her to create a soldier and she was lost and conflicted on if she could ever regain it. As Fantasma and Vostok recovered from their battle with Omega White, Red Guardian was sucker punch to the audible crack of his nose. He bounded back, his hands shooting to his face as he yelped in pain. Vanguard, hammer and sickle raised high, slipped between Red Guardian and Omega Black. Her lithe frame moved with grace and speed as she avoided Vanguard’s continuous strikes. Sparks of illuminated blue shot forth as his hammer finally landed a hit, striking Omega Black’s back and tossing her through the wall and back into the labs. Vanguard spun, outstretching his hand and pulling Red Guardian back to his feet. “Are you alright, comrade?” “Leave her to me,” replied the super-soldier gruffly as he rushed forward, creating yet another hole in the wall. His eyes spinning to catch sight of her. “Sylvia. Is this really what you’ve become? A monster lurking in the shadows.” “You think I need to hide?” Her voice was disembodied, echoing, and even with his intensified hearing, Red Guardian struggled to trace her. “I’m better now than I ever was. The Omega Clan has afforded me every opportunity that you stole from me. Do you feel sorry? Do you long for what could have been?” Red Guardian tightened his grip of the shield, spinning constantly to prepare for her strike. “I don’t.” Omega Black barrelled forward, her arms catching around his waist as she hoisted him over her body and slammed him headfirst into the ground. It shattered around him. Laughing, Omega Black paced around him. As he stirred, Red Guardian saw the lack of humanity within her. He found himself uncertain that he’d ever seen it at all. An opportunist, Sylvia Engel had marched to her own drum. She’d taken what she believed she deserved, long before she’d taken steps to earn it. As he bounced to his feet, he wondered if anything in her was worth saving now that she’d achieved the power she’d always dreamed off. The tentacles sprouted from her breastplate. “Are we really to do this, lover?” “Yes,” he replied curtly. The tentacles shot toward him but Red Guardian deflected them with the circular shield, drawing it back just as he planted his foot squarely in her abdomen. Omega Black slid backwards but regain her composure and launched forward with a scream. They continued to swap blows and, as much as he desired to be victorious and prove himself as the worthy successor of the mantle, Red Guardian struggled to overcome the self-doubt that he had played a role in creating her, in transforming an ambitious woman into a monster. As his mind swirled with those doubts, she knocked him onto his ass and landed atop of him. The tentacles born from her chest into his. Red Guardian screamed. Static energy exploded as Vanguard tore the hammer and sickle, combined, into her chest and sent her scuttling across the room. Once again, he pulled the weary super-soldier to his feet. “You can’t remember as she was. We have to hit her hard and terminate the threat.” “I don’t need–” Vanguard smirked. “Advice? I disagree. You can’t defeat her whilst holding your punches.” Red Guardian listened and he nodded. “Let’s not hold back then. On three?” “One.” “Two.” “Three.” Red Guardian and Vanguard charged forward with shield and hammer and sickle stretched ahead of them. Vanguard bioelectrical energy pulsed through all three weapons before charging through Omega Black, causing her to emit a bloodcurdling shriek before she was cast through the air and landed in the distance with a thud. As battles waged around them, Darkstar, Starlight and Ursa Major surrounded Omega Red on all three sides. His head shot left and right as he observed each of them. Darkstar and Starlight hovered in the air as the ursine Major Ursa snarled ahead of him. Each of them was as ignorant to the desires of the Red Room as they had been when they arrived. Tentacles slithered from his hands as Omega Red exposed his pointed teeth to each of them. He chuckled. “I suppose I’m to be intimidated by your ineptitude.” “I knew the original Omega Red,” growled Ursa Major as he crept forward slightly. “We have defeated that misguided soul in the past and the same will be said for you, boy. Surrender and spare yourself.” “The Red Room knows no surrender. Only glory.” Omega Red pounced forward as Ursa Major raised his claws. Using his arm-mounts, the cyborg deflected Ursa Major’s attack before wrapping the tentacles around his neck and hoisting him into the air. Darkstar and Starlight fired an energy blast that separated the men. As radioactive expulsions singed Omega Red’s body armour, Darkstar flew higher and creating a whirling ball of otherworldly energy, siphoning it from a realm she scarcely understood, before releasing it and allowing it to thrust towards him. Surprisingly nimble, Omega Red avoided it’s hit. Discarding Ursa Major with a jab of the tentacles, he used them as a propellent to force himself skyward into the body of Starlight as she collapsed with a grunt. Turning his attention to Darkstar as she readied another blast, Omega Red launched his body and brought her to the ground with a crash. His eyes shone the colour for which he had been named as the mutant groaned and squirmed, traces of dark blue marking her previously porcelain skin. Darkstar grimaced as she felt him tearing her apart from the inside, his torture felt as though every cell in her body was turning against her in revolt that she may live. Despite attempting to control herself, Darkstar unleashed a bloodcurdling scream. “Do you feel that, little girl?” muttered Omega Red. He was gleeful at the prospect of feasting on her essence. “That’s death approaching and the little life that is left shall sustain me for the moment.” “Laynia!” Ursa Major rushed towards her on all fours as her head fell to the side, offering him as a weakened smile as her life drained from her. With her life hanging in the balance, Ursa Major did something he’d promised never to allow himself to do again. He gave in to the beast. Clouded by the primal instinct, Ursa Major jumped into the air and landed as he clamped his teeth around Omega Red’s arm. He threw him into a wall as he shapeshifted back into a human and lifted Laynia into his arms. Detached from Omega Red’s presence, her face once again became flushed and she seemed to be regaining her will to live. As he looked toward Omega Red, and the trail of blood he’d drawn, Ursa Major was reminded of why he had always worked so hard to control himself. Omega Red, his arm almost loose from its shoulder, stood as Starlight flew over both of her teammates. Her hair was ablaze as was the radiation that encircled her hands. With a solitary blast, she sent him soaring towards the mountain’s ledge as she landed to assist Mikhail with Laynia. Lifting her eyelids, she flashed the light in her hands and saw there was a reaction. “She’s coming back to us,” said the neurosurgeon. “But we should get her back to the base.” As the others gathered beside them, Red Guardian sighed. “We have Omega White but we need the other two.” He motioned Vanguard and Fantasma to follow him, the trio headed towards their felled opponents. “We must go.” Omega Red’s words seemed to catch her by surprise as they watched from where they’d landed. Red Guardian approached, flanked by two of his lackeys, and she was rearing for a rematch. She snapped towards him. “What about Omega White?” “He’s lost but if we stay here then we’ll all be.” Omega Red led the escape as she followed him into brief overgrowth and down the side of the mountain. They’d disappeared by the time the three members of the Winter Guard had arrived on their former location. S.I.C.K.L.E. MOTHERCARRIER ABOVE ST. PETERSBURG, RUSSIA Laynia moved across the top deck of the Mothercarrier gracefully, a small nimbus of darkforce energy protecting her lithe frame from being cast overboard by the power of the helicopters as they took off. Mikhail stood ahead of her supervising the deployment of the S.I.C.K.L.E. foot soldiers charged with dismantling the Khan Tengri science city now that it had been cleared of threats by the Winter Guard. He seemed oddly at home surrounded by the men and women who had followed the journey he had, first as soldiers and then as agents of the government. She would’ve gone as far as to say he was more in his element when overseeing them than he was when he was forced to fight alongside the gathering of heroes. He seemed to long for the life he’d once known, a life that had been taken from him due to a genetic mutation that had been beyond his control. Laynia could sympathise with that. “That’s the last of them,” Mikhail announced as he caught sight of her through the corner of his eye. “The base will be torn apart and moved by the morning. Another useless structure atop a mountain that no-one will have any use for. I’m glad you’ve recovered.” “Thank you,” Laynia nodded. “At least it’s one less thing to worry about. I’m sure S.I.C.K.L.E. or the Kazakh government will find some use for it. They aren’t normally short of ideas.” He simply nodded as she came to stand at his side, his eyes never straying from the helicopters as if watching the life he’d once led abandoning him again. “I’d like to speak to you, Masha.” He exhaled and turned to face her. “Isn’t that what we’re doing now, little star?” “You know what I mean,” Laynia replied, irked at his attempted coyness. “Things have been different since we arrived at S.I.C.K.L.E. Perhaps even before. We once risked everything to be free, and we did that together, but it seems like your nothing more than cordial now.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.” “Yes, you do,” she replied. “Have I done something wrong? I have offended you in some way that I haven’t realised. If I have, then I’m so sorry and–” Mikhail cut her off. “It’s not that.” Contemplating the words he desperately wanted to say, Mikhail wondered how best to address the subject with an eloquence he believed to be beyond him. If he’s been a wordsmith or a poet, he’d have followed that lifestyle like so many of the bleeding hearts on the streets of Moscow. Instead, he took the moment to allow his mind to be clear of everything but the fears that echoed around his mind. “Laynia,” he started but the words seemed to catch his throat. After a moment, he continued. “For as long as I’ve known you, you and Kolya, I have been a friend and an ally. I have changed my world for you both in more ways than I feel you can even imagine. I have lived multiple lives at your side. When I was needed, I returned.” “And I’m thankful–” “Let me finish, please,” he said, interrupted her again. “I didn’t do it for thanks or to make you owe me a debt. Quite the contrary, you owe me nothing. I’ve had the time to understand my actions and my motivations. It’s more than simply the dream of freedom or the friendship you both have offered me.” His stare was intense. “I would go to the end of the world for you. I would face anything if you only asked. For as long as I’ve known you, Laynia Sergeievna Petrovna, I have loved you. I have feared the words, not because of rejection, but because I know you could be taken from me at any moment.” Before he could offer her more excuses, Laynia stretched forward and kissed him passionately. Draping her arms across his sturdy shoulders, Laynia released all of the emotions she had held within herself for the years since they’d been under the tutelage of Phobos. Drawing back from him, the blonde smiled. “I’m stronger than you think, Masha.” Mikhail bit his lip as he pulled her arms from his shoulders. “Your strength is not in question. As much as I love you, I know I cannot have you. If I do possess you then I may never recover should the worst happen. I’m sorry, little star.” He stalked off as Laynia stared after him, broken and confused by his swift succession of declaring love and rejecting her advances. “Masha!” Laynia’s call barrelled across the winds but he didn’t turn back to her. “I hadn’t expected to find myself back here quite so soon,” said Tania as she entered the clinical laboratories of Bullski and Topolov. Although she was surprised to find that only the latter of the two was present. Despite their hatred for one another, they’d been almost inseparable since the transfer of the Winter Guard to S.I.C.K.L.E.’s command. Cocking her brows, the former neurosurgeon stared at him intently. “Why have you called me here today, Topolov? I’m not scheduled for any further testing.” Kondrati didn’t believe himself to be a nervous man. Quite the contrary. Often, Kondrati was too aggressive and domineering to see beyond his own opinions and machinations. It had led him down a dark path just as easily as it had led him towards the righteousness he now believed he served. Still, his curious mind had always led him to the truth and even when the truth was discontenting, it had to be revealed. “I’m afraid that I have some news for you, Doctor Belinskaya,” mumbled the impish man awkwardly. “This is beyond my remit, in truth it’s probably more suited to a practitioner such as yourself but the burden has fallen to me as the only person in this lab who could interpret the findings from your latest blood tests. Unfortunately, it means more tests in your future and, if I’m right, an intensive treatment plan for which there is no precedent.” She shook her head. “What are you saying? Just spit it out.” He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid that the tests came back irregular. It seems to me as though this irregularity is a trademark of a blood cancer. More testing would be needed to fully confirm and diagnose it but it’s currently fairly conclusive. I’m sorry to be the bearer of this news.” Tania was in shock. “I thought you said the perceived risk of my continuing radiation was to the others. It didn’t seem to be mutating me any further.” “Yes,” answered Topolov. “That was what we thought initially but the radioactive mutations your body underwent aren’t as stable as first thought. They are changing your genetic code, irrevocably. If we had more friends in the West then we might be able to identify this further but, as it stands, we’ll have to get to the bottom of it alone.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “We will find a cure for this, Tania.” She shrugged him off. “Don’t make promises that you can’t keep, Topolov. I was a doctor, we aren’t keen on false hope. We’ll run your tests and we’ll take it from there. At least now I know I’m dying.” Without further conversation, Tania stormed past him and returned to the all too familiar position of sitting on the slab as she drew up her sleeves and exposed her flesh to him. With a curt nod, Topolov started to run the further tests with an air of trepidation. “You saved me.” Vostok turned from the programmes he’d been interpreting at General Zaslon’s request to find Liliya Tolstaya stood in the doorway wearing an oversized purple cardigan that hid her svelte frame. She nervously plucked at the openings of her sleeves as she entered with a demure smile. It was unprecedented that she should arrive in his domain, Vostok had found very little companionship since his arrival to the original base of the new Winter Guard or the Mothercarrier. They treated him much as a commodity, an assistant to meet their needs, just as Zaslon did. Liliya’s eyes looked down upon him with gratitude rather than expectation and the synthezoid almost felt something but he knew it was merely a resurgence of memory from the man he’d been patterned after, rather than a genuine emotional response to her presence. He nodded curtly. “And you saved me. Not that it was worth your time or effort. I cannot truly die. I will simply be repaired and returned as I was.” Noticing the hurt on her face, he corrected himself. “I do thank you for the effort that you made though. It was appreciated.” “Why do you talk like that?” Liliya asked. “As if your life, or your death, holds no consequence.” He replied monotonically. “I talk like that Liliya because you are mistaken to believe that I am alive when I am not. I am a programme in humanoid form, an expression of a once great man who dedicated his life to celestial understanding. Leonid Dezhurov is dead, I may feel his memories and understand human reaction through analysing them . . . but I am not alive, not now or ever. That is an irreversible truth.” Finding his reply satisfactory, Vostok turned back to his work but Liliya remained hovering in the doorway. The witch bit her lip as she considered her options and the lengths she would go to so as to express her gratitude or the emotions that echoed in the recesses of her mind, frightening her and threatening to consume her as she stood there. Bolting forward, Liliya caught the synthezoid by his elbow and pulled him to his feet. She ignored the bewildered expression upon his glistening face as she placed her lips upon his. Her hands grazed across his cheeks as violet energies danced to her whim, passing through his mechanical mind and the circuitry that he had been created from. Liliya had once been cursed and, finally, she found herself in control of her own destiny. Breaking the kiss, the woman stepped back. Her heart racing as she panted, eyes narrowed and curious. “Vostok?” His eyes cleared from their violet haze as he stepped back from her. His body felt uncomfortable around him, more alive than he could ever have remembered it. His head shot rapidly towards her, his jaw slack. “Leonid,” he said. “I’m Leonid. I’m alive.” “Yes,” smiled the witch brightly. “Yes, Leonid, you are.” Liliya took his hands in her own as she once again drew the synthezoid closer to him, and planted a kiss on his cooling lips. THE END . . . FOR NOW? THE RED RECORD This is something I’d be interested in hearing about. Would anyone want to see the further adventures of these characters? I have a couple of ideas but I’m a little unsure about readership and whether they’re worth pursuing. I’ve introduced the seeds and indicated how I feel the characters should be represented. I loved writing Marvel Anthology’s Winter Guard and it could be interested in returning to that playground. Although, I do think the cast is a little large and would need a rotating cast. So, let me know how you feel about the characters and the story and if there’s anyone you’d like to see (if you want to see any of it at all). You can reach me on the forum or contact me directly by e-mailing: [email protected] |