Back to Gatefold
By Travis Hiltz
Two stories for the price of one! Click on the tabs to see tales featuring M.O.D.A.K., the Agents of A.I.M., Trapster, the Wizard, and Sandman!
The secret headquarters of A.I.M. (Advanced Idea Management):
Only a wall of video screens lit the cavernous room: myriad images and scrolls of information flickered past at speeds almost too fast for the human eye to follow. Luckily for the room’s sole occupant, he was considered no longer human.
M.O.D.A.K. (Mechanized Organism for the Detection and Advancement of Knowledge) was a grotesque looking being, his cranium enormous, and his body shriveled and dwarfish. Both head and body were cradled by a cybernetic hover-chair. Stunted fingers tapped at the control panels built into his chair’s arms, while his large, opaque-yellow eyes glanced at the dozens of screens.
If not for the movement of fingers and eyes, M.O.D.A.K. would have seemed to the casual observer no more than some bizarre piece of sculpture.
Several minutes of contemplation passed. A door slide open and a woman entered. She was middle-aged, with shoulder-length auburn hair streaked with grey. She wore a white lab coat over a plain skirt and blouse ensemble. She came and stood by M.O.D.A.K., peering at the screens for several moments before speaking.
“You’ve been here monitoring for five hours,” She said. “Even you need to rest.”
“I have had my nutrient tank refilled and my head band contains micro-sensors to stimulate my cortex nerves, Professor Rappacinni,” M.O.D.A.K. rasped in reply, not taking his eyes away from the screens. “I have tagged two dozen incidents for investigation. Traced seventeen attempts by our enemies to breach our facilities and computer systems…”
“I am quite aware you’ve been busy,” Professor Monica Rappacinni nodded, patiently. “You’re not the type to watch videos of kittens. Despite your claims, and your appearance, you are still human.”
“Stark, Richards and the others need to be watched and contained…”
“I’m also well aware of that, but you are pushing not just yourself, but your people too hard. We are stretched too thin and starting to suffer loses. Most of Alpha Squad is out of action for the next month, if not longer, we’ve lost contact with Fixer and Mentallo and at last count S.H.I.E.L.D. has raided three of our holdings and that explosion in our Oregon research lab was determined to be technician error, not sabotage…”
“None of this is new information,” M.O.D.A.K. replied. “In fact, you missed three incidents, including your daughter allying herself with Fury.”
The slight halted the conversation and the pair stayed in silence for several minutes. Dim awareness that he had been rude caused M.O.D.A.K. to pause and ponder something besides the flood of information. A tiny spark of human emotion reminded him that Professor Rappacinni was his friend and what he had said might be hurtful.
He found this to be more of a challenge than solving scientific equations.
His stubby fingers tapped at the controls and soon the screens began to darken. Within minutes only two were still lit.
“What do you think of this?” M.O.D.A.K. asked.
The middle-aged woman shifted from her inner contemplation to studying the information presented. She reached up, absently, to rub her chin.
“Those energy waves…?” Professor Rappicinni muttered, taking a step forward. “Gravity pulses like that don’t naturally occur within a planetary sphere…”
M.O.D.A.K. tapped another panel and one of the screens changed. Lines of information scrolled by.
“Cordico Research…?” She muttered. “They’re a shell company owned by Stark Industries.”
“As well as one of Richards’ labs and two S.H.I.E.L.D. holdings in the area,” Her associate added. “While our informant in S.H.I.E.L.D. is doubtful they are involved, but cannot confirm or deny Stark or Richards’ involvement.”
“We don’t have any available field teams,” Professor Rappicinni protested. “I don’t deny this thing is worth our attention, but we are stretched too thin…!”
“We will then have to assemble a team from available individual personnel.” M.O.D.A.K. explained. “I have created a list.”
A screen lit up and the lady scientist frowned at its contents.
“Norris? That tabloid muckraker?” She muttered. “Carol Danvers…her recent psychological testing…”
“She is a certified pilot on our new mobile research craft and has interacted with extraterrestrials…”
“She claims. You give her stories more credence than I feel is wise.” She interrupted. “You’ll still need a qualified scientist…”
“B’tumba is ready for a field assignment.” M.O.D.A.K. said.
“They are not…”Professor Rappicinni protested.
“I am informing, not consulting. They are already en route…”
# # # # #
Jack Norris huddled into his overcoat as he trudged across the field. The grass was unkempt, knee-high and damp from recent rain.
He took a sip from his coffee, frowned as he realized it was empty and tossed the cardboard cup away. He stamped along for several more minutes, glaring at his surroundings. The wind picked up, and Jack trudged over to a cluster of thin, leafless tress. They provided questionable shelter from the elements.
“Anything to report?” A voice suddenly asked behind him. Startling the reporter.
“I hate when you guys do that,” He muttered.
“You’d think you’d be used it by now,” The new arrival said. She was a tall, athletic blonde. Her outfit was practical, but couldn’t hide the attractive figure under it. “Well…?”
“I’m hoping your science guys have found something,” Norris shrugged. “Place is a mill town. Most of the factories shut down, and the town is hanging on by its fingertips. Been a couple attempts at hipster gentrification, but not enough nearby other towns to make it work. Locals think it’s either ghosts or aliens…”
“What did you say?” The blonde snapped.
“Slow down there, Scully,” Norris said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “It was writer’s hyperbole. I’m just saying...”
Jack Norris was a reporter, until an ugly divorce lead to his ex-wife joining a mystical cult and becoming the host for a crazed otherworldly warrior woman. While still dealing with that, he found himself on the wrong side of S.H.I.E.L.D. Unsurprisingly, that lead to his writing career taking a nosedive into a serious drinking problem.
Fished out of the gutter by A.I.M., Norris now used his journalist skills and sketchy reputation to investigate various weird incidences as part of M.O.D.A.K.’s organization.
Carol Danvers had been a decorated air-force pilot until a crash and a claim of contact with aliens lead to her being drummed out of the military and obsessed with investigating any rumor of alien contact on Earth.
Both were deeply flawed, damaged individuals that had found a purpose, a chance of possible redemption or at least some reason for getting out of bed in the morning by A.I.M.
“Well, there must be something here,” Carol said. “Why do both Stark Industries and S.H.I.E.L.D. have holdings in the area?”
“As far as I can figure,” Norris shrugged. “S.H.I.E.L.D. seems to be here, just so they can keep an eye on Stark and Stark is using Cordico as a tax write off. It’s just a skeleton maintenance crew and one guy manning the phone….”
“One of them must be active here,” Carol Danvers interrupted. “The energy pulse A.I.M. monitored does not occur naturally. Someone or something has to be making it happen…”
“Fine. I don’t pretend to understand gravity pulses or energy inversions,” Norris shrugged, patting his coat pockets in search of a cigarette. “All I know is something is going on and it’s making the locals twitchy, but I’m not seeing any sign that the ‘usual suspects’ are behind it. Didn’t M.O.D.A.K. send a science guy to help us?”
“He has assigned a research team to investigate,” She explained. “But, I was told there would be a field agent here too.”
“We’d better look around,” Her Journalist teammate said, resignedly, as he gave up any hope of a smoke or decent cup of coffee. “It’s getting dark and whatever this thing is, it’s left a couple people hospitalized, one dead and two missing.”
He sighed and turned up the collar of his overcoat. “Secret organization …you’d think they’d give us…communicators or signal watches….”
Jack Norris hadn’t gone more than a dozen steps, when suddenly he was flung up into the air. Arms and legs flailing he shot upwards, only halting his progress by grabbing hold of one of the uppermost branches of the nearest tree. He desperately held on, his fingernails digging into the bark.
“Christ!” He breathed, fighting down a surge of panic, as he came to realize his grip on the branch seemed to be the only thing keeping him from soaring off into the night sky.
“How…?” Carol Danvers asked, staring up in puzzlement. There was a buzzing from her coat pocket and she took out a cell phone-sized device.
“Spontaneous gravity surge…!” She breathed, more amazed than concerned. “Some kind of anti-gravity effect…”
“Danvers!” Norris yelled frantically. “Jesus, I’m gonna die up here and she’s playing Spock…!”
Carol Danvers paced around the tree, figuring out that the gravity flux was in a set area. She glanced upwards, not so much in concern for her partner, but trying to calculate how high it extended.
“If I survive this…!” Norris muttered, the muscles in his arms trembling as he struggled to pull himself down.
“Odd,” Carol said, tapping at her device. “Seems to be fluctuating…?”
Suddenly, Jack felt gravity return to normal and he plummeted downward, striking several branches before he managed to grab one and pull himself onto it. He clung to the branch, which bent dangerously, gasping for breath. His body ached and he blinked, fighting off a wave of dizziness.
“That big-headed bastard saved my life so he could get me killed,” Norris mumbled to himself.
“Are you all right?!” Carol Danvers shouted up to him.
“Yeah, I’m friggin wonderful!” He called down. “What the hell happened?”
“Some kind of gravity fluxuation,” Carol replied. “Come down! I feel ridiculous trying to talk this way.”
“You feel…?” Norris grunted, lowering his leg and feeling for the next secure branch.
Danvers continued to study her handheld device, while the battered reporter made his way, haltingly, back down to the ground.
“Jesus…!” he breathed, slumping against the tree, wincing.
“Well, we’ve answered one question,” Carol Danvers said, sparing Jack a glance and then returning to her investigation. “That gravity flux explains both the deaths and the disappearances…perhaps M.O.D.A.K. could train our satellite, the bodies couldn’t have escaped Earth’s orbit…?”
“What…?” Norris exclaimed, struggling back to his feet. “This stuff has been happening for a while and people have just been shooting off into space…?”
“That’s how it looks,” Carol nodded, looking around. “But, how…?”
“Don’t say ‘aliens’.” Norris muttered, rolling his right shoulder and then feeling his check and coming away with blood-smeared fingers.
“The kind of tech required to cause this kind of effect….” She began.
“Save it,” Norris grumbled, waving her away. “Look, there was…something over there…in the grass. I caught a glimpse when I was flailing around, saw something moving.”
“What? Where?” Carol exclaimed, glancing around anxiously.
“There!” Jack snapped, pointing across the field. “There’s some tall grass and bit of stone wall…come on!”
The reporter limped off, keeping to the edge of the field, using the few trees as shelter.
“What am I looking for?” Carol Danvers asked, scuffing through the grass.
“I…uh…don’t know,” Jack replied, absently, as he searched. “I was pretty preoccupied with not dying There was a shape and it was moving…here!”
There was a small circle where the grass had been mashed down and lying in the middle of it was a young Africian-american man.
“B’tumba!” Carol exclaimed, spotting the man.
“What?” Jack asked.
“He’s one of ours,” She explained. “A Wakandian refugee. I was told they were sending a tech along to help us…”
“Is he dead?” Jack asked, nudging the body with the toe of his shoe.
The young man groaned and slowly shifted, as though moving took a great deal of effort. B’tumba slowly opened his eyes and looked up, puzzled, at the duo.
“Col. Danvers…?” He croaked, in a cultured, slightly accented voice.
She knelt down and helped him sit up.
“What happened? Were you attacked?”
“I was…hnn…was taking some…some readings,” B’tumba muttered, rubbing his forehead. “There was an odd spike in gravity waves and I…I just dropped to the ground…so heavy…couldn’t move…breathing hurt…I…uh…I blacked out.”
He winced, as Carol and Jack helped him to his feet.
“Gravity flux,” Carol said. “But, the opposite of the effect you experienced, Jack.”
“So, something is making gravity go crazy in this area…?” Norris replied, looking nervously around. “That seems…impossible!”
“Not the first ‘impossible’ thing I’ve encountered since joining A.I.M.” Carol shrugged. “Do we have enough information to map a pattern for these events?”
B’tumba shrugged and then knelt down and rummaged through the flattened grass, coming out with a device similar to the one Carol Danvers carried.
Both began tapping away, intently studying the tiny screens. Jack Norris stood around with his hands in his coat pockets. Not being a scientist, he now felt completely left out.
“No reported incidents outside this area,” B’tumba said, holding up his device and showing a diagram of the field.
“Any further patterns to the effect?” Carol asked, absently. “Were there more times that gravity increased, as opposed to it decreasing?”
“No, seems almost random, but…look!”
The young Wakandian scientist touched the controls and the picture of the field changed, catching even Jack’s attention.
“What’s up with the white dots?” He asked. “And how come there’s that empty…shape in the middle of the field?”
“The dots mark the estimated locations of the reported incidents,” B’tumba explained, looking up from his screen and across the field. “I think that blank spot is…whatever is causing the gravity flux to occur.”
“Like a meteor hit there or something?” Norris asked.
“No impact crater,” Carol Danvers replied. “So, someone deliberately hid or installed something here. Let’s find out.”
“How?” Norris asked.
“I’ve got some equipment,” She told him. “Stay here, keep monitoring. Don’t mess with anything.”
Jack watched her walk off then glanced at B’tumba.
“Who put her in charge?’ He asked.
“You want to challenge her, be my guest,” B’tumba said, not looking up from his device. “I’ll be over here, studying the situation, when you’re done.”
The reporter looked from the studious young man, to where the ex-air force pilot had walked off, shrugged, frowned and hunched down into his overcoat, mentally cursing himself for leaving his cigarettes in his rental car.
# # # # #
Ten minutes later, Carol Danvers returned, carrying a bronze-colored metal tripod and had a knapsack slung over one shoulder.
“No shovel?” Norris muttered.
She gave him a disapproving frown then went to confer with B’tumba. They talked for several minutes, than headed off across the field.
“Look, before you two start getting too ‘Star Trek’ about all this,” Jack said. “We need to stop and think about a few things…”
“Such as?” Carol asked over her shoulder.
“How do we know that the…gravity flux won’t kick in while we’re in the middle of the field?”
“I’m monitoring the energy patterns,” B’tumba said. “There are some…’hot spots’, but I don’t see a high percentage of any flare ups as strong as the ones we experienced for a while.”
“Feel better now?” Carol asked, with obvious patience.
“Not really,” Jack replied. “Whatever is causing this is a…a machine, right?”
“Most likely.” B’tumba said, not looking up from his device.
“So, who put it there? Are they keeping an eye on it? Are we walking into a gun sight?”
The other two came to a halt, looked at Norris, then back at the innocent looking field.
“Um…”B’tumba said, anxiously.
“Well, we…” Danvers added, her eyes shifting.
“Now is the first time you two have thought about it…!” Norris breathed, shaking his head. “Christ!”
“Then, there’s a task for you,” Danvers said, starting walking off again.
They moved slowly across the field, on top of worrying about more occurrences of gravity flux, now anxious that someone was watching them.
Jack stumbled once as he suddenly felt his leg get extremely heavy. He lurched backwards into Carol and then they had to fumble to keep her from dropping her equipment.
A little further along, B’tumba found himself floating six inches above the ground and Jack pulled him away as he started to float higher.
They reached ‘ground zero’ and felt no further strange gravity effects.
Carol set up the tripod and activated a metal box at the peak; it emitted an energy beam that began to drill through the ground.
B’tumba paced the perimeter of the dead zone.
Jack scanned their surroundings, spotted nothing suspicious and after several minutes of anxious thought, took out his cell phone.
“Stark may be a sociopath, but if he’s got a building in the area you can count on cell coverage,” He muttered.
Within minutes the device had burrowed down several feet. The closer they got the more intense the gravity effects around them became. Jack watched several good-sized rocks shoot off into space, while numerous tree branches cracked and crashed to the ground.
The trio had to move in closer to the ‘dead zone’, after B’tumba collapsed to his knees. Carol Danvers moved closer to the digger, after she began to float and pulling away resulted in her losing a shoe.
“Um…guys,” Jack said, looking up for his phone. “Hold on for a second…you need to stop digging…um…I might have something…”
“What?” Carol snapped, shifting her glare from her shoeless foot to her teammate. “What now?”
“Look, I don’t do science for A.I.M.” Jack said. “I investigative for the big guy…”
“Is there a point to this?”
“Fine, the point is, I do detective work and…we might not be digging up a machine, it might be a person…a body.” Jack said.
“What?” B’tumba said, looking away from his device. “Who…?”
“Graviton,” Carol said, quietly. “He went missing…we assumed Stark had him captive somewhere…”
“But, you think he was killed and his body buried here?” B’tumba muttered. “Who could kill Graviton?”
“Yeah,” Jack nodded, indicating that the young scientist had reached the same place he had. “Who could do that…and if they did, why hide the body in a backwoods town like this? Why not rub it in? Stark and Banner have done it before.”
“Everything we learn seems to lead to two more questions,” Carol muttered, her hand resting on the digger’s controls, but hesitant about reactivating it.
B’tumba was now ignoring his scanner and intently and nervously looking off into the shadowy distance.
A tense silence fell over the trio.
“Ah, screw it,” Jack muttered, gestured at the tripod. “Let’s get this over with.”
Carol nodded grimly and hit the controls. The box hummed and began digging again. Within minutes the dirt was pushed away revealing a body wrapped in plastic sheeting.
“Sometimes I hate being right,” Jack said, wearily.
“Oh my god…!” Carol breathed. “How…?”
“His body is still generating anti-gravity energy,” B’tumba added, pushing down his shock by focusing on the scientific investigation. “As his brain and nervous system are shutting down, its generating sparks of gravity flux.”
He shook his head in amazement.
“Who could do this?” Carol asked, looking up, meeting Jack’s gaze. ‘Stark…?”
“Maybe,” The reporter shrugged. “Would explain why they’ve kept the place outside of town open…but, I don’t…this feels wrong, somehow…we’re missing something.”
“We need to get in touch with Professor Rappicinni,” B’tumba said, letting some of the anxiety and fear he felt leak through. “M.O.D.A,K. needs to be involved…what can the three of us do? We need a squad handling this!”
“Slow down there,” Jack said. “This has changed. We aren’t doing science, this is a crime scene and we are in my arena now.”
He kneeled down and peered into the makeshift grave at the decaying body of one of the planet’s most powerful beings. His brow furrowed in thought. He then stood up and looked around at their surroundings.
“What’s wrong here?’ He muttered.
“They hid the body,” Carol suddenly said. “Why would anyone that could beat Graviton do that?”
“His body is a treasure,” B’tumba added. “Both S.H.I.E.L.D and Stark have facilities nearby…why isn’t it in a lab?”
“It’s not about the science,” Jack said, light dawning in his thought process. “This was a murder.”
He took out his phone again and went to work.
“I still don’t understand…?” B’Tumba started. “Hmmm…the erratic fluxes the body is still generating could be a neurological disorder…?”
“What do you mean?” Carol asked. “He had…what, a tumor or stroke?”
“Possibly, I’m not a doctor, “ B’tumba muttered. “But, there are signs of micro-damage on his cortex…?”
“Even so, who hid the body?” Carol asked. “I can understand someone discovering the body and panicking, worrying about retribution from A.I.M. or attracting attention from S.H.I.E.L.D. or Richards or…a dozen other sources…but, who did it?”
“I might have something,” Jack said, holding up his phone. “Checked my files from past jobs I did for A.I.M. and odds and ends I’ve dug up and I may have found somebody that fits…”
The other two leaned in and peered at the screen at Jack’s phone.
“This is feasible,” B’tumba muttered, grimly.
“This is not good.” Carol added.
“What do you want to do?” Jack asked.
“Let’s just get it over with.” She sighed. She then gestured at the other two to move away and tapped a button on the tripod box. A new beam was emitted and Graviton’s corpse was reburied.
As the trio trudged away, Carol took out her cell phone and texted while they walked away.
# # # # #
Soon, a bland looking rental car turned onto a side street in a small neighborhood. It pulled up in a front of a modest two-story house.
The trio got out and made their way to the front door. Jack took the lead.
They tensely waited once Jack had rung the doorbell.
“Let me talk,” He said.
A man opened the door in his thirties, with sandy-blonde hair.
“Can I help you?” He asked, uneasily.
“Mr. Lang?” Jack asked. “Scott Lang? Can I ask you a few questions?”
“Are you cops?” Lang asked.
“No. Uh…I’m a reporter,” He replied. “And I’m…”
“What about them?”
Jack Norris glanced back over his shoulder at the young black scientist and the statuesque blonde pilot.
“He’s my bodyguard and she’s a waitress I picked up at some topless joint….long story.”
He turned back to the other man. Jack took in his rumpled hair and clothing, his in need of sleep features and anxious posture. He recognized that look and posture every time he looked into a mirror. Life had dropped a burden on Scott Lang and he was losing the fight to hold it up.
“I’m working on a story and think you might be able to give me some information,” Jack explained.
“I don’t think…”
“You work for Stark International.”
“The plant closed down…”Scott began.
“But, you are still on Stark’s payroll.” Jack countered. “Maybe you can tell us something about…”
B’tumba stepped up, till he was at Jack’s shoulder.
“He’s showing traces of Pym particles,” The young scientist muttered.
Despite his attempts at subtlety, the others heard him. Scott Lang took a step back, while Carol moved forward.
“Wait…hold on…what…?” Lang stuttered.
“Okay, everybody..!” Jack interrupted, grabbing Carol by the arm.
“Get away from my dad!” A girl in her early teens shouted, as she came running down the stairs towards them.
“No! Cassie!” Lang exclaimed, starting to turn.
“Wow!” B’Tumba exclaimed. “Pym particles just spiked…”
“Um…is she getting bigger…?” Carol asked.
The front door frame shattered, as the teenage girl, now ten feet tall came bursting out.
Lang collapsed, buried under debris and the trio of A.I.M. operatives were scattered like bowling pins as she slammed into them.
Jack landed hard on his back, the wind knocked out of him. B’tumba was flung into a hedge.
Carol leapt to her feet and immediately launched herself at the giantess. She leapt, driving her shoulder into the girl’s solar plexus. Carol landed on her feet, while Cassie Lang dropped to her knees.
The air force pilot then clasped her hands together and swung them, catching Cassie Lang under the chin and sending her tumbling backwards.
“Leave us alone!” Cassie shrieked, slapping Carol with an over-sized hand. “Stay away from my dad!”
“Jesus!” Jack muttered, struggling to his feet. “Carol, she’s just a kid…!”
“She’s just a kid that may have killed Graviton,” B’tumba said, helping him to his feet with one hand while he tapped away furiously on his device with the other. “Lang’s Pym particles are in decay. The girl is saturated with them…”
“What?” Jack asked, feeling dazed and not sure what was caused by the beatings he’d taken lately or just trying to process the information. “What are you…?!”
“Nobody could overpower Graviton,” B’tumba said, trying to steer Jack away from the fight. “But someone who could shrink small enough to reach his brain….!”
“Christ…!” Jack muttered. “We need to stop this or someone else is going to die…!”
“I’m hitting the panic button,” B’tumba nodded, tapping his device.
Suddenly, a door opened in the air and a dozen yellow-helmeted A.I.M. troops came jogging out. M.O.D.A.K. floated out behind them.
They soon had the Lang’s front yard surrounded and weapons pointed at the two female combatants.
“Cease fighting!” M.O.D.A.K. commanded, the volume on his vocal unit increased. Like a gunshot, it starlted everyone and soon the trio of investigators, as well as the Lang family were standing in the middle of the front yard. Jack Norris fought back an urge to raise his hands in surrender, before remembering the A.I.M. troopers were supposed to be on their side.
M.O.D.A.K. floated over and faced the Lang family.
“We will be taking you and your daughter into our custody, Mr. Lang,” He said, in his tinny voice.
“She didn’t mean to…,” Scott Lang said, despondently, as his over-sized daughter knelt down and sobbed against his shoulder. “She thought she was protecting me…!”
“Nevertheless, a man is dead and your daughter’s actions will cause ripples. It is safer for everyone, her included, that you both come with us.”
Scott Lang gently talked to his daughter, calming her down as much as could be expected under the circumstances and coaxing her back to her normal size.
Under armed guard, they were escorted to the camouflaged A.I.M. airship parked in the street.
Norris, Carol and B’tumba gathered in the front yard, bruised, bedraggled and confused.
“You two knew about our ‘back up’ the whole time,” Jack muttered.
“Not about M.O.D.A.K…”B’tumba replied in a tired, subdued tone.
“So, Pym was allied with Stark?” Carol asked.
“No.” Jack shook his head. “I’m guessing Lang wanted out from under Pym or Stark’s shadow after finding out they used his daughter as a lab rat. I’m also guessing, Graviton came here in hopes of recruiting Lang… A.I.M.can always use more freelancers. Seeing Dad threatened, Cassie freaked out, like she did when we showed up…”
“Instead of growing, she shrunk small enough to attack Graviton’s brain,” B’tumba added.
“Father and daughter then hid the body,” Carol nodded.
“Yes,” M.O.D.A.K. said, gliding up to them. “But, it was one of many theories. We needed more information.”
“You needed a ‘stalking horse’,” Jack muttered, bitterly.
“If you wish,” M.O.D.A.K. said, turning to look at the reporter. “I am running a precarious campaign, Mr. Norris. I’m playing a hundred games of chess against a dozen genius-level opponents and not just for the fate of the world, but the fate of the future. I need, not just scientists and soldiers, but investigators, people who can see random pieces and construct the puzzle. The work that needs to be done cannot all be done in a lab or while wearing a yellow helmet. It must be done out here, in the world, by people with a stake in that world. Mr. Lang was to be one of those people and may be at some point in the future. I believe you three could also fill that role, but needed to know if you could overcome your…flaws, for want of a better word and become the sort of agents I needed.”
“What…?” Carol protested.
“I thought…” B’tumba muttered.
“So, this was…what, a job interview?” Jack interrupted, standing face to face with the misshapen scientist.
“Yes,” M.O.D.A.K. replied, matter of factly. “And you three performed above my expectations. You have a great deal of potential, but we can discuss that back at my stronghold. We need to see to cleaning up and vacating the area. The local police have been stalled as long as we can and I am concerned we may attract attention from S.H.I.E.L.D. My men will see to retrieving Graviton’s remains. If you would be so kind as to convey Col. Danvers and B’tumba in your car. I’ll expect you at our Chicago facility.”
He turned and began to float away.
“What?” Carol protested. “But, I piloted the transport here! Now, I have to hitch a ride home?”
Whether he didn’t hear her or chose to ignore Carol, M.O.D.A.K. drifted through the door of the stealth craft, which closed and with a hum of energy and a gust of air took off.
“If it’ll make you feel better,” Jack said to her. “I’ll let you drive.”
“Very little about this has the potential to make me feel better,” She grumbled, walking off.
Jack tapped B’tumba on the arm, and steered him along, as they followed the tall blonde.
“Come on,” He said. “Before we head out, I’m going to need some cigarettes and a drink.”
“I don’t drink.” The young scientist replied.
“If ever there was a day to start…partner.”
END
Only a wall of video screens lit the cavernous room: myriad images and scrolls of information flickered past at speeds almost too fast for the human eye to follow. Luckily for the room’s sole occupant, he was considered no longer human.
M.O.D.A.K. (Mechanized Organism for the Detection and Advancement of Knowledge) was a grotesque looking being, his cranium enormous, and his body shriveled and dwarfish. Both head and body were cradled by a cybernetic hover-chair. Stunted fingers tapped at the control panels built into his chair’s arms, while his large, opaque-yellow eyes glanced at the dozens of screens.
If not for the movement of fingers and eyes, M.O.D.A.K. would have seemed to the casual observer no more than some bizarre piece of sculpture.
Several minutes of contemplation passed. A door slide open and a woman entered. She was middle-aged, with shoulder-length auburn hair streaked with grey. She wore a white lab coat over a plain skirt and blouse ensemble. She came and stood by M.O.D.A.K., peering at the screens for several moments before speaking.
“You’ve been here monitoring for five hours,” She said. “Even you need to rest.”
“I have had my nutrient tank refilled and my head band contains micro-sensors to stimulate my cortex nerves, Professor Rappacinni,” M.O.D.A.K. rasped in reply, not taking his eyes away from the screens. “I have tagged two dozen incidents for investigation. Traced seventeen attempts by our enemies to breach our facilities and computer systems…”
“I am quite aware you’ve been busy,” Professor Monica Rappacinni nodded, patiently. “You’re not the type to watch videos of kittens. Despite your claims, and your appearance, you are still human.”
“Stark, Richards and the others need to be watched and contained…”
“I’m also well aware of that, but you are pushing not just yourself, but your people too hard. We are stretched too thin and starting to suffer loses. Most of Alpha Squad is out of action for the next month, if not longer, we’ve lost contact with Fixer and Mentallo and at last count S.H.I.E.L.D. has raided three of our holdings and that explosion in our Oregon research lab was determined to be technician error, not sabotage…”
“None of this is new information,” M.O.D.A.K. replied. “In fact, you missed three incidents, including your daughter allying herself with Fury.”
The slight halted the conversation and the pair stayed in silence for several minutes. Dim awareness that he had been rude caused M.O.D.A.K. to pause and ponder something besides the flood of information. A tiny spark of human emotion reminded him that Professor Rappacinni was his friend and what he had said might be hurtful.
He found this to be more of a challenge than solving scientific equations.
His stubby fingers tapped at the controls and soon the screens began to darken. Within minutes only two were still lit.
“What do you think of this?” M.O.D.A.K. asked.
The middle-aged woman shifted from her inner contemplation to studying the information presented. She reached up, absently, to rub her chin.
“Those energy waves…?” Professor Rappicinni muttered, taking a step forward. “Gravity pulses like that don’t naturally occur within a planetary sphere…”
M.O.D.A.K. tapped another panel and one of the screens changed. Lines of information scrolled by.
“Cordico Research…?” She muttered. “They’re a shell company owned by Stark Industries.”
“As well as one of Richards’ labs and two S.H.I.E.L.D. holdings in the area,” Her associate added. “While our informant in S.H.I.E.L.D. is doubtful they are involved, but cannot confirm or deny Stark or Richards’ involvement.”
“We don’t have any available field teams,” Professor Rappicinni protested. “I don’t deny this thing is worth our attention, but we are stretched too thin…!”
“We will then have to assemble a team from available individual personnel.” M.O.D.A.K. explained. “I have created a list.”
A screen lit up and the lady scientist frowned at its contents.
“Norris? That tabloid muckraker?” She muttered. “Carol Danvers…her recent psychological testing…”
“She is a certified pilot on our new mobile research craft and has interacted with extraterrestrials…”
“She claims. You give her stories more credence than I feel is wise.” She interrupted. “You’ll still need a qualified scientist…”
“B’tumba is ready for a field assignment.” M.O.D.A.K. said.
“They are not…”Professor Rappicinni protested.
“I am informing, not consulting. They are already en route…”
# # # # #
Jack Norris huddled into his overcoat as he trudged across the field. The grass was unkempt, knee-high and damp from recent rain.
He took a sip from his coffee, frowned as he realized it was empty and tossed the cardboard cup away. He stamped along for several more minutes, glaring at his surroundings. The wind picked up, and Jack trudged over to a cluster of thin, leafless tress. They provided questionable shelter from the elements.
“Anything to report?” A voice suddenly asked behind him. Startling the reporter.
“I hate when you guys do that,” He muttered.
“You’d think you’d be used it by now,” The new arrival said. She was a tall, athletic blonde. Her outfit was practical, but couldn’t hide the attractive figure under it. “Well…?”
“I’m hoping your science guys have found something,” Norris shrugged. “Place is a mill town. Most of the factories shut down, and the town is hanging on by its fingertips. Been a couple attempts at hipster gentrification, but not enough nearby other towns to make it work. Locals think it’s either ghosts or aliens…”
“What did you say?” The blonde snapped.
“Slow down there, Scully,” Norris said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “It was writer’s hyperbole. I’m just saying...”
Jack Norris was a reporter, until an ugly divorce lead to his ex-wife joining a mystical cult and becoming the host for a crazed otherworldly warrior woman. While still dealing with that, he found himself on the wrong side of S.H.I.E.L.D. Unsurprisingly, that lead to his writing career taking a nosedive into a serious drinking problem.
Fished out of the gutter by A.I.M., Norris now used his journalist skills and sketchy reputation to investigate various weird incidences as part of M.O.D.A.K.’s organization.
Carol Danvers had been a decorated air-force pilot until a crash and a claim of contact with aliens lead to her being drummed out of the military and obsessed with investigating any rumor of alien contact on Earth.
Both were deeply flawed, damaged individuals that had found a purpose, a chance of possible redemption or at least some reason for getting out of bed in the morning by A.I.M.
“Well, there must be something here,” Carol said. “Why do both Stark Industries and S.H.I.E.L.D. have holdings in the area?”
“As far as I can figure,” Norris shrugged. “S.H.I.E.L.D. seems to be here, just so they can keep an eye on Stark and Stark is using Cordico as a tax write off. It’s just a skeleton maintenance crew and one guy manning the phone….”
“One of them must be active here,” Carol Danvers interrupted. “The energy pulse A.I.M. monitored does not occur naturally. Someone or something has to be making it happen…”
“Fine. I don’t pretend to understand gravity pulses or energy inversions,” Norris shrugged, patting his coat pockets in search of a cigarette. “All I know is something is going on and it’s making the locals twitchy, but I’m not seeing any sign that the ‘usual suspects’ are behind it. Didn’t M.O.D.A.K. send a science guy to help us?”
“He has assigned a research team to investigate,” She explained. “But, I was told there would be a field agent here too.”
“We’d better look around,” Her Journalist teammate said, resignedly, as he gave up any hope of a smoke or decent cup of coffee. “It’s getting dark and whatever this thing is, it’s left a couple people hospitalized, one dead and two missing.”
He sighed and turned up the collar of his overcoat. “Secret organization …you’d think they’d give us…communicators or signal watches….”
Jack Norris hadn’t gone more than a dozen steps, when suddenly he was flung up into the air. Arms and legs flailing he shot upwards, only halting his progress by grabbing hold of one of the uppermost branches of the nearest tree. He desperately held on, his fingernails digging into the bark.
“Christ!” He breathed, fighting down a surge of panic, as he came to realize his grip on the branch seemed to be the only thing keeping him from soaring off into the night sky.
“How…?” Carol Danvers asked, staring up in puzzlement. There was a buzzing from her coat pocket and she took out a cell phone-sized device.
“Spontaneous gravity surge…!” She breathed, more amazed than concerned. “Some kind of anti-gravity effect…”
“Danvers!” Norris yelled frantically. “Jesus, I’m gonna die up here and she’s playing Spock…!”
Carol Danvers paced around the tree, figuring out that the gravity flux was in a set area. She glanced upwards, not so much in concern for her partner, but trying to calculate how high it extended.
“If I survive this…!” Norris muttered, the muscles in his arms trembling as he struggled to pull himself down.
“Odd,” Carol said, tapping at her device. “Seems to be fluctuating…?”
Suddenly, Jack felt gravity return to normal and he plummeted downward, striking several branches before he managed to grab one and pull himself onto it. He clung to the branch, which bent dangerously, gasping for breath. His body ached and he blinked, fighting off a wave of dizziness.
“That big-headed bastard saved my life so he could get me killed,” Norris mumbled to himself.
“Are you all right?!” Carol Danvers shouted up to him.
“Yeah, I’m friggin wonderful!” He called down. “What the hell happened?”
“Some kind of gravity fluxuation,” Carol replied. “Come down! I feel ridiculous trying to talk this way.”
“You feel…?” Norris grunted, lowering his leg and feeling for the next secure branch.
Danvers continued to study her handheld device, while the battered reporter made his way, haltingly, back down to the ground.
“Jesus…!” he breathed, slumping against the tree, wincing.
“Well, we’ve answered one question,” Carol Danvers said, sparing Jack a glance and then returning to her investigation. “That gravity flux explains both the deaths and the disappearances…perhaps M.O.D.A.K. could train our satellite, the bodies couldn’t have escaped Earth’s orbit…?”
“What…?” Norris exclaimed, struggling back to his feet. “This stuff has been happening for a while and people have just been shooting off into space…?”
“That’s how it looks,” Carol nodded, looking around. “But, how…?”
“Don’t say ‘aliens’.” Norris muttered, rolling his right shoulder and then feeling his check and coming away with blood-smeared fingers.
“The kind of tech required to cause this kind of effect….” She began.
“Save it,” Norris grumbled, waving her away. “Look, there was…something over there…in the grass. I caught a glimpse when I was flailing around, saw something moving.”
“What? Where?” Carol exclaimed, glancing around anxiously.
“There!” Jack snapped, pointing across the field. “There’s some tall grass and bit of stone wall…come on!”
The reporter limped off, keeping to the edge of the field, using the few trees as shelter.
“What am I looking for?” Carol Danvers asked, scuffing through the grass.
“I…uh…don’t know,” Jack replied, absently, as he searched. “I was pretty preoccupied with not dying There was a shape and it was moving…here!”
There was a small circle where the grass had been mashed down and lying in the middle of it was a young Africian-american man.
“B’tumba!” Carol exclaimed, spotting the man.
“What?” Jack asked.
“He’s one of ours,” She explained. “A Wakandian refugee. I was told they were sending a tech along to help us…”
“Is he dead?” Jack asked, nudging the body with the toe of his shoe.
The young man groaned and slowly shifted, as though moving took a great deal of effort. B’tumba slowly opened his eyes and looked up, puzzled, at the duo.
“Col. Danvers…?” He croaked, in a cultured, slightly accented voice.
She knelt down and helped him sit up.
“What happened? Were you attacked?”
“I was…hnn…was taking some…some readings,” B’tumba muttered, rubbing his forehead. “There was an odd spike in gravity waves and I…I just dropped to the ground…so heavy…couldn’t move…breathing hurt…I…uh…I blacked out.”
He winced, as Carol and Jack helped him to his feet.
“Gravity flux,” Carol said. “But, the opposite of the effect you experienced, Jack.”
“So, something is making gravity go crazy in this area…?” Norris replied, looking nervously around. “That seems…impossible!”
“Not the first ‘impossible’ thing I’ve encountered since joining A.I.M.” Carol shrugged. “Do we have enough information to map a pattern for these events?”
B’tumba shrugged and then knelt down and rummaged through the flattened grass, coming out with a device similar to the one Carol Danvers carried.
Both began tapping away, intently studying the tiny screens. Jack Norris stood around with his hands in his coat pockets. Not being a scientist, he now felt completely left out.
“No reported incidents outside this area,” B’tumba said, holding up his device and showing a diagram of the field.
“Any further patterns to the effect?” Carol asked, absently. “Were there more times that gravity increased, as opposed to it decreasing?”
“No, seems almost random, but…look!”
The young Wakandian scientist touched the controls and the picture of the field changed, catching even Jack’s attention.
“What’s up with the white dots?” He asked. “And how come there’s that empty…shape in the middle of the field?”
“The dots mark the estimated locations of the reported incidents,” B’tumba explained, looking up from his screen and across the field. “I think that blank spot is…whatever is causing the gravity flux to occur.”
“Like a meteor hit there or something?” Norris asked.
“No impact crater,” Carol Danvers replied. “So, someone deliberately hid or installed something here. Let’s find out.”
“How?” Norris asked.
“I’ve got some equipment,” She told him. “Stay here, keep monitoring. Don’t mess with anything.”
Jack watched her walk off then glanced at B’tumba.
“Who put her in charge?’ He asked.
“You want to challenge her, be my guest,” B’tumba said, not looking up from his device. “I’ll be over here, studying the situation, when you’re done.”
The reporter looked from the studious young man, to where the ex-air force pilot had walked off, shrugged, frowned and hunched down into his overcoat, mentally cursing himself for leaving his cigarettes in his rental car.
# # # # #
Ten minutes later, Carol Danvers returned, carrying a bronze-colored metal tripod and had a knapsack slung over one shoulder.
“No shovel?” Norris muttered.
She gave him a disapproving frown then went to confer with B’tumba. They talked for several minutes, than headed off across the field.
“Look, before you two start getting too ‘Star Trek’ about all this,” Jack said. “We need to stop and think about a few things…”
“Such as?” Carol asked over her shoulder.
“How do we know that the…gravity flux won’t kick in while we’re in the middle of the field?”
“I’m monitoring the energy patterns,” B’tumba said. “There are some…’hot spots’, but I don’t see a high percentage of any flare ups as strong as the ones we experienced for a while.”
“Feel better now?” Carol asked, with obvious patience.
“Not really,” Jack replied. “Whatever is causing this is a…a machine, right?”
“Most likely.” B’tumba said, not looking up from his device.
“So, who put it there? Are they keeping an eye on it? Are we walking into a gun sight?”
The other two came to a halt, looked at Norris, then back at the innocent looking field.
“Um…”B’tumba said, anxiously.
“Well, we…” Danvers added, her eyes shifting.
“Now is the first time you two have thought about it…!” Norris breathed, shaking his head. “Christ!”
“Then, there’s a task for you,” Danvers said, starting walking off again.
They moved slowly across the field, on top of worrying about more occurrences of gravity flux, now anxious that someone was watching them.
Jack stumbled once as he suddenly felt his leg get extremely heavy. He lurched backwards into Carol and then they had to fumble to keep her from dropping her equipment.
A little further along, B’tumba found himself floating six inches above the ground and Jack pulled him away as he started to float higher.
They reached ‘ground zero’ and felt no further strange gravity effects.
Carol set up the tripod and activated a metal box at the peak; it emitted an energy beam that began to drill through the ground.
B’tumba paced the perimeter of the dead zone.
Jack scanned their surroundings, spotted nothing suspicious and after several minutes of anxious thought, took out his cell phone.
“Stark may be a sociopath, but if he’s got a building in the area you can count on cell coverage,” He muttered.
Within minutes the device had burrowed down several feet. The closer they got the more intense the gravity effects around them became. Jack watched several good-sized rocks shoot off into space, while numerous tree branches cracked and crashed to the ground.
The trio had to move in closer to the ‘dead zone’, after B’tumba collapsed to his knees. Carol Danvers moved closer to the digger, after she began to float and pulling away resulted in her losing a shoe.
“Um…guys,” Jack said, looking up for his phone. “Hold on for a second…you need to stop digging…um…I might have something…”
“What?” Carol snapped, shifting her glare from her shoeless foot to her teammate. “What now?”
“Look, I don’t do science for A.I.M.” Jack said. “I investigative for the big guy…”
“Is there a point to this?”
“Fine, the point is, I do detective work and…we might not be digging up a machine, it might be a person…a body.” Jack said.
“What?” B’tumba said, looking away from his device. “Who…?”
“Graviton,” Carol said, quietly. “He went missing…we assumed Stark had him captive somewhere…”
“But, you think he was killed and his body buried here?” B’tumba muttered. “Who could kill Graviton?”
“Yeah,” Jack nodded, indicating that the young scientist had reached the same place he had. “Who could do that…and if they did, why hide the body in a backwoods town like this? Why not rub it in? Stark and Banner have done it before.”
“Everything we learn seems to lead to two more questions,” Carol muttered, her hand resting on the digger’s controls, but hesitant about reactivating it.
B’tumba was now ignoring his scanner and intently and nervously looking off into the shadowy distance.
A tense silence fell over the trio.
“Ah, screw it,” Jack muttered, gestured at the tripod. “Let’s get this over with.”
Carol nodded grimly and hit the controls. The box hummed and began digging again. Within minutes the dirt was pushed away revealing a body wrapped in plastic sheeting.
“Sometimes I hate being right,” Jack said, wearily.
“Oh my god…!” Carol breathed. “How…?”
“His body is still generating anti-gravity energy,” B’tumba added, pushing down his shock by focusing on the scientific investigation. “As his brain and nervous system are shutting down, its generating sparks of gravity flux.”
He shook his head in amazement.
“Who could do this?” Carol asked, looking up, meeting Jack’s gaze. ‘Stark…?”
“Maybe,” The reporter shrugged. “Would explain why they’ve kept the place outside of town open…but, I don’t…this feels wrong, somehow…we’re missing something.”
“We need to get in touch with Professor Rappicinni,” B’tumba said, letting some of the anxiety and fear he felt leak through. “M.O.D.A,K. needs to be involved…what can the three of us do? We need a squad handling this!”
“Slow down there,” Jack said. “This has changed. We aren’t doing science, this is a crime scene and we are in my arena now.”
He kneeled down and peered into the makeshift grave at the decaying body of one of the planet’s most powerful beings. His brow furrowed in thought. He then stood up and looked around at their surroundings.
“What’s wrong here?’ He muttered.
“They hid the body,” Carol suddenly said. “Why would anyone that could beat Graviton do that?”
“His body is a treasure,” B’tumba added. “Both S.H.I.E.L.D and Stark have facilities nearby…why isn’t it in a lab?”
“It’s not about the science,” Jack said, light dawning in his thought process. “This was a murder.”
He took out his phone again and went to work.
“I still don’t understand…?” B’Tumba started. “Hmmm…the erratic fluxes the body is still generating could be a neurological disorder…?”
“What do you mean?” Carol asked. “He had…what, a tumor or stroke?”
“Possibly, I’m not a doctor, “ B’tumba muttered. “But, there are signs of micro-damage on his cortex…?”
“Even so, who hid the body?” Carol asked. “I can understand someone discovering the body and panicking, worrying about retribution from A.I.M. or attracting attention from S.H.I.E.L.D. or Richards or…a dozen other sources…but, who did it?”
“I might have something,” Jack said, holding up his phone. “Checked my files from past jobs I did for A.I.M. and odds and ends I’ve dug up and I may have found somebody that fits…”
The other two leaned in and peered at the screen at Jack’s phone.
“This is feasible,” B’tumba muttered, grimly.
“This is not good.” Carol added.
“What do you want to do?” Jack asked.
“Let’s just get it over with.” She sighed. She then gestured at the other two to move away and tapped a button on the tripod box. A new beam was emitted and Graviton’s corpse was reburied.
As the trio trudged away, Carol took out her cell phone and texted while they walked away.
# # # # #
Soon, a bland looking rental car turned onto a side street in a small neighborhood. It pulled up in a front of a modest two-story house.
The trio got out and made their way to the front door. Jack took the lead.
They tensely waited once Jack had rung the doorbell.
“Let me talk,” He said.
A man opened the door in his thirties, with sandy-blonde hair.
“Can I help you?” He asked, uneasily.
“Mr. Lang?” Jack asked. “Scott Lang? Can I ask you a few questions?”
“Are you cops?” Lang asked.
“No. Uh…I’m a reporter,” He replied. “And I’m…”
“What about them?”
Jack Norris glanced back over his shoulder at the young black scientist and the statuesque blonde pilot.
“He’s my bodyguard and she’s a waitress I picked up at some topless joint….long story.”
He turned back to the other man. Jack took in his rumpled hair and clothing, his in need of sleep features and anxious posture. He recognized that look and posture every time he looked into a mirror. Life had dropped a burden on Scott Lang and he was losing the fight to hold it up.
“I’m working on a story and think you might be able to give me some information,” Jack explained.
“I don’t think…”
“You work for Stark International.”
“The plant closed down…”Scott began.
“But, you are still on Stark’s payroll.” Jack countered. “Maybe you can tell us something about…”
B’tumba stepped up, till he was at Jack’s shoulder.
“He’s showing traces of Pym particles,” The young scientist muttered.
Despite his attempts at subtlety, the others heard him. Scott Lang took a step back, while Carol moved forward.
“Wait…hold on…what…?” Lang stuttered.
“Okay, everybody..!” Jack interrupted, grabbing Carol by the arm.
“Get away from my dad!” A girl in her early teens shouted, as she came running down the stairs towards them.
“No! Cassie!” Lang exclaimed, starting to turn.
“Wow!” B’Tumba exclaimed. “Pym particles just spiked…”
“Um…is she getting bigger…?” Carol asked.
The front door frame shattered, as the teenage girl, now ten feet tall came bursting out.
Lang collapsed, buried under debris and the trio of A.I.M. operatives were scattered like bowling pins as she slammed into them.
Jack landed hard on his back, the wind knocked out of him. B’tumba was flung into a hedge.
Carol leapt to her feet and immediately launched herself at the giantess. She leapt, driving her shoulder into the girl’s solar plexus. Carol landed on her feet, while Cassie Lang dropped to her knees.
The air force pilot then clasped her hands together and swung them, catching Cassie Lang under the chin and sending her tumbling backwards.
“Leave us alone!” Cassie shrieked, slapping Carol with an over-sized hand. “Stay away from my dad!”
“Jesus!” Jack muttered, struggling to his feet. “Carol, she’s just a kid…!”
“She’s just a kid that may have killed Graviton,” B’tumba said, helping him to his feet with one hand while he tapped away furiously on his device with the other. “Lang’s Pym particles are in decay. The girl is saturated with them…”
“What?” Jack asked, feeling dazed and not sure what was caused by the beatings he’d taken lately or just trying to process the information. “What are you…?!”
“Nobody could overpower Graviton,” B’tumba said, trying to steer Jack away from the fight. “But someone who could shrink small enough to reach his brain….!”
“Christ…!” Jack muttered. “We need to stop this or someone else is going to die…!”
“I’m hitting the panic button,” B’tumba nodded, tapping his device.
Suddenly, a door opened in the air and a dozen yellow-helmeted A.I.M. troops came jogging out. M.O.D.A.K. floated out behind them.
They soon had the Lang’s front yard surrounded and weapons pointed at the two female combatants.
“Cease fighting!” M.O.D.A.K. commanded, the volume on his vocal unit increased. Like a gunshot, it starlted everyone and soon the trio of investigators, as well as the Lang family were standing in the middle of the front yard. Jack Norris fought back an urge to raise his hands in surrender, before remembering the A.I.M. troopers were supposed to be on their side.
M.O.D.A.K. floated over and faced the Lang family.
“We will be taking you and your daughter into our custody, Mr. Lang,” He said, in his tinny voice.
“She didn’t mean to…,” Scott Lang said, despondently, as his over-sized daughter knelt down and sobbed against his shoulder. “She thought she was protecting me…!”
“Nevertheless, a man is dead and your daughter’s actions will cause ripples. It is safer for everyone, her included, that you both come with us.”
Scott Lang gently talked to his daughter, calming her down as much as could be expected under the circumstances and coaxing her back to her normal size.
Under armed guard, they were escorted to the camouflaged A.I.M. airship parked in the street.
Norris, Carol and B’tumba gathered in the front yard, bruised, bedraggled and confused.
“You two knew about our ‘back up’ the whole time,” Jack muttered.
“Not about M.O.D.A.K…”B’tumba replied in a tired, subdued tone.
“So, Pym was allied with Stark?” Carol asked.
“No.” Jack shook his head. “I’m guessing Lang wanted out from under Pym or Stark’s shadow after finding out they used his daughter as a lab rat. I’m also guessing, Graviton came here in hopes of recruiting Lang… A.I.M.can always use more freelancers. Seeing Dad threatened, Cassie freaked out, like she did when we showed up…”
“Instead of growing, she shrunk small enough to attack Graviton’s brain,” B’tumba added.
“Father and daughter then hid the body,” Carol nodded.
“Yes,” M.O.D.A.K. said, gliding up to them. “But, it was one of many theories. We needed more information.”
“You needed a ‘stalking horse’,” Jack muttered, bitterly.
“If you wish,” M.O.D.A.K. said, turning to look at the reporter. “I am running a precarious campaign, Mr. Norris. I’m playing a hundred games of chess against a dozen genius-level opponents and not just for the fate of the world, but the fate of the future. I need, not just scientists and soldiers, but investigators, people who can see random pieces and construct the puzzle. The work that needs to be done cannot all be done in a lab or while wearing a yellow helmet. It must be done out here, in the world, by people with a stake in that world. Mr. Lang was to be one of those people and may be at some point in the future. I believe you three could also fill that role, but needed to know if you could overcome your…flaws, for want of a better word and become the sort of agents I needed.”
“What…?” Carol protested.
“I thought…” B’tumba muttered.
“So, this was…what, a job interview?” Jack interrupted, standing face to face with the misshapen scientist.
“Yes,” M.O.D.A.K. replied, matter of factly. “And you three performed above my expectations. You have a great deal of potential, but we can discuss that back at my stronghold. We need to see to cleaning up and vacating the area. The local police have been stalled as long as we can and I am concerned we may attract attention from S.H.I.E.L.D. My men will see to retrieving Graviton’s remains. If you would be so kind as to convey Col. Danvers and B’tumba in your car. I’ll expect you at our Chicago facility.”
He turned and began to float away.
“What?” Carol protested. “But, I piloted the transport here! Now, I have to hitch a ride home?”
Whether he didn’t hear her or chose to ignore Carol, M.O.D.A.K. drifted through the door of the stealth craft, which closed and with a hum of energy and a gust of air took off.
“If it’ll make you feel better,” Jack said to her. “I’ll let you drive.”
“Very little about this has the potential to make me feel better,” She grumbled, walking off.
Jack tapped B’tumba on the arm, and steered him along, as they followed the tall blonde.
“Come on,” He said. “Before we head out, I’m going to need some cigarettes and a drink.”
“I don’t drink.” The young scientist replied.
“If ever there was a day to start…partner.”
END
It had never been a picturesque neighborhood. It was all industrial parks, warehouses, chain link fences and empty lots. The recently added broken walls, wrecked cars and craters in the road weren’t helping.
Huddled behind the crushed wreckage of what had been, only twenty minutes ago, a perfectly drivable Cadillac, were two figures.
The Trapster and the Wizard, two thirds of the current membership of the Fantastic Four, were taking shelter. Trapster reloading his special paste gun, while the Wizard was tossing aside several cracked metal disks and attempting to repair one of his gauntlets. He muttered under his breath.
“How?!” He grumbled. “How could Richards have outwitted me like this…? I’m a…”
“A friggin genius,” Trapster muttered, peeking up over the crumpled hood of the car, before ducking back down. “Richards played us! He saw you coming a mile away and laid a trail of breadcrumbs.”
“We can debate it if we manage to survive,” The Wizard snapped, closing the panel on his glove. “Any sign of Sandman?”
“Yeah, scattered all over the street. It’s gonna take Flint forever to reform.” Trapster said. “The way he burst has got them confused and kind of wandering around, but that won’t last forever and I bet they get their focus back the minute they spot us.”
“Fine,” Wizard muttered. “How many are there?”
“I’d say…um…five, tops.”
“That’s reassuring.
“Feel free to jump up and take a head count. I’ll wait here,” Trapster said. “Shouldn’t be a problem, I hear you’re a genius.”
The Wizard frowned at his teammate and then lapsed into thoughtful silence.
“If I can generate the right frequency through my power gloves, I should be able to revive Sandman and expedite his reforming. I’ll need a few moments.”
“Yeah, I don’t love that plan,” Trapster said, taking a few quick, deep breathes as he geared himself up for what had the potential to be his final stupid decision. “Let’s get this over with.”
Both men leapt to their feet, Trapster firing his paste gun, the Wizard flying to aid their fallen team mate.
Milling about were four strange and threatening figures. Four Amazonian women, all well over six feet, their clothing was torn and their skin emerald green. Their expressions were slack and their eyes glassy.
The quartet all looked like some strange merging of super-model and monster.
“Hey! Brides of Gamma-stien!” Trapster shouted, as he fired. Bursts of super adhesive enveloped the gamma-enhanced women’s feet, holding them in place. One of his shots went wide, only getting one foot of the fourth green woman.
She quickly went from confusion to frustrated anger at her trapped foot. She reached down grabbed her ankle and struggled to pull her foot free, growling fiercely. The dried mound of paste encasing her foot began to crack.
Frowning grimly, the Trapster fired off several more bursts, catching two of the emerald amazons binding their hands together. The third caught the one with only one caught foot and stuck her hand to the sidewalk.
She snarled at her hand and then glared over at Trapster.
“Oh-kay,” He muttered, anxiously reloading. “You are the alpha She-Hulk and there’s a good chance you are going to kick my ass….!”
While this was occurring, the Wizard flew over to the largest stretch of sand. He landed, kneeled and quickly began making adjustments to his armored suit’s gloves. Soon they were sparking with energy and he planted his hands, palms down, against the ground.
A faint tremor ran through the street and the scattered sand shot up, lurching into a crude man-like form. It staggered a few steps, becoming slowly more recognizably human with each step. The sand faded away revealing a tall, muscular man with a buzz cut, dressed in a green t-shirt and brown pants.
Trapster fired off a couple quick shots and then raced over to his teammate, catching him before he fell.
“Welcome back, Flint,” He said, sliding an arm under his friend’s arm and they staggered to get out of the reach of the angry green women.
“Whu-what…what happened?” Sandman mumbled, blinking and shaking his head.
“Well, our fearless leader was completely suckered by Richards,” Trapster explained. “Instead of a some storage container full of gizmo’s, we busted into one of Banner’s old labs, where he makes girlfriends for his ‘other half’. After that, it’s been mostly avoiding being beaten to death.”
“Pete! Lookout!” Sandman exclaimed.
One of the green women had broken free and was charging at them.
Sandman raised a hand and it phased back and forth between sand and flesh, his brow furrowing in concentration.
The Wizard pulled out two anti-gravity discs and jammed them into the wrecked car. He then lifted the car. He then lifted and threw the battered car, pinning two of the She-hulks against the wall of a warehouse.
He flew over and helped Trapster support their still weak teammate.
“So, what now?” Trapster asked.
“We need to contain them,” The Wizard said, peering around at their surroundings. “Bad as this area is, it won’t be much longer before we attract attention.”
“If Banner or Richards show up,” Trapster muttered. “We’re done.”
“We ‘re rooting for S.H.I.E.L.D. to be the Calvary…?” Sandman said. “Did I hear that right…?”
“No way the cops can handle those dames,” Trapster added, firing off a couple more shots with his free hand.
“What about big head’s group…?” Sandman asked, absently, while he continued to focus on his hand and his transformation into his sand form.
“I’ve been trying to contact A.I.M. without much success,” Wizard said, as they lowered the Sandman to sit on the hood of another abandoned car. “I think we need to concentrate on subduing the women.”
“You up to this?” Trapster asked Sandman.
“Gimme a second,” He nodded.
Trapster watched as the two pinned she-hulks began to push the car away and the other two, who were glued to the sidewalk, were breaking loose.
“Let’s get this over with,” Trapster muttered, drawing both guns…
# # # # #
A half hour later, the trio were all sitting on the crumpled hood of a car, nursing their various wounds, while they watched the police, S.H.I.E.L.D. and various consultants from A.I.M., Stark Industries and Homeland security argue over who had jurisdiction and what to do with the quartet of gamma-enhanced women.
The Trapster was cradling his right arm and would occasionally snort and spit a glob of bloody saliva. Sandman slumped, parts of him shifting from flesh to sand. The Wizard sported a large crack on his helmet and was missing a glove.
“I will concede,” He said. “That could have gone better.”
“This is no way to make a living,” Sandman muttered, straining to shift his face back to flesh. His legs ended in a pile of sand.
“Wish I’d thought to shoot them in the face so they couldn’t breathe before that one snapped my wrist,” Trapster muttered, grimacing.
“I think our first order of business, once this is sorted out,” The Wizard said, gesturing at the chaos around them. “Is to regroup and make a serious effort to recruit a fourth member.”
END
Huddled behind the crushed wreckage of what had been, only twenty minutes ago, a perfectly drivable Cadillac, were two figures.
The Trapster and the Wizard, two thirds of the current membership of the Fantastic Four, were taking shelter. Trapster reloading his special paste gun, while the Wizard was tossing aside several cracked metal disks and attempting to repair one of his gauntlets. He muttered under his breath.
“How?!” He grumbled. “How could Richards have outwitted me like this…? I’m a…”
“A friggin genius,” Trapster muttered, peeking up over the crumpled hood of the car, before ducking back down. “Richards played us! He saw you coming a mile away and laid a trail of breadcrumbs.”
“We can debate it if we manage to survive,” The Wizard snapped, closing the panel on his glove. “Any sign of Sandman?”
“Yeah, scattered all over the street. It’s gonna take Flint forever to reform.” Trapster said. “The way he burst has got them confused and kind of wandering around, but that won’t last forever and I bet they get their focus back the minute they spot us.”
“Fine,” Wizard muttered. “How many are there?”
“I’d say…um…five, tops.”
“That’s reassuring.
“Feel free to jump up and take a head count. I’ll wait here,” Trapster said. “Shouldn’t be a problem, I hear you’re a genius.”
The Wizard frowned at his teammate and then lapsed into thoughtful silence.
“If I can generate the right frequency through my power gloves, I should be able to revive Sandman and expedite his reforming. I’ll need a few moments.”
“Yeah, I don’t love that plan,” Trapster said, taking a few quick, deep breathes as he geared himself up for what had the potential to be his final stupid decision. “Let’s get this over with.”
Both men leapt to their feet, Trapster firing his paste gun, the Wizard flying to aid their fallen team mate.
Milling about were four strange and threatening figures. Four Amazonian women, all well over six feet, their clothing was torn and their skin emerald green. Their expressions were slack and their eyes glassy.
The quartet all looked like some strange merging of super-model and monster.
“Hey! Brides of Gamma-stien!” Trapster shouted, as he fired. Bursts of super adhesive enveloped the gamma-enhanced women’s feet, holding them in place. One of his shots went wide, only getting one foot of the fourth green woman.
She quickly went from confusion to frustrated anger at her trapped foot. She reached down grabbed her ankle and struggled to pull her foot free, growling fiercely. The dried mound of paste encasing her foot began to crack.
Frowning grimly, the Trapster fired off several more bursts, catching two of the emerald amazons binding their hands together. The third caught the one with only one caught foot and stuck her hand to the sidewalk.
She snarled at her hand and then glared over at Trapster.
“Oh-kay,” He muttered, anxiously reloading. “You are the alpha She-Hulk and there’s a good chance you are going to kick my ass….!”
While this was occurring, the Wizard flew over to the largest stretch of sand. He landed, kneeled and quickly began making adjustments to his armored suit’s gloves. Soon they were sparking with energy and he planted his hands, palms down, against the ground.
A faint tremor ran through the street and the scattered sand shot up, lurching into a crude man-like form. It staggered a few steps, becoming slowly more recognizably human with each step. The sand faded away revealing a tall, muscular man with a buzz cut, dressed in a green t-shirt and brown pants.
Trapster fired off a couple quick shots and then raced over to his teammate, catching him before he fell.
“Welcome back, Flint,” He said, sliding an arm under his friend’s arm and they staggered to get out of the reach of the angry green women.
“Whu-what…what happened?” Sandman mumbled, blinking and shaking his head.
“Well, our fearless leader was completely suckered by Richards,” Trapster explained. “Instead of a some storage container full of gizmo’s, we busted into one of Banner’s old labs, where he makes girlfriends for his ‘other half’. After that, it’s been mostly avoiding being beaten to death.”
“Pete! Lookout!” Sandman exclaimed.
One of the green women had broken free and was charging at them.
Sandman raised a hand and it phased back and forth between sand and flesh, his brow furrowing in concentration.
The Wizard pulled out two anti-gravity discs and jammed them into the wrecked car. He then lifted the car. He then lifted and threw the battered car, pinning two of the She-hulks against the wall of a warehouse.
He flew over and helped Trapster support their still weak teammate.
“So, what now?” Trapster asked.
“We need to contain them,” The Wizard said, peering around at their surroundings. “Bad as this area is, it won’t be much longer before we attract attention.”
“If Banner or Richards show up,” Trapster muttered. “We’re done.”
“We ‘re rooting for S.H.I.E.L.D. to be the Calvary…?” Sandman said. “Did I hear that right…?”
“No way the cops can handle those dames,” Trapster added, firing off a couple more shots with his free hand.
“What about big head’s group…?” Sandman asked, absently, while he continued to focus on his hand and his transformation into his sand form.
“I’ve been trying to contact A.I.M. without much success,” Wizard said, as they lowered the Sandman to sit on the hood of another abandoned car. “I think we need to concentrate on subduing the women.”
“You up to this?” Trapster asked Sandman.
“Gimme a second,” He nodded.
Trapster watched as the two pinned she-hulks began to push the car away and the other two, who were glued to the sidewalk, were breaking loose.
“Let’s get this over with,” Trapster muttered, drawing both guns…
# # # # #
A half hour later, the trio were all sitting on the crumpled hood of a car, nursing their various wounds, while they watched the police, S.H.I.E.L.D. and various consultants from A.I.M., Stark Industries and Homeland security argue over who had jurisdiction and what to do with the quartet of gamma-enhanced women.
The Trapster was cradling his right arm and would occasionally snort and spit a glob of bloody saliva. Sandman slumped, parts of him shifting from flesh to sand. The Wizard sported a large crack on his helmet and was missing a glove.
“I will concede,” He said. “That could have gone better.”
“This is no way to make a living,” Sandman muttered, straining to shift his face back to flesh. His legs ended in a pile of sand.
“Wish I’d thought to shoot them in the face so they couldn’t breathe before that one snapped my wrist,” Trapster muttered, grimacing.
“I think our first order of business, once this is sorted out,” The Wizard said, gesturing at the chaos around them. “Is to regroup and make a serious effort to recruit a fourth member.”
END