Back to Gatefold
Issue #5 by D. Golightly
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“Leaps & Bounds – Part Two”
“Welcome to Madripoor.”
The cybernetic hand extended to Luke Cage was warmly accepted. As Cage and Danny Rand, the Iron Fist, stepped off of their private jet that had been arranged by Tony Stark himself, they took in the sights and sounds of the Madripoor International Airport. For such a small nation the airport was fairly active, mostly because the country had a heavy list of exports to consign.
“Thanks,” Iron Fist said as he took Deathlok’s hand in turn. “Good to see you again.”
“How’s Madripoor treating you?” Cage asked as they followed Deathlok off of the tarmac.
“Let she treats anyone else, I suppose. The outskirts in Lowtown are pretty rough, but Hightown is actually not too bad. If you stick to the main city you’ll be fine. They welcome tourists openly.”
Deathlok led them through the airport and waited for customs to clear them, which didn’t take long since both only had a small travel bag with nothing to declare accept clothes and toiletries. They were here on business, and planned to be headed back to the United States just as soon as they solved Tony Stark’s espionage problem.
“Have you tracked down where the communiqué came from?” Iron Fist asked as they tossed their bags into the awaiting armored convoy that would escort them through Hightown. “All we know is that someone from Madripoor contracted Batroc to try and make off with Stark’s airship.”
Once inside the 4x4 vehicle, Deathlok tapped on the glass between the passenger compartment and the driver’s seats, commanding the driver to get moving. “Yes, I triangulated the source,” Deathlok said. “There’s a compound in Lowtown that’s been operating as a shipping company, but everyone knows it’s a front.”
“Aren’t most things in Madripoor?” Cage inquired with a smirk.
“Sure,” said Deathlok, the necrotic tissue of his face barely moving as he spoke. “But this one doesn’t even try and hide its operations. Most places around here have enough respect to at least pretend they’re legit. This place is a shipping company in name only; they never harbor any freight and they haven’t even filed documentation with the government in the last five years.”
“So what do they do?” Iron Fist asked.
“That’s what we’re going to find out tonight,” Deathlok replied. “Right after we stop off at my building and pick up a few things.”
# # # # #
“Hello, Victor. Can you hear me?”
Victor Alvarez blinked the sleepiness from his eyes. Once the dark blobs and images started to form into sharper shapes, he realized just enough about his situation to start fighting against his restraints. He reached for the power to break his bonds but was shocked to find that it wouldn’t come to him.
He shook his head in frustration and then looked around to get a better look at his surroundings. He was in a dark room with a metal floor, strapped to a metal chair. Overhead was a dangling light. His eyes couldn’t pierce the shadows lining the walls, so he couldn’t see if there were windows, doors, or anyone else in the room with him.
He reached for strength again, and once more, he failed.
“Yes, my sensors are telling me that you’re trying to bulk up,” the voice said again. “You can relax, Victor. I’ve been studying you. I’ve made sure that your ability to extract strength from other organisms and increase your own is rather limited. You have a proximity range for your abilities. Did you know that? I’m guessing not.”
Victor turned his head to try and see where the voice was coming from, but couldn’t twist far enough in his restraints to turn completely around.
“No, I’m not in the room with you, Victor. You’re hearing me through a speaker system, but I’m not far. Like I said, with you it’s all about proximity apparently.”
“Who are you?” Victor demanded. With the cobwebs clearing he was beginning to remember being jumped by the ninjas. “Where am I?”
“You’re right where you need to be,” the voice responded. “I would have completed this procedure while you were asleep, but for this particular series of treatments I need your conscious mind wide awake. Kindly turn your attention to the front of the room.”
A light flicked on from an overhead lamp, exactly like the one hanging over Victor. Instead of another person, however, it just displayed an old, tattered, purple top hat. At the base of the hat, where the top met the brim, there was a spiral disc. The disc began to spin, slowly at first, but then increasing in speed, and from the first movement Victor was mesmerized.
“You see, Victor,” the voice continued. “I tried to plant a subliminal series of commands into another operative, but he somehow overcame those suggestions. Normally I would have my men implant similar suggestions into you via their psionic devices, but I’m not one to repeat my mistakes.”
Victor felt his concentration begin to shatter as his gaze was locked onto the strange top hat at the far side of the room.
“Do you recognize this device?” the voice continued. “It belonged to the Ringmaster. A buffoon, to be honest, and someone that is safely locked away in the Vault. The technology is sound, however, and this old hat of his still works.”
“Why…why are you doing this?” Victor managed to ask.
“Why?” The voice chuckled. “Victor, ours is not to ask why, but to do and die.”
# # # # #
The dimly lit warehouse on the edge of a marina in Lowtown fit in perfectly with Madripoor’s atmosphere. The city and same-named country were known for housing the dregs of humanity, but were held in check by the juxtaposition of the society of Hightown. Hard science had its place right alongside the smuggling, and many prestigious companies based their operations out of the small island.
“How does the mesh feel?” Deathlok inquired.
Iron Fist flexed his muscles and twisted his torso, testing the elasticity of the high-composite mesh that Deathlok had outfitted him with. It was stylized with a yellow dragon over his chest, his chosen symbol, and mostly matched his standard uniform. It was more dense, however, and Deathlok had promised it would offer him greater protection.
“A little restrictive,” Iron Fist replied, “but better than I thought. This will stop a slug?”
“Up to a certain caliber, yes. Luke? How does your suit you?”
Luke Cage stepped out of the armored transport and onto the wooden planks of the dock, planting his feet next to Danny. He wore his standard blue jeans and yellow t-shirt, stretched tight over his muscular frame.
“Not my style, ‘Lok,” Cage replied with a smile. “Diamond-hard skin, remember?”
Deathlok let out an irritated sigh. “Luke,” he began, “the mesh does a lot more than just stop bullets. It helps regulate your body temperature and—”
“I’m good,” Luke cut in, raising his hand to stop Deathlok mid-sentence. “Can we get moving?”
Deathlok grimaced, but just shook his head instead of continuing his argument. He knew from working with Cage as part of the previous incarnation of the Heroes For Hire that continuing the conversation would just be pointless. As opposed to pointing out the high cost, delicate care, and hours of work that went into the suit that Luke had brushed aside, he instead slid back the mechanism on his arm-length weapon.
The bolt slid back, chambered a high-caliber round, and slammed it into place within the steel barrel. The weapon was also of his own design, thanks in no small part to Stark’s tech that had been made available to him. The thing was practically a cannon, but had minimal kickback.
“The signal to Batroc originally came from in there,” Deathlok said, pointing at the darkened warehouse. “How do you want to play this?”
“Let’s knock on the front door and see what happens,” Cage replied as he walked between the other two men and made way for the warehouse.
Danny tossed Deathlok a cautious look. “It seems like Luke has volunteered to be our distraction,” Iron Fist said. “I’ll work my way around onto the roof. You take the rear?”
Deathlok nodded and the trio went their separate ways. Once Luke had reached the bulky warehouse doors, he pounded on the tattered wood at the seam, easily snapping both doors off their hinges. Deathlok and Iron Fist were both out of sight by the time he had reached the entrance.
“Knock, knock!” he shouted into the warehouse.
Several people looked up at him, startled. Their smuggling operation looked to be laid out for the world to see: opened crates strewn throughout the facility, various tables of lab equipment with powders and solutions, and workers wearing latex gloves and masks. In the center of the warehouse were stacks of equipment that Cage didn’t recognize, but looked complex, much like what he had seen at Four Freedoms Plaza way back in the day.
A woman off to the side started barking commands at Luke’s sudden entrance, issuing orders to the workers. Her trim black hair was cut close to her face, and she had a scar running down her right cheek, but it was delicate enough to almost enhance her natural beauty. The workers began collecting equipment and crates, and then scattering at her dictum.
“Something wrong?” Luke asked with a sneer. “Seems to me like we need to have a little chat. First off, who’s in charge here?”
A blinding lance of energy struck Cage from the side, throwing him off balance. The yellowish hue of the energy bathed him completely, throwing him into a fit of vertigo alongside sending his nerve-endings into hysteria. To make matters worse, the pain didn’t stop once he hit the floor; the aggressor kept pouring on the assault, keeping the beam steady on his body even after he was down.
Cage growled and tried to sit up, but that’s when the intensity of the beam seemed to increase. He was flattened out and starting to regret walking right up to the place.
“You want me to kill him?” a muffled voice said from somewhere in the corner of the warehouse. Cage heard metal footsteps coming toward him, but the constant energy beam wrecked his concentration beyond that. “I’ve seen this guy before. He’s trouble. Better off killing him.”
The man who held Cage at bay was clad in medieval armor, complete with a blue tunic and cape. His helmet covered his face completely, masking his appearance as well as his delight from pummeling Cage with his energy lance. The weapon was especially designed to take down something as big as an elephant, and the searing energy was proving more than enough to hold down Cage.
“Not necessary, Dreadknight,” a female voice replied. Cage couldn’t see her, but he assumed it was the woman who had issued the orders when he entered. “He might not be alone. We need to—”
A shattering crash from above disrupted her from further commands, and those that hadn’t scattered looked to the ceiling of the warehouse. Iron Fist dropped straight down on top of Dreadknight, smashing him into the warehouse floor. While his armored helmet did much to adsorb the impact, the thunderous arrival knocked him out at least temporarily.
Iron Fist rolled forward, using his momentum from the controlled fall to somersault closer to the downed Luke Cage. With Dreadknight out and the energy lance extinguished, Cage was able to regain his senses. Danny helped him sit up, and Cage looked like he was ready to crush some skulls.
“You okay?” Iron Fist asked.
Cage just shoved him aside. “Who sucker-punched me?” he demanded. He stood back up on wobbly legs. “C’mon! I’m right here, you—”
“Easy,” Iron Fist muttered.
He noticed Dreadknight was down and then turned to Danny. “Thanks, bro,” he said, and then turned to the woman across the warehouse. “Lady, you are in for a world of hurt.”
They noticed her vision dash to one side, looking between and passed them. Iron Fist turned just in time to peripherally see a blur of motion, but couldn’t react before he was taken down. The man displayed deft agility, springing toward him with arms outstretched. He cupped his hands under Danny’s chin as he flipped over his torso, and at the apex of his somersault, he pulled up on Danny’s head.
Gravity took over, and when the newcomer landed like a cat on his feet, Iron Fist’s throat was pulled down hard onto the man’s shoulder. Iron Fist instantly blacked out and fell to the floor.
Cage jabbed at the man’s jaw and caught him off guard, but just barely as he was able to roll with the hit at the last second. Without breaking stride, he contorted his body and grabbed onto Cage’s forearm, using the hero’s own momentum against him in an perfectly executed judo hip toss. Cage was down on his back beneath the figure.
He saw the tattoos covering the man’s naked upper body and instantly recognized him. His eyes went wide as Mister X stabbed his fingers into Cage’s solar plexus, followed by a quick double-tap to his larynx. The sudden shock locked Cage into paralysis.
“Thank you,” the woman said, removing her surgical mask from where it hung around her neck. “Were there more?”
“I did not inspect the entire premises,” Mister X replied. His body was glistening with sweat, enhancing the toned muscles of his body. The sunglasses he wore hid his gaze, but he wouldn’t bring it to meet her own anyway. “This one will only be down for a moment; he is merely stunned. I suggest taking measures to constrain him.”
As one of Madripoor’s premiere fighters, a man who had disabled the legendary Wolverine on occasion, his assessment was taken as gospel. His keen martial arts were his signature; few people managed to overcome either his defenses or his insight.
She nodded. “Dreadknight? Are you…capable?”
The armored villain arose from behind the downed heroes, barely able to keep himself upright. He picked his helmet back up and slipped into place against his scalp, feeling all the better, like he was whole again.
“Damn ninjas,” he muttered. “Yeah, I’ll put them in stasis. If I had known he was up there I wouldn’t have been jumped like that. I was expecting Stark. That’s why you brought me on board, right? In case Stark showed up?”
“Please take care of our guests,” she said with a chill. “We can discuss your ability to circumnavigate unexpected problems later.”
Dreadknight scowled beneath his helmet, but like Mister X, he wouldn’t dare let make eye contact with her directly. He withdrew two circuit boards from within the folds of his draping cloak. He motioned for Mister X to prop up the two heroes against a support beam in the center of the warehouse, and once in place, he adhered the boards to both Luke and Danny’s chests.
Yellow and white energy seeped out of the boards, throwing their muscles into spasm. The shock of their nervous systems going into full throttle was enough to wake both of them up, but due to their clenched muscles they couldn’t scream. They could barely even breathe.
“Like that, do ya?” Dreadknight said, mockingly. “I pulled that from one of Stark’s medical shipments. A few little tweaks and it works wonders as an incapacitator.”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t be revealing the source of your technology,” Mister X muttered as he rubbed his knuckles, hoping that the duo would be primed for another match soon.
“It’s okay,” the woman said as she approached. “Perhaps they can be our errand boys and take a message back to Tony Stark for us.”
She pulled away the hospital scrubs she was wearing, sliding them off of her lithe body to reveal a sleek black bodysuit beneath. She was obviously in shape, perhaps even prepared for the kind of lifestyle that the others in the room were accustomed to living. She certainly carried herself confidently enough.
She pulled a ribbon from her hair and let it fall to the ground, releasing her black follicles. They danced around her high cheekbones and framed her perfectly. She was stunning, but it was the kind of beauty they made a person hesitant. She was confidant, and when applied with her attractive features, she could be dangerous.
“Could you do that for us, Americans?” she said once she was closer. “Of course, you can’t reply. But don’t worry. Once Mister X is through with using you as punching bags your tongues will be lose enough. I assume you tracked us here somehow…perhaps through that French imbecile?”
She smirked and turned away from the pair, sauntering back toward a stack of crates. Some of them were open, revealing racks of equipment that were unfamiliar to the heroes.
“Since Batroc failed to report in and I don’t seem to have a spare airship hovering overhead, I assume I’m correct. He was so highly recommended, too. Maybe that speaks to your abilities. Maybe I should let Mister X kill you now? But like I said, you could serve as a messenger to Stark since he’s obviously too important to investigate our robberies himself.”
She removed a slender piece of equipment from a rack inside the crate. “You know what these are? Rotary suppressors. They actually disrupt analog signals through digital means. Amazing, right? Now the old-school spies that try to stay under the government’s radar by using outdated technology for communication won’t be able to hide anymore. Thanks to Stark.”
She pointed to another set of crates. “Those are full of x-ray lens generators. They’re portable x-ray machines no larger than the size of your phone; perfect for field medics operating under harsh wartime conditions. Across from those are tactile resonance filters, RAM enhancers, and much more. Several billion dollar’s worth of tech. All Stark tech. All mine.”
She turned back to face them, dropping the rotary suppressor she had removed to make her point. “But can he even be bothered to come find out has happened to his precious technology? These shipments were all stolen away from him, and yet he sends in the B-Squad of heroes to do his dirty work. A typical American response. The egotism just drips from his body like perspiration.”
Iron Fist fought against his bonds, but couldn’t even flex a single muscle. The agony was so intense that he found it hard to even concentrate on what this mystery woman was telling him. Beside him, he heard Cage manage to utter a few grunts, but despite his strength, even the famous Luke Cage couldn’t budge.
“I doubt he’ll even come looking for you,” she continued. “To him you’re just another set of disposable belongings. He has no respect for you; for your lives. He detests those that are his superiors and will not blink at a chance to dispose of them. He sweeps things under the rug…just like he did with my father.”
“Just let me kill them,” Dreadknight said.
“No! I want them alive…I want them to know that the daughter of Tony Stark’s first enemy, the great Wong-Chu, is taking apart his empire piece by piece. He will know what it is to lose something precious, even if I have to dismantle him through his own technology!”
Her eyes blazed a glorious green hue as she focused intently on Iron Fist and Cage.
“All those associated with Tony Stark will know terror like none other at the hands of Sing-Chu, Daughter of the Warlord!”
TO BE CONTINUED
Next issue: A nightmare from Tony Stark’s past brings the pain to our boys, and the truth is revealed! But where is Deathlok in all of this, and who is this Victor kid anyway?
The cybernetic hand extended to Luke Cage was warmly accepted. As Cage and Danny Rand, the Iron Fist, stepped off of their private jet that had been arranged by Tony Stark himself, they took in the sights and sounds of the Madripoor International Airport. For such a small nation the airport was fairly active, mostly because the country had a heavy list of exports to consign.
“Thanks,” Iron Fist said as he took Deathlok’s hand in turn. “Good to see you again.”
“How’s Madripoor treating you?” Cage asked as they followed Deathlok off of the tarmac.
“Let she treats anyone else, I suppose. The outskirts in Lowtown are pretty rough, but Hightown is actually not too bad. If you stick to the main city you’ll be fine. They welcome tourists openly.”
Deathlok led them through the airport and waited for customs to clear them, which didn’t take long since both only had a small travel bag with nothing to declare accept clothes and toiletries. They were here on business, and planned to be headed back to the United States just as soon as they solved Tony Stark’s espionage problem.
“Have you tracked down where the communiqué came from?” Iron Fist asked as they tossed their bags into the awaiting armored convoy that would escort them through Hightown. “All we know is that someone from Madripoor contracted Batroc to try and make off with Stark’s airship.”
Once inside the 4x4 vehicle, Deathlok tapped on the glass between the passenger compartment and the driver’s seats, commanding the driver to get moving. “Yes, I triangulated the source,” Deathlok said. “There’s a compound in Lowtown that’s been operating as a shipping company, but everyone knows it’s a front.”
“Aren’t most things in Madripoor?” Cage inquired with a smirk.
“Sure,” said Deathlok, the necrotic tissue of his face barely moving as he spoke. “But this one doesn’t even try and hide its operations. Most places around here have enough respect to at least pretend they’re legit. This place is a shipping company in name only; they never harbor any freight and they haven’t even filed documentation with the government in the last five years.”
“So what do they do?” Iron Fist asked.
“That’s what we’re going to find out tonight,” Deathlok replied. “Right after we stop off at my building and pick up a few things.”
# # # # #
“Hello, Victor. Can you hear me?”
Victor Alvarez blinked the sleepiness from his eyes. Once the dark blobs and images started to form into sharper shapes, he realized just enough about his situation to start fighting against his restraints. He reached for the power to break his bonds but was shocked to find that it wouldn’t come to him.
He shook his head in frustration and then looked around to get a better look at his surroundings. He was in a dark room with a metal floor, strapped to a metal chair. Overhead was a dangling light. His eyes couldn’t pierce the shadows lining the walls, so he couldn’t see if there were windows, doors, or anyone else in the room with him.
He reached for strength again, and once more, he failed.
“Yes, my sensors are telling me that you’re trying to bulk up,” the voice said again. “You can relax, Victor. I’ve been studying you. I’ve made sure that your ability to extract strength from other organisms and increase your own is rather limited. You have a proximity range for your abilities. Did you know that? I’m guessing not.”
Victor turned his head to try and see where the voice was coming from, but couldn’t twist far enough in his restraints to turn completely around.
“No, I’m not in the room with you, Victor. You’re hearing me through a speaker system, but I’m not far. Like I said, with you it’s all about proximity apparently.”
“Who are you?” Victor demanded. With the cobwebs clearing he was beginning to remember being jumped by the ninjas. “Where am I?”
“You’re right where you need to be,” the voice responded. “I would have completed this procedure while you were asleep, but for this particular series of treatments I need your conscious mind wide awake. Kindly turn your attention to the front of the room.”
A light flicked on from an overhead lamp, exactly like the one hanging over Victor. Instead of another person, however, it just displayed an old, tattered, purple top hat. At the base of the hat, where the top met the brim, there was a spiral disc. The disc began to spin, slowly at first, but then increasing in speed, and from the first movement Victor was mesmerized.
“You see, Victor,” the voice continued. “I tried to plant a subliminal series of commands into another operative, but he somehow overcame those suggestions. Normally I would have my men implant similar suggestions into you via their psionic devices, but I’m not one to repeat my mistakes.”
Victor felt his concentration begin to shatter as his gaze was locked onto the strange top hat at the far side of the room.
“Do you recognize this device?” the voice continued. “It belonged to the Ringmaster. A buffoon, to be honest, and someone that is safely locked away in the Vault. The technology is sound, however, and this old hat of his still works.”
“Why…why are you doing this?” Victor managed to ask.
“Why?” The voice chuckled. “Victor, ours is not to ask why, but to do and die.”
# # # # #
The dimly lit warehouse on the edge of a marina in Lowtown fit in perfectly with Madripoor’s atmosphere. The city and same-named country were known for housing the dregs of humanity, but were held in check by the juxtaposition of the society of Hightown. Hard science had its place right alongside the smuggling, and many prestigious companies based their operations out of the small island.
“How does the mesh feel?” Deathlok inquired.
Iron Fist flexed his muscles and twisted his torso, testing the elasticity of the high-composite mesh that Deathlok had outfitted him with. It was stylized with a yellow dragon over his chest, his chosen symbol, and mostly matched his standard uniform. It was more dense, however, and Deathlok had promised it would offer him greater protection.
“A little restrictive,” Iron Fist replied, “but better than I thought. This will stop a slug?”
“Up to a certain caliber, yes. Luke? How does your suit you?”
Luke Cage stepped out of the armored transport and onto the wooden planks of the dock, planting his feet next to Danny. He wore his standard blue jeans and yellow t-shirt, stretched tight over his muscular frame.
“Not my style, ‘Lok,” Cage replied with a smile. “Diamond-hard skin, remember?”
Deathlok let out an irritated sigh. “Luke,” he began, “the mesh does a lot more than just stop bullets. It helps regulate your body temperature and—”
“I’m good,” Luke cut in, raising his hand to stop Deathlok mid-sentence. “Can we get moving?”
Deathlok grimaced, but just shook his head instead of continuing his argument. He knew from working with Cage as part of the previous incarnation of the Heroes For Hire that continuing the conversation would just be pointless. As opposed to pointing out the high cost, delicate care, and hours of work that went into the suit that Luke had brushed aside, he instead slid back the mechanism on his arm-length weapon.
The bolt slid back, chambered a high-caliber round, and slammed it into place within the steel barrel. The weapon was also of his own design, thanks in no small part to Stark’s tech that had been made available to him. The thing was practically a cannon, but had minimal kickback.
“The signal to Batroc originally came from in there,” Deathlok said, pointing at the darkened warehouse. “How do you want to play this?”
“Let’s knock on the front door and see what happens,” Cage replied as he walked between the other two men and made way for the warehouse.
Danny tossed Deathlok a cautious look. “It seems like Luke has volunteered to be our distraction,” Iron Fist said. “I’ll work my way around onto the roof. You take the rear?”
Deathlok nodded and the trio went their separate ways. Once Luke had reached the bulky warehouse doors, he pounded on the tattered wood at the seam, easily snapping both doors off their hinges. Deathlok and Iron Fist were both out of sight by the time he had reached the entrance.
“Knock, knock!” he shouted into the warehouse.
Several people looked up at him, startled. Their smuggling operation looked to be laid out for the world to see: opened crates strewn throughout the facility, various tables of lab equipment with powders and solutions, and workers wearing latex gloves and masks. In the center of the warehouse were stacks of equipment that Cage didn’t recognize, but looked complex, much like what he had seen at Four Freedoms Plaza way back in the day.
A woman off to the side started barking commands at Luke’s sudden entrance, issuing orders to the workers. Her trim black hair was cut close to her face, and she had a scar running down her right cheek, but it was delicate enough to almost enhance her natural beauty. The workers began collecting equipment and crates, and then scattering at her dictum.
“Something wrong?” Luke asked with a sneer. “Seems to me like we need to have a little chat. First off, who’s in charge here?”
A blinding lance of energy struck Cage from the side, throwing him off balance. The yellowish hue of the energy bathed him completely, throwing him into a fit of vertigo alongside sending his nerve-endings into hysteria. To make matters worse, the pain didn’t stop once he hit the floor; the aggressor kept pouring on the assault, keeping the beam steady on his body even after he was down.
Cage growled and tried to sit up, but that’s when the intensity of the beam seemed to increase. He was flattened out and starting to regret walking right up to the place.
“You want me to kill him?” a muffled voice said from somewhere in the corner of the warehouse. Cage heard metal footsteps coming toward him, but the constant energy beam wrecked his concentration beyond that. “I’ve seen this guy before. He’s trouble. Better off killing him.”
The man who held Cage at bay was clad in medieval armor, complete with a blue tunic and cape. His helmet covered his face completely, masking his appearance as well as his delight from pummeling Cage with his energy lance. The weapon was especially designed to take down something as big as an elephant, and the searing energy was proving more than enough to hold down Cage.
“Not necessary, Dreadknight,” a female voice replied. Cage couldn’t see her, but he assumed it was the woman who had issued the orders when he entered. “He might not be alone. We need to—”
A shattering crash from above disrupted her from further commands, and those that hadn’t scattered looked to the ceiling of the warehouse. Iron Fist dropped straight down on top of Dreadknight, smashing him into the warehouse floor. While his armored helmet did much to adsorb the impact, the thunderous arrival knocked him out at least temporarily.
Iron Fist rolled forward, using his momentum from the controlled fall to somersault closer to the downed Luke Cage. With Dreadknight out and the energy lance extinguished, Cage was able to regain his senses. Danny helped him sit up, and Cage looked like he was ready to crush some skulls.
“You okay?” Iron Fist asked.
Cage just shoved him aside. “Who sucker-punched me?” he demanded. He stood back up on wobbly legs. “C’mon! I’m right here, you—”
“Easy,” Iron Fist muttered.
He noticed Dreadknight was down and then turned to Danny. “Thanks, bro,” he said, and then turned to the woman across the warehouse. “Lady, you are in for a world of hurt.”
They noticed her vision dash to one side, looking between and passed them. Iron Fist turned just in time to peripherally see a blur of motion, but couldn’t react before he was taken down. The man displayed deft agility, springing toward him with arms outstretched. He cupped his hands under Danny’s chin as he flipped over his torso, and at the apex of his somersault, he pulled up on Danny’s head.
Gravity took over, and when the newcomer landed like a cat on his feet, Iron Fist’s throat was pulled down hard onto the man’s shoulder. Iron Fist instantly blacked out and fell to the floor.
Cage jabbed at the man’s jaw and caught him off guard, but just barely as he was able to roll with the hit at the last second. Without breaking stride, he contorted his body and grabbed onto Cage’s forearm, using the hero’s own momentum against him in an perfectly executed judo hip toss. Cage was down on his back beneath the figure.
He saw the tattoos covering the man’s naked upper body and instantly recognized him. His eyes went wide as Mister X stabbed his fingers into Cage’s solar plexus, followed by a quick double-tap to his larynx. The sudden shock locked Cage into paralysis.
“Thank you,” the woman said, removing her surgical mask from where it hung around her neck. “Were there more?”
“I did not inspect the entire premises,” Mister X replied. His body was glistening with sweat, enhancing the toned muscles of his body. The sunglasses he wore hid his gaze, but he wouldn’t bring it to meet her own anyway. “This one will only be down for a moment; he is merely stunned. I suggest taking measures to constrain him.”
As one of Madripoor’s premiere fighters, a man who had disabled the legendary Wolverine on occasion, his assessment was taken as gospel. His keen martial arts were his signature; few people managed to overcome either his defenses or his insight.
She nodded. “Dreadknight? Are you…capable?”
The armored villain arose from behind the downed heroes, barely able to keep himself upright. He picked his helmet back up and slipped into place against his scalp, feeling all the better, like he was whole again.
“Damn ninjas,” he muttered. “Yeah, I’ll put them in stasis. If I had known he was up there I wouldn’t have been jumped like that. I was expecting Stark. That’s why you brought me on board, right? In case Stark showed up?”
“Please take care of our guests,” she said with a chill. “We can discuss your ability to circumnavigate unexpected problems later.”
Dreadknight scowled beneath his helmet, but like Mister X, he wouldn’t dare let make eye contact with her directly. He withdrew two circuit boards from within the folds of his draping cloak. He motioned for Mister X to prop up the two heroes against a support beam in the center of the warehouse, and once in place, he adhered the boards to both Luke and Danny’s chests.
Yellow and white energy seeped out of the boards, throwing their muscles into spasm. The shock of their nervous systems going into full throttle was enough to wake both of them up, but due to their clenched muscles they couldn’t scream. They could barely even breathe.
“Like that, do ya?” Dreadknight said, mockingly. “I pulled that from one of Stark’s medical shipments. A few little tweaks and it works wonders as an incapacitator.”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t be revealing the source of your technology,” Mister X muttered as he rubbed his knuckles, hoping that the duo would be primed for another match soon.
“It’s okay,” the woman said as she approached. “Perhaps they can be our errand boys and take a message back to Tony Stark for us.”
She pulled away the hospital scrubs she was wearing, sliding them off of her lithe body to reveal a sleek black bodysuit beneath. She was obviously in shape, perhaps even prepared for the kind of lifestyle that the others in the room were accustomed to living. She certainly carried herself confidently enough.
She pulled a ribbon from her hair and let it fall to the ground, releasing her black follicles. They danced around her high cheekbones and framed her perfectly. She was stunning, but it was the kind of beauty they made a person hesitant. She was confidant, and when applied with her attractive features, she could be dangerous.
“Could you do that for us, Americans?” she said once she was closer. “Of course, you can’t reply. But don’t worry. Once Mister X is through with using you as punching bags your tongues will be lose enough. I assume you tracked us here somehow…perhaps through that French imbecile?”
She smirked and turned away from the pair, sauntering back toward a stack of crates. Some of them were open, revealing racks of equipment that were unfamiliar to the heroes.
“Since Batroc failed to report in and I don’t seem to have a spare airship hovering overhead, I assume I’m correct. He was so highly recommended, too. Maybe that speaks to your abilities. Maybe I should let Mister X kill you now? But like I said, you could serve as a messenger to Stark since he’s obviously too important to investigate our robberies himself.”
She removed a slender piece of equipment from a rack inside the crate. “You know what these are? Rotary suppressors. They actually disrupt analog signals through digital means. Amazing, right? Now the old-school spies that try to stay under the government’s radar by using outdated technology for communication won’t be able to hide anymore. Thanks to Stark.”
She pointed to another set of crates. “Those are full of x-ray lens generators. They’re portable x-ray machines no larger than the size of your phone; perfect for field medics operating under harsh wartime conditions. Across from those are tactile resonance filters, RAM enhancers, and much more. Several billion dollar’s worth of tech. All Stark tech. All mine.”
She turned back to face them, dropping the rotary suppressor she had removed to make her point. “But can he even be bothered to come find out has happened to his precious technology? These shipments were all stolen away from him, and yet he sends in the B-Squad of heroes to do his dirty work. A typical American response. The egotism just drips from his body like perspiration.”
Iron Fist fought against his bonds, but couldn’t even flex a single muscle. The agony was so intense that he found it hard to even concentrate on what this mystery woman was telling him. Beside him, he heard Cage manage to utter a few grunts, but despite his strength, even the famous Luke Cage couldn’t budge.
“I doubt he’ll even come looking for you,” she continued. “To him you’re just another set of disposable belongings. He has no respect for you; for your lives. He detests those that are his superiors and will not blink at a chance to dispose of them. He sweeps things under the rug…just like he did with my father.”
“Just let me kill them,” Dreadknight said.
“No! I want them alive…I want them to know that the daughter of Tony Stark’s first enemy, the great Wong-Chu, is taking apart his empire piece by piece. He will know what it is to lose something precious, even if I have to dismantle him through his own technology!”
Her eyes blazed a glorious green hue as she focused intently on Iron Fist and Cage.
“All those associated with Tony Stark will know terror like none other at the hands of Sing-Chu, Daughter of the Warlord!”
TO BE CONTINUED
Next issue: A nightmare from Tony Stark’s past brings the pain to our boys, and the truth is revealed! But where is Deathlok in all of this, and who is this Victor kid anyway?