Back to GatefoldIssue #5 by Daniel Ingram
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Before, Afganistan
“It was like a second sun,” Jerome Banks chuckled, “I wish you guys could have seen it.”
“Sorry we missed it,” said Specialist James Dixon, “maybe next time you do somethin’ like that, you have to take pictures.”
“Will do,” Jerome said, “hope to cook me another rag head bomber before I get out of this sand box.”
“Better watch your language,” Dixon said softly, and then nodded over Eric’s shoulder. The Special Forces soldier looked over his shoulder, and saw two military police enter. Almost immediately their eyes fell upon Eric.
“You got some admirers,” James said under his breath. He discreetly stepped away, as the MPs approached Eric.
“Specialist Banks?” said the first man, “you need to come with us.”
“May I ask what this is about?” Jerome said, an eyebrow raised.
“Orders,” said the man, plain and simple.
Jerome took a sip of his beer, and then set it down. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to last minute summons with little to no information. Hell, it was how he received half his assignments. But something about this made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
“Understood,” Jerome said simply.
Jerome was a little surprised when the MPs didn’t lead him to the usual briefing tent or command center, but instead led him to an old, empty hangar that had fallen into disuse after several lucky mortar strikes.
And when he saw who was there waiting for him, Jerome was even further confused when he saw that the man waiting for him wasn’t his commanding officer, but in fact an agent of Shield.
“Mr. Banks, thanks for joining me,” the man said, “the name’s GW Bridge.”
“Is there a reason why I’m meeting you instead of enjoying my beer?” Jerome said, “this sandbox isn’t Shield’s, and I don’t answer to you. No offense.”
Bridge eyed the man, and then nodded to the MPs.
“I’ve got this,” Bridge said, “return to your posts.”
The men saluted, and left.
“Aww crap,” Jerome sighed, “this is some spy shit, isn’t it?”
“Turns out you’re a traitor.”
Jerome clenched his fists.
“That better be a joke, ‘cause I ain’t laughing.”
Bridge handed Jerome a manila folder. Jerome flipped it open, and pinned inside was the photo of a red haired man, with a heavy beard and scar on his left cheek.
“I’ve seen this guy around,” Jerome said, “always barking out orders to the new fish, real brasshole. Who is he?”
“The gentleman goes by the name Jacob Nolan, and he has been using what’s known as an image inducer to impersonate you at the base armory,” Bridge said, “he’s shipping weapons in and then selling them on the black market, and using your codes, and face, to steal them.”
Jerome’s nostrils flared.
“I’m going to kill this son of a bitch. Slowly.”
“You’re not going to touch him,” Bridge growled, “we’ve been following his network for weeks now, and you have no idea the intelligence boon it’s been. Nick Fury himself would give his other eye for the intel we’ve gotten so far.”
“So then why are you telling me this?” Jerome said.
“Because a few people on the ground have started to catch on, at least in part,” Bridge said, “you’d be in the brig already if it weren’t for me. Nolan’s gotten sloppy, but we still need him in play, so we need to use a light touch.”
“Well, thank you for protecting me from arrest, for crimes I’d never commit,” Jerome said.
“You’re welcome,” Bridge said, “Nolan’s going to be moving on, soon. Until then, you and your team are grounded, restricted to base. We want him comfortable, cocky. I’m only telling you this so that you’re on guard. We don’t know his exit strategy yet. He may try to kill then frame you, or just leave without raising any attention at all. But rest assured we’ve got eyes on him.”
“So I’ve got to act like I don’t know I have a target on my back,” Eric said, “great. Fine, whatever. I’ll jump through whatever damn hoop you want. But I want something in return.”
“What’s that?”
Jerome pointed an accusing finger at Bridge, “When this is all over, you make it damn clear to the world. I’m no criminal!”
* * * * *
Now
“We can discuss philosophy later,” Hurricane said, “what’s important now is that we now have three people inside of Dran’s operation…”
At his desk, Damian Dran replayed the scene his cameras had recorded only twenty minutes ago. He looped it again, and again, until he had every inch of it memorized.
“…and he has no idea.”
Dran hated it all. A new customer who spat on the valuable services provided, the sanctuary that he could have charged twice as much and it still would have been a bargain. And the new employee who betrayed his trust, and doubtlessly was responsible for the death of a trusted subordinate.
“Watching it again won’t change anything,” said Andi Hunter. She was Dran’s personal assistant, and so much more. He relied on her for most of the day to day operations, and because of her upfront nature, not the least of which included her brutal honesty, “we need a plan. These people are a disease, and the longer they go untreated, the more damage they’ll do. They need to be cut out before they get to something vital.”
“You’re right,” Dran said, “your source was a God send. Talk to our managers, and our residents. I want them a plan of action…”
“Everyone’s ready to go now,” Andi said smoothly, “all that’s left is to grant our source refuge.”
“Consider it done,” Dran said, “let loose our dogs, but stress that we want them alive. For later.”
Dran steepled his hands, and glared at Hurricane and Warcry through the monitor.
“We owe Mr. Grey, and ourselves, nothing less.”
* * * * *
“…fried chicken?”
The Solution smiled in a way that made it hard for Hurricane to judge just what the man was thinking. Mocking or sincere seemed to run together with his new co-worker.
They were outside what looked like a Kentucky Fried Chicken, but couldn’t have been. Hurricane wasn’t a business expert, but he doubted that francises weren’t launched in dens of evil like this, unless they were a Starbucks.
“What, not a fan?” said Solution. He went to a panel of the wall, dialed in a number, and the restaurant became a McDonalds, “better?”
“How does this all work?” Hurricane said, “first your cleaning service, and now this…”
“Nano tech, holograms and massive amounts of food storage,” Solution said, “normally you have to make a reservation, but I pulled some strings. What’s a squirrel hole without the comforts of home?”
“Fair enough,” Hurricane said, “but I’m in the mood for Chinese tonight. Got something for that?”
“Does the Pope shit in the woods?” Solution said with a smirk. He dialed in another code, and the room transformed again, this time into what looked to Hurricane to be a family run business, “Dran tweeked this one himself. Man loves himself some good cat. Lets eat!”
* * * * *
Warcry scanned her room in full combat gear, her tonfas in each hand. This deep into enemy territory, one could never be too paranoid or too prepared. So she swept her new room for bugs or cameras, while familiarizing herself with the layout at the same time.
All told, this room was leagues above the usual hovels that she’d stayed in. There was a moderate sized bed room, a workout room, kitchen and even a living area with a glass table. The halls were fairly wide, space was plentiful and if circumstances were different, she could actually see herself living in an apartment like this, even if she weren’t an internationally wanted criminal.
But circumstances weren’t different. Warcry was here for blood, and even if it didn’t cost her her life, she couldn’t stay.
There wre too many people she had to kill.
She had just checked the air vents, when Warcry heard the stomping of boots just outside her door.
Her heart rate spiked, and for a moment, the fear that she might die before she had her vengeance overwhelmed her paralyzed her muscle in her body.
But that moment lasted no longer than a breath. Warcry couldn’t remember how many deadly situations she’d been in, and she knew by now that panic was the enemy of survival.
The door exploded inward a moment later, and three men in a triangle formation stormed inside, pushing through the smoke.
The first man happened to be carrying a shotgun, and began to go down on one knee to better sweep the area. So before the smoke cleared, Warcry dashed at the first man.
She took a small leap, and her left foot landed perfectly on the man’s bent knee. She pivoted, and slammed her right knee into the soldier’s face, and sent him spilling backwards. Warcry landed on both feet, and before the other two men could level their weapons, she let out a quick scream.
“Hey!”
In terms of sheer volume, it was like a bomb exploding. In terms of physical force, it slammed into the men, and threw them against the wall.
“You’re out of your league, boys,” Warcry said, though she was confident that no one could hear her. She could have just trusted on body language to convey the message, but she felt like an idiot just standing there poising.
Warcry looked at the guard on the ground to see if he got the message, and saw the man turn his eyes down the hall.
She began to follow his eyes, but was interrupted went a fist smashed into her jaw.
Warcry rolled with the punch, and somersaulting backwards to get some distance. As she came up, she sensed someone lunging at her, and brought her arms up and crossed her tonfas in front of herself to defend.
It was all that saved her life, blocking Weapon Chi’s wrists and stopping her sias from piercing her eyes.
Warcry blinked, and her lashes brushed steel.
Weapon Chi shifted tactics, and kicked Warcry in the stomach, and when she recoiled, Warcry fell into a left hook that knocked her sideways.
As she stumbled, Weapon Chi casually spun the sias in her hands, and stood still as if she were simply waiting for a bus.
“You…,” Warcry wiped the blood from her mouth, “you just might be in my league.”
* * * * *
Elsewhere
Scorpion rolled her back as she came down the stairs, fresh from her nap. She found Jim Trask, alone, sitting at a bank of computer monitors.
“Where is everyone?” Scorpion yawned.
“Hrist needed some air, the Shroud is on sentry duty,” Jim reported, “and Mr. Raven’s in the cockpit, doing God knows what.”
“Anything from our men inside?” Scorpion said.
“No, all’s quiet on the Western front,” Jim said, “won’t stay that way for long, I suspect. You ready?”
“I was born ready,” Scorpion said.
“You were born a biological weapon.”
“And how is that not being born ready?”
* * * * *
Hrist looked up at the stars, and observed the constellations dispassionately. The once death goddess didn’t miss much from her native Asgard, but she did miss the stars. In her immortal life of turmoil and blood, they were the one constant in her life, until she’d come to Midgard.
“Hulk.”
A green fist of energy slammed into Hrist’s jaw, and she flew through the air, smashing several trees into a boulder was kind enough to stop her hurtling form.
Hrist wiped the blood from her mouth, as she cast her eye towards the person who’d assaulted her.
“You should surrender,” said Mimic 3, in his Hulk form. His fellow five teammates stood behind him, ready for battle.
“Aye, I should,” Hrist gripped her battle axes, “but I would not bet on it, mortal.”
“Quicksilver.”
“Hercules.”
“Iron Man.”
“Thor.”
Hrist and a wall of pseudo Avengers lunged for one another, and the earth shook.
* * * * *
The Shroud stood cloaked in shadow. Though medically blind, he’d had long ago developed other mystical senses that more than compensated for his traditional lack of sight, and his ears were as sharp as any blade, to the point that he was the ideal sentry at night.
But despite all that, he was still startled when a silver sphere landed at his feel, and exploded in a blinding white light.
Were he not already blind, he might have lost his vision forever. When the light ceased, the Shroud found himself surrounded by the Special K.
“Dran requested that we bring you in alive,” said Commander Ku-kull, leader of the Special forces unit. He held an energy dagger in one hand, “whether you come in one piece is entirely up to you.”
“Yes…”
Shroud created a dagger of darkforce in each hand.
“Yes, it is.”
* * * * *
Mr. Raven sat in the cockpit of his borrowed SHIELD aircraft, when six members of Dran’s elite silently teleported into the space behind him.
With no ceremony, no declaration, they raised their weapons and fired.
And watched in horror as their bullets harmlessly passed through the man as they tore the chair and consul behind him into so much scrap.
“Direct. To the point,” Mr. Ravan said as he stood behind them. He held an Eskrima stick in each hand, “clever. People could learn from that.”
The men spun around and leveled their guns at him.
“We have orders to take you in, dead or alive,” said one of the men, “Mr. Dran prefers alive, but he prefers us alive more. So surrender, if you want to live. We have our own enhancements, and you’ll need a lot more than a few sticks to take us down.”
Mr. Raven flicked both his wrists, and blades thinner than a credit card slid out of the mouths of his weapons.
“Noted.”
Mr. Raven threw himself at the first man before he could pull the trigger.
* * * * *
When Hurricane heard the scream echo through the building, he froze for a split second. He had a fork in his right hand, while his left rested on the table.
Because he knew what that meant.
The Solution smiled.
“Looks like…”
The Solution never finished his sentence, as a bullet exploded through the table and struck him in the jaw. The Solution tipped back, and fell completely backwards when Hurricane flung his fork into the man’s eye.
“Thanks for the dinner,” Hurricane said as he stood up. He took his left hand off his hip holster, and wiped his mouth, “but it sounds like I have to be going.”
“…no.”
Despite everything he’d seen, Hurricane took a step back as Solution stood up, seemingly untouched, and dusted himself off.
“…you’re staying right here, little man.”
Hurricane observed the cracked skin, but no blood.
“Androids,” Hurricane muttered as he leveled his pistol.
“Yup. A special adaptoid,” Solution said, “I’m a little tougher than most.”
“Immune to bullets? Too bad, I really don’t have the time to beat you to death,” Hurricane said.
“Close. You probably know my systems give me the abilities to defeat any enemy.”
The Solution moved like a blur, and before Hurricane could squeeze off a shot, he felt two quick blows to his stomach that sent him hurtling backwards. Hurricane nearly blacked out, and when his wits returned. Solution was standing over him.
“Like super speed. And I always have super strength. So I always have an edge over my enemy. This case, you.”
“I was in an army Ranger before I got my powers…”
Hurricane grunted, and then slammed his fist into Solution’s foot.
“That’s all the edge I need.”
The android screamed, and the pain was enough to allow Hurricane to get back on his feet.
Solution gritted his teeth, and swung a fist for Hurricane’s jaw. The ex-soldier ducked under the blow effortless, while he launched his right fist into Solution’s jaw. The blow staggered the android, as did the left hook that slammed into his side.
The Solution tried to recover, and he swung for Hurricane again. This time, Hurricane sidestepped the blow, and wrapped his arms around Solution’s waist. He lifted him up and over, and suplexed him to the ground, cracking the concrete floor.
Both men were on their feet in an instant, but Solution was a little unsteady.
“Had enough?” Hurricane said, “stand down, and I won’t kill you. This is your only warning.”
For a moment, Hurricane saw the confident and condescending disappear from Solution’s face. It was replaced with anger and hatred.
“There are a lot of reasons why you’re not walking out of here alive. Want to know the biggest? Mr. Grey.”
Hurricane raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, he was a smug bastard, but he was a friend, and he watched my back in this cesspit,” the Solution cracked his knuckles, “do you honestly think that I’d just allow his murderer to walk out of here unscathed? Fuck that, and fuck you. You want to live, you’ll have to kill me first.”
Hurricane’s shotgun was in his hand in seconds. He pumped the trigger and stock with expert skill, and a few seconds later, the chamber was empty.
And the Solution was still handing, unscathed.
“Done? Then lets go.”
* * * * *
Midnight opened the door to Thrill Blade’s quarters silently. He was still debating how to handle the man, when he observed al the beer and liquor bottles that were scattered on the floor, to the point that they could have served as a new carpet.
Thrill Blade was sprawled out on the couch, and he smelled worse than a bar on New Year’s eve.
“Hmm,” Midnight picked up an empty bottle and examined it, “just a thought, buddy, but this career might not be the right one for you.”
Midnight slapped a small talisman over Thrill Blade’s sword, and then grabbed the man by the collar.
“Wonder if the others are having this easy a time.”
* * * * *
Weapon Chi’s elbow smashed across Warcry’s jaw, drawing blood. Warcry pivoted on her right leg, and slammed her left knee into Weapon Chi’s gut, and then smashed her right tonfa across Weapon Chi’s face.
If Weapon Chi even noticed, she gave no indication as she spun the sias in her hands, and tried to plunge them into Warcry’s kidneys.
The sonic mercenary leapt backwards, and acting on instinct, yelled.
“Bitch!”
The word, backed by her powers, acted as a wall of sonic energy slammed into Weapon Chi’s body, forcing the cyborg back for just a split second. Warcry had barely drawn enough breath, but she realized that fighting hand to hand would mean her death against Weapon Chi. That left only one weapon in her arsenal that might turn the tide.
Warcry took a deep breath, and as Weapon Chi came at her again, screamed.
“Skreeee!”
Warcry had complete mastery of her sonic powers, and one of those abilities was to unleash a sonic scream as wide as a room. It lacked the power of a more focused scream, one that could rend solid steel, but Warcry hoped that the fact that it was nearly impossible to dodge offset that.
Weapon Chi raised her hand to defend her herself as sonic energy once again washed over her. But before where it had been just a push, it was now a tsunami. Warcry watched as specks of flesh flew off of Weapon Chi like paint off an old car, to reveal metal and wires.
Weapon Chi was pushed backwards, but Warcry realized that, in the end, that was all her attack accomplished.
“Not good,” Warcry muttered.
Weapon Chi said nothing, she simply ran forward, and leapt in the air. She tucked her knees, and slammed into Warcry. Warcry’s head spun for a split second as she stumbled, and when it cleared, she realized Weapon Chi was standing in front of her like an angel of death.
Weapon Chi plunged her sias into Warcry’s lungs. The sonic mercenary gasped as she felt the force of the blades lift her from her feet before emerging out her back.
Weapon Chi then dropped Warcry on the floor like a discarded soda can. She looked down, as a puddle of blood grew wider around Warcry’s limp body, and something inside her, stirred.
The cyborg summoned the medics, and idly wondered if Warcry would survive.
* * * * *
Mr. Raven swept his sword through the air, and neatly cut the throat of the piranha that wasn’t quick enough to move out of the way.
Two men grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him backwards.
Mr. Raven threw his elbow back into the neck of the man on his right, and then swung his hand back on the man’s neck, and threw him over his shoulder.
The man on Mr. Raven’s left went for his gun, but not before Mr. Raven plunged his sword into his heart.
“Half down,” Mr. Raven backhanded the man who came at him from behind, “just an observation.”
Six more piranhas teleported into the cockpit.
“We have reinforcements,” said one of the Piranhas, “just an observation.”
“And a good one,” Mr. Raven reached behind his back and typed a few commands into the consul, “this was taking too long anyways.”
* * * * *
Shroud felt the bones in his hands break against the metal jaw of Kree Special forces of Cy-Lar. She staggered backwards, but to Shroud’s chagrin, didn’t fall unconscious.
The Shroud was about to launch a follow up attack, when he felt arms as thick as telephone poles wrap around his chest. The caped crusader threw his head backwards, smashing the free soldier’s nose, and was about to summon the dark-force to his hands, when he sensed it.
The Shroud just barely managed to maneuver the Kree soldier restraining him, placing the man in between him and the plane, before the orange ball of fire would have seared the flesh from his bones.
The cockpit exploded first, the ball of fire that came from it was as large as a house, followed in a blink by the midsection, and finally, the tail. In less time than it took to tell, the multi-million dollar aircraft was little more than melted steel and plastic inside a blackened crater in the earth.
The Shroud struggled to stand, as his body ached from the shockwave, and his ears rung from the explosion. He was certain that, if his eyes still worked, they’d be burning inside his sockets right now.
“Scorpion…Trask,” Shroud whispered. With horror, Shroud realized that the last place that he sensed the two was on the airplane that had just become a raging inferno.
He struggled to get to his feet, to bring his second sight into focus, but his body refused to obey. He was blind, deaf and dumb in a way he’d never been before, even after that first terrible night when he lost his natural sight, and it was infuriating. The Night Avenger refused to allow it to beat him, refused to surrender.
Until he felt a something metal pressed against the back of his skull.
“….damn it.”
* * * * *
Hrist felt a hundred blows land across her face in the span of ten seconds, and grinned.
“That all?” Hrist swept her axes outward, and Mimic 1 barely backpedaled in time to avoid being bisected.
“I’ve got her, one!” Mimic 4 said, wearing the form of Iron Man. She unleashed a blast from her repulsars, but Hrist swatted it aside as if it were simply a baseball.
“You have nothing!” Hrist spat, “for all your stolen powers, you lack the grit, the will of the originals!”
“She may have a point,” Mimic 3 said.
“She doesn’t have shit,” Mimic 1 said. He was still channeling Quicksilver through his powers “Three, Four, Hulk up, arm to arm and swing in my signal!”
“Little flea, thou thinks you can hurt me?” Hrist held her arms out wide, “thy best shot, take it!”
“Now!”
Mimic 1 blasted towards Hrist, but instead of trying to pummel her into so much paste, he grabbed the back of her jacket, and yanked her off her feet.
In the time it took Hrist to realize what had happened, Mimic 1 had already pulled a U-turn, and was racing towards his Hulk-morphed friends.
He stopped on a dime, throwing Hrist like a dart at mach two, at the two Hulks’ fists.
* * * * *
In the back of his mind, Hurricane realized he was in trouble. His combat training was predicated on fighting organic human beings with joints, muscle, blood and tissue. He knew instinctively how to exploit the weaknesses, the pressure points that wore an enemy down. It didn’t matter their powers, because some things were simply universal.
But the Solution, as it so happened, was a robot. Android. Whatever the term, Hurricane knew that he didn’t have the same weaknesses that were so prevalent in human beings. He had no kidney to damage, no nose to break, no muscles to tear
Hurricane recognized that he would need entirely new tactics to deal with him, and that put him in a dangerous position, even if Solution’s abilities didn’t somehow make him the water to Hurricane’s fire.
But in the front of his mind, he swung his fist into Solution’s chin, snapping the robot’s head to the side.
Solution responded with three rapid punches to Hurricane’s stomach. When he went for a fourth punch, when Hurricane grabbed the android’s wrist, and twisted it backwards.
Solution tried to pull back, and when he did, he pulled Hurricane with him. He smashed Solution’s instep, and then smashed his elbow into the Android’s face.
“Super speed isn’t much good if you can’t walk,” Hurricane reached over his shoulder, and grabbed his vibranium machete. He swung it in a downwards arch, aiming for Solution’s head, but the man stepped aside like it was a practiced dance step.
“No it’s not…”
The Solution chopped Hurricane’s throat, and the pain and lack of air forced him to drop his blade. Solution kicked it away with his good foot, and then swung a left hook that pitched Hurricane backwards.
“…that’s why it’s good to have combat protocols uploaded into your brain.”
Hurricane spit out a tooth.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Their eyes met, and for a moment neither man moved.
But then Hurricane then moved like his namesake, and swung a right hook for Solution’s face. The android brought his wrist up to defend, and was caught unprepared when Hurricane brought his knee up into the robot’s gut, driving him back.
The Solution gritted his teeth, and watched as Hurricane drew a combat knife, spun it in a reverse grip and lunged again.
Solution ducked under a slash that was aimed at his chest, and hooked his arm around Hurricane’s knee. As the Solution came up, Hurricane’s leg came out from under him and he fell. The Android pivoted on his left foot, and swung his right leg into Hurricane’s stomach.
The mercenary flew through the air like a football, before coming down in a heap, only a few feet from the interior wall.
Hurricane refused to allow himself to feel the pain. In his mind, pain was optional, losing wasn’t. He climbed to his feet, only for Solution to smash into him like a quarterback.
Hurricane, knowing he only had seconds to act, grabbed Solution by the crotch with his right hand, threw his left arm over the Android’s should, and spun on his heel, throwing the artificial man into the wall with all his considerable strength.
The Solution crashed so hard, his processors skipped a few seconds, and the next thing that he saw was Hurricane leaping towards him, the man’s elbow aimed at his robot head. Solution’s head was smashed through steel reinforced concrete, that crumbled like powder.
Hurricane saw his opening, and smashed his fists into Solution’s head, trying to use the wall as an extra advantage.
But Solution wasn’t easily beaten. He kicked out with his right leg, hitting the back of Hurricane’s knee perfectly. Hurricane didn’t completely fall, but that split second break was all the Solution needed.
“I’m impressed,” the Solution grabbed the back of Hurricane’s head with both hands, and pulled him down as he launched his knee upwards.
The blow felt like something exploded in Hurricane’s skull. His head snapped back as he was once again pitched through the air, and landed in a boneless heap.
“This is the longest anyone’s ever lasted against me,” Solution brushed the dust from his shoulders.
Hurricane was on his hands and knees. His primal instinct was to rise, to stand and fight, but somewhere between his brain and his body, the signal was lost.
“Shame it doesn’t really matter. You should have eaten your gun when you had the chance…”
Solution’s swung a right cross that knocked Hurricane sideways as it rendered him unconscious.
“…because now? Now, we’re going to get mean.”
Next Issue: They get mean!
“It was like a second sun,” Jerome Banks chuckled, “I wish you guys could have seen it.”
“Sorry we missed it,” said Specialist James Dixon, “maybe next time you do somethin’ like that, you have to take pictures.”
“Will do,” Jerome said, “hope to cook me another rag head bomber before I get out of this sand box.”
“Better watch your language,” Dixon said softly, and then nodded over Eric’s shoulder. The Special Forces soldier looked over his shoulder, and saw two military police enter. Almost immediately their eyes fell upon Eric.
“You got some admirers,” James said under his breath. He discreetly stepped away, as the MPs approached Eric.
“Specialist Banks?” said the first man, “you need to come with us.”
“May I ask what this is about?” Jerome said, an eyebrow raised.
“Orders,” said the man, plain and simple.
Jerome took a sip of his beer, and then set it down. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to last minute summons with little to no information. Hell, it was how he received half his assignments. But something about this made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
“Understood,” Jerome said simply.
Jerome was a little surprised when the MPs didn’t lead him to the usual briefing tent or command center, but instead led him to an old, empty hangar that had fallen into disuse after several lucky mortar strikes.
And when he saw who was there waiting for him, Jerome was even further confused when he saw that the man waiting for him wasn’t his commanding officer, but in fact an agent of Shield.
“Mr. Banks, thanks for joining me,” the man said, “the name’s GW Bridge.”
“Is there a reason why I’m meeting you instead of enjoying my beer?” Jerome said, “this sandbox isn’t Shield’s, and I don’t answer to you. No offense.”
Bridge eyed the man, and then nodded to the MPs.
“I’ve got this,” Bridge said, “return to your posts.”
The men saluted, and left.
“Aww crap,” Jerome sighed, “this is some spy shit, isn’t it?”
“Turns out you’re a traitor.”
Jerome clenched his fists.
“That better be a joke, ‘cause I ain’t laughing.”
Bridge handed Jerome a manila folder. Jerome flipped it open, and pinned inside was the photo of a red haired man, with a heavy beard and scar on his left cheek.
“I’ve seen this guy around,” Jerome said, “always barking out orders to the new fish, real brasshole. Who is he?”
“The gentleman goes by the name Jacob Nolan, and he has been using what’s known as an image inducer to impersonate you at the base armory,” Bridge said, “he’s shipping weapons in and then selling them on the black market, and using your codes, and face, to steal them.”
Jerome’s nostrils flared.
“I’m going to kill this son of a bitch. Slowly.”
“You’re not going to touch him,” Bridge growled, “we’ve been following his network for weeks now, and you have no idea the intelligence boon it’s been. Nick Fury himself would give his other eye for the intel we’ve gotten so far.”
“So then why are you telling me this?” Jerome said.
“Because a few people on the ground have started to catch on, at least in part,” Bridge said, “you’d be in the brig already if it weren’t for me. Nolan’s gotten sloppy, but we still need him in play, so we need to use a light touch.”
“Well, thank you for protecting me from arrest, for crimes I’d never commit,” Jerome said.
“You’re welcome,” Bridge said, “Nolan’s going to be moving on, soon. Until then, you and your team are grounded, restricted to base. We want him comfortable, cocky. I’m only telling you this so that you’re on guard. We don’t know his exit strategy yet. He may try to kill then frame you, or just leave without raising any attention at all. But rest assured we’ve got eyes on him.”
“So I’ve got to act like I don’t know I have a target on my back,” Eric said, “great. Fine, whatever. I’ll jump through whatever damn hoop you want. But I want something in return.”
“What’s that?”
Jerome pointed an accusing finger at Bridge, “When this is all over, you make it damn clear to the world. I’m no criminal!”
* * * * *
Now
“We can discuss philosophy later,” Hurricane said, “what’s important now is that we now have three people inside of Dran’s operation…”
At his desk, Damian Dran replayed the scene his cameras had recorded only twenty minutes ago. He looped it again, and again, until he had every inch of it memorized.
“…and he has no idea.”
Dran hated it all. A new customer who spat on the valuable services provided, the sanctuary that he could have charged twice as much and it still would have been a bargain. And the new employee who betrayed his trust, and doubtlessly was responsible for the death of a trusted subordinate.
“Watching it again won’t change anything,” said Andi Hunter. She was Dran’s personal assistant, and so much more. He relied on her for most of the day to day operations, and because of her upfront nature, not the least of which included her brutal honesty, “we need a plan. These people are a disease, and the longer they go untreated, the more damage they’ll do. They need to be cut out before they get to something vital.”
“You’re right,” Dran said, “your source was a God send. Talk to our managers, and our residents. I want them a plan of action…”
“Everyone’s ready to go now,” Andi said smoothly, “all that’s left is to grant our source refuge.”
“Consider it done,” Dran said, “let loose our dogs, but stress that we want them alive. For later.”
Dran steepled his hands, and glared at Hurricane and Warcry through the monitor.
“We owe Mr. Grey, and ourselves, nothing less.”
* * * * *
“…fried chicken?”
The Solution smiled in a way that made it hard for Hurricane to judge just what the man was thinking. Mocking or sincere seemed to run together with his new co-worker.
They were outside what looked like a Kentucky Fried Chicken, but couldn’t have been. Hurricane wasn’t a business expert, but he doubted that francises weren’t launched in dens of evil like this, unless they were a Starbucks.
“What, not a fan?” said Solution. He went to a panel of the wall, dialed in a number, and the restaurant became a McDonalds, “better?”
“How does this all work?” Hurricane said, “first your cleaning service, and now this…”
“Nano tech, holograms and massive amounts of food storage,” Solution said, “normally you have to make a reservation, but I pulled some strings. What’s a squirrel hole without the comforts of home?”
“Fair enough,” Hurricane said, “but I’m in the mood for Chinese tonight. Got something for that?”
“Does the Pope shit in the woods?” Solution said with a smirk. He dialed in another code, and the room transformed again, this time into what looked to Hurricane to be a family run business, “Dran tweeked this one himself. Man loves himself some good cat. Lets eat!”
* * * * *
Warcry scanned her room in full combat gear, her tonfas in each hand. This deep into enemy territory, one could never be too paranoid or too prepared. So she swept her new room for bugs or cameras, while familiarizing herself with the layout at the same time.
All told, this room was leagues above the usual hovels that she’d stayed in. There was a moderate sized bed room, a workout room, kitchen and even a living area with a glass table. The halls were fairly wide, space was plentiful and if circumstances were different, she could actually see herself living in an apartment like this, even if she weren’t an internationally wanted criminal.
But circumstances weren’t different. Warcry was here for blood, and even if it didn’t cost her her life, she couldn’t stay.
There wre too many people she had to kill.
She had just checked the air vents, when Warcry heard the stomping of boots just outside her door.
Her heart rate spiked, and for a moment, the fear that she might die before she had her vengeance overwhelmed her paralyzed her muscle in her body.
But that moment lasted no longer than a breath. Warcry couldn’t remember how many deadly situations she’d been in, and she knew by now that panic was the enemy of survival.
The door exploded inward a moment later, and three men in a triangle formation stormed inside, pushing through the smoke.
The first man happened to be carrying a shotgun, and began to go down on one knee to better sweep the area. So before the smoke cleared, Warcry dashed at the first man.
She took a small leap, and her left foot landed perfectly on the man’s bent knee. She pivoted, and slammed her right knee into the soldier’s face, and sent him spilling backwards. Warcry landed on both feet, and before the other two men could level their weapons, she let out a quick scream.
“Hey!”
In terms of sheer volume, it was like a bomb exploding. In terms of physical force, it slammed into the men, and threw them against the wall.
“You’re out of your league, boys,” Warcry said, though she was confident that no one could hear her. She could have just trusted on body language to convey the message, but she felt like an idiot just standing there poising.
Warcry looked at the guard on the ground to see if he got the message, and saw the man turn his eyes down the hall.
She began to follow his eyes, but was interrupted went a fist smashed into her jaw.
Warcry rolled with the punch, and somersaulting backwards to get some distance. As she came up, she sensed someone lunging at her, and brought her arms up and crossed her tonfas in front of herself to defend.
It was all that saved her life, blocking Weapon Chi’s wrists and stopping her sias from piercing her eyes.
Warcry blinked, and her lashes brushed steel.
Weapon Chi shifted tactics, and kicked Warcry in the stomach, and when she recoiled, Warcry fell into a left hook that knocked her sideways.
As she stumbled, Weapon Chi casually spun the sias in her hands, and stood still as if she were simply waiting for a bus.
“You…,” Warcry wiped the blood from her mouth, “you just might be in my league.”
* * * * *
Elsewhere
Scorpion rolled her back as she came down the stairs, fresh from her nap. She found Jim Trask, alone, sitting at a bank of computer monitors.
“Where is everyone?” Scorpion yawned.
“Hrist needed some air, the Shroud is on sentry duty,” Jim reported, “and Mr. Raven’s in the cockpit, doing God knows what.”
“Anything from our men inside?” Scorpion said.
“No, all’s quiet on the Western front,” Jim said, “won’t stay that way for long, I suspect. You ready?”
“I was born ready,” Scorpion said.
“You were born a biological weapon.”
“And how is that not being born ready?”
* * * * *
Hrist looked up at the stars, and observed the constellations dispassionately. The once death goddess didn’t miss much from her native Asgard, but she did miss the stars. In her immortal life of turmoil and blood, they were the one constant in her life, until she’d come to Midgard.
“Hulk.”
A green fist of energy slammed into Hrist’s jaw, and she flew through the air, smashing several trees into a boulder was kind enough to stop her hurtling form.
Hrist wiped the blood from her mouth, as she cast her eye towards the person who’d assaulted her.
“You should surrender,” said Mimic 3, in his Hulk form. His fellow five teammates stood behind him, ready for battle.
“Aye, I should,” Hrist gripped her battle axes, “but I would not bet on it, mortal.”
“Quicksilver.”
“Hercules.”
“Iron Man.”
“Thor.”
Hrist and a wall of pseudo Avengers lunged for one another, and the earth shook.
* * * * *
The Shroud stood cloaked in shadow. Though medically blind, he’d had long ago developed other mystical senses that more than compensated for his traditional lack of sight, and his ears were as sharp as any blade, to the point that he was the ideal sentry at night.
But despite all that, he was still startled when a silver sphere landed at his feel, and exploded in a blinding white light.
Were he not already blind, he might have lost his vision forever. When the light ceased, the Shroud found himself surrounded by the Special K.
“Dran requested that we bring you in alive,” said Commander Ku-kull, leader of the Special forces unit. He held an energy dagger in one hand, “whether you come in one piece is entirely up to you.”
“Yes…”
Shroud created a dagger of darkforce in each hand.
“Yes, it is.”
* * * * *
Mr. Raven sat in the cockpit of his borrowed SHIELD aircraft, when six members of Dran’s elite silently teleported into the space behind him.
With no ceremony, no declaration, they raised their weapons and fired.
And watched in horror as their bullets harmlessly passed through the man as they tore the chair and consul behind him into so much scrap.
“Direct. To the point,” Mr. Ravan said as he stood behind them. He held an Eskrima stick in each hand, “clever. People could learn from that.”
The men spun around and leveled their guns at him.
“We have orders to take you in, dead or alive,” said one of the men, “Mr. Dran prefers alive, but he prefers us alive more. So surrender, if you want to live. We have our own enhancements, and you’ll need a lot more than a few sticks to take us down.”
Mr. Raven flicked both his wrists, and blades thinner than a credit card slid out of the mouths of his weapons.
“Noted.”
Mr. Raven threw himself at the first man before he could pull the trigger.
* * * * *
When Hurricane heard the scream echo through the building, he froze for a split second. He had a fork in his right hand, while his left rested on the table.
Because he knew what that meant.
The Solution smiled.
“Looks like…”
The Solution never finished his sentence, as a bullet exploded through the table and struck him in the jaw. The Solution tipped back, and fell completely backwards when Hurricane flung his fork into the man’s eye.
“Thanks for the dinner,” Hurricane said as he stood up. He took his left hand off his hip holster, and wiped his mouth, “but it sounds like I have to be going.”
“…no.”
Despite everything he’d seen, Hurricane took a step back as Solution stood up, seemingly untouched, and dusted himself off.
“…you’re staying right here, little man.”
Hurricane observed the cracked skin, but no blood.
“Androids,” Hurricane muttered as he leveled his pistol.
“Yup. A special adaptoid,” Solution said, “I’m a little tougher than most.”
“Immune to bullets? Too bad, I really don’t have the time to beat you to death,” Hurricane said.
“Close. You probably know my systems give me the abilities to defeat any enemy.”
The Solution moved like a blur, and before Hurricane could squeeze off a shot, he felt two quick blows to his stomach that sent him hurtling backwards. Hurricane nearly blacked out, and when his wits returned. Solution was standing over him.
“Like super speed. And I always have super strength. So I always have an edge over my enemy. This case, you.”
“I was in an army Ranger before I got my powers…”
Hurricane grunted, and then slammed his fist into Solution’s foot.
“That’s all the edge I need.”
The android screamed, and the pain was enough to allow Hurricane to get back on his feet.
Solution gritted his teeth, and swung a fist for Hurricane’s jaw. The ex-soldier ducked under the blow effortless, while he launched his right fist into Solution’s jaw. The blow staggered the android, as did the left hook that slammed into his side.
The Solution tried to recover, and he swung for Hurricane again. This time, Hurricane sidestepped the blow, and wrapped his arms around Solution’s waist. He lifted him up and over, and suplexed him to the ground, cracking the concrete floor.
Both men were on their feet in an instant, but Solution was a little unsteady.
“Had enough?” Hurricane said, “stand down, and I won’t kill you. This is your only warning.”
For a moment, Hurricane saw the confident and condescending disappear from Solution’s face. It was replaced with anger and hatred.
“There are a lot of reasons why you’re not walking out of here alive. Want to know the biggest? Mr. Grey.”
Hurricane raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, he was a smug bastard, but he was a friend, and he watched my back in this cesspit,” the Solution cracked his knuckles, “do you honestly think that I’d just allow his murderer to walk out of here unscathed? Fuck that, and fuck you. You want to live, you’ll have to kill me first.”
Hurricane’s shotgun was in his hand in seconds. He pumped the trigger and stock with expert skill, and a few seconds later, the chamber was empty.
And the Solution was still handing, unscathed.
“Done? Then lets go.”
* * * * *
Midnight opened the door to Thrill Blade’s quarters silently. He was still debating how to handle the man, when he observed al the beer and liquor bottles that were scattered on the floor, to the point that they could have served as a new carpet.
Thrill Blade was sprawled out on the couch, and he smelled worse than a bar on New Year’s eve.
“Hmm,” Midnight picked up an empty bottle and examined it, “just a thought, buddy, but this career might not be the right one for you.”
Midnight slapped a small talisman over Thrill Blade’s sword, and then grabbed the man by the collar.
“Wonder if the others are having this easy a time.”
* * * * *
Weapon Chi’s elbow smashed across Warcry’s jaw, drawing blood. Warcry pivoted on her right leg, and slammed her left knee into Weapon Chi’s gut, and then smashed her right tonfa across Weapon Chi’s face.
If Weapon Chi even noticed, she gave no indication as she spun the sias in her hands, and tried to plunge them into Warcry’s kidneys.
The sonic mercenary leapt backwards, and acting on instinct, yelled.
“Bitch!”
The word, backed by her powers, acted as a wall of sonic energy slammed into Weapon Chi’s body, forcing the cyborg back for just a split second. Warcry had barely drawn enough breath, but she realized that fighting hand to hand would mean her death against Weapon Chi. That left only one weapon in her arsenal that might turn the tide.
Warcry took a deep breath, and as Weapon Chi came at her again, screamed.
“Skreeee!”
Warcry had complete mastery of her sonic powers, and one of those abilities was to unleash a sonic scream as wide as a room. It lacked the power of a more focused scream, one that could rend solid steel, but Warcry hoped that the fact that it was nearly impossible to dodge offset that.
Weapon Chi raised her hand to defend her herself as sonic energy once again washed over her. But before where it had been just a push, it was now a tsunami. Warcry watched as specks of flesh flew off of Weapon Chi like paint off an old car, to reveal metal and wires.
Weapon Chi was pushed backwards, but Warcry realized that, in the end, that was all her attack accomplished.
“Not good,” Warcry muttered.
Weapon Chi said nothing, she simply ran forward, and leapt in the air. She tucked her knees, and slammed into Warcry. Warcry’s head spun for a split second as she stumbled, and when it cleared, she realized Weapon Chi was standing in front of her like an angel of death.
Weapon Chi plunged her sias into Warcry’s lungs. The sonic mercenary gasped as she felt the force of the blades lift her from her feet before emerging out her back.
Weapon Chi then dropped Warcry on the floor like a discarded soda can. She looked down, as a puddle of blood grew wider around Warcry’s limp body, and something inside her, stirred.
The cyborg summoned the medics, and idly wondered if Warcry would survive.
* * * * *
Mr. Raven swept his sword through the air, and neatly cut the throat of the piranha that wasn’t quick enough to move out of the way.
Two men grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him backwards.
Mr. Raven threw his elbow back into the neck of the man on his right, and then swung his hand back on the man’s neck, and threw him over his shoulder.
The man on Mr. Raven’s left went for his gun, but not before Mr. Raven plunged his sword into his heart.
“Half down,” Mr. Raven backhanded the man who came at him from behind, “just an observation.”
Six more piranhas teleported into the cockpit.
“We have reinforcements,” said one of the Piranhas, “just an observation.”
“And a good one,” Mr. Raven reached behind his back and typed a few commands into the consul, “this was taking too long anyways.”
* * * * *
Shroud felt the bones in his hands break against the metal jaw of Kree Special forces of Cy-Lar. She staggered backwards, but to Shroud’s chagrin, didn’t fall unconscious.
The Shroud was about to launch a follow up attack, when he felt arms as thick as telephone poles wrap around his chest. The caped crusader threw his head backwards, smashing the free soldier’s nose, and was about to summon the dark-force to his hands, when he sensed it.
The Shroud just barely managed to maneuver the Kree soldier restraining him, placing the man in between him and the plane, before the orange ball of fire would have seared the flesh from his bones.
The cockpit exploded first, the ball of fire that came from it was as large as a house, followed in a blink by the midsection, and finally, the tail. In less time than it took to tell, the multi-million dollar aircraft was little more than melted steel and plastic inside a blackened crater in the earth.
The Shroud struggled to stand, as his body ached from the shockwave, and his ears rung from the explosion. He was certain that, if his eyes still worked, they’d be burning inside his sockets right now.
“Scorpion…Trask,” Shroud whispered. With horror, Shroud realized that the last place that he sensed the two was on the airplane that had just become a raging inferno.
He struggled to get to his feet, to bring his second sight into focus, but his body refused to obey. He was blind, deaf and dumb in a way he’d never been before, even after that first terrible night when he lost his natural sight, and it was infuriating. The Night Avenger refused to allow it to beat him, refused to surrender.
Until he felt a something metal pressed against the back of his skull.
“….damn it.”
* * * * *
Hrist felt a hundred blows land across her face in the span of ten seconds, and grinned.
“That all?” Hrist swept her axes outward, and Mimic 1 barely backpedaled in time to avoid being bisected.
“I’ve got her, one!” Mimic 4 said, wearing the form of Iron Man. She unleashed a blast from her repulsars, but Hrist swatted it aside as if it were simply a baseball.
“You have nothing!” Hrist spat, “for all your stolen powers, you lack the grit, the will of the originals!”
“She may have a point,” Mimic 3 said.
“She doesn’t have shit,” Mimic 1 said. He was still channeling Quicksilver through his powers “Three, Four, Hulk up, arm to arm and swing in my signal!”
“Little flea, thou thinks you can hurt me?” Hrist held her arms out wide, “thy best shot, take it!”
“Now!”
Mimic 1 blasted towards Hrist, but instead of trying to pummel her into so much paste, he grabbed the back of her jacket, and yanked her off her feet.
In the time it took Hrist to realize what had happened, Mimic 1 had already pulled a U-turn, and was racing towards his Hulk-morphed friends.
He stopped on a dime, throwing Hrist like a dart at mach two, at the two Hulks’ fists.
* * * * *
In the back of his mind, Hurricane realized he was in trouble. His combat training was predicated on fighting organic human beings with joints, muscle, blood and tissue. He knew instinctively how to exploit the weaknesses, the pressure points that wore an enemy down. It didn’t matter their powers, because some things were simply universal.
But the Solution, as it so happened, was a robot. Android. Whatever the term, Hurricane knew that he didn’t have the same weaknesses that were so prevalent in human beings. He had no kidney to damage, no nose to break, no muscles to tear
Hurricane recognized that he would need entirely new tactics to deal with him, and that put him in a dangerous position, even if Solution’s abilities didn’t somehow make him the water to Hurricane’s fire.
But in the front of his mind, he swung his fist into Solution’s chin, snapping the robot’s head to the side.
Solution responded with three rapid punches to Hurricane’s stomach. When he went for a fourth punch, when Hurricane grabbed the android’s wrist, and twisted it backwards.
Solution tried to pull back, and when he did, he pulled Hurricane with him. He smashed Solution’s instep, and then smashed his elbow into the Android’s face.
“Super speed isn’t much good if you can’t walk,” Hurricane reached over his shoulder, and grabbed his vibranium machete. He swung it in a downwards arch, aiming for Solution’s head, but the man stepped aside like it was a practiced dance step.
“No it’s not…”
The Solution chopped Hurricane’s throat, and the pain and lack of air forced him to drop his blade. Solution kicked it away with his good foot, and then swung a left hook that pitched Hurricane backwards.
“…that’s why it’s good to have combat protocols uploaded into your brain.”
Hurricane spit out a tooth.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Their eyes met, and for a moment neither man moved.
But then Hurricane then moved like his namesake, and swung a right hook for Solution’s face. The android brought his wrist up to defend, and was caught unprepared when Hurricane brought his knee up into the robot’s gut, driving him back.
The Solution gritted his teeth, and watched as Hurricane drew a combat knife, spun it in a reverse grip and lunged again.
Solution ducked under a slash that was aimed at his chest, and hooked his arm around Hurricane’s knee. As the Solution came up, Hurricane’s leg came out from under him and he fell. The Android pivoted on his left foot, and swung his right leg into Hurricane’s stomach.
The mercenary flew through the air like a football, before coming down in a heap, only a few feet from the interior wall.
Hurricane refused to allow himself to feel the pain. In his mind, pain was optional, losing wasn’t. He climbed to his feet, only for Solution to smash into him like a quarterback.
Hurricane, knowing he only had seconds to act, grabbed Solution by the crotch with his right hand, threw his left arm over the Android’s should, and spun on his heel, throwing the artificial man into the wall with all his considerable strength.
The Solution crashed so hard, his processors skipped a few seconds, and the next thing that he saw was Hurricane leaping towards him, the man’s elbow aimed at his robot head. Solution’s head was smashed through steel reinforced concrete, that crumbled like powder.
Hurricane saw his opening, and smashed his fists into Solution’s head, trying to use the wall as an extra advantage.
But Solution wasn’t easily beaten. He kicked out with his right leg, hitting the back of Hurricane’s knee perfectly. Hurricane didn’t completely fall, but that split second break was all the Solution needed.
“I’m impressed,” the Solution grabbed the back of Hurricane’s head with both hands, and pulled him down as he launched his knee upwards.
The blow felt like something exploded in Hurricane’s skull. His head snapped back as he was once again pitched through the air, and landed in a boneless heap.
“This is the longest anyone’s ever lasted against me,” Solution brushed the dust from his shoulders.
Hurricane was on his hands and knees. His primal instinct was to rise, to stand and fight, but somewhere between his brain and his body, the signal was lost.
“Shame it doesn’t really matter. You should have eaten your gun when you had the chance…”
Solution’s swung a right cross that knocked Hurricane sideways as it rendered him unconscious.
“…because now? Now, we’re going to get mean.”
Next Issue: They get mean!