Back to GatefoldIssue #4 by Daniel Ingram
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"THE INSPECTION"
Asia
“Kid, snap out of it!”
The mercenary known as Thrill Blade pressed his mystical weapon closer and closer to Hurricane’s skull, even as the super strong mercenary struggled to stop him. His machete, made entirely of vibranium, was strong enough to avoid being cut in half by the mystic blade, but that was where his luck ended.
Hurricane’s mind raced as he struggled to think of a way out of this. If he tried to invoke their shared mission, he’d still die, just later. If his teammates could have done anything without giving themselves away, they would have. So that left him all alone, with a man he’d seen take on a Hulk one on one.
“Alright, enough,” a hand slapped down on Thrill Blade’s shoulder, and effortless tossed Thrill Blade aside, “fight’s over, kid.”
Hurricane looked up, and saw Dran’s bodyguard, the man who called himself The Solution, standing over him.
“Congrats,” the man offered Hurricane his hand. The man known as The Solution smirked at Hurricane, “you’re still alive. I guess that means you’re my new co-worker.”
Hurricane took the man’s hand, and stood up. He brushed the dirt from his shoulders, “Looks like it. Hell of a first day.”
“Well,” Solution chuckled, “if we’re being honest, this is just the interview being over.”
“It’s not over…” Thrill Blade stood up, trembling with rage, “…until I say it’s over.”
“Then you better speak up, son,” Solution said.
Thrill Blade lunged for Solution, but the man caught the blade in one hand, the same one that removed several fingers from a Hulk, and only seemed to wince.
“Magic,” the Solution sighed, as his hand began to bleed just a little, “always a little tricky.”
The Solution yanked Thrill Blade’s sword from his hand, and then mule kicked him in the stomach with such force that Thrill Blade was pitched into a car some ten feet away with enough force to crumple it inwards.
“You want me to finish the job, punk?” Solution said, still holding Thrill Blade’s sword by the blade, “because without this pig sticker, you’re not even a road bump to me.”
“That’s enough,” said a new voice.
Hurricane turned his head, and saw Damien Dran approach. He was flanked by Weapon Chi, and Midnight. Hurricane studied the two cyborgs for a moment, and realized that they couldn’t have been more different.
Midnight radiated anger and contempt. He was little more than a dog on a leash, he knew it and made no attempts to hide it.
Weapon Chi, on the other hand, was pure calm and complete indifference. She seemed to register absolutely nothing on an emotional level, but everything on a tactical level. Hurricane understood what Hrist meant when she described the women as a shell, because to him, she barely registered as a person.
Just looking at her, he could almost feel the complete absence that was the sum of her person.
“I understand how the surge of adrenaline can be…intoxicating, after a battle,” Dran said, “and for that, Thrill Blade, I’ll forgive this attack. But only you stand down, right now.”
Hurricane held his breath. If Thrill Blade decided to keep fighting, and everything Hurricane had seen of the man up until now indicated he would do just that, Hurricane wouldn’t be able to do anything but watch him die.
“What say you?”
Thrill Blade met Dran’s eyes…and then he took a deep breath.
“I’m good,” Thrill Blade motioned to his sword, and it flew from The Solution’s hand and into his. He pointed his blade towards Alley-Cat’s corpse, where it lay in a puddle of blood.
“She was a friend of mine,” Thrill Blade said, “and if you’re planning on leaving her to rot, or worse, we’ll have a problem again.”
Solution and Dran exchanged a glance.
“Look, kid…,” Solution started.
“I have a contact in Shield,” Dran said, “I can have him here inside of fifteen minutes, and have her body home inside of twenty four hours. I’ll even throw in money for her burial, anonymously, of course.”
Thrill Blade almost did a double take.
“You’d do that?”
Dran shrugged, “Ours is a cut throat business, but I don’t see why we can’t remember our humanity, our family, at times. Think of it as a signing bonus and apology, if you’d like.”
“I will,” Thrill Blade sheathed his sword, and forced the next words from his mouth, “thank you.”
“And you, Hurricane isn’t it?” Dran said, “anything you would care to address at the moment?”
“Just that I want my signing bonus in cash,” Hurricane said.
“Of course,” Dran said, “but before we discuss business, Hurricane, there’s something I’d like you to take care of.”
Hurricane felt a shiver down his spine.
“What’s that?”
Dran pointed north, to where Shockwave lay on the ground, mulling pathetically. Half the glass protecting his face was gone, his legs were a twisted wreck but he still held on to life.
“I need you to kill that man. Up close, and personal. Look him in the eye, and end him.”
Hurricane glanced looked at Shockwave, and then at Dran.
“Okay.”
Hurricane pulled his sidearm, and was about to take the shot, when Solution grabbed his wrist.
“Didn’t you hear the boss?” Solution said.
“I did, but I have a code,” Hurricane looked Solution in the eye, and then Dran, “the three Cs. No civilians, no collateral and no cruelty. And if you know my rep, or hell, were watching just now, you’d know I’m not squeamish.”
“Indeed,” said Dran, “I admire a man with a code, and in the future, I will strive to ensure that you do not violate it while under my employ.”
Dran then narrowed his eyes.
“In the future. In the here and now, you are to kill that man. Up close, and personal. Unless you’d care to see how expensive your code can really be.”
Hurricane gritted his teeth. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this was Dran flexing his muscle, making him break his code as a way of flexing his muscle.
And as much as Hurricane wanted to keep to his code, he knew that failure on this mission wasn’t an option.
“Fine.”
Hurricane walked over to Shockwave at a casual pace. Hurricane could feel Dran studying him, evaluating him, seeing how he handled this kind of kill. It was one thing to kill in the heat of battle. It was something else entirely to kill in cold blood.
But Hurricane had done both.
“Mio dios,” Shockwave mumbled. His face plate was shattered, revealing a young Hispanic man who couldn’t have been a day over twenty, “please man, don’t do this!”
Hurricane pulled his sidearm, and for a moment, his fingers trembled.
“Please, I have family! I’ll do any…”
The shot went through the man’s mouth, and severed the spine. Death was instantaneous, and the mortician could hide it easily enough for an open casket funeral.
“Guess you don’t care for imposters, huh?” Hurricane holstered his weapon, and turned to Dran.
Hurricane didn’t know the whole story, but he knew enough to piece it together. Some criminal martial artist, trying to ride off of another villain’s rep using bootleg equipment. Small story, barely worth caring about. But Dran did.
“I run a dangerous business, so I demand at least a certain level of honesty, even if I work with criminals,” Dran said, “that little shit is lucky that I want to get home as soon as possible. Now, gentlemen, step forward, if you please. You would not believe how expensive it is to use a teleporter, and I think we’d all agree that we don’t want any accidents.”
# # # # #
“…they’re in,” Warcry said. She watched as Hurricane, Thrill Blade and the rest disappeared into the same teleportational effect that whisked away the men that Dran had set on the perimeter.
“Thank God,” Scorpion sighed, as she released a breath she wasn’t even aware she was holding until then. She stood up and cracked her back, “you know, you were pretty damn useless there. Did you even use your powers once?”
“I never had an opening,” Warcry growled, “and if they even got a whiff of us here, the mission would be over before it started!”
“Enough,” Mr. Raven stepped in between the women, “we have our people inside. That’s all we need.”
“Speak for yourself, mortal,” Hrist said as she cast her eyes down on the slaughter below, “all the glory, all that blood missed…this was not what I was promised.”
“You’ll have your blood, count on it,” Mr. Raven said, “before this is done, we’ll all have our fill.”
“Now that we have Hurricane and Thrill Blade inside, how long until we move onto phase three?” said Shroud.
“Tomorrow,” Mr. Raven said.
“Tomorrow?” Shroud said, “You have to be kidding.”
“Yes. Because that’s what I do,” said Mr. Raven, “I kid, I joke. I even perform at parties. Tomorrow. Get used to it.”
“This is moving way too fast, Raven. The quicker we move, the greater the chance we make a mistake, and the bigger the chance of this entire thing going off the rails!”
“If you want to jump off, now’s the time,” said Mr. Raven, “otherwise, just shut up and hold on. That goes for everyone here.”
“You couldn’t force me off,” Warcry said.
“That’s good, because if Hurricane and Thrill Blade survive the night, you’re up next.”
# # # # #
Hell’s Peak
The door slid open, and The Solution motioned for Hurricane to step inside.
“Welcome to your new home,” Solution said.
The room reminded Hurricane of a hotel room. One queen sized bed, an average TV, an adjacent room with shower and toilet and a few assorted nit-nacks to give the illusion of comfort.
“Jiggity jig,” Hurricane said, “this is a joke, right? How you guys punk the new kid? This is a shoe box.”
The Solution shrugged, “Not like this is the Hotel Six, buddy. Dran wants to put you through the hoops before you get too comfortable. Don’t worry, you last a week? You’ll have an apartment that puts Tony Stark’s to shame.”
“Speaking of comfort, I could use a change of clothes,” Hurricane said. He glanced down at the blood that stained his uniform, “I spilled a little juice on this one.”
“You can take care of that here, actually,” The Solution went to the closet, and pulled the door back, “give me your machete.”
“You break it…” Hurricane said, as he drew the blood stained weapon, and handed it to Solution.
“Whatever,” Solution dropped the weapon in the closest, and closed the door.
“So…now what?”
The Solution opened the door, and Hurricane’s machete lay there, pristine perfect.
“…okay, I’m impressed,” Hurricane said.
“Put your clothes in one at a time,” Solution said, “just don’t step inside yourself.”
“Why, horrible death?”
The Solution looked at Hurricane the way a parent looks at a toddler.
“The same reason you don’t put metal in a microwave, you’d break it. Idiot.”
“Oh.”
“Anyways, try to get some sleep,” Solution said, “use the phone by the bed to order any food you want. Dran’ll let you start late tomorrow, but don’t think that means it’ll be easy.”
“I’ve never needed easy before,” Hurricane said, “you saw that today.”
“Heh, that?” Solution chuckled, “this is Hell’s Peak, son. You just survived day one. You can brag when you get to week two.”
The moment the Solution left, Hurricane flopped on the bed, too tired to even climb under the sheets.
The battle was exhausting, and the fear, the fear that he didn’t dare allow the outside world to see, that followed when it finished was twice as draining. Even now, he was certain that Dran was running every scan he could, trying to determine if Hurricane was some enemy plant or Shield agent, sent here to assassinate him.
And seeing as he was an enemy agent, sent to do exactly that, Hurricane hardly felt any safer here at opposed to on the battlefield.
Because here, Dran could kill him twice as easily. His room could be rigged with explosives. Mustard gas could be in the vents. There could be an entire battalion of super powers sociopaths one foot away from his door, and he couldn’t know until he was choking on his own blood.
And on that bright thought, Hurricane heard a knock at his door
Hurricane picked up his machete, the light reflecting off it’s clean form perfectly, and stalked to the door.
He knew Dran had to be watching. He knew that literally anything could be behind the door.
So instead of swinging the door open and brandishing his blade, he opened the door, and held the machete in a reverse grip, hiding it from sight behind the muscle of his arm.
“Hey…whoa!”
The man had a Confederate flag tattooed across a chest that would have shamed any body builder, and a set of Glocks resting on his hips.
“You’re not the chick that lives here…,” the man said dimly.
“No, I’m not,” Hurricane said.
“Well, do you know…”
Hurricane slammed the door shut, and rolled his eyes.
He tossed his machete underhanded, and it landed at the foot of the bed, where the metal sank several inches into the ground. Hurricane then flopped down on the bed. Whether he passed Dran’s test or not, he simply no longer cared.
Exhaustion claimed him within minutes.
# # # # #
One floor below him, Thrill Blade sat on the edge of his blade, his weapon resting on the floor.
He stared at the mystic blade, and for the first time in his short career, wondered what the true cost of carrying this blade was.
# # # # #
Elsewhere
“…he’s safe,” Jim Trask said.
He was in the center of the plane, with Scorpion and Warcry standing over his shoulder. Shroud and Mr. Raven stood off to the side, while no one knew where Hrist had wandered off to.
“Are you sure?” Scorpion said.
“…best we can tell,” Jim said, “I’m hacking into Shield passive scanner fields. If Hurricane or Thrill Blade ran into trouble, I think we’d have heard something.”
“Or they’re already dead and we’re walking into a trap,” said Shroud, “we have as much information either way.”
“True, but that won’t stop me,” Mr. Raven said, “Warcry, you have the coordinates for the meet?”
“Memorized,” Warcry said.
“Then go,” Mr. Raven said, “find a place nearby, and hole up. Start scoping the meeting are at least two hours before the designated meeting time.”
“I know how to handle a meet,” Warcry growled.
“You don’t want them thinking you’re eager to get inside,” Mr. Raven said, “you want them thinking that you’re being careful, because there is a million dollar bounty on your head. Because there is.”
Warcry raised an eyebrow, “There is? Since when?”
“I put a bounty on you the moment you agreed to the mission,” Mr. Raven stated, matter of factly.
“Wait, what? You must be joking!” Scorpion said, “you put a hit out on one of your own people?!”
“I’m with the kid,” said The Shroud, “a bounty is a little too far for God damn method acting.”
“Hey white knights,” Warcry said, “I, the bounty? Don’t give a shit. Whatever it takes.”
Scorpion shook her head, “Fine, whatever. Excuse me for expecting some basic decency around here.”
“Look who you’re surrounded by, kid,” Warcry said, “the best of us are a criminal who thinks because he robs other criminals he’s not a scum bag…”
The Shroud’s cape rippled.
“…an overweight Shield agent with a checkered family history…”
“Hey!” Jim said, “I’m only seven pounds over my target weight!”
“And…Mr. Raven,” Warcry said, “a man who’s survived death so many times I doubt he even gets the concept anymore.”
“Done being cute?” said Mr. Raven, “because it’s not as if we’re undertaking a dangerous mission here.”
“I’m going,” Warcry said, “I just wanted to make sure little miss heroine here know what kind of people she was dealing with. Wouldn’t want any surprises once we’re inside.”
When Warcry left, Mr. Raven turned to Shroud.
“You take first watch. I’ll be in my cabin.”
Shroud nodded to Scorpion, and stepped outside.
“So, you’re an intelligence analyst,” Scorpion said to Jim Trask, “does that mean you know what the deal with Mr. Raven is?”
“What do you mean, ‘the deal’?” Trask replied.
“My contact told me to trust this, but like absolutely nothing else,” said Scorpion, “all I’ve heard is the same rumors everyone else has.”
Jim shrugged, “I’m in the same boat, kid. Could be anyone under that mask. For all I know, it could be Deadpool.”
Scorpion raised an eyebrow, “Deadpool? Really?”
Jim shrugged, “In this business, you never really know…”
# # # # #
Next day
Hurricane heard his alarm go off (even though he hadn’t programmed it), and dragged himself out of bed. He showered and was dressed in record time. He’d just holstered his guns, when he heard a knock at the door.
“Hey, new meat,” Hurricane recognized the voice as belonging to The Solution, “you decent?”
Hurricane opened the door, in full uniform, “I’m always decent. Do we got time to get breakfast before we meet the boss?”
The Solution shrugged, “Why not do both?”
“Really?”
“Why not,” said The Solution, “breakfast is the most important meal of the day, after all.”
Hurricane followed Solution through the complex, and as they went, Hurricane spotted two men he knew to be on Interpol’s most wanted list, several men wearing AIM uniforms, four Kree, six Skrull and even a few Altanteans, all before they reached the elevator.
“Diverse group of people you’ve got here,” said Hurricane.
“Yeah, we won a few affirmative action awards,” Solution typed in a code into the elevator, “if you’ve got money, you can have a home here.”
“So I guess you’re taking me to employee orientation?” Hurricane said.
“And brunch,” said Solution, “the boss likes to mix it sometimes.”
“Sounds interesting.”
The elevator stopped at the top floor, and the two mercenaries stepped out. Hurricane allowed Solution to lead the way.
“Not really,” Solution said, “don’t get me wrong, this is a pretty sweet gig. Steady pay, some action every now and then and no looking over your shoulder for law enforcement.”
“But?”
Solution sighed, “But it gets to be routine, after a while. Hell, Mr. Grey’s dying is probably the most interesting thing to happen in months.”
Hurricane kept a perfect poker face.
“But that’s the price of a steady paycheck,” Solution said. The two entered another room, overlooking a much larger room below. The floor was transparent glass, and below was a room filled with all kinds of weapons, deadly robots and things Hurricane didn’t even have a name for.
Thrill Blade was already waiting for him, his eyes cast towards the floor.
“Hey kid,” Hurricane said.
Thrill Blade didn’t so much as glance his way.
“…nice,” Hurricane shrugged, trying to look indifferent, “so where’s Dran at?”
“Down there,” Thrill Blade pointed to the room below.
“The boss likes to do a little showing off for new hires,” Solution said. He went over, and tapped the glass twice.
Dran nodded, and snapped his fingers.
Hurricane studied the man for a moment. He was middle aged, with a widow’s peak and ebony hair. He wore simple work out pants, no shirt, and was as fit as many of the soldiers Hurricane had served with.
“So he’s indestructible, like his dad, right?” Hurricane said.
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t bring up pops if you want to stay ungutted,” Solution said, “he doesn’t get along with his old man.”
“So he’s just indestructible?” Thrill Blade asked, “that’s not a lot, no offense. The Hulk can throw a battle ship, some guys can topple a sky scraper with a sneeze. So…he just can’t be beaten up?”
The Solution chuckled, “It’s a little more than that. You’ll see.”
A panel slid open in the room below, and three Dreadnaughts armed with gatling guns on their left arm, connected to a drum barrel the size a small car on their back.
“We’re behind force field generators,” Solution said, “don’t worry,”
“Why would we worry?”
“Because those Gatling guns are loaded with adamantium bullets.”
“What?!”
Both men dove for cover as the robots below opened fire.
Bullets bounced off of Dran as if they were soft pitched tennis balls, and in the hail of bullets that would have killed an entire team of Avengers, Dran snickered.
Hurricane and Thrill Blade picked themselves up off the floor, and watched in awe as Dran stood there, in a mound of silver bullets.
The hail of fire lasted for a full two minutes. When it was over, Dran brushed the bullets aside, and leapt at the robots.
He tore apart the first one with his bare hands, while the second one bathed him in flames. Dran decapitated that one while the third attempted to strangle him.
Dran tore the arms off the last one, and simply walked away.
“He’s got a few tricks going for him,” Solution smirked, “even I can’t scratch him, and I’m no pushover.”
“No you’re not,” Hurricane and Thrill Blade turned their heads, and saw Dran stroll into the room, a towel over his shoulders, “that was why I hired you, after all.”
Hurricane couldn’t help but notice how the man’s ordinary shorts didn’t have so much as a thread out of place. Evidently, his powers beyond just his flesh.
“Gentlemen,” Dran nodded to Thrill Blade and Hurricane, “welcome. If you’d follow me, we can have breakfast while we discuss the details of your employment.”
The dining room was as opulent as Hurricane had expected. The smell of fresh bacon, French toast and eggs wafted through the air. There was enough food to feed at least dozen people, even though only a handful were actually there eating. Midnight and Weapon Chi were seated at the table, though neither looked as if they were about to take a bite.
Dran, of course, sat at the head of the table, with The Solution at his left, and Thrill Blade across from him.
Hurricane looked at Thrill Blade with a critical eye. The kid looked like he’d barely slept, but Hurricane figured that since the two of them were still alive, the rookie still had his wits about him, at least this far.
“Nice spread,” Hurricane said, as he pulled up a chair. He sat down a few feet away from the man he and his team were supposed to kill, and smiled.
Hurricane had briefly entertained the idea of making an attempt now, but knew that demonstration put an end to that idea. More than that, he knew it would cost him his life, and while he was prepared to die for this mission, he considered that a risk, not a priority. Better to get intel and go from there, than half assed murder attempts that could only meet with failure.
“It’s a little larger than it needs to be,” Dran said, “our cooking staff still has trouble remembering that Mr. Grey is no longer among us...”
Hurricane briefly remembered how he’d put several bullets into the man’s skull, among other things.
“You two have some big shoes to fill,” Solution said, “literally.”
“Can’t speak for the rookie, but you won’t be disappointed in me,” Hurricane said.
“…I wouldn’t recommend questioning my sword,” Thrill Blade said.
“Good to hear it, both of you,” Dran said. He produced two small devises that reminded Hurricane of a garage door-opener, “these are for you.”
Thrill Blade took the devise, and looked it over. It reminded him of a pager.
“What is it?”
“Your co-worker, Midnight, is not exactly here willingly,” Dran said. Hurricane observed how the cyborg seemed to stew across the table, but remained silent, “when I found him in the rubble of that Secret Empire base and rebuilt him, he gave no thought of returning my charity. To that end, I regret to say that I must take firm measures to ensure that he remains in my employ.”
“Measures…” Midnight muttered.
“He’s your slave,” Hurricane said, “we’re all criminals here, no need to mince words.”
“He’s not a slave, he’s an enforcer,” Dran said, “and he’ll be able to leave my employ in five years time, with compensation, barring the unforeseen. Be warned gentlemen, if you use these devises, you will be held accountable.”
“Understood,” Hurricane said. He found himself struck by Dran’s stern demeanor. Most criminals he knew, who reached his level, thought nothing of abusing those under them, “not a problem.”
“Excellent,” Dran said, “eat up, gentlemen, and Solution will show you your day to day. I don’t know what you gentlemen were expecting, but I promise you, you’ve never been in place like Hell’s Peak before.”
# # # # #
Guns of all different shapes and sizes, from the Glock to the AA-12 to an actual .50 caliber sniper rifle, decorated the wall. There were racks of hand grenades, smoke grenades, tear gas, combat knives, RPGs and countless other weapons.
“I suppose you can guess what room this is, huh?” said Solution.
“Definitely not the bathroom,” Hurricane observed.
“I wouldn’t say that,” said Midnight.
“This is mainly for the Piranhas,” Solution said, “but if you ever find yourself backed into a corner, there are several armories located throughout the building, with enough firepower to make the Punisher think twice.”
“I’m going to reload, if you don’t mind,” Hurricane grabbed a few clips for his glocks, and then began loading his shotgun.
“No laser guns?” Thrill Blade said.
“Nah, boss thinks they’re too high maintenance, and too ineffective,” Solution said. He pointed to a map on the far wall, “that lists all the location of the armories, same pass code as what I gave you.”
Hurricane thought it best not to mention that he’d memorized Solution’s passcode when they’d entered.
“Understood,” Hurricane felt a little confidence return now that he’d been able to restock. Even with his super strength, there was something as reassuring to a former soldier like himself, “so where to next on this grand tour?”
“Dran wants me to show you our…hotspots,” Solution said.
“Hotspots?” Thrill Blade said.
“The people most likely to kill you,” Midnight said, “and I think we even have an eviction today.”
“Well then,” Hurricane took his shotgun with one hand, “lead on.”
“No need to look cool for us,” Midnight said.
# # # # #
As they approached the first apartment, the air smelled of barbeque and beer, while Free Bird blared on the radio.
The Solution didn’t even bother to know, he simply opened the door, and Thrill Blade and Hurricane were greeted by the sight of eight men, all wearing the confederate flag, either on their shirts, belt-buckles or tattooed on their chests.
Guns, bullets, beer bottles and trashy magazines littered the common area, and the stench of sweat and gunpowder was overwhelming.
“Well, déjà all over again,” Hurricane said, as he spotted the man who’d been pounding on his door last night.
“So what’d these guys do?” said Thrill Blade.
“Our Minute Men friends here knocked over a US army shipment of experimental super soldier serum,” Solution explained.
Hurricane glanced at one of the men, who looked as if he could be the stunt double for The Blob.
“Super soldier serum?”
“That’s right!” said one man, “then we done liberated three million in currency from the illegal Federal banks!”
“They’re just here until the statue of limitations runs out,” Solution said.
“…there is no statue of limitations on grand theft,” Hurricane whispered
“Why do you think I’m introducing you?” Solution replied.
“We’re freedom fighters, just like Dr. Martin Luther King!” said one of the Minutemen.
“…sure,” Hurricane said.
“Hey, Weapon Chi, feel free to come by any time!”
Weapon Chi said nothing.
“Real bunch of winners,” Thrill Blade muttered.
# # # # #
The next room was in stark contrast to the one they’d visited earlier. The common area was spotless, to the point that Hurricane wondered if it was ever used. The occupants, three men and two women, were on the couch. They wore uniforms that reminded Hurricane of track suits, the men and women both. They were utterly unremarkable, to a degree Thrill Blade thought was uncanny.
The three in the middle were playing a racing game, while two were cheering them on. But the second they saw Solution step into the room, they paused their game, and jumped up to greet him.
“Hey Big Brother!” said one of the men, “showing the new guys around?”
“You know it, little guy,” Solution said.
Hurricane studied the man for a moment. The Solution was perhaps the definition of arrogance. He strode through the halls, halls filled with monsters and murderers, as if he were the biggest dog in the yard.
Yet here, he was respectful, playful. Hurricane didn’t have to be told that there was a connection between him and these people.
“You going to introduce us?” Hurricane said.
“Yeah, hold your horses,” Solution said, “gang, meet Thrill Blade and Hurricane. Mr. Grey’s replacement…s. Replacements, meet the mimics.”
“So sad what happened to him,” said one of the women, “he was always so nice, so sweet.”
“I hope I’ll measure up,” Hurricane said politely, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
“Mimic 4,” she said, and it was then that Hurricane noticed the number over her breast pocket, and saw the same on the others.
“So why’re you all called mimics?” said Thrill Blade.
The Solution turned to one of the men and smirked, “Show ‘em.”
“Hulk.”
Both Hurricane and Thrill Blade jumped back when the man before them was suddenly encased in a familiar green, muscle bound armor. It took Hurricane a second to take in what he was seeing.
It was as if someone had transposed the Green Goliath over the man. He saw the Hulk in his purple pants, but the man, Mimic 3, was underneath, as if it were made of glass.
Midnight snickered.
Weapon Chi said nothing.
“And that’s why they’re called mimics,” Solution said.
“You’re super adaptoids,” Thrill Blade said, “only you don’t need the source material, do you?”
“He’s a quick one,” said Mimic 3. He willed away the gamma muscles, “for someone dressed so stupid.”
“…thanks,” Thrill Blade scowled, “we’ll leave you dorks to your game, now.”
“Don’t be a stranger, Solution!” said Mimic 1, “we’re holding a potluck on Friday, make sure to mark it on your calendar!”
“Yeah, Solution,” Midnight snickered, “don’t be a stranger.”
“…you’re lucky Dran docked me two months pay last time I used your pain implant,” Solution muttered, as they wound their way through the complex.
They were in the inner ring, when Thrill Blade drifted towards the railing. Like a little kid, he stuck his head over the side, and ‘awwed’.
“Hell of a fall,” Hurricane muttered.
“Yeah, throw a guy off it and he can get three breathes of screaming before he hits the ground,” Solution said, “oddest thing you’ll ever hear, don’t you think, Weapon Chi?”
Weapon Chi said nothing.
“Anyways, if you’re done acting like tourists,” Solution said, “I need to introduce you to some more tenants.”
The walk wasn’t far, and the next room stood in stark contrast to the first.
The only dirt and grime to be found was on a work table situated in the center of the room. Weapons half assembled lay on it, as professional soldier worked on them with experienced hands.
Hurricane glanced around, and saw a door-less room that contained two cots, a crate, and nothing else. That pattern repeated perfectly three times. Spartan was an understatement.
The four men and two women that clearly lived here barely bothered to look up as Solution and company entered. They looked at the new comers, did a private mental assessment and then went back to cleaning their weapons.
Every inch of them screamed soldier. Hurricane didn’t need to be a detective to see that. But he was curious about the blue skin.
“These fine people call themselves Special K,” Solution said, “Kree special forces on vacation, right fellas?”
Special K said nothing.
“So we’re harboring hostile alien forces?” Thrill Blade spat, “what makes you think that’s a good idea?”
“What makes you think this is a debate we should be having in front of them?” Midnight muttered.
Special K said nothing.
“Eh, their gold is good,” Solution shrugged, “and there’ll always be heroes to beat ‘em up, right guys?”
Special K said nothing.
“Weapon Chi’s kind of people, huh?” Hurricane said as they turned to leave.
Weapon Chi and Special K said nothing.
# # # # #
Hurricane, trained soldier that he was, did his best to memorize the layout, trying to categorize who was where as Solution introduced them to the tenants who might be trouble down the line.
Ironically, Hurricane was so focused on that, that he genuinely didn’t notice the hulking man covered in adamantium until they bumped into one another.
“Watch where you’re going,” the man known as Cyber growled, as cigar smoke puffed from his jaw.
Hurricane could feel the eyes of his teammates fall on him.
“You’re the one who needs to watch out for me,” Hurricane snapped, suddenly feeling as if he were back in high school.
He recognized Cyber almost instantly. It was hard to mistake a man with metal skin for someone else, especially given his infamy. But all the same, Hurricane knew he couldn’t back down. Like schoolyard bullies, murderous sociopaths took any sign of weakness as an excuse to attack..
The metal murderer studied Hurricane for a few seconds, then finally, Cyber took the cigar from his lips, and smiled.
“I like you. You look at me like you’re not afraid for tomorrow. You’ll learn.”
Hurricane chuckled dismissively. He knew how to get under the skin of men like these, “Champ, you’re not even the scariest thing I’ve seen today. So keep walking, while you still can.”
Cyber grunted, and then cast an eye towards Solution.
“See you around, kid,” Cyber said, with a grin of promise, “count on it.”
“Not all our residents are long term,” Solution said, “Cyber’s bosses wanted bhim to keep his head down, got something planned. Don’t worry, he’ll be out of here in a few weeks.”
“I’m not worried,” Hurricane said, “so what else is on the sideshow?”
Solution motioned for them to follow them to the elevator. Once they were all inside, he punched a special code into the dials.
“This place isn’t just for scumbags,” Solution said, “sometimes we hold things for clients. Things…you can’t exactly put in a bank.”
The door opened again, and both Thrill Blade and Hurricane felt a shiver of fear travel down their spine.
The floor was unnaturally silent, the lighting was soft, the air unmoving and barely a thing to be heard, yet there was an unmistakable taste of power in the air. The entire feel of the place reminded Thrill Blade of a crypt.
“Not a lot of guests here. But they are still dangerous” Solution said as he strolled into the hall. He pointed to a door down the hall, marked with a red bio-hazard symbol, “if that door opens, just run. Last time she got out, we lost twenty men. We’ll seal off the floor and go from there.”
“What’s in there?” said Hurricane.
“Not anything you ever want to meet,” Midnight said, “just listen to Solution, and leave it alone.”
Hurricane and Thrill Blade exchanged a brief glance, both curious as to what could be so horrible as to make Midnight and Solution, two men who hated one another, to so effortlessly agree with one another.
“You guys wanna see something cool, though?” Solution said, “follow me. Hey, Weapon Chi, don’t spoil the surprise.”
Weapon Chi said nothing.
They climbed the stairs to another level, and were stunned when the floor itself began to tremble.
“No screams,” Solution said, “Midnight, you owe me five bucks.”
In the distance, Hurricane and Thrill Blade saw the cause of the disturbance.
Thrill Blade gaped at the…thing…bound in the sleek metal chair. He was only two sizes smaller than the Hulk, his wrists were covered in thorn-like protrusions, though that was the limit to what the young mercenary could see. The giant was bound in countless chains, and he doubted they were of regular steel.
Both Hurricane and Thrill Blade watched with baited breath. They expected the thing to at least awake, to try to come at them despite all the restraints. The room shook again, like the rumble of thunder, and it wasn’t until the room shook for a third time that both men realized what they were hearing.
“It’s snoring…?” Hurricane said.
“No need to whisper,” Solution said, “that thing doesn’t wake up unless we allow it.”
“It’s snoring is shaking a concrete, steel reinforced floor,” Thrill Blade said, “what can it do awake?”
“I’m with the rookie, what is that thing?”
“That? That’s what happens when RAID dabbles in genetics and doesn’t want to throw away the results. Just keep your fingers away, kid.”
“Not a problem,” Thrill Blade gripped his sword tighter despite all personal efforts not to.
“Good,” Solution said. He led them away, “enough sight-seeing, rookies. We got us an eviction to handle.”
# # # # #
Thrill Blade unsheathed his sword.
Hurricane pumped his shotgun.
Weapon Chi drew her sais.
Midnight channeled a pulse of electricity into his clawed hands.
Solution yawned.
Behind the mercenaries were twenty of Dran’s regular, uniform soldiers known as the piranhas.
“You going to give us a briefing, or do we just kill whoever’s behind that door?”
“Whomever,” Solution corrected, “not much to tell. They’re entitled little rich kids who paid to be vampires. Their code of conduct has violated Dran’s rules.”
“How so?” Hurricane said.
“Kidnapping women and not being gentlemen,” Solution said, “it doesn’t matter what you did before here, but Dran likes to keep it PG 13 here.”
Thrill Blade raised an eyebrow, “PG-13 here? Really?”
“Have you seen what they get away with in movies these days?” said Solution, “I mean seriously, the violence in PG movies now is worse than what they had in rated R movies in the 80s and 90s!”
“…I think we’re getting off point,” Hurricane said, “how do we do this?”
“Hard and fast,” Solution said, “they’re little more than a bunch of entitled punks who wanted to make their own gang. We put them on the ground, and the boys make sure they don’t get up again.”
“Nice and simple plan,” Hurricane said, “you knock.”
“With pleasure.”
The steel door exploded inward, and Solution rushed through with an animalistic grin. Midnight, Thrill Blade, and Weapon Chi rushed in after them. Hurricane hesitated for a few seconds before stepping through.
The Solution was right about the vampires, pasty white skin, claws and fangs, but that wasn’t what Hurricane cared about.
He shot the first vampire that came at him in the head, and observed his teammates at work.
The Solution was literally glowing, every time he struck a vampire, their flesh sizzled like a steak on a grill.
Weapon Chi moved like the wind, her steel slashing throats as easily as they cut through the air. The vampires reached and lunged for her like feral animals, and she danced around them as if they weren’t even there.
Midnight was an entirely different creature. He moved with force and precision, favoring heavy blows to the midsection. He reminded Hurricane of a linebacker, relying on a combination of speed and strength to get the job done.
Thrill Blade was still the wild dog that Hurricane remembered. He hadn’t expected it to change, not really, but seeing it in action again, knowing that his only back up against three skilled, professional super powered killers was a rage filled rookie, made his stomach clench.
“Hey, new guy,” Midnight shouted. Hurricane turned, and saw the cyborg’s hand, smoldering with power, and leveled at him, “wake up!”
A bolt of energy flew from Midnight’s hand, and struck the vampire that had been clinging to the ceiling, and was moments away from lunging for Hurricane himself.
“Thanks,” Hurricane said. He realized that if he didn’t stop analyzing, and get in the fight, he’d end up dead or worse, “just getting over a sense of déjà vu.”
Three vampires came at Hurricane, and in one fluid motion he pulled his sidearm, and put one bullet in each of their mouths. They fell to the ground screaming, and Hurricane stepped into the room.
He looked around for more targets, but saw that of the nearly two dozen vampires that had once lived here, all of them were either dead or fighting for their lives.
And after he noticed that, he observed a pile of female bodies, stacked in the center of the room, all in various states of undress. His lip curled in disgusted, and secretly Hurricane wished tat he’d killed a few more.
“Well, that was fun,” Solution brushed the dust from his hands, and then slapped Hurricane on the back, “you didn’t have to leave them all for us, you know.”
“Hey, you survived,” Hurricane said with a shrug, “not like me and Thrill Blade didn’t pull double duty only yesterday, asshole.”
“Ha! Fair enough,” Solution said, “come with me, rookie. I’ve got one last thing to do before we officially punch out for the day.”
# # # # #
Hurricane tried not to breathe a sigh of relief when they entered the room, and found Warcry sitting patiently for them.
“I heard you were African,” Solution said.
“I am,” Warcy drawled, “is that a problem?”
“Not at all. Now, about your quarters…”
Hurricane watched as Solution transformed from a cocky bruiser, to an actually half decent real estate agent. He explained the terms of Warcry’s rent, the expectations, how she’d go about her day to day if she didn’t want to leave the compound and a million other small little things that came hand in hand in living in a place like this.
Finally came the magic words Hurricane was waiting for.
“My associate will take you to your room. Down the hall, hang a right, then three doors down,” Solution said, “I’ll send someone by in an hour to help you with living arraignments.”
“Thank you,” Warcry said. She picked up her bags, and was about to leave, when Solution spoke.
“Oh, Warcry? I don’t have to remind you that all grudges are for outside these walls, do I?”
“…you do not,” Warcry muttered.
“Good,” Solution said, “punishments for assaulting fellow tenants include summary execution, selling your corpse to the highest bidder and loss of security deposit.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Please do,” Solution said with a polite nod, “and enjoy your stay.”
As they walked down the hall, Warcry discreetly reached into one of her bags, and removed what anyone passing by might have mistaken for a simple Ipod. In reality, it was a Shield devise created to fool any eavesdroppers or directional microphones that might be pointed their way.
All anyone else would hear would be a pre-recorded conversation, recorded before the mission itself.
“So what’s the situation on the ground?” asked Warcry, “make any new friends?”
“Maybe. Solution did ask me to join him for dinner. But I may have something more useful than a friend,” Hurricane removed the devise Dran had given him for dealing with Midnight from his pocket, “an asset. Our speculation that Dran was keeping Midnight in check with a mobile nerve activator was right, though I’m in no hurry to test it.”
“Why, your three Cs code?” Warcry said dismissively, “do you honestly think that your precious code actually matters?”
“My code matters to me,” Hurricane said.
“And only to you,” Warcry said, “don’t think that just because you don’t pull a trigger, you haven’t killed civilians.”
“We can discuss philosophy later,” Hurricane said, “what’s important now is that we now have three people inside of Dran’s operation…”
On the top floor, Damian Dran sat at his desk, the computer monitor connected the security camera that was observing Hurricane and Warcry. His personal assistant, Andi Hunter, stood, watching the feed over his shoulder, smoldering the entire time.
“…and he has no idea.”
Next issue: The Dogs of War are unleashed
“Kid, snap out of it!”
The mercenary known as Thrill Blade pressed his mystical weapon closer and closer to Hurricane’s skull, even as the super strong mercenary struggled to stop him. His machete, made entirely of vibranium, was strong enough to avoid being cut in half by the mystic blade, but that was where his luck ended.
Hurricane’s mind raced as he struggled to think of a way out of this. If he tried to invoke their shared mission, he’d still die, just later. If his teammates could have done anything without giving themselves away, they would have. So that left him all alone, with a man he’d seen take on a Hulk one on one.
“Alright, enough,” a hand slapped down on Thrill Blade’s shoulder, and effortless tossed Thrill Blade aside, “fight’s over, kid.”
Hurricane looked up, and saw Dran’s bodyguard, the man who called himself The Solution, standing over him.
“Congrats,” the man offered Hurricane his hand. The man known as The Solution smirked at Hurricane, “you’re still alive. I guess that means you’re my new co-worker.”
Hurricane took the man’s hand, and stood up. He brushed the dirt from his shoulders, “Looks like it. Hell of a first day.”
“Well,” Solution chuckled, “if we’re being honest, this is just the interview being over.”
“It’s not over…” Thrill Blade stood up, trembling with rage, “…until I say it’s over.”
“Then you better speak up, son,” Solution said.
Thrill Blade lunged for Solution, but the man caught the blade in one hand, the same one that removed several fingers from a Hulk, and only seemed to wince.
“Magic,” the Solution sighed, as his hand began to bleed just a little, “always a little tricky.”
The Solution yanked Thrill Blade’s sword from his hand, and then mule kicked him in the stomach with such force that Thrill Blade was pitched into a car some ten feet away with enough force to crumple it inwards.
“You want me to finish the job, punk?” Solution said, still holding Thrill Blade’s sword by the blade, “because without this pig sticker, you’re not even a road bump to me.”
“That’s enough,” said a new voice.
Hurricane turned his head, and saw Damien Dran approach. He was flanked by Weapon Chi, and Midnight. Hurricane studied the two cyborgs for a moment, and realized that they couldn’t have been more different.
Midnight radiated anger and contempt. He was little more than a dog on a leash, he knew it and made no attempts to hide it.
Weapon Chi, on the other hand, was pure calm and complete indifference. She seemed to register absolutely nothing on an emotional level, but everything on a tactical level. Hurricane understood what Hrist meant when she described the women as a shell, because to him, she barely registered as a person.
Just looking at her, he could almost feel the complete absence that was the sum of her person.
“I understand how the surge of adrenaline can be…intoxicating, after a battle,” Dran said, “and for that, Thrill Blade, I’ll forgive this attack. But only you stand down, right now.”
Hurricane held his breath. If Thrill Blade decided to keep fighting, and everything Hurricane had seen of the man up until now indicated he would do just that, Hurricane wouldn’t be able to do anything but watch him die.
“What say you?”
Thrill Blade met Dran’s eyes…and then he took a deep breath.
“I’m good,” Thrill Blade motioned to his sword, and it flew from The Solution’s hand and into his. He pointed his blade towards Alley-Cat’s corpse, where it lay in a puddle of blood.
“She was a friend of mine,” Thrill Blade said, “and if you’re planning on leaving her to rot, or worse, we’ll have a problem again.”
Solution and Dran exchanged a glance.
“Look, kid…,” Solution started.
“I have a contact in Shield,” Dran said, “I can have him here inside of fifteen minutes, and have her body home inside of twenty four hours. I’ll even throw in money for her burial, anonymously, of course.”
Thrill Blade almost did a double take.
“You’d do that?”
Dran shrugged, “Ours is a cut throat business, but I don’t see why we can’t remember our humanity, our family, at times. Think of it as a signing bonus and apology, if you’d like.”
“I will,” Thrill Blade sheathed his sword, and forced the next words from his mouth, “thank you.”
“And you, Hurricane isn’t it?” Dran said, “anything you would care to address at the moment?”
“Just that I want my signing bonus in cash,” Hurricane said.
“Of course,” Dran said, “but before we discuss business, Hurricane, there’s something I’d like you to take care of.”
Hurricane felt a shiver down his spine.
“What’s that?”
Dran pointed north, to where Shockwave lay on the ground, mulling pathetically. Half the glass protecting his face was gone, his legs were a twisted wreck but he still held on to life.
“I need you to kill that man. Up close, and personal. Look him in the eye, and end him.”
Hurricane glanced looked at Shockwave, and then at Dran.
“Okay.”
Hurricane pulled his sidearm, and was about to take the shot, when Solution grabbed his wrist.
“Didn’t you hear the boss?” Solution said.
“I did, but I have a code,” Hurricane looked Solution in the eye, and then Dran, “the three Cs. No civilians, no collateral and no cruelty. And if you know my rep, or hell, were watching just now, you’d know I’m not squeamish.”
“Indeed,” said Dran, “I admire a man with a code, and in the future, I will strive to ensure that you do not violate it while under my employ.”
Dran then narrowed his eyes.
“In the future. In the here and now, you are to kill that man. Up close, and personal. Unless you’d care to see how expensive your code can really be.”
Hurricane gritted his teeth. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this was Dran flexing his muscle, making him break his code as a way of flexing his muscle.
And as much as Hurricane wanted to keep to his code, he knew that failure on this mission wasn’t an option.
“Fine.”
Hurricane walked over to Shockwave at a casual pace. Hurricane could feel Dran studying him, evaluating him, seeing how he handled this kind of kill. It was one thing to kill in the heat of battle. It was something else entirely to kill in cold blood.
But Hurricane had done both.
“Mio dios,” Shockwave mumbled. His face plate was shattered, revealing a young Hispanic man who couldn’t have been a day over twenty, “please man, don’t do this!”
Hurricane pulled his sidearm, and for a moment, his fingers trembled.
“Please, I have family! I’ll do any…”
The shot went through the man’s mouth, and severed the spine. Death was instantaneous, and the mortician could hide it easily enough for an open casket funeral.
“Guess you don’t care for imposters, huh?” Hurricane holstered his weapon, and turned to Dran.
Hurricane didn’t know the whole story, but he knew enough to piece it together. Some criminal martial artist, trying to ride off of another villain’s rep using bootleg equipment. Small story, barely worth caring about. But Dran did.
“I run a dangerous business, so I demand at least a certain level of honesty, even if I work with criminals,” Dran said, “that little shit is lucky that I want to get home as soon as possible. Now, gentlemen, step forward, if you please. You would not believe how expensive it is to use a teleporter, and I think we’d all agree that we don’t want any accidents.”
# # # # #
“…they’re in,” Warcry said. She watched as Hurricane, Thrill Blade and the rest disappeared into the same teleportational effect that whisked away the men that Dran had set on the perimeter.
“Thank God,” Scorpion sighed, as she released a breath she wasn’t even aware she was holding until then. She stood up and cracked her back, “you know, you were pretty damn useless there. Did you even use your powers once?”
“I never had an opening,” Warcry growled, “and if they even got a whiff of us here, the mission would be over before it started!”
“Enough,” Mr. Raven stepped in between the women, “we have our people inside. That’s all we need.”
“Speak for yourself, mortal,” Hrist said as she cast her eyes down on the slaughter below, “all the glory, all that blood missed…this was not what I was promised.”
“You’ll have your blood, count on it,” Mr. Raven said, “before this is done, we’ll all have our fill.”
“Now that we have Hurricane and Thrill Blade inside, how long until we move onto phase three?” said Shroud.
“Tomorrow,” Mr. Raven said.
“Tomorrow?” Shroud said, “You have to be kidding.”
“Yes. Because that’s what I do,” said Mr. Raven, “I kid, I joke. I even perform at parties. Tomorrow. Get used to it.”
“This is moving way too fast, Raven. The quicker we move, the greater the chance we make a mistake, and the bigger the chance of this entire thing going off the rails!”
“If you want to jump off, now’s the time,” said Mr. Raven, “otherwise, just shut up and hold on. That goes for everyone here.”
“You couldn’t force me off,” Warcry said.
“That’s good, because if Hurricane and Thrill Blade survive the night, you’re up next.”
# # # # #
Hell’s Peak
The door slid open, and The Solution motioned for Hurricane to step inside.
“Welcome to your new home,” Solution said.
The room reminded Hurricane of a hotel room. One queen sized bed, an average TV, an adjacent room with shower and toilet and a few assorted nit-nacks to give the illusion of comfort.
“Jiggity jig,” Hurricane said, “this is a joke, right? How you guys punk the new kid? This is a shoe box.”
The Solution shrugged, “Not like this is the Hotel Six, buddy. Dran wants to put you through the hoops before you get too comfortable. Don’t worry, you last a week? You’ll have an apartment that puts Tony Stark’s to shame.”
“Speaking of comfort, I could use a change of clothes,” Hurricane said. He glanced down at the blood that stained his uniform, “I spilled a little juice on this one.”
“You can take care of that here, actually,” The Solution went to the closet, and pulled the door back, “give me your machete.”
“You break it…” Hurricane said, as he drew the blood stained weapon, and handed it to Solution.
“Whatever,” Solution dropped the weapon in the closest, and closed the door.
“So…now what?”
The Solution opened the door, and Hurricane’s machete lay there, pristine perfect.
“…okay, I’m impressed,” Hurricane said.
“Put your clothes in one at a time,” Solution said, “just don’t step inside yourself.”
“Why, horrible death?”
The Solution looked at Hurricane the way a parent looks at a toddler.
“The same reason you don’t put metal in a microwave, you’d break it. Idiot.”
“Oh.”
“Anyways, try to get some sleep,” Solution said, “use the phone by the bed to order any food you want. Dran’ll let you start late tomorrow, but don’t think that means it’ll be easy.”
“I’ve never needed easy before,” Hurricane said, “you saw that today.”
“Heh, that?” Solution chuckled, “this is Hell’s Peak, son. You just survived day one. You can brag when you get to week two.”
The moment the Solution left, Hurricane flopped on the bed, too tired to even climb under the sheets.
The battle was exhausting, and the fear, the fear that he didn’t dare allow the outside world to see, that followed when it finished was twice as draining. Even now, he was certain that Dran was running every scan he could, trying to determine if Hurricane was some enemy plant or Shield agent, sent here to assassinate him.
And seeing as he was an enemy agent, sent to do exactly that, Hurricane hardly felt any safer here at opposed to on the battlefield.
Because here, Dran could kill him twice as easily. His room could be rigged with explosives. Mustard gas could be in the vents. There could be an entire battalion of super powers sociopaths one foot away from his door, and he couldn’t know until he was choking on his own blood.
And on that bright thought, Hurricane heard a knock at his door
Hurricane picked up his machete, the light reflecting off it’s clean form perfectly, and stalked to the door.
He knew Dran had to be watching. He knew that literally anything could be behind the door.
So instead of swinging the door open and brandishing his blade, he opened the door, and held the machete in a reverse grip, hiding it from sight behind the muscle of his arm.
“Hey…whoa!”
The man had a Confederate flag tattooed across a chest that would have shamed any body builder, and a set of Glocks resting on his hips.
“You’re not the chick that lives here…,” the man said dimly.
“No, I’m not,” Hurricane said.
“Well, do you know…”
Hurricane slammed the door shut, and rolled his eyes.
He tossed his machete underhanded, and it landed at the foot of the bed, where the metal sank several inches into the ground. Hurricane then flopped down on the bed. Whether he passed Dran’s test or not, he simply no longer cared.
Exhaustion claimed him within minutes.
# # # # #
One floor below him, Thrill Blade sat on the edge of his blade, his weapon resting on the floor.
He stared at the mystic blade, and for the first time in his short career, wondered what the true cost of carrying this blade was.
# # # # #
Elsewhere
“…he’s safe,” Jim Trask said.
He was in the center of the plane, with Scorpion and Warcry standing over his shoulder. Shroud and Mr. Raven stood off to the side, while no one knew where Hrist had wandered off to.
“Are you sure?” Scorpion said.
“…best we can tell,” Jim said, “I’m hacking into Shield passive scanner fields. If Hurricane or Thrill Blade ran into trouble, I think we’d have heard something.”
“Or they’re already dead and we’re walking into a trap,” said Shroud, “we have as much information either way.”
“True, but that won’t stop me,” Mr. Raven said, “Warcry, you have the coordinates for the meet?”
“Memorized,” Warcry said.
“Then go,” Mr. Raven said, “find a place nearby, and hole up. Start scoping the meeting are at least two hours before the designated meeting time.”
“I know how to handle a meet,” Warcry growled.
“You don’t want them thinking you’re eager to get inside,” Mr. Raven said, “you want them thinking that you’re being careful, because there is a million dollar bounty on your head. Because there is.”
Warcry raised an eyebrow, “There is? Since when?”
“I put a bounty on you the moment you agreed to the mission,” Mr. Raven stated, matter of factly.
“Wait, what? You must be joking!” Scorpion said, “you put a hit out on one of your own people?!”
“I’m with the kid,” said The Shroud, “a bounty is a little too far for God damn method acting.”
“Hey white knights,” Warcry said, “I, the bounty? Don’t give a shit. Whatever it takes.”
Scorpion shook her head, “Fine, whatever. Excuse me for expecting some basic decency around here.”
“Look who you’re surrounded by, kid,” Warcry said, “the best of us are a criminal who thinks because he robs other criminals he’s not a scum bag…”
The Shroud’s cape rippled.
“…an overweight Shield agent with a checkered family history…”
“Hey!” Jim said, “I’m only seven pounds over my target weight!”
“And…Mr. Raven,” Warcry said, “a man who’s survived death so many times I doubt he even gets the concept anymore.”
“Done being cute?” said Mr. Raven, “because it’s not as if we’re undertaking a dangerous mission here.”
“I’m going,” Warcry said, “I just wanted to make sure little miss heroine here know what kind of people she was dealing with. Wouldn’t want any surprises once we’re inside.”
When Warcry left, Mr. Raven turned to Shroud.
“You take first watch. I’ll be in my cabin.”
Shroud nodded to Scorpion, and stepped outside.
“So, you’re an intelligence analyst,” Scorpion said to Jim Trask, “does that mean you know what the deal with Mr. Raven is?”
“What do you mean, ‘the deal’?” Trask replied.
“My contact told me to trust this, but like absolutely nothing else,” said Scorpion, “all I’ve heard is the same rumors everyone else has.”
Jim shrugged, “I’m in the same boat, kid. Could be anyone under that mask. For all I know, it could be Deadpool.”
Scorpion raised an eyebrow, “Deadpool? Really?”
Jim shrugged, “In this business, you never really know…”
# # # # #
Next day
Hurricane heard his alarm go off (even though he hadn’t programmed it), and dragged himself out of bed. He showered and was dressed in record time. He’d just holstered his guns, when he heard a knock at the door.
“Hey, new meat,” Hurricane recognized the voice as belonging to The Solution, “you decent?”
Hurricane opened the door, in full uniform, “I’m always decent. Do we got time to get breakfast before we meet the boss?”
The Solution shrugged, “Why not do both?”
“Really?”
“Why not,” said The Solution, “breakfast is the most important meal of the day, after all.”
Hurricane followed Solution through the complex, and as they went, Hurricane spotted two men he knew to be on Interpol’s most wanted list, several men wearing AIM uniforms, four Kree, six Skrull and even a few Altanteans, all before they reached the elevator.
“Diverse group of people you’ve got here,” said Hurricane.
“Yeah, we won a few affirmative action awards,” Solution typed in a code into the elevator, “if you’ve got money, you can have a home here.”
“So I guess you’re taking me to employee orientation?” Hurricane said.
“And brunch,” said Solution, “the boss likes to mix it sometimes.”
“Sounds interesting.”
The elevator stopped at the top floor, and the two mercenaries stepped out. Hurricane allowed Solution to lead the way.
“Not really,” Solution said, “don’t get me wrong, this is a pretty sweet gig. Steady pay, some action every now and then and no looking over your shoulder for law enforcement.”
“But?”
Solution sighed, “But it gets to be routine, after a while. Hell, Mr. Grey’s dying is probably the most interesting thing to happen in months.”
Hurricane kept a perfect poker face.
“But that’s the price of a steady paycheck,” Solution said. The two entered another room, overlooking a much larger room below. The floor was transparent glass, and below was a room filled with all kinds of weapons, deadly robots and things Hurricane didn’t even have a name for.
Thrill Blade was already waiting for him, his eyes cast towards the floor.
“Hey kid,” Hurricane said.
Thrill Blade didn’t so much as glance his way.
“…nice,” Hurricane shrugged, trying to look indifferent, “so where’s Dran at?”
“Down there,” Thrill Blade pointed to the room below.
“The boss likes to do a little showing off for new hires,” Solution said. He went over, and tapped the glass twice.
Dran nodded, and snapped his fingers.
Hurricane studied the man for a moment. He was middle aged, with a widow’s peak and ebony hair. He wore simple work out pants, no shirt, and was as fit as many of the soldiers Hurricane had served with.
“So he’s indestructible, like his dad, right?” Hurricane said.
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t bring up pops if you want to stay ungutted,” Solution said, “he doesn’t get along with his old man.”
“So he’s just indestructible?” Thrill Blade asked, “that’s not a lot, no offense. The Hulk can throw a battle ship, some guys can topple a sky scraper with a sneeze. So…he just can’t be beaten up?”
The Solution chuckled, “It’s a little more than that. You’ll see.”
A panel slid open in the room below, and three Dreadnaughts armed with gatling guns on their left arm, connected to a drum barrel the size a small car on their back.
“We’re behind force field generators,” Solution said, “don’t worry,”
“Why would we worry?”
“Because those Gatling guns are loaded with adamantium bullets.”
“What?!”
Both men dove for cover as the robots below opened fire.
Bullets bounced off of Dran as if they were soft pitched tennis balls, and in the hail of bullets that would have killed an entire team of Avengers, Dran snickered.
Hurricane and Thrill Blade picked themselves up off the floor, and watched in awe as Dran stood there, in a mound of silver bullets.
The hail of fire lasted for a full two minutes. When it was over, Dran brushed the bullets aside, and leapt at the robots.
He tore apart the first one with his bare hands, while the second one bathed him in flames. Dran decapitated that one while the third attempted to strangle him.
Dran tore the arms off the last one, and simply walked away.
“He’s got a few tricks going for him,” Solution smirked, “even I can’t scratch him, and I’m no pushover.”
“No you’re not,” Hurricane and Thrill Blade turned their heads, and saw Dran stroll into the room, a towel over his shoulders, “that was why I hired you, after all.”
Hurricane couldn’t help but notice how the man’s ordinary shorts didn’t have so much as a thread out of place. Evidently, his powers beyond just his flesh.
“Gentlemen,” Dran nodded to Thrill Blade and Hurricane, “welcome. If you’d follow me, we can have breakfast while we discuss the details of your employment.”
The dining room was as opulent as Hurricane had expected. The smell of fresh bacon, French toast and eggs wafted through the air. There was enough food to feed at least dozen people, even though only a handful were actually there eating. Midnight and Weapon Chi were seated at the table, though neither looked as if they were about to take a bite.
Dran, of course, sat at the head of the table, with The Solution at his left, and Thrill Blade across from him.
Hurricane looked at Thrill Blade with a critical eye. The kid looked like he’d barely slept, but Hurricane figured that since the two of them were still alive, the rookie still had his wits about him, at least this far.
“Nice spread,” Hurricane said, as he pulled up a chair. He sat down a few feet away from the man he and his team were supposed to kill, and smiled.
Hurricane had briefly entertained the idea of making an attempt now, but knew that demonstration put an end to that idea. More than that, he knew it would cost him his life, and while he was prepared to die for this mission, he considered that a risk, not a priority. Better to get intel and go from there, than half assed murder attempts that could only meet with failure.
“It’s a little larger than it needs to be,” Dran said, “our cooking staff still has trouble remembering that Mr. Grey is no longer among us...”
Hurricane briefly remembered how he’d put several bullets into the man’s skull, among other things.
“You two have some big shoes to fill,” Solution said, “literally.”
“Can’t speak for the rookie, but you won’t be disappointed in me,” Hurricane said.
“…I wouldn’t recommend questioning my sword,” Thrill Blade said.
“Good to hear it, both of you,” Dran said. He produced two small devises that reminded Hurricane of a garage door-opener, “these are for you.”
Thrill Blade took the devise, and looked it over. It reminded him of a pager.
“What is it?”
“Your co-worker, Midnight, is not exactly here willingly,” Dran said. Hurricane observed how the cyborg seemed to stew across the table, but remained silent, “when I found him in the rubble of that Secret Empire base and rebuilt him, he gave no thought of returning my charity. To that end, I regret to say that I must take firm measures to ensure that he remains in my employ.”
“Measures…” Midnight muttered.
“He’s your slave,” Hurricane said, “we’re all criminals here, no need to mince words.”
“He’s not a slave, he’s an enforcer,” Dran said, “and he’ll be able to leave my employ in five years time, with compensation, barring the unforeseen. Be warned gentlemen, if you use these devises, you will be held accountable.”
“Understood,” Hurricane said. He found himself struck by Dran’s stern demeanor. Most criminals he knew, who reached his level, thought nothing of abusing those under them, “not a problem.”
“Excellent,” Dran said, “eat up, gentlemen, and Solution will show you your day to day. I don’t know what you gentlemen were expecting, but I promise you, you’ve never been in place like Hell’s Peak before.”
# # # # #
Guns of all different shapes and sizes, from the Glock to the AA-12 to an actual .50 caliber sniper rifle, decorated the wall. There were racks of hand grenades, smoke grenades, tear gas, combat knives, RPGs and countless other weapons.
“I suppose you can guess what room this is, huh?” said Solution.
“Definitely not the bathroom,” Hurricane observed.
“I wouldn’t say that,” said Midnight.
“This is mainly for the Piranhas,” Solution said, “but if you ever find yourself backed into a corner, there are several armories located throughout the building, with enough firepower to make the Punisher think twice.”
“I’m going to reload, if you don’t mind,” Hurricane grabbed a few clips for his glocks, and then began loading his shotgun.
“No laser guns?” Thrill Blade said.
“Nah, boss thinks they’re too high maintenance, and too ineffective,” Solution said. He pointed to a map on the far wall, “that lists all the location of the armories, same pass code as what I gave you.”
Hurricane thought it best not to mention that he’d memorized Solution’s passcode when they’d entered.
“Understood,” Hurricane felt a little confidence return now that he’d been able to restock. Even with his super strength, there was something as reassuring to a former soldier like himself, “so where to next on this grand tour?”
“Dran wants me to show you our…hotspots,” Solution said.
“Hotspots?” Thrill Blade said.
“The people most likely to kill you,” Midnight said, “and I think we even have an eviction today.”
“Well then,” Hurricane took his shotgun with one hand, “lead on.”
“No need to look cool for us,” Midnight said.
# # # # #
As they approached the first apartment, the air smelled of barbeque and beer, while Free Bird blared on the radio.
The Solution didn’t even bother to know, he simply opened the door, and Thrill Blade and Hurricane were greeted by the sight of eight men, all wearing the confederate flag, either on their shirts, belt-buckles or tattooed on their chests.
Guns, bullets, beer bottles and trashy magazines littered the common area, and the stench of sweat and gunpowder was overwhelming.
“Well, déjà all over again,” Hurricane said, as he spotted the man who’d been pounding on his door last night.
“So what’d these guys do?” said Thrill Blade.
“Our Minute Men friends here knocked over a US army shipment of experimental super soldier serum,” Solution explained.
Hurricane glanced at one of the men, who looked as if he could be the stunt double for The Blob.
“Super soldier serum?”
“That’s right!” said one man, “then we done liberated three million in currency from the illegal Federal banks!”
“They’re just here until the statue of limitations runs out,” Solution said.
“…there is no statue of limitations on grand theft,” Hurricane whispered
“Why do you think I’m introducing you?” Solution replied.
“We’re freedom fighters, just like Dr. Martin Luther King!” said one of the Minutemen.
“…sure,” Hurricane said.
“Hey, Weapon Chi, feel free to come by any time!”
Weapon Chi said nothing.
“Real bunch of winners,” Thrill Blade muttered.
# # # # #
The next room was in stark contrast to the one they’d visited earlier. The common area was spotless, to the point that Hurricane wondered if it was ever used. The occupants, three men and two women, were on the couch. They wore uniforms that reminded Hurricane of track suits, the men and women both. They were utterly unremarkable, to a degree Thrill Blade thought was uncanny.
The three in the middle were playing a racing game, while two were cheering them on. But the second they saw Solution step into the room, they paused their game, and jumped up to greet him.
“Hey Big Brother!” said one of the men, “showing the new guys around?”
“You know it, little guy,” Solution said.
Hurricane studied the man for a moment. The Solution was perhaps the definition of arrogance. He strode through the halls, halls filled with monsters and murderers, as if he were the biggest dog in the yard.
Yet here, he was respectful, playful. Hurricane didn’t have to be told that there was a connection between him and these people.
“You going to introduce us?” Hurricane said.
“Yeah, hold your horses,” Solution said, “gang, meet Thrill Blade and Hurricane. Mr. Grey’s replacement…s. Replacements, meet the mimics.”
“So sad what happened to him,” said one of the women, “he was always so nice, so sweet.”
“I hope I’ll measure up,” Hurricane said politely, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
“Mimic 4,” she said, and it was then that Hurricane noticed the number over her breast pocket, and saw the same on the others.
“So why’re you all called mimics?” said Thrill Blade.
The Solution turned to one of the men and smirked, “Show ‘em.”
“Hulk.”
Both Hurricane and Thrill Blade jumped back when the man before them was suddenly encased in a familiar green, muscle bound armor. It took Hurricane a second to take in what he was seeing.
It was as if someone had transposed the Green Goliath over the man. He saw the Hulk in his purple pants, but the man, Mimic 3, was underneath, as if it were made of glass.
Midnight snickered.
Weapon Chi said nothing.
“And that’s why they’re called mimics,” Solution said.
“You’re super adaptoids,” Thrill Blade said, “only you don’t need the source material, do you?”
“He’s a quick one,” said Mimic 3. He willed away the gamma muscles, “for someone dressed so stupid.”
“…thanks,” Thrill Blade scowled, “we’ll leave you dorks to your game, now.”
“Don’t be a stranger, Solution!” said Mimic 1, “we’re holding a potluck on Friday, make sure to mark it on your calendar!”
“Yeah, Solution,” Midnight snickered, “don’t be a stranger.”
“…you’re lucky Dran docked me two months pay last time I used your pain implant,” Solution muttered, as they wound their way through the complex.
They were in the inner ring, when Thrill Blade drifted towards the railing. Like a little kid, he stuck his head over the side, and ‘awwed’.
“Hell of a fall,” Hurricane muttered.
“Yeah, throw a guy off it and he can get three breathes of screaming before he hits the ground,” Solution said, “oddest thing you’ll ever hear, don’t you think, Weapon Chi?”
Weapon Chi said nothing.
“Anyways, if you’re done acting like tourists,” Solution said, “I need to introduce you to some more tenants.”
The walk wasn’t far, and the next room stood in stark contrast to the first.
The only dirt and grime to be found was on a work table situated in the center of the room. Weapons half assembled lay on it, as professional soldier worked on them with experienced hands.
Hurricane glanced around, and saw a door-less room that contained two cots, a crate, and nothing else. That pattern repeated perfectly three times. Spartan was an understatement.
The four men and two women that clearly lived here barely bothered to look up as Solution and company entered. They looked at the new comers, did a private mental assessment and then went back to cleaning their weapons.
Every inch of them screamed soldier. Hurricane didn’t need to be a detective to see that. But he was curious about the blue skin.
“These fine people call themselves Special K,” Solution said, “Kree special forces on vacation, right fellas?”
Special K said nothing.
“So we’re harboring hostile alien forces?” Thrill Blade spat, “what makes you think that’s a good idea?”
“What makes you think this is a debate we should be having in front of them?” Midnight muttered.
Special K said nothing.
“Eh, their gold is good,” Solution shrugged, “and there’ll always be heroes to beat ‘em up, right guys?”
Special K said nothing.
“Weapon Chi’s kind of people, huh?” Hurricane said as they turned to leave.
Weapon Chi and Special K said nothing.
# # # # #
Hurricane, trained soldier that he was, did his best to memorize the layout, trying to categorize who was where as Solution introduced them to the tenants who might be trouble down the line.
Ironically, Hurricane was so focused on that, that he genuinely didn’t notice the hulking man covered in adamantium until they bumped into one another.
“Watch where you’re going,” the man known as Cyber growled, as cigar smoke puffed from his jaw.
Hurricane could feel the eyes of his teammates fall on him.
“You’re the one who needs to watch out for me,” Hurricane snapped, suddenly feeling as if he were back in high school.
He recognized Cyber almost instantly. It was hard to mistake a man with metal skin for someone else, especially given his infamy. But all the same, Hurricane knew he couldn’t back down. Like schoolyard bullies, murderous sociopaths took any sign of weakness as an excuse to attack..
The metal murderer studied Hurricane for a few seconds, then finally, Cyber took the cigar from his lips, and smiled.
“I like you. You look at me like you’re not afraid for tomorrow. You’ll learn.”
Hurricane chuckled dismissively. He knew how to get under the skin of men like these, “Champ, you’re not even the scariest thing I’ve seen today. So keep walking, while you still can.”
Cyber grunted, and then cast an eye towards Solution.
“See you around, kid,” Cyber said, with a grin of promise, “count on it.”
“Not all our residents are long term,” Solution said, “Cyber’s bosses wanted bhim to keep his head down, got something planned. Don’t worry, he’ll be out of here in a few weeks.”
“I’m not worried,” Hurricane said, “so what else is on the sideshow?”
Solution motioned for them to follow them to the elevator. Once they were all inside, he punched a special code into the dials.
“This place isn’t just for scumbags,” Solution said, “sometimes we hold things for clients. Things…you can’t exactly put in a bank.”
The door opened again, and both Thrill Blade and Hurricane felt a shiver of fear travel down their spine.
The floor was unnaturally silent, the lighting was soft, the air unmoving and barely a thing to be heard, yet there was an unmistakable taste of power in the air. The entire feel of the place reminded Thrill Blade of a crypt.
“Not a lot of guests here. But they are still dangerous” Solution said as he strolled into the hall. He pointed to a door down the hall, marked with a red bio-hazard symbol, “if that door opens, just run. Last time she got out, we lost twenty men. We’ll seal off the floor and go from there.”
“What’s in there?” said Hurricane.
“Not anything you ever want to meet,” Midnight said, “just listen to Solution, and leave it alone.”
Hurricane and Thrill Blade exchanged a brief glance, both curious as to what could be so horrible as to make Midnight and Solution, two men who hated one another, to so effortlessly agree with one another.
“You guys wanna see something cool, though?” Solution said, “follow me. Hey, Weapon Chi, don’t spoil the surprise.”
Weapon Chi said nothing.
They climbed the stairs to another level, and were stunned when the floor itself began to tremble.
“No screams,” Solution said, “Midnight, you owe me five bucks.”
In the distance, Hurricane and Thrill Blade saw the cause of the disturbance.
Thrill Blade gaped at the…thing…bound in the sleek metal chair. He was only two sizes smaller than the Hulk, his wrists were covered in thorn-like protrusions, though that was the limit to what the young mercenary could see. The giant was bound in countless chains, and he doubted they were of regular steel.
Both Hurricane and Thrill Blade watched with baited breath. They expected the thing to at least awake, to try to come at them despite all the restraints. The room shook again, like the rumble of thunder, and it wasn’t until the room shook for a third time that both men realized what they were hearing.
“It’s snoring…?” Hurricane said.
“No need to whisper,” Solution said, “that thing doesn’t wake up unless we allow it.”
“It’s snoring is shaking a concrete, steel reinforced floor,” Thrill Blade said, “what can it do awake?”
“I’m with the rookie, what is that thing?”
“That? That’s what happens when RAID dabbles in genetics and doesn’t want to throw away the results. Just keep your fingers away, kid.”
“Not a problem,” Thrill Blade gripped his sword tighter despite all personal efforts not to.
“Good,” Solution said. He led them away, “enough sight-seeing, rookies. We got us an eviction to handle.”
# # # # #
Thrill Blade unsheathed his sword.
Hurricane pumped his shotgun.
Weapon Chi drew her sais.
Midnight channeled a pulse of electricity into his clawed hands.
Solution yawned.
Behind the mercenaries were twenty of Dran’s regular, uniform soldiers known as the piranhas.
“You going to give us a briefing, or do we just kill whoever’s behind that door?”
“Whomever,” Solution corrected, “not much to tell. They’re entitled little rich kids who paid to be vampires. Their code of conduct has violated Dran’s rules.”
“How so?” Hurricane said.
“Kidnapping women and not being gentlemen,” Solution said, “it doesn’t matter what you did before here, but Dran likes to keep it PG 13 here.”
Thrill Blade raised an eyebrow, “PG-13 here? Really?”
“Have you seen what they get away with in movies these days?” said Solution, “I mean seriously, the violence in PG movies now is worse than what they had in rated R movies in the 80s and 90s!”
“…I think we’re getting off point,” Hurricane said, “how do we do this?”
“Hard and fast,” Solution said, “they’re little more than a bunch of entitled punks who wanted to make their own gang. We put them on the ground, and the boys make sure they don’t get up again.”
“Nice and simple plan,” Hurricane said, “you knock.”
“With pleasure.”
The steel door exploded inward, and Solution rushed through with an animalistic grin. Midnight, Thrill Blade, and Weapon Chi rushed in after them. Hurricane hesitated for a few seconds before stepping through.
The Solution was right about the vampires, pasty white skin, claws and fangs, but that wasn’t what Hurricane cared about.
He shot the first vampire that came at him in the head, and observed his teammates at work.
The Solution was literally glowing, every time he struck a vampire, their flesh sizzled like a steak on a grill.
Weapon Chi moved like the wind, her steel slashing throats as easily as they cut through the air. The vampires reached and lunged for her like feral animals, and she danced around them as if they weren’t even there.
Midnight was an entirely different creature. He moved with force and precision, favoring heavy blows to the midsection. He reminded Hurricane of a linebacker, relying on a combination of speed and strength to get the job done.
Thrill Blade was still the wild dog that Hurricane remembered. He hadn’t expected it to change, not really, but seeing it in action again, knowing that his only back up against three skilled, professional super powered killers was a rage filled rookie, made his stomach clench.
“Hey, new guy,” Midnight shouted. Hurricane turned, and saw the cyborg’s hand, smoldering with power, and leveled at him, “wake up!”
A bolt of energy flew from Midnight’s hand, and struck the vampire that had been clinging to the ceiling, and was moments away from lunging for Hurricane himself.
“Thanks,” Hurricane said. He realized that if he didn’t stop analyzing, and get in the fight, he’d end up dead or worse, “just getting over a sense of déjà vu.”
Three vampires came at Hurricane, and in one fluid motion he pulled his sidearm, and put one bullet in each of their mouths. They fell to the ground screaming, and Hurricane stepped into the room.
He looked around for more targets, but saw that of the nearly two dozen vampires that had once lived here, all of them were either dead or fighting for their lives.
And after he noticed that, he observed a pile of female bodies, stacked in the center of the room, all in various states of undress. His lip curled in disgusted, and secretly Hurricane wished tat he’d killed a few more.
“Well, that was fun,” Solution brushed the dust from his hands, and then slapped Hurricane on the back, “you didn’t have to leave them all for us, you know.”
“Hey, you survived,” Hurricane said with a shrug, “not like me and Thrill Blade didn’t pull double duty only yesterday, asshole.”
“Ha! Fair enough,” Solution said, “come with me, rookie. I’ve got one last thing to do before we officially punch out for the day.”
# # # # #
Hurricane tried not to breathe a sigh of relief when they entered the room, and found Warcry sitting patiently for them.
“I heard you were African,” Solution said.
“I am,” Warcy drawled, “is that a problem?”
“Not at all. Now, about your quarters…”
Hurricane watched as Solution transformed from a cocky bruiser, to an actually half decent real estate agent. He explained the terms of Warcry’s rent, the expectations, how she’d go about her day to day if she didn’t want to leave the compound and a million other small little things that came hand in hand in living in a place like this.
Finally came the magic words Hurricane was waiting for.
“My associate will take you to your room. Down the hall, hang a right, then three doors down,” Solution said, “I’ll send someone by in an hour to help you with living arraignments.”
“Thank you,” Warcry said. She picked up her bags, and was about to leave, when Solution spoke.
“Oh, Warcry? I don’t have to remind you that all grudges are for outside these walls, do I?”
“…you do not,” Warcry muttered.
“Good,” Solution said, “punishments for assaulting fellow tenants include summary execution, selling your corpse to the highest bidder and loss of security deposit.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Please do,” Solution said with a polite nod, “and enjoy your stay.”
As they walked down the hall, Warcry discreetly reached into one of her bags, and removed what anyone passing by might have mistaken for a simple Ipod. In reality, it was a Shield devise created to fool any eavesdroppers or directional microphones that might be pointed their way.
All anyone else would hear would be a pre-recorded conversation, recorded before the mission itself.
“So what’s the situation on the ground?” asked Warcry, “make any new friends?”
“Maybe. Solution did ask me to join him for dinner. But I may have something more useful than a friend,” Hurricane removed the devise Dran had given him for dealing with Midnight from his pocket, “an asset. Our speculation that Dran was keeping Midnight in check with a mobile nerve activator was right, though I’m in no hurry to test it.”
“Why, your three Cs code?” Warcry said dismissively, “do you honestly think that your precious code actually matters?”
“My code matters to me,” Hurricane said.
“And only to you,” Warcry said, “don’t think that just because you don’t pull a trigger, you haven’t killed civilians.”
“We can discuss philosophy later,” Hurricane said, “what’s important now is that we now have three people inside of Dran’s operation…”
On the top floor, Damian Dran sat at his desk, the computer monitor connected the security camera that was observing Hurricane and Warcry. His personal assistant, Andi Hunter, stood, watching the feed over his shoulder, smoldering the entire time.
“…and he has no idea.”
Next issue: The Dogs of War are unleashed